
Glass. 

Book^- M 55 
1570 



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HISTOET 



OF TUB 



GREAT REFORMATION 



IN EUROPE 



IN THE TIMES OF 



LUTHER AND CALVIN, 

COMPRISING 

GERMANY, SWITZERLAND, GENEVA, ENGLAND, FRANCE, ITALY, ETC., 

THROUGH THE LABORS OF 

LUTHER, CALVIN, MELANCTHON, ERASMUS, ZWINGLE, FAREL, WICK- 

LIFFE, TYNDALE, CRANMER, LATIMER, BERQUIN, OLIVETAN, 

ROUSSEL, FRYTH, BERTHELIER, (ECOLAMPADIUS, 

BUCER, MYCONIUS, AND MANY OTHER 

REFORMERS. 



By J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D.D., 

President of the Theological School of Geneva, and Vice Piesident of the Societe livangelique. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS, 

i 
EDITED BY M. LAIRD SIMONS. 




SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY. 



■ V" 

PHILADELPHIA: 
WILLIAM FLINT & CO., 2G SOUTH SEVENTH STREET. 
* E. HANNAFORD & CO., CINCINNATI, O., CHICAGO, ILL. 
HORACE KING, THOMPSONVILLE, CONN. 

1870. 






\V 



PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. 

The History of the Reformation in Europe by J. H. 
Merle D'Aubigne^ D.D., is a standard in evangelical literature. 
Its author is one of the first Protestant divines and theologians 
of this century; and he has devoted to this labor of love twenty- 
five years of his life. 

The times of Luther and Calvin form an epoch in history. 
It is only outranked in its spiritual achievements by the age of 
the Saviour of mankind. 

At the opening of the Sixteenth century, the Christian Church 
was degraded into " a house of merchandise." Its dignitaries 
were given up to luxurious self-indulgences, to immoralities, 
and to tyrannical acts ; almost all the priests and monks were 
ignorant, superstitious, depraved, and extortionate. 

During these dark days, God raised up many in the spiritual 
states of Rome to testify to the great truths of Free Salvation 
by Faith through Grace : and these evangelists were doomed 
to the rack, the wheel, the stake, and to deaths more cruel. 

In the fulness of time, Martin Luther nailed his famous 
Theses on the door of the church of Wittenberg, and thereby 
challenged theologians to defend the iniquitous doctrines and 
practices of their church. Then the eyes of the people were 
opened to see the sanctity and rights of personal conscience ; 
and they beheld the evils of papacy. How boldly and wisely 
this mighty apostle of the Reformation fought for the Bible and 
its truths in his day and generation; how other faithful witnesses 
sprung up in Germany, Switzerland, Italy, France, England, 
and elsewhere, to testify for the old ways of the Gospel ; and 
how peoples and nations leagued to throw off the yoke of their 
churchly oppressors, — a long and thrilling story — is well told 
in the following pages. Heroic deeds, sufferings borne with 
saintly patience, god-like forgiveness in the jaws of death, are 
nowhere better shown than in the exciting incidents of these 
" times that tried men's souls." 

At first, the noble Luther is the prominent figure : D'Aubignd" 
outlines him with a sympathetic pen. In after years, the great 
Calvin awakens unseen multitudes by his words of Christian 



iv PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. 

wisdom. On the purity of spirit, power of intellect, and strength 
of will, of the writer of the Christian Institutes, this historian 
delights to speak. These annals of the little republic of Geneva, 
show how a handful of courageous citizens preserved their liberties 
intact, against the assaults of powerful kingdoms, and the treach- 
eries of their own prince-bishops. Its patriotic citizens were the 
forerunners and instructors of the revolutionary heroes of our 
own country. 

The fruitful events of three centuries attest the worth of the 
Reformation and its principles of moral civilization. Every one 
of the nations that renounced the traditions and usurped authority 
of Rome, has prospered in wealth, intelligence, and virtue. Every 
one of the governments that upheld the papacy and. its dogmas, 
has been broken to pieces, and the pride of its people crushed. 
Scarcely has the Ecumenical Council pronounced Pope Pius IX. 
to be an infallible guide in all points of faith and morals, ere 
this apostolic successor of the Borgia pontiff is stripped of his 
last temporalities, by the might of a regenerated and indignant 
nation. The finger of the Almighty is to be seen in these judg- 
ments. Yet, in its spiritual dominion over the hearts and souls 
of multitudes in every land, Roman-catholicism is vigorous and 
undismayed. Even in these United States, it seeks to banish 
the Bible from our common schools ; failing in that, it aims to 
destroy our admirable system of free instruction. Our parents, 
teachers, and pastors should realize the dangers threatening the 
training of the uprising generation. To enable thoughtful citizens 
to appreciate the blessings of the religious liberty they now enjoy, 
by revealing the tyrannous and iniquitous priestcraft of past 
times, and by recalling the struggles and deaths of those who 
earned for posterity this freedom, the Publisher has prepared 
this attractive and well -illustrated edition. 

The Editor's supervision and abridgment have been limited to 
the second part — the Reformation in the time of Calvin. It is 
believed that this condensation will add to the popularity of 
the work, by adapting it to the time and means of those who 
otherwise might not read it. He has labored to preserve the 
spirit and the glowing style of the Author; all the incidents have 
been narrated, and as far as practicable, the exact language has 
been retained. 

Philadelphia, October i, 1870. 



PREFACE. 



The work I have undertaken is not the history 
of a party. It is the history of one of the greatest 
revolutions ever effected in human affairs,' — the 
history of a mighty impulse communicated to the 
world three centuries ago, and of which the opera- 
tion is still everywhere discernible in our own days. 
The history of the Reformation is altogether dis- 
tinct from the history of Protestantism. In the 
former all bears the character of a regeneration 
of human nature, a religious and social transfor- 
mation emanating from God himself. In the latter, 
we see too often a glaring depravation of first prin- 
ciples, — the conflict of parties, — a sectarian spirit, 
—and the operation of private interests. The 
history of Protestantism might claim the attention 
only of Protestants. The history of the Reforma- 
tion is a book for all Christians, — or rather for all 
mankind. 

An historian may choose his portion in the field 
before him. He may narrate the great events 
which change the exterior aspect of a nation, or 
of the world ; or he may record that tranquil pro- 
gression of a nation, of the church, or of mankind, 
which generally follows mighty changes in social 
relations. Both these departments of history are 
of high importance. But the public interest has 
seemed to turn, by preference, to those periods 
which, under the name of Revolutions, bring forth 
a nation, or society at large, for a new era, — and 
to a new career. 

Of the last kind is the transformation which, 
with very feeble powers, I have attempted to 
describe, in the hope that the beauty of the sub- 
ject will compensate for my insufficiency. The 
name of revolution which I here give to it, is, in 
our days, brought into discredit with many who 
almost confound it with revolt. But this is to 
mistake its meaning. A revolution is a change 
wrought in human affairs. It is a something new 
which unrolls itself from the bosom of humanity ; 
and the word, previously to the close of the last 
century, was more frequently understood in a 
good sense than in a bad one : — ' ' a happy — a 
wonderful Revolution" was the expression. The 
Reformation, being the re-establishment of the 
principles of primitive Christianitv, was the reverse 
of a revolt. It was a movement regenerative of 
that which was destined to revive; but conserva- 
tive of that which is to stand forever. Christianitv 
and the Reformation, while they established the 
great principle of the equality of souls in the sight 
of God, and overturned the usurpations of a proud 
priesthood, which assumed to place itself between 
the Creator and his creature, at the same time 
laid down as a first element of social order, that 
there is no power but what is of God,— and called 
on all men to love the brethren, to fear God, to 
honour the king. 

The Reformation is entirely distinguished from 
the revolutions of antiquity, and from the greater 
part of those of modern times. In these, the 
question is one o'." politics, and the objsct proposed 
is the establishment or overthrow of the power of 
the one or of the many. The love of truth, of 
holindls, .of eternal things, was the simple and 
powerful spring which gave effect to that which we 
bave to narrate. It is the evidence of a gradual ad- 



vance in human nature. In truth, if man, instead 
i of seeking only material, temporal, and earthly 
interests, aims at a higher object, and seeks spi- 
j ritual and immortal blessings, — he advances, he 
I progresses. The Reformation is one of the mosf 
j memorable days of this progress. It is a pledge 
that the struggle of our own times will terminate 
! in favour of truth, by a triumph yet more spiritual 
1 and glorious. 

Christianity and the Reformation are two of the 
greatest revolutions in history. They were not 
limited to one nation, like the various political 
movements which history records, but extended 
to many nations, and their effects are destined to 
be felt to the ends of the earth. 

Christianity and the Reformation are, indeed, 
the same revolution, but working at different pe- 
riods, and in dissimilar circumstances. They 
differ in secondary features : — they are alike in 
their first lines and leading characteristics. The 
one is the re-appearance of the other. The former 
closes the old order of things ; — the latter begins 
the new. Between them is the middle age. One 
is the parent of the other ; and if the daughter is, 
in some respects, inferior, she has, in others, cha- 
racters, altogether peculiar to herself. 

The suddenness of its action is one of these 
characters of the Reformation. The great revo- 
lutions which have drawn after them the fall of a 
monarchy, or an entire change of political system, 
or launched the human mind in a new career of 
development, have been slowly and gradually 
prepared ; the power to be displaced has long been 
mined, and its principal supports have given way. 
It was even thus at the introduction of Christianity : 
But the Reformation, at the first glance, seems 
to offer a different aspect. The Church of Rome 
is seen, under Leo X., in all its strength and glory. 
A monk speaks, — and in the half of Europe this 
power and glory suddenly crumble into dust. This 
revolution reminds us of the words by which the 
Son of God announces his second advent: "As 
the lightning cometh forth from the west and 
shineth unto the east, so shall also the coming of 
the Son of man be." 

This rapidity is inexplicable to those who see in 
this great event only a reform ; who make it 
simply an act of critical judgment, consisting in a 
choice of doctrines, — the abandoning of some, the 
preserving others, and combining those retained, 
so as to make of them a new code of doctrine. 

How could an entire people ? — how could many 
nations have so rapidly performed so difficult a 
work ? How could such an act of critical judgment 
kindle the enthusiasm indispensable to great and 
especially to sudden revolutions? But the Refor- 
mation was an event of a very different kind ; and 
this its history will prove. It was the pouring 
forth anew of that life which Christianity had 
brought into the world. It was the triumph of 
the noblest of doctrines—of UHl which animates 
those who receive it with tb# purest and most 
powerful enthusiasm, — the doctrine of Faith — the 
doctrine of Grace. If the Reformation had been 
what ninny Catholics and Protestants imagine. — 
if it had been that negative system of a negative 
reason, which rejects with childish impatience 



PREFACE. 



whatever displeases it, and disowns the grand 
ideas and leading truths of universal Christianity, 
— it would never have overpassed the threshold 
of an academy, — of a cloister or even of a monk's 
cell. But it had no sympathy with what is com- 
monly intended by the word "Protestantism. Far 
from having sustained any loss of vital energy, it 
arose at once like a man full of strength and reso- 
lution. 

Two considerations will account for the rapidity 
and extent of this revolution. One of these must 
lie sought in God, the other among men. The 
impulse was given by an unseen hand of power, 
and the change which took place was the work 
of God. This will be the conclusion arrived at 
by every one who considers the subject with im- 
partiality and attention, and does not rest in a 
superficial view. But the historian has a further 
office to perform : — God acts by second causes. 
Many circumstances, which have often escaped 
observation, gradually prepared men for the great 
transformation of the sixteenth century, so that 
the human mind was ripe when the hour of its 
emancipation arrived. 

The office of the historian is to combine these 
two principal elements in the picture he presents. 
This is what is attempted in the present work. — 
We shall be easily understood, so long as we 
investigate the secondary causes which contributed 
to bring about the revolution we have undertaken 
to describe. Many will, perhaps, be slower of 
comprehension, and will be inclined even to charge 
us with superstition, when we shall ascribe to 
God the accomplishment of the work. And yet 
that thought is what we particularly cherish. The 
history takes as its guiding star the simple and 
pregnant truth that God is in Histoky. But this 
truth is commonly forgotten, and sometimes dis- 
puted. It seems fit, therefore, that we should 
open our views, and by so doing justify the course 
we have taken. 

In these days, history can no longer be that 
dead letter of facts to recording which the majority 
of the earlier historians confined themselves. It 
is felt that, as in man's nature, so in his history, 
there are two elements, — matter and spirit. Our 
great writers, unwilling to restrict themselves to 
the production of a simple recital, which would 
have been but a barren chronicle, have sought for 
Borne principle of life to animate the materials of 
the past. 

Some have borrowed such a principle from the 
rules of art; they have aimed at the simplicity, 
truth, and picturesque of description; and have 
endeavoured to make their narratives live by the 
interest of the events themselves. 

Others have sought in philosophy the spirit 
which should fecundate their labours. With 
incidents they have intermingled reflections, — 
instructions, — political and philosophic truths, — 
and have thus enlivened their recitals with a moral 
which they have elicited from them, or ideas they 
have been able to associate with them. 

Both these methods are, doubtless, useful, and 
should be employed within certain limits. But 
there is another source whence we must above all 
seek for the ability to enter into the understanding, 
the mind, and the life of past ages; — and this is 
Religion. History must live by that principle of 
life which is proper to it. and that life is God. He 
must be acknowledged and proclaimed in history ; 
— and the course of events must be displayed as the 
annals of the government of a Supreme Disposer. 

I have descended into the lists to which the 
recitals of our historians attracted me. I have 
there seen the actions of men and of nations de- 
veloping- themselves with power, and encountering 
in hostile collision : — I have heard I know not 
what clangour of arms ; but nowhere has my 
attention been directed to the majestic aspect of 
the Judge who presides over the struggle. 



And yet there is a principle of movement ema- 
nating irom God himself in all the changes among 
nations. God looks upon that wide si age on which 
the generations of men successively meet and 
struggle. He is there, it is true, an invisible God ' 
but if the profaner multitude pass before Him with 
out noticing Him, because he is "a God that 
hideth himself," — thoughtful spirits, and such as 
feel their need of the principle of their being, seek 
him with the more earnestness, and are not satis- 
fied until they lie prostrate at his feet. And their 
search is richly rewarded. For, from the heights 
to which they are obliged to climb to meet their 
God, — the world's history, instead of offering, as 
to the ignorant crowd, a confused chaos, appears 
a majestic temple, which the invisible hand ot God 
erects, and which rises to His glory above the 
rock of humanity. 

Shall we not acknowledge the hand of God in 
those great men, or in those mighty nations which 
arise,' — come forth, as it were, from the dust of 
the earth, and give a new impulse, a new form, 
or a new destiny to human affairs ? Shall we not 
acknowledge His hand in those heroes who spring 
up among men at appointed times ; who display 
activity and energy beyond the ordinary limits of 
human strength ; and around whom individuals 
and nations gather, as if to a superior and myste- 
rious power? Who launched them into the ex- 
panse of ages, like comets of vast extent and flam- 
ing trains, appearing at long intervals, to scatter 
among the superstitious tribes of men anticipations 
of plenty and joy — or of calamities and terror? 
Who, but God himself? Alexander would seek 
his own origin in the abodes of the Divinity. And 
in the most irreligious age there is no eminent 
glory but is seen in some way or other seeking to 
connect itself with the idea of divine interposition. 

And those revolutions which, in their progress, 
precipitate dynasties and nations to the dust, those 
heaps of ruin which we meet with in the sands of 
the desert, those majestic remains which the field 
of human history offers to our reflection, do they 
not testify aloud to the truth that God is in History ? 
Gibbon, seated on the ancient Capitol, and con- 
templating its noble ruins, acknowledged the in- 
tervention of a superior destiny. He saw, he felt 
its presence ; wmerever his eye turned it met 
him ; that shadow of a mysterious power re- 
appeared from benmd every ruin ; and he con- 
ceived the project of depicting its operation in 
the disorganization, the decline, and the cor- 
ruption of that power of Rome which had enslaved 
the nations. Shall not that mighty hand which 
this man of admirable genius, but who had 
not bowed the knee to Jesus Christ, discerned 
among the scattered monuments of Romulus and 
of Marcus Aurelius, — the busts of Cicero, and 
Virgil, — Trajan's trophies, and Pompey's horses, 
be confessed by us as the hand. of our God ? 

But what superior lustre does the truth— that 
God is in history — acquire under the Christian 
dispensation? What is Jesus Christ — but God's 
purpose in the world's history ? It was the dis- 
covery of Jesus Christ which admitted the greatest 
of modern historians* to the just comprehension 
of his subject. — " The gospel," says he, "is the 
fulfilment of all hopes, the perfection of all philo- 
sophy, the interpreter of all revolutions, the key to 
all the seeming contradictions of the physical and 
moral world, — it is life, — it is immortality. Since 
I have known the Saviour, every thing is clear; 
— with him. there is nothing I cannot solve. "t 

Thus speaks this distinguished historian ; and, 
in truth, is it not the keystone of the arch, — is 
it not the mysterious bond which holds together 
the things of the earth and connects them with 
tho*e of heaven, — that God has appeared in our 
nature ? What ! God has been born into this 



* John von Miiller. 



fLettre k C. Bonnet- 



PREFACE. 



world, and we are askod to think and write, as if 
He were not everywhere working out his own 
will in its history ? Jesus Christ is the true God 
of human history ; the very lowliness of his ap- 
pearance may be regarded as one proof of it. If 
man designs a shade or a shelter upqn earth, <ve 
look to see preparations, — materials, scaffoldm^, 
and workmen. But God when he will give shade 
or shelter, takes the small seed which the new- 
born infant might clasp in its feeble hand, and de- 
posits it in the bosom of the earth, and from that 
seed, imperceptible in its beginning, he produces 
the majestic tree, under whose spreading boughs 
the families of men may find shelter. To achieve 
great results by imperceptible means, is the law 
of the divine dealings. 

It is this law which has received its noblest il- 
lustration in Jesus Christ. The religion which 
has now taken possession of the gates of all na- 
tions, which at this hour reigns, or hovers over all 
the tribes of the earth, from east to west, and 
which even a sceptical philosophy is compelled 
to acknowledge as the spiritual and social law of 
this world ; — th.it religion, than which there is 
nothing nobler under the vault of heaven, — nay, 
in the very universe of creation ; — what was its 
commencement ? . . . A child born in the meanest 
town of the most despised country of the earth ; 
— a child whose mother had not even what falls 
to the lot of the most indigent and wretched wo- 
man of our cities. — a room to bring forth in ; — a 
child born in a stable and placed in an ox's crib 
. . . . O God ! I acknowledge thee there, and I 
adore thee. 

The Reformation recognised the same law of 
God's operations : and it had the consciousness 
that it fulfilled it. The thought that God is in 
history is often put forth by the Reformers. We 
find it on one occasion in particular expressed by 
Luther, under one of those comparisons familiar 
and grotesque, yet not without a certain sublimi- 
ty, which he took pleasure in using, that he might 
be understood by the people. " The world," 
said he one day, in a conversation with his friend 
at table, — "the world is a vast and grand game 
of cards, made up of emperors, kings, and 
princes. The pope for several centuries has 
beaten emperors, princes, and kings. They have 
been put down and taken up by him. Then came 
our Lord God ; he dealt the cards ; he took the 
most worthless of them all, (Luther,) and with it 
he has beaten the Pope, the conqueror of the 
kings of the earth . . . There is the ace of God. 
' He has cast down the mighty from their seats, 
and has exalted them of low degree,' as Mary 
says." 

The age of which I am about to retrace the 
history is most important for our own generation. 
Man, when he feels his weakness, is generally 
inclined to seek assistance in the institutions he 
sees standing around him, or else in groundless 
inventions of his imagination. The history of the 
Reformation shows that nothing new can be 
wrought with " old things," and that if, accord- 
ing to the Saviour's word, we need new bottles 
for new wine, we need also new wine for new 
bottles. The history of the Reformation directs 
men to God, who orders all events in history ; to 
that divine word, ever ancient in the eternal na- 
ture of the truths it contains, ever new in the 
regenerative influence it exercises, — that word 
which, three centuries ago, purified society, 
brought back the faith of God to souls enfee- 
bled by superstition, and which, in every age of 
man's history, is the source whence cometh sal- 
vation. 

It is singular to observe many persons, impel- 
led by- a vague desire to believe in something set- 
tled, addressing themselves now-a-days to old 
Catholicism. In one view, the movement is na- 
tural. Religion is so little known (in France) 



that men scarce thin7i of finding it elsewhere than 
where they see it inscribed in large letters on a 
banner that time has made venerable. We do 
not say that all Catholicism is incapable of afford- 
ing to man what he stands in need of. We think 
Catholicism should be carefully distinguished 
from Popery. Popery is, in our judgment, an 
erroneous and destructive system ; but we are 
far from confounding Catholicism with Popery. 
How many respectable men, — how many sincere 
Christians, has not the Catholic Church comprised 
within its pale ! What important services were 
rendered by Catholicism to the existing European 
nations, in the age of their first formation, — at a 
period when itself was still richly imbued with 
the Gospel, and when Popery was as yet only 
seen behind it as a faint shadow ! But those times 
are past. In our day, attempts are made to re- 
connect Catholicism with Popery ; and if Catholic 
and Christian truths are put forward, they are but 
as baits made use of to draw men into the net of 
the hierarchy. There is, therefore, nothing to be 
hoped from that quarter. Has Popery renounced 
so much as one of its observances, of its doctrines, 
or of its claims ? The religion which was insup- 
portable in other ages will be less so in ours? 
What regeneration has ever emanated from 
Rome? Is it from that priestly hierarchy, full, 
even to overflow, of earthly passions, — that that 
spirit of faith, of charity, of hope can come forth, 
which alone can save us ? Can an exhausted sys- 
tem, which has scarcely strength for its own 
need, and is everywhere in the struggles of death, 
— living only by external aids, — can such a sys- 
tem communicate life, and breathe throughout 
Christian society the heavenly breath that it re- 
quires ? 

This craving void in the heart and mind which 
betrays itself in our contemporaries, will lead 
others to apply to that modern Protestantism 
which has, in many parts, taken the place of the 
powerful doctrines of Apostles and Reformers ? 
A notable uncertainty of doctrine prevails in 
many of those Reformed churches whose first 
members sealed with their blood the clear and liv- 
ing faith that animated their hearts. Men distin- 
guished for their information, and, in all other 
things, susceptible of generous emotions, are found 
carried away into singular aberrations. A vague 
faith in the divine authority of the Gospel is the 
only standard they will maintain. But what is this 
Gospel ? The whole question turns on that ; and 
yet on that they are silent, or else each one 
speaks after his own mind. What avails it to 
know that God has placed in the midst of the 
nations a vessel containing their cure, if we are 
regardless what it contains, or fail to appropriate 
its contents to ourselves ? This system cannot 
fill up the void of the times. Whilst the faith of 
Apostles and Reformers discovers itself, at this 
day, everywhere active and effectual for the coiv 
version of the world, this vague system does nc 
thing, — throws light on nothing, — vivifies nothing. 

But let us not abandon all hopes. Does not 
Catholicism confess the great doctrines of Chris- 
tianity? does it not acknowledge the one God, 
Father, Son, and Spirit, — Creator, Saviour, and 
Sanctifier? And that vague Protestantism. — 
does it not hold in its hand the book of life, for 
conviction and instruction in righteousness? And 
how many upright minds, honoured in the sight 
of men and beloved of God. are there not found 
among those subjected to these two systems ! 
How can we help loving them ? How retrain 
from ardently desiring their complete emancipa- 
tion from human elements ? Charity is boundless : 
it embraces the most distant opinions to lead them 
to ihe feet of Jesus Christ. 

Already there are indications that these two 
extreme opinions are in motion, and drawing 
nearer to Jesus Christ, who is the centre of the 



PREFACE. 



truth Are there not already some Roman Ca- 
tholic congregations among whom the reading of 
the Bible is recommended and practised ? and as 
li> Protestant rationalism, how many steps has it 
not already taken towards Jesus Christ? It never 
was the offspring of the Reformation; — for the 
history of that great change will show that it was 
an epoch of faith: — but may we not be permitted 
to hope that it is drawing nearer to it ? Will not 
the power of the truth come forth to it from the 
word of God ? and will not its coming have the 
effect of transforming it ? Already we often see in 
it a feeling of religion, inadequate no doubt, but 
yet a movement in the direction of sound learning, 
encouraging us to look for more definite ad- 
vances. 

But modern Protestantism, like old Catholicism, 
is, in itself, a thing from which nothing can be 
hoped, — a thing quite powerless. Something very 
different is necessary, to restore to men of our day 
the energy that saves. A something is requisite 
which is not of man, but of God. " Give me," 
said Archimedes, "a point out of the world, and 
I will raise the world from its poles." True 
Christianity is this standing beyond the world, 
which lifts the heart of man from its double pivot 
of selfishness and sensuality, and which will one 
day move the whole world from its evil way, and 
cause it to turn on a new axis of righteousness and 
peace. 

Whenever religion has been the subject of dis- 
cussion, there have been three points to which our 
attention have been directed. God, — Man, — and 
the Priest. There can be but three kinds of reli- 
gion on this earth, God, Man, or the Priest, is its 
author or its head. I call that the religion- of the 
Priest, which is devised by the priest, for the glory 
of the priest, and in which a priestly caste is do- 
minant. I apply the name of the religion of Man 
to those systems and various opinions framed by 
man's reason, and which, as they are the offspring 
of his infirmity, are, by consequence, destitute of 
all sanative efficacy. I apply the words religion 
of God, — to the Truth, such as God himself has 
given it, and of which the object and the effect are 
God's glory and Man's salvation. 

Hierarchism, or the religion of the priest ; Chris- 
tianity or the religion of God ; rationalism, or the 
religion of man ; — such are the three doctrines 
which in our day divide Christendom. There is 
no salvation, either for man or society, in hierar- 
chism or in rationalism. Christianity alone can 
give life to the world ; and, unhappily, of the three 
prevailing systems, it is not that which numbers 
most followers. 

Some, however, it has. Christianity is operat- 
ing its work of regeneration among many Catho- 
lics of Germany, and doubtless also of other 
countries. It is now accomplishing it with more 
purity, and power, as we think, among the evan- 
gelical Christians of Switzerland, of France, of 
Great Britain, and of the United States. Blessed 
be God, such individual or social regenerations, 
wrought by the Gospel, are no longer in these 
days prodigies to be sought in ancient annals. We 
have ourselves witnessed a powerful awakening, 
begun in the midst of conflicts and trials, in a 
small republic, whose citizens live happy and 
tranquil in the bosom of the wonders with which 
creation surrounds them.* It is but a beginning ; 
—and already from the plenteous horn of the 
Gospel we see come forth among this people a 



* Canton of Vaud. 



] noble, elevated, and courageous profession of the 
! great truths of God ; a liberty ample and real, a 
government full of zeal and intelligence ; an affect 
I tion, elsewhere too rarely found, of magistrates for 
! people, and of the people for their magistrates; a 
powerful impulse communicated to education and 
general instruction, which will make of this coun- 
try an example for imitation ; a slow, but certain 
amelioration in morals ; men of talent, all Chris- 
tians, and who/ rival the first writers of our Ian- 
1 guage. All these riches developed between the 
dark Jura and the summits of the Alps, on the 
magnificent shores of Lake Leman, must strike 
the traveller attracted thither by the wonders of 
those mountains and valleys, and present to his 
meditation one of the most eloquent pages which 
the Providence of God has inscribed in favour of 
the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

It is the history of the Reformation in general 
that I propose to write. I intend to trace it among 
different nations, — to point out the same effects 
of the same truths, — as well as the diversities 
which take their origin in the varieties of the na- 
tional character. But it is in Germany especially 
that we shall see and describe the history of the 
Reformation. It is there we find its primitive 
type ; — it is there that it offers the fullest deve- 
lopment of its organization. It is there that it 
bears, above all, the marks of a revolution not 
confined to one or more nations, but, on the con- 
trary, affecting the world at large. The German 
Reformation is the true and fundamental Refor- 
mation. It is the great planet, and the rest revolve 
in wider or narrower circles around it, like sa- 
tellites drawn after it by its movement. And yet 
the Reformation in Switzeklakd must, in some 
respects, be considered as an exception, both be- 
cause it took place at the very same time as that 
of Germany, and independently of it ; and because 
it bore, especially at a later period, some of those 
grander features which are seen in the latter. 
Notwithstanding that recollections of ancestry and 
of refuge, — and the memory of struggle, suffering, 
and exile, endured in the cause of the Reforma- 
tion in France. — give, in my view, a peculiar 
charm to the history of its vicissitudes, — I never- 
theless doubt whether I could place it in the same 
rank as those which I have here spoken of. 

From what I have said, it will be seen that I 
believe the Reformation to be the work of God. 
Nevertheless, as its historian, I hope to be impar- 
tial. I think I have spoken of the principal Ro- 
man Catholic actors in the great drama, Leo X., 
Albert of Magdeburg, Charles V., and Doctor 
Eck, &c. more favourably than the majority of 
historians. And, on the other hand, I have "had 
no wish to conceal the faults and errors of the 
Reformers. 

This history has been drawn from the original 
sources with which a long residence in Germany, 
the Low Countries, and Switzerland has mode 
me familiar : as well as from the study, in the 
original languages, of documents relating to the 
religious history of Great Britain and other coun- 
tries. Down to this time we possess no history 
of that remarkable period. Nothing indicated 
that the deficiency would be supplied when I com- 
menced this work. This circumstance could alone 
have led me to undertake it ; — and I here allege 
it in my justification. The want still exists : — 
and I pray Him from whom cometh down every 
good gift, to cause that this work may, by His 
blessing, be made profitable to some who" shall 
read it. 



CONTENTS. 



THE REFORMATION. — LUTHER, 



« BOOK I.— State of Europe Prior to the Reformation. 

Rise of the Papacy — Early Encroachments — Co-operation of the Bishops — Unity of the Church — Visible 
Unity — Primacy of St. Peter — Patriarchates — Policy of Rome — Charlemagne — Disorders of Rome — 
Hildebrand — The Crusades — Spiritual Despotism — Salvation by Grace — Pelagianism — The Church — • 
Penance — Indulgences— Purgatory — Tax of Indulgences — The Papacy and Christianity — Theology — 
Dialectics — Predestination — Penance— Religion — Relics — Morals — Corruption — Disorders of the Priests 
— Bishops and Popes — Alexander VI. — Caesar Borgia — General Corruption — Ciceronians — Efforts for 
Reform — Prospects of Christianity — State of the Papacy — Internal Divisions — Carnality of the Church — ■ 
Popular Feeling — Doctrine — Development of Mind — Revival of Letters — Philosophy — Principle of Re- 
formation — Witnesses — Mystics — Wicliff — Huss — Witnesses — The Empire — Peace — State of the People 
— State of Germany — Switzerland — Italy — Spain — Portugal — France — Low Countries — England — Bo- 
hemia and Hungary — Frederic the Wise — Men of Letters— Reuchlin — His Labors — Reuchlin in Italy — 
Contest with the Dominicans — The Hebrew Writings — Erasmus — Erasmus and Luther — Hutten— 
Literse Obscurorum Virorum — Hutten at Brussels — Sickingen — Cronberg — Hans Sachs — General 
Ferment . I 

BOOK II.— The Youth, Conversion, and Early Labors of Luther. 1483— 1517. 

Luther's Parents — Birth of Luther — Luther's Early Life — Magdeburg — His Hardships — The " Shunamite" 
— Recollections— The University — Discovery — The Bible — Mental Agitation — Visit to Mansfeld— 
Luther's Resolution — The Farewell — The Convent — Humiliations — Endurance — His Studies — Ascetic 
Life — Mental Struggle — -Monastic Tendencies — Staupitz — Staupitz and Luther — Present of a Bible — The 
Aged Monk — The Change — Consecration — Luther at Eisleben — Invitation to Wittenberg — First 
Instructions — Lectures— The Old Chapel— His Preaching — Journey to Rome — Sickness at Bologna — ■ 
Luther in Rome — Effects of his Journey — Pilate's Staircase — Confession of Faith — Luther Leaves Home — 
Carlstadt — Luther's Oath — Luther's Courage — Attacks the Schoolmen — Spalatin — Luther's Faith — His 
Preaching — Luther on Idolatry — On Superstitions — His Conduct — George Spenlein — The True Right- 
eousness — Luther and Erasmus — Christian Charity — George Leiffer — Luther's Theses — His Visitation — 
Plague at Wittenberg — The Elector and the Relics — Spalatin — Duke George — Luther's Sermon — Emser 
— The Supper — Free Will— Theses — Nature of Man — Doctor Eck — Urban Regius — The Theses sent to 
Eck— Effect of the Theses 37 

BOOK III.— The Indulgences and the Theses. 1517— 1518. 

Tetzel — Confessions — The Sale — Penance— '-Letter of Indulgence — Relaxations — A Soul in Purgatory — The 
Shoemaker of Hagenau — Myconius — A Stratagem — Opinions of the People — The Miser of Schneeberg — ■ 
Leo X — Albert — Farming Indulgences — Franciscans and Dominicans — Confession — A Calumny Refuted 
— Luther's Sermon — The Dream— Theses — Letter to Albert — Efforts for Reform — The Bishops— Spread 
of the Theses — Reception of the Theses — Effects of the Theses — Myconius — Apprehension — Opposers 
at Wittenberg — Luther's Answer — Dejection of Luther — Motives — Tetzel's Attack — Luther's Answer — 
Luther's Boldness — Luther and Spalatin — Study of the Scriptures — Scheurl and Luther — Albert Durer 
— Tetzel's Reply — Disputation at Frankfort — Tetzel's Theses — Luther's Theses Burned — Outcry of the 
Monks — Luther's Composure — Tetzel's Theses Burned — The higher Clergy — Prierias — The Romish 
System — The Disciple of the Bible— The Doctrine of the Reformation — Luther's Reply to Prierias — ■ 
Hochstraten — Doctor Eck — The " Obelisks" — The " Asterisks" — Scheurl Attempts Reconciliation — 
Luther's Tracts— " Who Art in Heaven" — "Our Daily Bread" — "Remission of Sins" — Effects of 
Luther's Teaching — Luther's Journey — The Palatine Castle — The " Paradoxes" — The Disputation — Its 
Results — Bucer— Brentz — The Gospel of Heidelburg — Effect on Luther — The Old Professor — Return to 
Wittenberg 67 

BOOK IV.— Luther Before the Legate. May to December, 1518. 

The Pope — Leo X — Luther to his Bishop — Luther to the Pope — Luther to the Vicar-General — The Cardinal 
to the Elector — Sermon on Excommunication — Luther's Influence — Diet at Augsburg — The Emperor 
and the Elector — Letters to the Pope — Citation of Luther to Rome — Intercession of the University — The ' 
Legate De Vio — The Pope's Brief — Luther's Indignation — The Pope to the Elector — George Schwar- 
zerd — Melancthon — Luther and Melancthon — Staupitz to Spalatin — Luther's Resolution — He sets out — 
At Nuremberg — Luther at Nuremberg — De Vio — Serra Longa and Luther — Return of Serra Longa — ■ 
Prior of the Carmelites — Serra Longa — Luther and Serra Longa — The Safe Conduct — Appearance 
before the Legate — First Interview — De Vio's Proofs — Luther's Replies — A Proposal — Luther and De 
Vio — Luther's Declaration — The Legate's Answer — Luther's Request — Third Conference — Luther's 
Declaration — The Legate's Answer— Luther's Reply — The Cardinal Foiled — Rumors — De Vio and 
Staupitz — Luther to Carlstadt — The Communion — Departure of Staupitz — Letter to the Legate — Luther 
and the Legate — Luther's Letter to the Legate — His Appeal — Luther's Flight — Nuremberg — The Legate 
to the Elector — Luther to the Elector — Graefenthal — Luther to Spalatin — Luther's Intended Departure 
— A Critical Hour — Deliverance — Dissatisfaction at Rome — The Pope's Bull — Luther's Appeals to a 
Council. gq 

BOOK V. — The Leipsic Discussion. 1519. 

The Pope's Chamberlain — Luther in Danger — Favorable Circumstances — Tetzel's Fears — Miltitz's Caresses 
— Retractation — Luther proposes Silence — The Legate's Kiss— -Tetzel Rebuked — Luther's Letter — Op- 
posed to Separation— De Vio and Miltitzat Treves — The Reformed Opinions spread — Luther's Writings 
— Contest seems to flag — Eck — The Pope's Authority — Luther Answers— Alarm of Luther's Friends — 
Truth secure of Victory— The Bishop's Remonstrance— Mosellanus— Arrival of Eck — An ill Omen— Eck 
and Luther — The Pleissenburg — Judges proposed — The Procession — Luther — Carlstadt — Eck — Carl* 
stadt's Books — Merit of Congruity — Scholastic Distinction — Grace gives Liberty — Melancthon — Eck 
claims Victory— Luther preaches— Quarrel of Students and Doctors— Eck and Luther— The Roman 
Primacy — Equality of Bishops — Christ the Foundation — Insinuation — The Hussites — Commotion in the 
Audience — -Monkish Horror — The Indulgences — Attention of the Laity — Eck's Report — George of 
Anhalt^-The Students of Leipsic— Results of the Disputation— More Liberty— Activity of Eck— Mel- 
ancthon's Defence — Firmness of Luther — Staupitz's Coolness — Christ given for us— Infatuation of the 
Adversaries— The Lord's Supper— Is Faith necessary— God's Word a Sword— Luther's Calmness 128 



x CONTEXTS. 

BOOK VI.— The Roman Bull. 1520. 

Candidates for the Empire — Charles — Francis I. — The Crown offered to Frederic — Charles Elected— 
Dangers — Frederic to the Roman Court — Luther's Feelings — Melancthon's Alarm — Schaumburg — 
Sickingen — Hutten — Luther's Confidence — Faith, the Spring of Works — The Author of Faith — Attack 
on the Papacy — The Three Barriers — All Christians Priests— Corruptions of Rome — Germany in Danger 
— Call for Reform — Marriage of Priests — The Empire — Conclusion — Success of the Appeal — Rome — 
Policy of Rome — Separation — The Swiss Priest — The Roman Consistory — Condemnation — Milancthon 
— Melancthon's Hearth — His Studies — Melancthon's Mother — The Gospel in Italy — Luther on the Mass 
— " Babylonian Captivity" of the Church — Baptism — No other Vows — Miltitz at Eisleben — Deputation 
to Luther — Conference at Lichtenberg — Luther's Letter to the Pope — Union of Christ and the Believer — 
Arrival of the Bull in Germany — The Students of Leipsic — Eck at Erfurth — Luther's Feelings — The 
Pirckheimer Family — Luther — Ulric Zwingle — Luther's Answer — Fresh Movements — The Bonfire of 
Louvain — Luther's Tranquillity — Appeal to a Council — Struggle — Burning of the Pope's Bull— Luther 
and the Academy — Luther and the Pope — Melancthon to the States — Luther Encourages his Friends — 
Melancthon to the Fearful — Luther's Vocation — The Bible and the Doctors — Retractation — A'iex?.nder 
the Nuncio — The Nuncio and the Emperor — The Nuncio and the Elector — Duke John's Son Inter- 
cedes — The Elector protects Luther — The Nuncio's Answer — Erasmus in Cologne — Erasmus and the 
Elector — Erasmus's Declaration — Erasmus's Advice — The Confessional — Luther on Confession — Anti- 
christ — Luther's Cause gains Strength — Satires — Ulric Von Hutten — Carnival at Wittenberg — Staupitz 
alarmed — Luther's Labours — Progress of the Reformation , 



BOOK VII.— The Diet of Worms. January to May, 1521. 

Difficulties — Luther summoned to Worms — Public Opinion — Efforts of Aleander — Fresh charges against 
Luther — Aleander rouses Rome — The Bull Fulminated — Luther's Motives — Political Councils — The 
Confessor — And the Chancellor — Unavailing Manoeuvres — Erasmus's Declaration — The Briefs — The 
Threats — The Audience — 'Speech of Aleander — Rome's Defence — Appeal to Charles — Effects of the 
Nuncio's Speech — Feelings of the Princes — Duke George's Speech — Character of the Reformation — 
Charles gives way — Public Opinion — Luther's Serenity — Death and no Retraction — Summons — Safe- 
conduct — Fears of the Elector — Holy Thursday at Rome — The Pope and Luther — Luther's Courage — 
Bugenhagen — Persecution in Pomerania — Amsdorff— Schurff— Hutten to Charles V. — Luther's Farewell 
■ — Luther at Weimar — Cavalcade of Erfurth — Justus Jonas — Preaches at Erfurth — Faith and Works — The 
People and Luther — Luther to Spalatin — A Stratagem — Luther's Resolution — Enters Worms — Death- 
song — Capito and the Temporizers — Citation — His Prayer — The Strength of the Reformation — Luther 
repairs to the Diet — The Diet — Luther is Encouraged — Luther's Answer — Luther's Prudence — The 
Spaniards — Luther's Vow — Luther again before the Diet — Luther's Speech — Requires Proof of Error — 
A Warning Voice — Repeats his Speech in Latin — New Attempt— Calm in the Midst of Tumult — Duke 
Eric's Offering — The Elector and Spalatin — The Emperor's Til sssage — The Safe-conduct in Danger — 
Enthusiasm for Luther — Conciliation — Concourse to Luther — Philip of Hesse — Conference at Apb, of 
Treves' — Wehe's Exhortation — Private Conversation — Coehlaeus's Proposal — Bursting of the Wineglass 
— Conference at the Hotel — Final Conference with the Archbishop — End of the Negotiations — Luther 
ordered to quit Worms — Luther's Departure from Worms— His Letter to Cranach — Luther's Letter to 
Charles V. — The Curate of Eisenach — Charles signs the Decree against Luther — The Edict of Worms — 
Luther among his Relations — The Ways of God — The Wartburg — The Reformation under a Cloud T 8a 

BOOK VIII.— The Swiss. 1484—1522. 

Democracy — Mercenary Service — The Cottage of Wildhaus — The Herdsman's Family — Young Ulric — 
Ulric at Basle — Ulric at Berne — Jetzer and the Ghost — Jetzer's Visions — Exposure of the Dominicans — 
Passion for Music — Wittembach — Schinner — The Labyrinth — Zwingle in Italy — Principals of the Re- 
formation — Zwingle's Studies — Zwingle's Classical Studies — Paris and Glaris — Oswald Myconius — OZco- 
lampadius — Zwingle and Marignan — Alarm of the Pope — Dawn of the Reformation — Effects of the Defeat 
at Marignan — The Two Worlds — Our Lady of the Eremites — A Learned Society — Zwingle Transcribes 
the Scriptures — Zwingle Opposes Error — Effects of his Preaching — Zwingle and the Legate — The Bishop 
of Constance — Stapfer and Zwingle — The Preachership — The Candidates — Zwingle's Confession — 
Zwingle Elected — Leaves Einsidlen — Reception by the Chapter — Zwingle's Mode of Lecturing — Zwingle 
opens the Gospel — Effects of his Preaching — Opposition — Familiar Manner — Love of Music — Imitation 
of Christ — The Colporteur — Samson at Berne — The Dean of Bremgarten — Henry Bullinger — Samson and 
the Dean — Zwingle's Studies — Samson and the Helvetic Diet — The Baths of Pfeffers — The Critical 
Moment — Zwingle Attacked by the Plague — His Sick Bed and Hymn — General Joy — The Adversaries 
— Effect of the Visitation — Myconius and Xyioctect — Myconius Goes to Lucerne — Capido and Hedio — 
Opposition of the Monks — The Unnatural Son — Zwingle's Gentleness — Fall and Recovery of Man — 
Expiation of the God-man — No Merit in Good Works — Power of Love for Christ — Effects of his Preach- 
ing—Dejection and Courage — Zwingle and Staheli — Violent Attacks — The Reformer of Berne — Halfer's 
Dejection — Oswald Persecuted — H. Bullinger — Gerold Von Knonau — Roubli at Basle — War Between 
Francis and Charles — Foreign Service of the Swiss — Ferment — Truth Triumphs Amidst Opposition — 
The Bishop's Deputies — The Councils — The Parties Confronted — The Coadjutor and Zwingle — Zwingle's 
Answer — Hofman's Charge — Zwingle's Reply — The Bishop's Mandates — The Archeteles — The Bishop 
Appeals to the Diet — Zwingle and the Monks — The Nuns of Oetenbach — Defeat of Bicocca — Francis 
Lambert — Preaches at Zurich — The Commander of the Johannites — Carnival at Berne — The "Feeders 
Upon the Dead" — The Skull of St. Ann — Appenzel— Adultery and Murder — Zwingle's Marriage — 
Meeting at Einsidlen — Petition to the Bishop — The Meeting at Einsidlen Breaks Up — A Scene in a Con- 
vent — Myconius at Lucerne — Effects of the Petition — The Council and the Diet — Friburg — Treatment 
of Oswald — Oswald Encouraged — Oswald Quits Lucerne — Zwingle's Family Alarmed — His Resolution 
— Zwingle's Prayer ...214 

BOOK IX. 

A : pect of the Church— Effects of Luther's Teaching — Wisdom of God — Agitation of the People — Luther and 
Melancthon — Tidings of Luther's Safety — The Imperial Edict Powerless — The " Knight George" — A 
Safe Solitude — Luther's Sickness — Alarm of his Friends — The Confessional — Luther's Health — Feldkir- 
chen's Marriage — Marriage of Priests — And of Friars — Monkery — Luther on Monastic Vows — Dedica- 
tion to his Father — Sale of Indulgences Resumed — Luther's Letter to Spalatin — Luther to the Cardinal 
Elector — Effect of the Reformer's Letter — Albert to Luther — Joachim of Brandenburg — " The Last shall 
be First" — Luther's Fitness for the Work — Of Translating the Scriptures— Luther and Satan — Luther 
quits the Wartburg — The Sorbonne — Luther's visit to Wittenberg — Progress of the Reformation — The 
Monk Gabriel — Interference of the Elector — Frederic's Caution— Attack on Monkery — Thirteen .Monks 
quit the Convent — The Cordeliers Threatened — Decision of Monastic Vows — Carlstadt's Zeal — The 
Lord's Supper — Town Council of Wittenberg — Errors of Popery — Fanatics of Zwickau — The new 
Prophet — Nicholas Hussman — Melancthon and Stubner — Melancthon's Perplexity — Carlstadt's Zeal- 
Contempt of Learning — Occupations of the Elector — Luther's Dejection — His test of Inspiration — Edict 
of the Diet — Luther leaves the Wartburg — Primitive Church — Two Swiss Students — A strange Knight — 
Supper at the Inn — Luther on his Journey — Letter to the Elector — Reception at Wittenberg — Medita- 
tion — Luther Preaches — Faith and Love — God's Way — Luther on the Lord's Suoper — Effect of Luther's 
Sermons — Luther's Moderation and Courage — Stubner and Celiarius — Order Restored — Scripture and 



CONTENTS. xl 

Faith — The Visionary Pen — Publication of the New Testament — Effects of Luther's Translation — The 
" Loci Communes" — Original Sin — Free Will — Knowledge of Christ — Effect of Melancthon's Tract — 
Henry VIII. — Catherine of Arragon — Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More — Cardinal Wolsey — Henry '* 
VIII. writes against Luther — Royal Theology — The King's Vanity — Luther's Indignation — His Reply 
to Henry VIII. — Literary Courtesy — More's Attack upon Luther — Henry's Attachment to More: — 
Henry's Letter — Spread of the Reformation — The Augustine Monks — The Franciscans — The People 
and the Priests — The .new Preachers — Power of the Scriptures — Religion and Literature — The Press — 
Spread of Luther's Writings — Luther at Zwickau — Duke Henry — Ibach at Rome — Diffusion of the 
Light — University of Wittenberg — Principles of the Reformation — Transition State of the Church 258 

BOOK X. 

Movement in Germany — War between Francis I. and Charles V. — Inigo Lopez de Reculde — Siege of Pam- 
peluna — Loyola's Armed Vigil — Enters a Dominican Convent — Mental Distress — " Strong Delusions" — 
" Belief of a Lie" — Amusement of the Pope — Death of Leo X. — Character of Adrian VI. — The Pope 
attempts a Reformation — Opposition at Rome — Designs against Luther — Diet at Nuremberg — Osiander 
at Nuremberg — The Pope's Candor — Resolution of the Diet — Grievances — The Pope to the Elector — 
The Pope's Brief— The Princes fear the Pope—" The Fiery Trial"—" The Failing Mines"— The Au- 
gustine Convent — Mirisch and Probst — Persecution at Miltemburg — The Inquisitors and the Confessors 
— The Fate of Lambert — Luther's Sympathy — Hymn on the Martyrs — The Legate Campeggio — Evasion 
of the Edict of Worms — Alarm of the Pope — The Dukes of Bavaria — Conference at Ratisbon — Subtle 
Devices — Results of the Ratisbon League — The Emperor's Edict — Martyrdom of Gaspard Tauber — 
Cruelties in Wurtemberg — Persecution in Bavaria — Fanaticism in Holstein — The Prior and the Regent — 
Martyrdom of Henry Zuphten — Luther and Carlstadt — Opinions on the Lord's Supper — Carlstadt ieaves 
Wittenberg — Luther at Jena — Luther and Carlstadt — Luther at Orlamund — Interview at Orlamund — 
On the Worship of Images — Carlstadt Banished — Carlstadt Retires to Strasburg — Assembly at Spires — ■ 
Abridgment of the Reformed Doctrine — Albert of Brandenburg — The Word of God not Bound — All 
Saints' Church — Abolition of the Mass — Nature of Christianity — Letter to Councillors — On the Use of 
Learning — Religion and the Arts — Essence of Christianity — Music and Poetry — Abuses of Painting — ■ 
Insurrection of the Peasantry — The Reformation and Revolt — Fanaticism — " The Spirit" — Munzer * 

" Preaches Revolt — Liberty of Conscience — Luther's View of the Revolt — Luther to the Peasantry — 
Murder of Count Helfenstein — Warlike Exhortation — Gotz of Berlichingen — " Radical Reform" — Defeat 
of the Rebels — Munzer at Mulhausen — Anxieties at Wittenberg— The Landgrave takes up Arms — Defeat 
and Death of Munzer — Thirteenth Article — Luther Calumniated — Rise of the New Church — The Revolt 
and the Reformation— The last Days of the Elector Frederic — The Elector and the Reformer — Duke 
George's Confederacy — The Nuns of Nimptsch— Catherine Bora — The Deserted Convent — Luther's 
Thoughts on Matrimony — Luther's Marriage — Domestic Happiness — -The Elector John — The Landgrave 
Philip — Poliander's Hymn — New Ordination — Diet at Augsburg — League of Torgau — The Evangelic 
Union — "The Rulers take Counsel Together" — The Emperor's Message — The Reformation and the 
Papacy 296 

BOOK XI. 

Spiritual Slavery — Christian Liberty — Effect of the Gospel on Zwingle — Leo Judah at Zurich — The Challenge 
— Zwingle and Faber — Zwingle Tempted by the Pope — " Zwingle's Passion" — Tract Against Images — 
Wooden Idols — The Unterwalders— Public Meeting — Hoffman's Defence of the Pope — The Mass- 
Schmidt of Kussnacht— Results of the_Conference — Oswald Myconius at Zurich — Thomas Plater — The 
Swiss Aroused — Hottinger Arrested — His Martyrdom — Persecution Invoked— Swiss and German Re- 
formations — The Jewish and Pagan Elements — Zwingle's and Luther's Tasks — The Council and the 
People — Abduction of OE.ilin— Riot and Conflagration — The Wirths Arrested — The Prisoners Surren- 
dered — A Spectacle to the World—" Cruel Mockings" — "Faithful unto Death" — Father and Son on the 
Scaffold — Abolition of the Mass— The Lord's Supper — Brotherly Love — Zwingle on Original Sin — Attack 
upon Zwingle — The Gospel at Berne — Heim and Haller — Ordinance of the Government — St. Michael's 
Nunnery — The Convent of Konigsfield— Margaret Watteville's Letter — Liberation of the Nuns — Pre- 
tended Letter of Zwingle — Clara May and Nicholas Watteville — The Seat of Learning— Gicolampadius's 
Flight from the Convent — CEcolampadius at Basle — Jealousy of Erasmus— Hutten and Erasmus — Death 
of Hutten — Vacillation and Decision— Erasmus's Quatrain— Luther's Letter to Erasmus — Motives of 
Erasmus in Opposing the Reformation— Lamentations of Erasmus — Arguments for Free Will — Prema- 
ture Exultation— A Test — God's Working — Jansenism — The Bible and Philosophy — The Three 
Day's Battle —Character of False Systems— Conrad Grebel — Extravagances — " The Little Jerusalem" — 
The Anabaptist Feast — Horrible Tragedy — Discussion on Baptism— Opinions not Punishable — Popish 
Immobility — Zwingle and Luther — Zwingle on the Lord's Supper — Consubstantiation — Luther's Great 
Principle — Carlstadt's Writings Prohibited — Zwingle's Commentary — The Suabian Syngramma — Need, 
of Union in Adversity — Struggles of the Reformation — Tumult in the Tockenburg — Meeting at Ilantz — 
Commander's Defence — Doccrine of the Sacrament — Proposed Public Discussion — Decision of the Diet 
— Zwingle in Danger — The Disputants at Baden — Contrast of the Parties— Eck and Qicolampadius— 
Zwingle's Share in the Contest — Murner of Lucerne — Haller and the Council ^f Berne — Reformation in 
St. Gall — Conrad Pelican — The Mountaineers — Alliance with Austria — Farel Appears 334 

BOOK XII.— The French. 1500— 1526. 

The Reformation in France — Persecution of the Vaudois— Birthplace of Farel— La Saint Croix— The Priest's 
Wizard— Farel's Superstitious Faith— The Chevalier Bayard— Louis XII— The Two Valois— Lefevre— 
His Devotion— Farel's Reverence for the Pope— Farel and the Bible — Gleams of Light — Lefevre Turns 
to St. Paul — Lefevre on Works — University Amusements — Faith and Works — Paradoxical Truth — Farel 
and the Saints— Allman Refutes De Vio— Pierre Oiivetan— Happy Change in Farel— Independence 
and Priority — Of the Reformation in France — Francis of Angoleme — Two Classes of Combatant^ 
—Margaret of Valois— Talents of the Queen of Navarre— The Bishop and the Bible— Francis En- 
courages Learning— Margaret Embraces the Gospel— Poetical Effusions— Of the Duchess of Alencon— 
Margaret's Danger — Violence of Beda — Louis Berquin — Opposition to the Gospel — The Concordat— The 
Concordat Resiste.d— Fanaticism and Timidity— The Three Maries— Beda and the University— The 
King and the Sorbonne— Briconnet in his Diocese— The Bishop and the Curates — Martial Mazurier— 
Margaret's Sorrows— Strength Under Trial— Death of Philibert of Nemours— Alone, not Lonely— The 
Wandering Sheep— Briconnet's Hope and Prayer— Sufficiency of the Scriptures— Lefevre's French Edible 
— The People " Turned Aside"— Church of Landouzy — The Gospel and the French Court — Mar 
Lamentations— Briconnet Preaches Against the Monks— Two Despotisms— Briconnet Draws 1 
Leclerc the Wool-Comber— Leclerc's Zeal and Sufferings— A Mother's Faith and Love— Secret Meetings 
for Worship— Berquin Imprisoned by the Parliament— Charges Against Berquin— Liberated by the King 
— Pavanne's Recantation and Remorse— Zeal of Leclerc and Chatelain— Peter Toussaint— Leclerc 
Breaks the Images— Uproar among the People— Martyrdom of Leclerc and Chatelain -The Gospel Ex- 
pelled trom Gap— Anemond's Zeal— Farel Preaches to His Countrymen— Pierre De Sebville— -Anemon 1 
Visits Luther— Luther's Letter to the Duke of Savoy— Farel's Arrival in Switzerland — CEcolamp 
.and Farel— Cowardice of Erasmus— French Frankness— " Balaam"— Farel's Propositions— Faith and 
Scripture— The Reformation Defended— Visits Strasburg— Ordination of Farel— Apostolical Succession 
—Farel *t Montbeliard— The Gospel at Lyons— Anthony Papillon— Sebville Persecuted— Secret Meet- 
t ings.at Grenoble— Effects of the Battle of Pavia— Trial and Arrest of Maigret— Evangelical Association 



xii CONTENTS. 

— Need of Unity — Christian Patriotism — Influence of Tracts — The New Testament in French — Bible and 
Tract Societies — Farel at Montbeliard — Oil and Wine — Toussaint' s Trials — Farel and Anemond — The 
Image of Saint Anthony — Death of Anemond — Defeat and Captivity of Francis I. — Consternation of the 
French — Opposers of the Faith — The Queen-Mother and the Sorbonne — Cry for "Heretical" Blood — 
Parliament Establishes the Inquisition — Charges Against Bricbnnet — Cited Before the Inquisition — 
Dismay of the Bishop— Refused a Trial by His Peers — Briconnet's Temptation and Fall — Retractation 
of Briconnet — Compared with Lefevre — Beda Attacks Lefevre — Lefevre at Strasburg — Meets Farel — 
Berquin Imprisoned — Erasmus Attacked by the Monks and the Sorbonne — Appeals to the Parliament 
and the King — More Victims in Lorraine — Bonaventure Rennel— Courage of Pastor Schuch — Martyrdom 
of Schuch — Peter Caroli and Beda — The Martyrdom of James Pavanne — The Hermit of Livry — Seized 
and Condemned — Resources of Providence— John Calvin — The Family of Mommor — Calvin's Parentage 
— Calvin's Childhood — His Devotion to Study — Infant Ecclesiastics — Calvin Proceeds to Paris — Re- 
formation of Language — Protestant France — System of Terror — The " Babylonish Captivity" — Toussaint 
Goes to Paris — Toussaint in Prison — "Not Accepting Deliverance" — Spread of Persecution — Project 
of Margaret — For the Deliverance of Francis — Margaret's Resolution — She Sails for Spain 371 

, BOOK XIII.— The Protest and the Conference. 1526— 1529. 

Twofold Movement of Reform — Reform, the Work of God — First Diet of Spire — Palladium of Reform — 
Proceedings of the Diet — Report of the Commissioners — The Papacy Described — Destruction of Jeru- 
salem — Instructions of Seville — Change of Policy — The Holy League — Religious Liberty Proposed — 
Crisis of the Reformation — Italian War — Emperor's Manifesto — Italian Campaign — March on Rome — 
Revolt of the Troops — Papal Army — The Assault — The Sack — German Humors — Violence of the 
Spaniards — Profitable Calm — Constitution of the Church — Philip of Hesse — The Monk of Marburg — ■ 
Lambert's Paradoxes — Friar Boniface — Disputation at Homburg — Triumph of the Gospel in Hesse — ■ 
Constitution of the Church — Synods — Two Elements in the Church — Luther on the Ministry — Organiza- 
tion of the Church — Evils of State Interference — Luther's Letter to the Elector — German Mass — 
Melancthon's Instructions — Disaffection — Visitation of the Reformed Churches — Important Results — 
The Reformation Advances — Elizabeth of Brandenburg — A Pious Princess — Edict ofOfen — Persecutions 
— Windelier and Carpenter — Persecutions — Keyser — Alarm in Germany — Pack's Forgery — League of the 
Reformed Princes — Advice of the Reformers — Luther's Pacific Counsel — Surprise of the Papist Princes 
— Pack's Scheme not Improbable — Vigor of the Reformation— Alliance between Charles and Clement 
— Omens — Hostility of the Papists — Arbitrary Proposition of Charles — The Schism Completed — The 
Protest — Principles of the Protest — The Supremacy of the Gospel — Union of Truth and Charity — Ferdi- 
nand Rejects the Protest — Joy of the Protestants — Exultation of the Papists — Peter Muterstatt — Christian 
Unity a Reality — Escape of Grynseus — Melancthon's Dejection — The Princes, the True Reformers — ■ 
Germany and Reform — Union Necessary to Reform — Difficulty of Union — A Lutheran Warning — Pro- 
posed Conference at Marburg — Melancthon and Zwingle — Zwingle's Departure — Rumors in Zurich — • 
Hoc est Corpus Meum — The Discussion — Figures — Scripture Explained by Scripture — The Spiritual 
Eating — Zwingle's Old Song — Agitation in the Conference— Metaphor — Christ's Humanity Finite — 
Testimony of Augustin — Luther's Violence — End of the Conference— The Landgrave Mediates — Their 
Last Meeting — Zwingle's Emotion — Sectarian Spirit of the Germans — Brotherhood Rejected — Christian 
Charity Prevails — The Real Presence — Luther's Dejection — State of Political Affairs — Luther's Battle 
Sermon 426 

BOOK XIV.— The Augsburg Confession. 1530. 

Two Striking Lessons — Charles V. — The German Envoys— Boldness of the Envoys — The Landgrave's 
Present— The Envoys under Arrest — Their Release and Departure — Meeting of Charles and Clement — 
Gattinara's Proposition— Clement's Objection— War Imminent — Luther's Objections — The Saviour is 
Coming — Charles' Conciliatory Language — The Emperor's Motives — The Coronation — Alarm of the 
Protestants — Luther Advocates Passive Resistance — Bruch's Noble Advice — Spiritual Armor — Luther 
remains at Coburg — Charles at Innspruck — Two Parties at Court — Sentiments of Gattinara — The King 
of Denmark — Piety of the Elector — Wiles of the Romanists — Augsburg — The Gospel Preached — The 
Emperor's Message — The Sermons Prohibited — Firmness of the Elector — The Elector's Reply — Prepa- 
ration of the Confession — The Church, the Judge — The Landgrave's Catholic Spirit — Augsburg — 
Violence of the Imperialists — Charles at Munich — Charles and the Princes — The Procession — Enters 
Augsburg — The Benediction — Charles and the Landgrave — The Margrave of Brandenburg — The Em- 
peror's Silence — Failure of the Interview — Agitation of Charles — Refusal of the Princes — Procession of 
Corpus Christi — Exasperation of Charles — The Sermons Prohibited — A Compromise Proposed — A 
Compromise — Curiosity of the Citizens — The New Preachers — The Medley of Popery — Luther Encour- 
ages the Princes — Veni Spiritus — Mass of the Holy Ghost — The Sermon — Opening the Diet — The 
Elector's Prayer — Insidious Plan of the Romanists — Valdez and Melancthon — Evangelical Firmness 
Prevails — Zeal of the Elector — The Signing of the Confession — Luther's Anxiety — Luther's Texts — 
Luther to Melancthon — The Palatine Chapel — Recollections and Contrast — The Confession — Prologue 
— The Confession — Justification — Free Will and Works — Faith — Luther on the Confession — Abuses — ■ 
Church and State — Duty of the Bishops — Epilogue — Remarks on the Confession — Church and State 
Distinct — Remarks — Moderate Tone of the Confession — Defects — A New Baptism — Effect on the 
Romanists — Luther Demands Religious Liberty — Luther's Dominant Idea — Song of Triumph — An 
Ingenious Confession — Hopes of the Protestants— Failure of the Popish Intrigues — The Emperor's 
Council — Luther Opposes Concession — Infatuation of the Papists — Scheme of the Romish Doctors— 
Melancthon's Explanation — Refutation — Charles' Dissatisfaction — Interview with the Princes — The 
Swiss at Augsburg— Zwingle's Confession — Afflicting Divisions — The Elector's Faith— The Lion's Skin 
— The Refutation — Imperial Commands — Melancthon's Prescience — Policy of Charles — Stormy Meeting 
— Resolutions of the Consistory — The Prayers of the Saints — Two Miracles — The Emperor's Menace — 
The Mask — Omens — Tumult in Augsburg — Philip of Hesse — Temptation — Union Resisted — The Land- 
grave — Protestant Firmness— Philip of Hesse — Flight from Augsburg— Alarm in Augsburg — Metamor- 
phoses—Unusual Moderation— Peace, Peace— The Mixed Commission— The Three Points— Romish 
' Dissimulation — The Main Question — Church Government — Danger of Concession — Pretended Concord 
— Luther's Letters— The Word above the Church— Melancthon's Blindness— Papist Infatuation — A New 
Commission — The Landgrave's Firmness — The Two Phantoms — Concessions— Rome and Christianity 
— Irritation — The Gordian Knot— The Council Granted— Alarm in Rome— Menaces — Altercations — 
Fresh Negotiations — Protestantism Resists — Luther's Exhortation — The Elector of Saxony — The 
Recess of Augsburg — Irritating Language — Apology of the Confession — Intimidation — Final Interview — 
Messages of Peace — Exasperation of the Papists — Restoration of Popery — Tumult in the Church — Union 
of the Churches— The Pope and the Emperor — Close of the Diet — Attack of Geneva— Joy of the Evan- 
gelicals — Estsblishment of Protestantism 4^5 

BOOK XV.— Switzerland— Conquests. 1526— 1530. 

Three Periods of Reform — Two Movements in the Church — The Two Movements — Aggressive Spirit — The. 
Schoolmaster — Farel's New Baptism — Farel's Studies — The Door is Opened — Opposition — Laussanne 
— Picture of the Clergy — Farel at Lausanne — Farel and the Monk — Opposition to the Gospel — The 
Converted Monk — Christian Unity — State Religion — A Resolution of Berne — Almanac of Heretics— 
Haller — Zwingle's Exhortation — Anabaptists at Berne — Victory of the Gospel — Papist Provocations — 
Proposed Disputation — Objections of the Forest Cantons — Important Question — Unequal Contest — A 



CONTENTS. : 

Christian Band — The Cordeliers' Church — Opening of the Conference— Christ the Sole Head — Re- 
markable Conversion — St. Vincent's Day— A Strange Argument— Papist Bitterness — Necessity of 
Reform— Zwingle's Sermon — Charity — Edict of Reform — The Reformation Reproached — The Reform 
Accepted— Faith and Charity — First Evangelical Communion — Faith Shown by Works — Head of Beatas 
— Threatening Storm— Revolt— Christ in Danger— A Revolt — Energy of Berne— Victory— Political Ad- 
vantages—Romish Relics— Nuns of St. Catherine — Contests— Spread of Reform— A Popish Miracle — 
Obstacles in Basle — Zeal of the Citizens — Witticisms of Erasmus — Half Measures — The Petition — Com- 
motion in Basle — Half Measures Rejected — Reformed Propositions — A Night of Terror — The Idols 
Broken— The Hour of Madness— The Reform Legalized— Erasmus in Basle— Objections — Principles of 
the Reformation— Farel's Commission— Farel at Lausanne— Farel at Morat— Neufchatel— Farel's La- 
bors— Farel's Preaching — Popery in Neufchatel — Resistance of the Monks — The Hospital Chapel — 
Civil Power Invoked — Gullemette de Vugy — The Feast of Assumption — The Mass Interrupted — Farel's 
Danger— 111 Treatment of Farel — Apostles and Reformers Compared— Farel in the Cathedral— The Idols 
Destroyed — Interposition of the Governor — Reflections — Plans of the Romanists — The Governor's Diffi- 
culties — Preliminaries — Hatred and Division — Proposed Delay — The Romanist Protest — The Voting — 
Majority for Reform— Protestantism Perpetual— The Image of St. John— A Miracle— Popery and the 
Gospel— Reaction Preparing— Failure of the Plot— Farel's Labors— De Bely at Fontaine— The Pastor 
Marcourt — Disgraceful Expedient — The Reform Established — Remarks 



BOOK XVI.— Switzerland— Catastrophe. 1528— 1531. 

Christian Warfare — Zwingle — Persecutions — Austrian Alliance — Animosity — Christian Exhortation — Key- 
ser's Martyrdom — Zwingle and War — Zwingle's Error — Zwingle's Advice — War of Religion — Zwingle 
Joins the Army — War — The Landamman .<Ebli— Bernese Interposition — Swiss Cordiality — The Zurich 
Camp — A Conference — Peace Restored — Austrian Treaty Torn — Zwingle's Hymn — Nuns of St. Cathe- 
rine — Conquests of Reform — The Priest of Zurzack — The Reform in Claris — Italian Bailiwicks — The 
Monk of Como — The Monk of Locarno— Letter to the German Church — The Monks of Wettingen — 
Abbe of St. Gall — Kiliankouffi — Soleure — A New Miracle — Popery Triumphs — The Grisons Invaded — 
Forebodings to Berne — Mutual Errors — Failure of the Diet — Political Reformation — Activity of Zurich 
^-Diet at Arau — Blockade of the Waldsleddtes — Indignation — France Conciliates — Diet at Bremgarten 
— The Five Cantons Inflexible — Zurich — Zwingle's False Position — The Great Council — Zwingle at 
Bremgarten — The Apparition — Zwingle's Agony — Frightful Omens — The Comet — Zwingle's Tranquility 
— New Mediations — Deceitful Calm — Fatal Inactivity— Zurich Forewarned — Manifesto of the Cantons 
—The Abbot Wolfgang— Infatuation of Zurich — The War Begins — A Fearful Night— The War — Army 
of Zurich — Zwingle's Departure — Anna Zwingle — Army of Zurich— Battle of Cappel — The March — 
Ambuscade — The Banner in Danger — The Banner Saved — Terrible Slaughter — Slaughter of the Pastors 
■ — Zwingle's Last Moments — Barbarity of the Victors — The Furnace of Trial — Distress — Zwingle is 
Dead — Funeral Oration — Army of Zurich — Another Reverse — Inactivity of the Bernese — Joy of the 
Romanists — End of the War — Death of OZcolampadius — Conclusion .564 

BOOK XVII.— England before the Reformation. 

Introduction — Work of the Sixteenth Century — Unity and Diversity — Necessity of Considering the Entire 
Religious History of England — Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain — Formation of Ecclesias- 
tical Catholicism in the Roman Empire — Spiritual Christianity Received by Britain — Slavery and Con- 
version of Succatt — His Mission to Ireland — Anglo-Saxons re-establish Paganism in England — Columbia 
at Iona — Evangelical Teaching — Presbytery and Episcopacy in Great Britain — Continental Missions of 
the Britons — An Omission — Pope Gregory the Great— Desires to Reduce Britain — Policy of Gregory and 
Augustine — Arrival of the Mission — Appreciation — Britain Superior to Rome — Dionbthat Bangor — First 
and Second Romish Aggressions — Anguish of the Britons — Pride of Rome — Rome has Recourse to the 
Sword — Massacre — Saint Peter Scourges an Archbishop — Oswald — His Victory — Corman — Mission of 
Oswald and Aidan — Death of Oswald — Character of Oswy — Death of Aidan — Wilfrid at Rome — At 
Oswald's Court — Finan and Colman — Independence of the Church Attacked — Oswy's Conquests and 
Troubles — Synodus Pharensis — Cedda — Degeneration — The Disputation — Peter, the Gatekeeper — 
Triumph of Rome — Grief of the Britons — Popedom Organized in England — Papal Exultation — Arch- 
bishop Theodore — Cedda re-ordained — Discord in the Church — Disgrace and Treachery of Wilfrid — His 
'End — Scotland Attacked — Adamnan — Iona Resists — A King Converted by Architects — The Monk 
Egbert at Iona — His History — Monkish Visions — Fall of Iona — Clement — Struggle Between a Scotch- 
man and an Englishman — Word of God Only — Clement's Success — His Condemnation — Virgil and the 
Antipodes — John Scotus and Philosophical Religion — Alfred and the Bible — Darkness and Popery — 
William the Conqueror — Walston at Edward's Tomb — Struggle Between W'illiam and Hildebrand — The 
Pope Yields — Csesaropapia — Anselm's Firmness — Becket's Austerity — The King Scourged — John Be- 
comes the Pope's Vassal — Collision Between Popery and Liberty — The Vassal King Ravages his King- 
dom — Religion of the Senses and Superstition — Reaction — Grostete — Principles of Reform — Contest with 
the Pope — Sewal — Progress of the Nation — Opposition to the Papacy — Conversion of Bradwardine — 
Grace is Supreme — Edward III. — Statutes of Provisors and Praemunire — The Mendicant Friars — Their 
Disorders and Popular Indignation — Wickliffe — His Success — Speeches of the Peers Against the Papal 
Tribute — Agreement of Bruges — Courtenay and Lancaster — Wickliffe before the Convocation — Alterca- 
tion Between Lancaster and Courtenay — Riot — Three Briefs Against Wickliffe — Wickliffe at Lambeth — 
Mission of the Poor Priests — Their Preachings and Persecutions — Wickliffe and the Four Regents — The 
Bible — Wickliffe's Translation — Effects of its Publication — Opposition of the Clergy — Wickliffe's Fourth 
Phasis — Transubstandation — Excommunication — Wickliffe's Firmness — Wat Tyler — The Synod — The 
Condemned Propositions — Wickliffe's Petition — Wickliffe Before the Primate at Oxford — Wickliffe Sum- 
moned to Rome — His Answer— The Trialogue — His Death — And Character — His Teaching: — His 
Ecclesiastical Views— A Prophecy— The Wickliffites— Call for Reform— Richard II.— The First Slartyr 
Lord Cobham — Appears Before Henry V. — Before the Archbishop — His Confession and Death — The 
Lollards — Learning at Florence — The Tudors — Erasmus Visits England — Sir Thomas More — Dean 
Colet — Erasmus and Young Henry — Prince Arthur and Catherine— Marriage and Death — Catherine 
Betrothed to Henry — Accession of Henry VIII. — Enthusiasm of the Learned — Erasmus Recalled to 
England — Cromwell Before the Pope — Catherine Proposed to .Henry — Their Marriage and Court — 
Tournaments — Henry's Danger — The Pope Excites to War — Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's — The Flemish 
Campaign — Marriage of Louis XII. and Princess Mary — Letter from Anne Boleyn — Marriage of 
Brandon and Mary — Oxford — Sir Thomas More at Court — Attack upon the Monasteries — Colet's House- 
hold — He Preaches Reform — The Greeks and Trojans — Wolsey — His first Commission — His Complais- 
ance and Dioceses — Cardinal, Chancellor and Legate — Ostentation and Necromancy — His Spies and 
Enmity— Pretensions of the Clergy— The Wolves— Richard Hun— A Murder— Verdict of the Jury— Hun 
Condemned, and his Character Vindicated— The Gravesend Passage -boat — A Festival Disturbed — 
Brown Tortured — Visit from his Wife— A Martyr— Character of Erasmus— 1516 and 1517— Erasmus 
Goes to Basle » 613 

BOOK XVIII.— The Revival of the Church. 

Four Reforming Powers— Which Reformed England ?— Papal Reform ?— Episcopal Reform? — Royal 

Reform ? r -What is Required in a Legitimate Reform? — The Share of the Kingly Power — Share of the 

Episcopal Authority — High and Low Church — Political Events — The Greek and Latin New Testament 

-' — Thoughts of Erasmus — Enthusiasm and Anger — Desire of Erasmus — Clamors of the Priests — Their 



xiv CONTENTS. 

Attack at Court — Astonishment of Erasmus — His Labors for this Work — Edward Lee — His Character- 
Lee's Tragedy — Conspiracy — Effects of the New Testament in the Universities — Conversations — A 
Cambridge Fellow — Bilney Buys the New Testament — The First Passage — His Conversion — Protestant- 
ism, the Fruit of the Gospel— The Vale of the Severn — William Tyndale — Evangelization at Oxford — 
Bilney Teaches at Cambridge — Fryth — Is Conversion Possible ? — True Consecration — The Reformation 
has Begun — Alarm of the Clergy — The Two Days — Thomas Man's Preaching — True Real Presence — 
Persecution at Coventry — Standish — Preaches at St. Paul's — His Petition to the King and Queen — His 
Arguments and Defeat — Wolsey's Ambition — First Overture — Henry and Francis Candidates for the 
Empire — Conference between Francis I. and Sir T. Boleyn — The Tiara Promised to Wolsey — The Car- 
dinal's Intrigues with Charles and Francis — Tyndale — Sodbury Hall — Sir John and Lady Walsh — 
Table-talk — The Holy Scriptures — The Images — The Anchor of Faith — A Roman Camp — Preaching of 
Faith and Works — Tyndale Accused by the Priests — They Tear up what he has Planted — Tyndale 
Resolves to Translate the Bible — His First Triumph — The Priests in the Taverns — Tyndale Summoned 
Before the Chancellor of Worcester — Consoled by an Aged Doctor — Attacked by a Schoolman — His 
Secret Becomes Known — He Leaves Sodbury Hall — Luther's Works in England — Consultation of the 
Bishops— The Bull of Leo X. Published in England — Luther's Books Burnt — Letter of Henry VIII. — ■ 
He Undertakes to Write Against Luther — Cry of Alarm — Tradition and Sacramentalism — Prudence of Sir 
Thomas More — The Book Presented to the Pope — Defender of the Faith — Exultation of the King— 
Wolsey's Machinations to Obtain the Tiara — He gains Charles V. — Alliance Between Henry and 
Charles — Wolsey Offers to Command the Troops — Treaty of Bruges — Henry Believes Himself King of 
France — Victories of Francis I. — Death of Leo X. — The Just Men of Lincolnshire — Their Assemblies 
and Teaching — Agnes and Morden — Itinerant Libraries— Polemical Conversations — Sarcasm — Royal 
Decree and Terror — Depositions and Condemnations — Four Martyrs — A Conclave — Charles Consoles 
Wolsey — Character of Tyndale — He Arrives in London— He Preaches — The Cloth and the Ell — The 
Bishop of London — Gives Audience to Tyndale — He is Dismissed — A Christian Merchant of London — 
Spirit of Love in the Reformation— Tyndale in Monmouth's House — Fryth Helps him to Translate the 
New Testament — Importunities of the Bishop of Lincoln — Persecution in London — Tyndale's Resolu- 
tion — He Departs — His Indignation Against the Prelates — His Hopes — Bilney at Cambridge— Conver- 
sions — The University Cross-bearer — A Leicestershire Farmer — A Party of" Students — Superstitious 
Practices— An Obstinate Papist — The Sophists — Latimer Attacks Stafford — Bilney's Resolution — Lati- 
mer hears Bilney's Confession — Confessor Converted — New Life of Latimer — Bilney Preaches Grace- 
Nature of the Ministry— Latimer's Character and Teaching — Works of Charity — Three Classes of 
Adversaries — Clark and Calaber— Wolsey Seeks the Tiara — Clement VII. is Elected — Wolsey's Dissimu- 
lation — Charles Offers France to Henry — Pace's Mission on this Subject — Wolsey Reforms the Convents 
His Secret Alliances — Treaty Between France and England — Taxation and Insurrection — False Charges 
Against the Reformers — Latimer's Defence — Tenterden Steeple — Tyndale at Hamburgh — First two 
Gospels — -Embarrassment — Tyndale at Wittenberg — At Cologne — The New Testament at Press — Sudden 
Interruption — Cochlaeus at Cologne — Rupert's Manuscripts— Discovery of Cochlaeus — His Inquiries — 
His Alarm — Rincke and the Senate's Prohibition — Consternation and Decision of Tyndale — Cochlaeus 
writes to England — Tyndale Ascends the Rhine — Prints two Editions at Worms — Tyndale's Prayer — 
Worms and Cambridge — St. Paul Resuscitated — Latimer's Preaching— Never Man Spake Like this Man 
— 'Joy and Vexation at Cambridge — Sermon by Prior Buckingham — Irony — Latimer's Reply to Bucking- 
ham — The Students Threatened — Latimer Preaches Before the Bishop — He is Forbidden to Preach — 
The Most Zealous of Bishops — Barnes the Restorer of Letters — Bilney Undertakes to Convert him — 
Barnes Offers his Pulpit to Latimer — Fryth's Thirst for God — Christmas Eve, 1525 — Storm Against 
Barnes — Ferment in the Colleges — Germany at Cambridge — Meetings at Oxford — General Expectation 665 

BOOK XIX.— The English New Testament and the Church of Rome. 

Church and State Essentially Distinct — Their Fundamental Principles — What Restores Life to the Church — 
Separation from Rome Necessary — Reform and Liberty — The New Testament Crosses the Sea — Is 
Hidden in London — Garret's Preaching and Zeal — -Dissemination of Scripture — What the People find in 
it — The Effects it Produces — Tyndale's Explanations — Roper, More's Son-in-law — Garret Carries Tyn- 
dale's Testament to Oxford — Henry and his Valet — The Supplication of the Beggars — Two Sorts of 
Beggars — Evils Caused by Priests — More's Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory — The Two Authori- 
ties — Commencement of the Search — Garret at Oxford — His Flight — His Return and Imprisonment — ■ 
Escapes and Takes Refuge with Dalaber — Garret and Dalaber at Prayer — The Magnificat — Surprise 
among the Doctors — Clark's Advice — Fraternal Love at Oxford— Alarm of Dalaber — -His Arrest and 
Examination — He is Tortured — Farret and Twenty Fellows Imprisoned — -The Cellar — Condemnation 
and Humiliation — Persecution at Cambridge — Barnes Arrested — A Grand Search — Barnes at Wolsey's 
Palace— Interrogated by the Cardinal — Conversation Between Wolsey and Barnes — Barnes Threatened 
with the Stake— His Fall and Public Penance — Richard Bayfield — His Faith and Imprisonment — Visits 
Cambridge — Joins Tyndale — The Confessors in the Cellar at Oxford — Four of them Die — The Rest 
Liberated — Luther's Letter to the King — Henry's Anger — His Reply — Luther's Resolution — Persecu- 
tions — Barnes Escapes — Proclamations Against the New Testament — W. Roy to Caiaphas — Third 
Edition of the New Testament — The Triumph of Law and Liberty — Hackett Attacks the Printer — ■ 
Hackett's Complaints — A Seizure — The Year 1526 in England — Wolsey Desires to be Revenged — The 
Divorce Suggested — Henry's Sentiments Towards the Queen — Wolsey's First Steps — Longland's Pro- 
ceedings — Refusal of Margaret of Valois — Objection of the Bishop of Tarbes — Henry's Uneasiness — 
Catherine's Alarm — Mission to Spain — Anne Boleyn Appointed Maid of Honor to Catherine — Lord 
Percy Becomes Attached to her — Wolsey Separates Them — Anne Enters Margaret's Household — Siege 
of Rome ; Cromwell— Wolsey's Intercession for the Popedom — He Demands the Hand of Renee of 
France for Henry — Failure — Anne Reappears at Court — Repels the King's Advances — Henry's Letter — 
Lie Resolves to Accelerate the Divorce — Two Motives which Induce Anne to Refuse the Crown — Wolsey's 
Opposition — Bilney's Preaching— His Arrest — Arthur's Preaching and Imprisonment — Bilney's Exam- 
ination — Contest Between the Judge and the Prisoner — Bilney's Weakness and Fall — His Terrors — 
Two Wants— Arrival of the Fourth Edition of the New Testament — Joy Among Believers — The Papacy 
• Intercepts the Gospel — The King Consults Sir Thomas More — Ecclesiastical Conferences about the Di- 
vorce — The Universities— Clarke — The Nun of Kent — Wolsey Decides to do the King's Will — Mission 
to the Pope — Four Documents — Embarrassment of Charles V. — Francis Philip at Madrid — Distress and 
Resolution of Charles — He Turns Away from the Reformation — Conference at the Castle of St. Angelo 
— Knight Arrives in Italy — His Flight — Treaty Between the Pope and the Emperor — Escape of the 
Pope — Confusion of Henry VIII. — Wolsey's Orders — His Entreaties — The English Envoys at Orvieto 
— Their Oration to the Pope — Clement Gains Time — The Envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor — 
Stratagem of the Pope — Knight Discovers it and Returns — The Transformation of Antichrist — The 
English Obtain a New Document— Fresh Stratagem — Demand of a Second Cardinal-legate — The Pope's 
New Expedient — End of the Campaign — Disappointment in England — War Declared Against Charles 
V. — Wolsey Desires to get him Deposed by the Pope— A New Scheme — Embassy of Foxe and Gardiner 
Their Arrival at Orvieto — -Their first Interview with Clement — The Pope Reads a Treatise by Henry — 
Gardiner's Threats and Clement's Promise — The Modern Fabius — Fresh Interview and Menaces — The 
Pope has not the Key — Gardiner's Proposition — Difficulties and Delays of the Cardinals — Gardiner's 
Last Blows — Reverses of Charles V. in Italy — The Pope's Terror and Concession — The Commission 
Granted — Wolsey Demands the Engagement — A Loophole — The Pope's Distress — Foxe's Report to 
Henry and Anne— Wolsey's Impression — He Demands the Decretal — One of the Cardinal's Petty Ma- 
noeuvres — He sets his Conscience at Rest — Gardiner Fails at Rome — Wolsey's New Perfidy — The 
King's Anger Against the Pope— Sir T. More Predicts Religious Liberty — Immorality of Ultramontane 
Socialism — Erasmus Invited— Wolsey's Last Flight — Energetic Efforts at Rome — Clement Grants all 
— Wolsey Triumphs — Union of Rome and England 709 



CONTENTS. xv 

BOOK XX.— The Two Divorces. 

Progress of the Reformation — The Two Divorces — Entreaties to Anne Boleyn — The Letters in the Vatican 
°— Henry to Anne — Henry's Second Letter — Third — Fourth — Wolsey's Alarm — His Fruitless Proceed- 
ings — He Turns — The Sweating Sickness — Henry's Fears — New Letters to Anne — Anne Falls Sick ; 
her Peace — Henry Writes to Her — Wolsey's Terror — Campeggio does not Arrive — All Dissemble at 
Court — Coverdale and Inspiration — He Undertakes to Translate* the Scriptures — His Joy and Spiritual 
Songs — Tyball and the Laymen — Coverdale Preaches at Bumpstead — Revival at Colchester — Incomplete 
Societies and the New Testament — Persecution — Monmouth Arrested and Released — Political Changes 
— Fresh Instructions from the Pope to Campeggio — His Delays — He Unbosoms Himself to Francis — A 
Prediction — Arrival of Campeggio — Wolsey's Uneasiness — Henry's Satisfaction — The Cardinal's Project 
— Campeggio's Reception — First Interview with the Queen and with the King — Useless Efforts to make 
Campeggio Part with the Decretal — The Nuncio's Conscience — Public Opinion — Measures Taken by the 
King — His Speech to the Lords and Aldermen — Festivities — Wolsey Seeks French Support — Contrariety 
— True Catholicity — Wolsey — Harman's Matter — West Sent to Cologne — Labors of Tyndale and Fryth 
— Rincke at Frankfort — He makes a Discovery — Tyndale at Marburg — West Returns to England — His 
Tortures in the Monastery — Necessity of the Reformation — Wolsey's Earnestness with Da Casale — An 
Audience with Clement VII. — Cruel Position of the Pope — A Judas Kiss — A New Brief— Bryan and 
Vannes Sent to Rome — Henry and Du Bellay — Wolsey's Reasons Against the Brief— Excitement in 
London — Metamorphosis — Wolsey's Decline — His Anguish — The Pope's Illness — Wolsey's Desire — 
Conference About the Members of the Conclave — Wolsey's Instructions — The Pope Recovers — Speech 
of the English Envoys to the Pope — Clement Willing to Abandon England — The English Demand the 
Pope's Denial of the Brief— Wolsey's Alarm — Intrigues — Bryan's Clearsightedness — Henry's Threats— 
Wolsey's New Efforts — He Calls for an Appeal to Rome, and Retracts — Wolsey and Du Bellay at Rich- 
mond — The Ship of the State — Discussion Between the Evangelicals and the Catholics — Union of 
Learning and Life — The Laity : Tewkesbury— His Appearance Before the Bishop's Court — He is 
Tortured — Two Classes of Opponents — A Theological Duel — Scripture and the Church — Emancipation 
of the Mind — Mission to the Low Countries — Tyndale's Embarrassment — Tonstall Wishes to Buy the 
Books — Packington's Stratagem— Tyndale Departs for Antwerp — His Shipwreck — Arrival at Hamburg 
„ — Meets Coverdale — The Royal Session — Sitting of the 18th June; the Queen's Protest — Sitting of the 
21st June — Summons to the King and Queen — Catherine's Speech — She Retires — Impression on the 
Audience — The King's Declaration — Wolsey's Protest — Quarrel Between the Bishops-— New Sitting — ■ 
Apparition to the Maid of Kent — Wolsey Chafed by Henry — The Earl of Wiltshire at Wolsey's — Private 
Conference Between Catherine and the two Legates — The 3'rial Resumed — Catherine Summoned — 
Twelve Articles — The Witnesses' Evidence — Arthur and Catherine Really Married — Campeggio Op- 
poses the Argument of Divine Right — Other Arguments — The Legates Required to Deliver Judgment — ■ 
Their Tergiversations — Change in Men's Minds — Final Session — General Expectation — Adjournment 
During Harvest — Campeggio Excuses this Impertinence — The King's Indignation — Suffolk's Violence 
— Wolsey's Reply — He is Ruined — General Accusations — The Cardinal Turns to an Episcopal Life — 
Anne Boleyn at Hever — She Reads the Obedience of a Christian Man — Is Recalled to Court — Miss 
Gainsford and George Zouch — Tyndale's Book'Converts Zouch — Zouchinthe Chapel-Royal — The Book 
Seized — Anne Replies to Henry — The King Reads the Book— Pretended Influence of the Book on Henry 
— The Court at Woodstock — The Park and its Goblins — Henry's Esteem for Anne — Embarrassment of the 
Pope — The Triumphs of Charles Decide him — He Traverses the Cause to Rome — Wolsey's Dejection — ■ 
Henry's Wrath — Plis Fears — Wolsey Obtains Comfort — Arrival of the two Legates at Grafton — Wolsey's 
Reception by Henry — Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner — Henry with Anne — Conference Between the King 
and the Cardinal — Wolsey's Joy and Grief— The Supper at Euston — Campeggio's Farewell Audience — 
Wolsey's Disgrace — Campeggio at Dover — He is Accused by the Courtiers — Leaves England — Wolsey 
Foresees his own Fall and that of the Papacy— A Meeting at Waltham — Youth of Thomas Cranmer — 
His Early Education — Studies Scripture for Three Years — His Functions as Examiner — The Supper at 
Waltham — New View of the Divorce — Fox Communicates it to Henry — Cranmer's Vexation — Confer- 
ence with the King — Cranmer at the Boleyns — Wolsey in the Court of Chancery — Accused by the Dukes 
— Refuses to Give up the Great Seal — His Despair — He Gives up the Seal — Order to Depart — His Inven- 
tory — Alarm — The Scene of Departure — Favorable Message from the King— Wolsey's Joy — His Fool — 
Arrival at Esher — Thomas More Elected Chancellor — A Lay Government one of the Great Facts of the 
Reformation — Wolsey Accused of Subordinating England to the Pope — He Implores the King's Clem- 
ency — His Condemnation — Cromwell at Esher — His Character — He sets out for London — Sir Christopher 
Hales Recommends him to the King— Cromwell's Interview with Henry in the Park — A New Theory 
• — Cromwell Elected Member of Parliament — Opened by Sir Thomas More — Attack on Ecclesiastical 
Abuses — Reforms Pronounced by the Convocation — Three Bills— Rochester Attacks Them — Resistance 
of the House of Commons — Struggles — Henry Sanctions the Three Bills — Alarm of the Clergy and Dis- 
turbances — The Last Hour — More's Fanaticism — Debates in Convocation — Royal Proclamation — The 
Bishop of Norwich — Sentences Condemned — Latimer's Opposition — The New Testament Burnt — The 
Persecution Begins — Hitton — Bayfield — Tonstall and Packington — Bayfield Arrested — The Rector Pat- 
more — Lollard's Power — Tyndale and Patmore — A Musician — Freese the Painter — Placards and Mar- 
tyrdom of Bennet — Thomas More and John Petit — Bilney — Wolsey's Terror — Impeachment by the 
Peers — Cromwell Saves him — The Cardinal's Illness — Ambition Returns to him — His Practices in York- 
shire — He is Arrested by Northumberland — His Departure — Arrival of the Constable of the Tower — 
Wolsey at Leicester Abbey — Persecuting Language — He Dies — Three Movements : Supremacy, Scrip- 
ture, and Faith 750 



THE REFORMATION.— CALVIN. 



BOOK I. — Geneva and the First Huguenots. Ancient Times — 1526. 

The Reformation and Modern Liberty — First Usurpations and First Struggles — A Bishop Sent by the Pope 
to Rob Geneva of its Independence — Opposition to the Designs of the Duke, the Pope, and the Bishop — 
Berthelier and the Youth of Geneva Aroused by the Bishop's Violence — The Opposing Parties Prepare 
for Battle — Assembly, Agitation, and Joke of the Patriots — Pecolat Tortured and Berthelier Accused — 
Berthelier Calls the Swiss to the Aid of Geneva; Huguenots and Mamelukes ; the Bishop's Violence — 
Fresh Tortures ; Pecolat's Despair and Striking Deliverance — Berthelier Tried at Geneva ; Blanchet 
and Navis Seized at Turin ; Bonivard Scandalized at Rome — Blanchet and Navis Put to Death ; their 
Limbs Suspended to the Walnut Tree near the Bridge of Arve — The Huguenots Propose an Alliance 
with the Swiss, and the Mamelukes Amuse Themselves at Turin — The Huguenots Demand an Alliance 
with Friburg ; the Mamelukes Oppose it. Berthelier. is Acquitted — The People in General Council, Vote 
for the Alliance ; the Duke 'Intrigues Against it— The Canons Join the Duke, and the People Rise 
Against them — The Duke at the Head of his Army Surrounds Geneva — The Army of Savoy in Geneva 
—Arrest of Bonivard and Berthelier — Philibert Berthelier the Martyr of Liberty. Terror and Oppres- 
sion in Geneva — Struggles of Liberty.- Luther. Death of the Bishop: his Successor — Charles Desires 
to Seduce the Genevans. The Mysteries of the Canons and of the Huguenots — Aime Levrier a Martyr 
- to Liberty and Right at the Castle of Bonne— Indignation Against the Mamelukes ; the Duke Ap- 
proach^ with an Army; Flight of the Patriots — The Fugitives at Friburg and Berne. The Duke and 
the Council of Halberds at Geneva — The People and the Bishop Defend the Cause of the Fugitives— 
« Geneva and the Swiss Allied — The Bishop, the Ducals, and the Canons Escape— Joy of the People 8n 



xvi CONTENTS. 

BOOK II. — France. Favorable Times. 15-25— 1534. 

A Man of the People and a Queen — Margaret Saves the Evangelicals and the King — Will the Reformation 
Cross the Rhine ? — Death of the Martyrs : Return of the King — Deliverance of the Captives and Return 
of the Exiles — Who will be the Reformer of France ? — Calvin's Early Struggles and Early Studies — 
Calvin's Conversion and Change of Calling — Berquin Declares War Against Popery — Efforts of Duprat 
to bring about a Persecution : Resistance, of Francis I. — Fetes at Fontainebleau, and the Virgin of the 
Rue des Rosiers — Prisoners and Martyrs at Paris, and in the Provinces — John Calvin, a Student'at the 
University of Orleans — Calvin, Taught at Orleans of God and Man, Begins to Propagate the Faith — 
Calvin Called at Bourges to the Evangelical Work — Berquin, the Most Learned of the Nobility, a Martyr 
for the Gospel — First Labors of Calvin at Paris — Margaret's Sorrows, and the Festivities of the Court — 
Diplomatists, Backsliders, Martyrs — Calvin's Separation from the Hierarchy : His First Work, His 
Friends — Smalkalde and Calais — A Captive Prince Escapes from the Hands of the Emperor — The Gos- 
pel Preached at the Louvre and in the Metropolitan Churches — Defeat of the Romish Party in Paris, 
and Momentary Triumph of the Gospel — Conference of Bologna : The Council and Catherine de Medici 
■ — Intrigues of Charles V., Francis I., and Clement VII., Around Catherine — Storm Against the Queen of 
Navarre and Her Mirror of the Soul — Triumph of the Queen of Navarre — Catherine de Medici Given to 
France — Address of the Rector to the University of Paris — Conferences and Alliances Between Francis I. 
and Philip of Hesse at Bar-Le-Duc — Triumph and Martyrdom — Wurtemberg Given to Protestantism by 
the King of France — Sitting at the Louvre for the Union of Truth and Catholicism — The Ghost at 
Orleans — Francis I. Proposes a Reformation to the Sorbonne 848 

BOOK III. — Fall of a Bishop-Prince, and First Evangelical Beginnings in Geneva. 1526— 1532, 

The Renaissance, the Reformation, the Middle Ages — The Gospel at Geneva, and the Sack of Rome — The 
Bishop Clings to Geneva, but the Canons Depart — The Bishop-Prince flees from Geneva — Excommuni- 
cation of Geneva and Funeral Procession of Popery — The Knights of the Spoon League Against Geneva 
at the Castle of Bursinel — Intrigues of the Duke and the Bishop — Death of Pontverre — The Reformation 
Begins to Ferment in Geneva, and the Opposition Without — Various Movements in Geneva, and Second 
Imprisonment of Bonivard — The Attack of 1530 — Geneva Reclaimed by the Bishop, and Awakened by 
the Gospel — Dangers to which the Defeat at Cappel Exposes Geneva — An Emperor and a School-master 

— The Pardon of Rome and the Pardon of Heaven 893 

BOOK IV.— Times of Hostility to the Reform in France. 1533— 1535. 

Calvin, the Fugitive, in his Retreat at Angouleme — The Exile Turns Preacher — Calvin at Nerac, with 
Roussel and Lefevre — A Dramatic Representation at the Court of Navarre — Calvin at Poitiers, at the 
Basses-Treilles, and in St. Benedict's Cave — Calvin and his Disciples Begin the Evangelization of 
France — The Evangelical Christians of Paris in 1534 — Calvin's First Relations with the Libertines and 
with Servetus — The Placards — The King's Anger — Expiations and Processions — Eloquence and Tor- 
tures of Francis I. — Calvin at Strasburg with Erasmus, and at Basle — Institutes of the Christian Religion 

— Calvin Addresses the King and Departs for Italy 910 

BOOK V.— Struggles of the Reformation. 1531— 1533. 

Efforts in the Pays De Vaud — Plot of the Women Against Reform ; Farel's Preaching — A New Reformer 
and an Image-breaker — The Battles of Grandson — The Waldenses Appear — Plans of the Emperor, the 
Duke of Savoy, and the Bishop Against Geneva — The Reformers and the Reformation Enter Geneva — 
The Reformers are Expelled from Geneva — A Journey to the Valleys of Piedmont, and Struggles ]Near 
Neuchatel— The Schoolmaster and Claudine Levet — Formation of the Church : Friends and Opponents 
— The Sermon at the Molard — Holy Scripture and the Lord's Supper at Geneva — Formation of a Cath- 
olic Conspiracy — First Armed Attack of the Catholics upon the Reformation — Truce Between the Two 
Parties — Second Attack, in which the Leader Perishes — The Canon's Death Made a Weapon Against 
the Reform — Catastrophe 930 

BOOK VI.— England Begins to Cast off the Papacy. 1529— 1534. 

The Nation and its Parties — Parliament and its Grievances — Reforms — Anne Boleyn's Father Before the 
Emperor and the Pope — Discussions Concerning the Divorce at Cambridge and Oxford — Henry VIII. 
Supported in France and Italy by the Catholics, and Blamed in Germany by the Protestants — Latimer 
at Court — The King Seeks After Tyndale — The King of England Recognized as Head of the Church — 
Separation of the King and Queen — The Bishops Plunder the Clergy and Persecute the Protestants — 
The Martyrs — The King Despoils the Pope and the Clergy — Liberty of Inquiry and Preaching in the 
16th Century — Henry VIII. Attacks the Partisans of the Pope and of the Reformation — The New 
Primate of all England — Queen Catherine Descends from the Throne, and Queen Anne Boleyn Ascends 
it — A Reformer in Prison — A Reformer Chooses Rather to Lose his Life than to Save it — England Sepa- 
rates Gradually from the Papacy — Parliament Abolishes the Usurpations of the Pope in England 955 

BOOK VII. — Movements of the Reformation at Geneva, in France, Germany, and Italy. 

1533— 1536. 

The Bishop Escapes from Geneva Never to Return — Two Reformers and a Dominican in Geneva — FareL, 
Maison-Neuve, and Furbity in Geneva — The Tournament — The Plot — A Final Effort of Roman- 
Catholicism — Farel Preaches in the Grand Auditory of the Convent at Rive — A Bold Protestant at 
Lyons — Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve Before the Inquisitorial Court of Lyons — The Two Worships in 
Geneva— Boldness of Two Huguenots in Prison and Before the Court of Lyons — Sentence of Death — 
Night of Thirty-first of July of Geneva — A Heroic Resolution and a Happy Deliverance — The Suburbs 
of Geneva are Demolished, and the Adversaries Make Ready — The King of France Invites Meiancthon 
to Restore Unity and Truth — Will the Attempt to Establish Unity and Truth Succeed ? — The Gospel in 

the North of Italy — The Gospel in the Centre of Italy— The Gospel at Naples and at Rome „.-970 

BOOK VIII.— England Breaks with Rome. 1534— 1536. 

A Conspiracy against the Reformation — Henry VIII. Separates England from the Papacy — Beginning of 
Danger for the Queen and for Tyndale — The King-Pontiff Against the Roman-Catholics and the Papacy 
• — Light from Both Sides — Death of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More — Visitation of the Monasteries: 
their Scandals and Suppression — Union of the Church of England with the Protestants of Germany — 
Accusation of Anne Boleyn — Anne Forgives her Enemies and is Put to Death — Reforming Movement 
After Anne's Death ; Catholic and Scholastic Reaction — A Movement of Scholastic Catholicism Inaugu- 
rated by the King. Evangelical Reaction — Insurrection of the North of England to Restore the Papacy 
and Destroy the Reformation — Death of the Great Reformer of England 9S6 

BOOK IX.— Reformation of Geneva by Farel's Ministry, and Arrival of Calvin in that City 
after his Sojourn in Italy. 1535— *53 6 - 

Progress, Struggles, and Martyrs of the Reformation in Geneva — Poisoning of the Reformers. Conversion 
of the Head of the Franciscans — Preparations for a Public Disputation in Geneva — The Great Public 
Debate on the Foundations of the Evangelical Faith — Triumph of the Word of God, Both Written and 
Spoken — Images and the Mass Abolished — Priests, Monks, Nuns, and the Vicar-General Depart — An 
Energetic Citizen Calls Switzerland to Help Geneva and the Reformation — War, and the Battle of Gin- 
gins— Diplomacy, or the Castle of Coppet — Movements for the Attack and Defence of Geneva. Faith 
and Heroism — Extreme Peril — Destruction of the Castles ; Joy in Geneva ; Liberation of Bonivard — 
The People of Geneva Desire to Live According to the Gospel — Calvin at Ferrara — Flight of Calvin — 
Calvin's Arrival at Geneva 1000 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PORTRAIT OF J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D. D. Frontispiece. 
MAP OF WESTERN EUROPE, 

AS DIVIDED BY RELIGION, IN THE TIME OF THE REFORMATION x 

THE MARTYRS: x 

JOHN HUSS, 

JEROME OF PRAGUE, 

JOHN WICKLIFFE, 

JEROME SAVONAROLA, 

ADMIRAL COLIGNY. 

TRIAL OF JOHN HUSS ia 

JEROME OF PRAGUE DRAGGED TO PRISON . 24 

THE REFORMERS: tf 

MARTIN LUTHER, 

PHILIP MELANCTHON, 

ULRIC ZWINGLE, 

DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, 

FREDERICK III., OF SAXONY. 

LUTHER'S FRIEND, ALEXIS, KILLED BY LIGHTNING 42 

LUTHER WORN OUT BY PENANCES 46 

LUTHER COMFORTED BY A MONK 46 

LUTHER'S FIRST SERMON IN THE MONASTERY 51 

LUTHER'S PROTEST AGAINST INDULGENCES 76 

LUTHER BEFORE CAJETAN, AND HIS ESCAPE 114 

LUTHER BURNING THE POPE'S BULL i 7 o 

LUTHER BEFORE THE EMPEROR AND EMPIRE AT WORMS 170 

LUTHER PREPARING BY PRAYER 200 

LUTHER AND FRONDSBERG 200 

LUTHER SEIZED BY HIS FRIENDS 212 

LUTHER AND ZWINGLE DEBATING 212 

JETZER'S VISION 2 i 7 

LUTHER'S DEPARTURE FROM THE WARTBURG „ 277 

LUTHER AND THE SWISS STUDENTS 277 

LUTHER AND THE ELECTOR OF SAXONY READING THE SCRIPTURES . 327 

BRANDING OF LECLERC... 37 i 

A CHRISTIAN'S MARTYRDOM 398 

PREACHING OF LUTHER ; 427 

MAP OF GERMANY 

IN THE REFORMATION 4 68 

TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE „ 528 

DEATH OF ZWINGLE 600 

BURNING OF LORD COBHAM 610 

TONSTALL BURNING THE BIBLE IN LONDON 665 

DR. BARNES BEFORE CARDINAL WOLSEY .....709 

PAPAL INFALLIBLES: 75 o 

POPE ALEXANDER VI., 
LEO X., 
CLEMENT VII., 
PIUS IX. 
CARDINAL WOLSEY, 

IGNATIUS LOYOLA, FOUNDER OF THE JESUITS. 
THE VATICAN AT ROME ?6S 

CALVIN, AND CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS : „ 810 

JOHN CALVIN, 

HENRY VIII., OF ENGLAND, 

FRANCIS I., OF FRANCE, 

CHARLES V., EMPEROR OF GERMANY, 

MARGUERITE, QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 
MAP OF SWITZERLAND, 

AS DIVIDED BY RELIGION 8l2 

TORTURE OF PECOLAT „ """!".' 824 

SCOURGING OF AIME LEVRIER , .'.'...."..!.'].'!!.' '" gj 

MANUFACTORY OF ROMAN GRAVEN IMAGES '...."'.'."'.'.'.'.]'.! 8-9 

THE TORTURE CHAMBER .-. .'.'.'.'.'..'.'.'.'... 9 io 

AN AUTO DA FE IN SEVILLE ; S..""S.»!»»!.."."., 924 

MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW ....!."!." g7 o 

BEHEADi^L OF SIR THOMAS MORE Z»"....".'."!.[!."!l"!!! 

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HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK I. 



STATE OF EUROPE PRIOR TO THE REFORMATION. 



Rise of the Papacy — Early Encroachments — Co-operation of the Bishops — Unity of the Church - 
Visible Unity — Primacy of St. Peter — Patriarchates — Policy of Rome — Charlemagne — Disorders 
of Rome — Hildebrand— The Crusades — Spiritual Despotism — Salvation by Grace — Pelagianism — ■ 
The Church — Penance — Indulgences — Purgatory — Tax of Indulgences — The Papacy and Chris- 
tianity — Theology — Dialectics — Predestination — Penance — Religion — Relics — Morals — Corruption 
— Disorders of the Priests — Bishops and Popes — Alexander VI. — Caesar Borgia — General Corrup- 
tion — Ciceronians — Efforts for Reform — Prospects of Christianity — State of the Papacy — Internal 
Divisions — Carnality of the Church— Popular Feeling — Doctrine — Development of Mind — Revival 
of Letters — -Philosophy — Principle of Reformation — Witnesses — Mystics — Wiclif— EIuss — Wit- 
nesses — The Empire — Peace — State of the People — State of Germany — Switzerland — Italy — Spain 
— Portugal — France — Low Countries — England — Bohemia and Hungary — 'Frederic the Wise — 
Men of Letters — Reuchlin — His Labours — Reuchlin in Italy — Contest with the Dominicans — The 
Hebrew Writings — Erasmus — Erasmus and Luther — Hiitten — Literae Obscurorum Virorum — Hut- 
ten at Brussels — Sickingen-Cronberg — Hans Sachs — General Ferment. 



The world was tottering on its old founda- 
tions when Christianity appeared. The va- 
rious religions which had sufficed for an earlier 
age no longer satisfied the nations. The 
mind of the existing generation could no 
longer tabernacle in the ancient forms. The 
gods of the nations had lost their oracles — as 
the nations had lost their liberty in Rome. 
Brought face to face in the Capitol, they had 
mutually destroyed the illusion of their di- 
vinity. A vast void had ensued in the reli- 
gious opinions of mankind. 

A kind of Deism, destitute of spirit and 
vitality, hovered for a time over the abyss in 
which had been engulphed the superstitions 
of heathenism. — But, like all negative opi- 
nions, it had no power to edify. The narrow 
prepossessions of the several nations had 
fallen with the fall of their gods, — their va- 
rious populations melted, the one into the 
other. In Europe, Asia, Africa, all was but 
one vast empire, and the human family began 
to feel its comprehensiveness and its unity. 

Then the Word was made flesh. 

God appeared amongst men, and as Man, 
to save that which was lost. In Jesus of Na- 
zareth dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead 
bodily. 

This is the greatest event in the annals of 
all time. The former ages had been a prepa- 
ration for it; the latter unroll from it. It is 
their centre and connecting link. 

From this period the popular superstitions 
had no significancy, and such feeble relics of 
them as outlived the general wreck of incre- 
dulity, vanished before the majestic orb of 
eternal truth. 

The Son of Man lived thirty-tnree years on 
this earth. He suffered, he died, he rose 
again, — he ascended into heaven. His disci- 



ples, beginning at Jerusalem, travelled over 
the Roman empire and the world, everywhere 
proclaiming their Master the author of ever- 
lasting salvation. From the midst of a peo- 
ple who rejected intercourse with ochers — pro- 
ceeded a mercy that invited and embraced 
nil. A great number of Asiatics, of Greeks, 
of Romans, hitherto led by their priests to the 
feet of dumb idols, believed at their word. 
"The Gospel suddenly beamed on the earth 
like a ray of the sun," says Eusebius. A 
breath of life moved over this vast field of 
death. A new, a. holy people was formed 
upon the earth; and the astonished world be- 
held in the disciples of the despised Galilean 
a prrity, a self-denial, a charity, a heroism, 
of which they retained no idea. 

The new religion had two features amongst 
many others which especially distinguished 
it from all the human systems which fell be- 
fore it. One had reference to the ministers 
of its worship, — the other to its doctrines. 

The ministers of paganism were almost the 
gods of those human inventions. The priests 
led the people, so long at least as their eyes 

i were not opened. A vast and haughty hie- 

' rarchy oppressed the world. Jesns Christ 
dethroned these living idols, abolished this 
proud hierarchy, — took from man what man 
had taken from God, and re-established the 
soul in direct communication with the divine 
fountain of truth, by proclaiming himself the 
only Master and the only Mediator. " One is 

[ your master, even Christ, (said he,) and aL 

' ye are brethren." (Matt, xxiii.) 

As to doctrine, human religions had taught 

i that salvation was of man. The religions of 
the earth had invented an earthly salvation. 

, They had taught men that heaven would !>o 

[.given to them as a reward ; they had fixed in 



2 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



price, and what a price . The religion of God 
taught that salvation was His gift, and ema- 
nated from an amnesty and sovereign grace. 
God nath given to us eternal life. (1 John 

Undoubtedly Christianity cannot be sum- 
med up in these two points : but they seem to 
govern the subject, especially when histori- 
cally viewed. And as it is impossible to 
trace the opposition between truth and error 
in all things, we have selected its most pro- 
minent features. 

Such were the two principles that com- 
posed the religion which then took possession 
of the Empire and of the whole world. The 
standing of a Christian is in them, — and apart 
from them, Christianity itself disappears. 
On their preservation or their loss depended 
its decline or its growth. One of these prin- 
ciples was to govern the history of the reli- 
gion ; the other its doctrine. They both 
presided in the beginning. Let us see how 
they were lost: and let us first trace the fate 
of the former. 

The Church was in the beginning a com- 
munity of brethren. All its members were 
taught of God; and each possessed the liberty 
of drawing for himself from the divine foun- 
tain of life. John vi. 45. The epistles, which 
then settled the great questions of doctrine, 
M& not bear the pompous title of any single 
man, or ruler. We find from the holy Scrip- 
tures that they began simply with these 
words: "The apostles, elders, and brethren, 
to our brethren." Acts a v. 23. 

But the writings of these very apostles 
forewarn us that from the midst of these bre- 
thren, there shall arise a power which shall 
overthrow this simple and primitive order. 
2 Thess. ii. 

Let us contemplate the formation and trace 
the development of this power alien to the 
Church. 

Paul of Tarsus, one of the chiefest apostles 
of tht new religion, had arrived at Rome, the 
capital of the empire and of the world, preach- 
ing the salvation that cometh from God only. 
A church was formed beside the throne of the 
Caesars. Founded by this same apostle, it 
was at first composed of converted Jews, 
Greeks, and some inhabitants of Rome. For 
a while it shone brightly as a light set upon 
a hill, and its faith was everywhere spoken 
of. But ere long it declined from its first 
simplicity The spiritual dominion of Rome 
arose as its political and military power had 
done before, and was slowly and gradually 
extended. 

The first pastors or bishops of Rome em- 
ployed themselves in the beginning in con- 
verting to the faith of Christ the towns and 
villages that surrounded the city. The neces- 
sity which the bishops and pastors felt of re- 
ferring in cases of difficulty to an enlightened 
guide, and the gratitude which they owed to 
the metropolitan church, led them to maintain 
an intimate union with her. As is generally 
the consequence in such circumstances, this 
reasonable rnion soon degenerated into de- 



pendence. The bishops of Rome regarded as 
a right the superiority which the neighbour- 
ing churches had voluntarily yielded. The 
encroachments of power form a large portion 
of all history : the resistance of those whose 
rights are invaded forms the other part: and 
the ecclesiastical power could not escape that 
intoxication which leads those who are lifted 
up to seek to raise themselves still higher. It 
felt all the influence of this general weakness 
of human nature. 

Nevertheless the supremacy of the Roman 
bishop was at first limited to the overlooking 
of the churches, in the territory lawfully sub- 
ject to the prefect of Rome. But the rank 
which this imperial city held in the world 
offered to the ambition of its first pastors a 
prospect of wider sway. The consideration 
which the different Christian bishops enjoyed 
in the second century was in proportion to the 
rank of the city over which they presided. 
Rome was the greatest, the richest, and the 
most powerful city in the world. It was the 
seat of empire, the mother of nations. "All 
the inhabitants of the earth are hers," said 
Julian, and Claudian declares her to be "the 
fountain of laws." 
x If Rome be the Queen of cities, why should 
not her pastor be the King of Bishops] Why 
should not the Roman church be the mother 
of Christendom'? Why should not all na- 
tions be her children, and her authority be 
the universal lawT It was natural to the 
heart of man to reason thus. Ambitious 
Rome did so. 

Hence it was that when heathen Rome fell, 
she bequeathed to the humble minister of the 
God of peace, seated in the midst of her own 
ruins, the proud titles which her invincible 
sword had won from the nations of the earth. 

The bishops of the other parts of the Em- 
pire, yielding to the charm that Rome had 
exercised for ages over all nations, followed 
the example of the Campagna, and aided the 
work of usurpation. They willingly ren- 
dered to the Bishop of Rome something of 
that honour which was due to this Queen 
of cities : nor was there at first any thing of 
dependence in the honour thus yielded. They 
acted towards the Roman pastor as equals 
toward an equal ; but usurped power swells 
like the avalanche. Exhortations, at first 
simply fraternal, soon became commands in 
the mouth of the Roman Pontiff. A chief 
place amongst equals appeared to him a 
throne. 

The Bishops of the West favoured this 
encroachment of the Roman pastors, either 
from jealousy of the Eastern bishops, or be- 
cause they preferred subjection to a pope to 
the dominion of a temporal power. 

On the other hand, the theological sects 
which distracted the east, strove, each for 
itself, to gain an interest at Rome, hoping to 
triumph over its opponents by the support of 
the principal of the Western churches. 

Rome carefully recorded these requests and 
intercessions, and smiled to see the nations 
throw themselves into her arms. She neg- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



2 



.ected no opportunity of increasing and ex- 
tending her power. The praises, the flattery, 
and exaggerated compliments paid to her, and 
her being consulted by other churches, became 
in her hands as titles and documents of her 
authority. Such is the heart of man exalted 
to a tnrone; flattery intoxicates him, and his 
head grows dizzy. What he possesses im- 
pels him to aspire after more. 

The doctrine of " the Church," and of " the 
necessity for its visible unity," which had 
gained footing as early as the third century, 
favoured the pretensions of Rome. The great 
bond, which originally bound together the 
members of the church, was a living faith in 
the heart, by which all were joined to Christ 
as their one Head. But various causes ere 
long conspired to originate and develope the 
idea of a necessity for some exterior fellow- 
ship. Men, accustomed to the associations 
and political forms of an earthly country, car- 
ried their views and habits of mind into the 
spiritual and everlasting kingdom of Jesus 
Christ. Persecution — powerless to destroy, 
or even to shake the new community, com- 
pressed it into the form of a more compacted 
body. — To the errors that arose in the schools 
of deism, or in the various sects, was opposed 
the truth " one and universal" received from 
the ApostLes and preserved in the church. 
All this was well, so long as the invisible 
and spiritual church was identical with the 
visible and outward community. But soon a 
great distinction appeared : — the form and the 
vital principle parted asunder. The semblance 
of identical and external organization was 
gradually substituted in place of the internal 
and spiritual unity which is the very essence 
of a religion proceeding from God. Men suf- 
fered the precious perfume of faith to escape 
while they bowed themselves before the empty 
vase that had held it. Faith in the heart no 
longer knit together in one the members of the 
church. Then it was that other ties were 
sought; and Christians were united by means 
of bishops, archbishops, popes, mitres, cere- 
monies, and canons. The Living Church re- 
tiring by degrees to the lonely sanctuary of a 
few solitary souls, — an exterior church was 
substituted in place of it, and installed in all 
its forms as of divine institution. Salvation 
no longer flowing forth from that word which 
was now hidden — it began to be affirmed that 
it was conveyed by means of certain invented 
forms, and that none could obtain it without 
resorting to such means ! No one, it was 
said, can by his faith attain to everlasting life : 
Christ communicated to the Apostles, and the 
Apostles to the Bishops, the unction of the 
Holy Spirit; and this Spirit is found only in 
this order of communication. In the begin- 
ning of the Gospel, whosoever had received 
the spirit of Jesus Christ was esteemed a 
member of the church : — now the. order was 
inverted ; and no one, unless a member of the 
church, was counted to have received the 
spirit of Jesus Christ. 

• As soon as the notion of a supposed necessi- 
ty for a visible unity of the church had taken 



root,* another error began to spread : — namely 
that it was needful that there should be some 
outward representative of that unity. Though 
no trace of any primacy of St. Peter above the 
rest of the Apostles appears in the Gospels ; 
although the idea of a primacy is at variance 
with the mutual relations of the disciples as 
" brethren," — and even with the spirit of the 
dispensation which requires all the children 
of the Father to minister one to another,* 
(1 Pet. iv. 10,) acknowledging but one Mas- 
ter and Head ; and though the Lord Jesus 
had rebuked his disciples whenever their 
carnal hearts conceived desires of pre-emi- 
nence ; — a Primacy of St. Peter was invent- 
ed, and supported by misinterpreted texts, 
and men proceeded to acknowledge in that 
Apostle, and in his pretended successor, the 
visible representative of visible unity — and 
head of the whole Church ! 

The constitution of the patriarchate con- 
tributed further to the exaltation of the Ro- 
man Papacy. As early as the first three 
centuries, the churches of the metropolitan 
cities had been held in peculiar honour. The 
Council of Nice, in its sixth canon, named 
especially three cities, whose churches, ac- 
cording to it, held an anciently established au- 
thority over those of the surrounding provinces. 
These were Alexandria, Rome, and Antioch. 
The political origin of this distinction may be 
discerned in the name which was at first given 
to the bishops of these cities ; they were called 
Exarchs, like the political governors. In 
later times they bore the more ecclesiastical 
name of Patriarch. It is in the Council of 
Constantinople that we find this title first 
used. This same Council created a new Pa- 
triarchate, that of Constantinople itself, the 
new Rome, the second capital of the Empire. 
Rome at this period shared the rank of Patri- 
archate with these three churches. But when 
the invasion of Mahomet had swept away the 
bishoprics of Alexandria and Antioch, when 
the see of Constantinople fell away, and in 
latter times even separated itself from the 
West, Rome alone remained, and the circum- 
stances of the times causing everything t<* 
rally around her, she remained from that time 
without a rival. 

New and more powerful partisans than all 
the rest soon came to her assistance. Igno- 
rance and superstition took possession of the 



* From the previous reflections it is clear that 
the author does not disparage that Unity which is 
the manifested result of the partaking of the life 
of the Head by the members ; but only that life- 
less form of unity which man has devised in place 
of it. We learn from John xvii. 21 — 23, that the 
true and real One-ness of Believers was to be 
manifested, — so that the world might believe that 
the Father had sent Jesus. — Hence we may con- 
clude that the things which divide, instead of ga- 
thering, the " little flock" are contrary to his mind : 
and among such things must be classed nor alone 
the carnality of names, (1 Cor. iii. 4.) — but. every 
commandment or requirement of men that ex- 
cludes the very weakest whom God has received 
(Rom. xiv. 1 — 3 ; Acts xi 17 compare Ac^s ii. 44, 



HISTORY OF THE RE FOR M ATI O IN . 



Church, and delivered it up to Rome, blind- 
fold and manacled. 

Yet this bringing into captivity was not 
effected without a struggle. The voices of 
particular churches frequently asserted their 
independence. This courageous remonstrance 
was especially heard in proconsular Africa 
and in the East. 

To silence the cries of the churches, Rome 
found new allies. Princes, who in those 
troublesome times often saw their thrones tot- 
tering, offered their adherence to the Church, 
in exchange for her support. They yielded to 
her spiritual authority, on condition of her pay- 
ing them with secular dominion. They left her 
to deal at will with the souls of men, provided 
only she would deliver them from their ene- 
mies. The power of the hierarchy in the as- 
cending scale and of the imperial power which 
was declining, leaned thus one toward the 
other — and so accelerated their twofold des- 
tiny. 

Rome could not lose by this. An edict 
of Theodosius II. and of Valentinian III. pro- 
claimed the bishop of Rome "ruler of the 
whole church." Justinian issued a similar 
decree. These decrees did not contain all 
that the Popes pretended to see in them. But 
in those times of ignorance it was easy for 
them to gain reception for that interpretation 
which was most favourable to themselves. 
The dominion of the Emperors in Italy be- 
coming every day more precarious, the Bish- 
ops of Rome took advantage of it to withdraw 
themselves from their dependence. 

But already the forests of the North had 
poured forth the most effectual promoters of 
papal power. The barbarians who had in- 
vaded the West and settled themselves there- 
in, — but recently converted to Christianity, — 
ignorant of the spiritual character of the 
Church, and feeling the want of an external 
pomp of religion, prostrated themselves in a 
half savage and half heathen state of mind at 
the feet of the Chief Priest of Rome. At the 
same time the people of the West also sub- 
mitted to him. First the Vandals, then the 
Ostrogoths, a short time after the Burgundians 
and the Alains, then the Visigoths, and at 
last the Lombards and the Anglo-Saxons 
came bowing the knee to the Roman Pontiff. 
It was the sturdy shoulders of the idolatrous 
children of the North which elevated to the 
supreme throne of Christendom, a pastor of 
the banks of the Tiber. 

These events occurred in the W T est at the 
beginning of the seventh century, at the pre- 
cise period that the Mahometan power arose 
in the East, and prepared to overrun another 
division of the earth. 

From that time the evil continued increas- 
ing. In the eighth century we see the Bish- 
ops of Rome on the one hand resisting the 
Creek Emperors, their lawful sovereigns, and 
endeavouring to expel thern from Italy; whilst 
on the other they court the French Mayors of 
the Palace, and demand from this new power 
now arising in the West, a share in the wreck 
of the empire. W 7 e see Rome establish her 



usurped authority between the East, which 
she repelled, and the West which she courted ; 
thus erecting her throne upon two revolutions. 

Alarmed by the progress of the Arabs, who 
had made themselves masters of Spain, and 
boasted that they would speedily traverse the 
Pyrenees and the Alps, and proclaim the name 
of Mahomet on the seven hills; — terrified at 
the daring of Aistolpho, who, at the head of 
his Lombards, threatened to putevery Roman 
to death, and brandished his sword before the 
city gates — Rome, in the prospect of ruin, 
turned on all sides for protection, and threw 
herself into the arms of the Franks. The 
usurper Pepin demanded the confirmation of 
his claim to the throne : — the Pope granted it ; 
and, in return, obtained his declaration in de- 
fence of the "Republic of God." Pepin re- 
covered from the Lombards their conquests 
from the Emperor; but instead of restoring 
them to that Prince, he deposited the keys of 
the conquered cities on the altar of St. Peter's ; 
and with uplifted hand, swore that it was net 
in the cause of man that he had taken arms, — 
but to obtain from God the remission of his 
sins, and to do homage for his conquests to 
St. Peter! Thus did France establish the 
temporal power of the Popes. 

Charlemagne appeared. — At one time we 
see him climbing the stairs of St. Peter's, de- 
voutly kissing the steps : — again he presents 
himself, — but it is as master of all the nations 
composing the Western Empire, and of Rcme 
itself. Leo III. decided to confer the rank on 
one who already possessed the power; and in 
the year 800, on Christmas day, he placed the 
crown of the Roman Emperors on the brow 
of the son of Pepin. From this period the 
Pope belonged to the empire of the Franks, 
and his connexion with the East was at an 
end : thus loosing his hold on a decayed tree, 
nodding to its fall, in order to graft himseli 
upon a wild but vigorous sapling. Little could 
he then have dared to hope for the elevation 
that awaited his successors among the German 
nations, to which he thus joined himself. 

Charlemagne bequeathed to his feeble suc- 
cessors only the wreck of his own power. In 
the ninth century disunion everywhere weak- 
ened the civil authority. Rome perceived 
that this was the moment to exalt herself. 
What better opportunity.could offer for achiev- 
ing the Church's independence of the state, 
than when the crown of Charles was broken, 
and its fragments scattered over his former 
empire. 

It was then that the pretended decretals ot 
Isidorus appeared. In this collection of alleged 
decrees of the Popes, the most ancient bish- 
ops, contemporaries of Tacitus and Quintilian, 
were made to speak "the barbarous Latin of 
the ninth century. The customs and consti- 
tutions of the Franks were gravely attributed 
to the Romans in the time of the Emperors. 
Popes quoted the Bible in the Latin transla- 
tion of St. Jerome, w r ho lived one r , two, or 
three centuries after them. And Victor, bishop 
of Rome in the year 192, wrote to TIip Dphilus. 
who was archbishop of Alexandria in 385. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



The impostor who had fabricated this collec- 
tion, endeavoured to prove that all bishops 
derived their authority from the bishop of 
Rome who held his own immediately from 
Christ. He not only recorded all the succes- 
sive acquisitions of 'the Pontiffs, but carried 
them back to the earliest times. The Popes 
did not blush to avail themselves of this con- 
temptible imposture. As early as 8G5, Nicho- 
las I. selected weapons from this repository 
to attack princes and bishops. This bare- 
faced fabrication was for ages the arsenal of 
Rome. 

Nevertheless the vices and atrocities of the 
Pontiffs were such as suspended for a time 
the object of the decretals. The Papacy sig- 
nalized its sitting down at the table of Kings 
by shameful libations; and intoxication and 
madness reigned in its orgies. About this 
time tradition places upon the Papal throne a 
girl named Joan, who had taken refuge at 
Rome with her lover, and whose sex was be- 
trayed by the pains of child-birth coming 
upon her in the midst of a solemn procession. 
But let us not needlessly exaggerate the shame 
of the Roman Pontiffs. Women of abandoned 
character reigned at this period in Rome. 
The throne which affected to exalt itself above 
the majesty of kings, was sunk in the filth 
of vice. Theodora and Marozia installed and 
deposed at their pleasure the pretended teach- 
ers of the Church of Christ, and placed on 
the throne of St. Peter their lovers, their sons, 
and their grandsons. These two well au- 
thenticated charges may have given rise to 
the tradition of the female Pope Joan. 

Rome was one vast scene of debauchery, 
wherein the most powerful families in Italy con- 
tended for pre-eminence. The counts of Tus- 
cany were generally victorious in these contests. 
In 1033, this family dared to place upon the 
pontifical throne, under the name of Benedict 
IXth, a young boy brought up in debauchery. 
This child of twelve years of age continued 
when Pope, in the practice of the same scan- 
dalous vices. Another party elected in his 
stead Sylvester III., and Benedict, with a 
conscience loaded with adulteries, and hands 
stained with homicide, at last sold the Papacy 
to a Roman ecclesiastic. 

The Emperors of Germany, roused to in- 
dignation by these enormities, purged Rome 
with the sword. In 1047, a German bishop, 
Leo IX., possessed himself of the pontifical 
throne. 

The Empire, using its right as suzerain, 
raised up the triple crown from the mire, and 
preserved the degraded Papacy by giving to 
it suitable chiefs. In 1046, Henry III. de- 
posed the three rival popes, and pointing with 
his ringer, on which glittered the ring of the 
Roman patricians, designated the bishop to 
whom St. Peter's keys should be confided. 
Four Popes, all Germans, and chosen by the I 
Emperor, succeeded. Whenever the Pontiff J 
of Rome died, a deputation from its church ' 
repaired to the Imperial court, just as the en- 
voys of other dioceses, to solicit the nomina- 
tion of a bishop to succeed him. The Empe- 



rors were not sorry to see the Popes reforming 
abuses — strengthening the influence of the 
church — holding councils — choosing and de- 
posing prelates in spite of foreign princes- 
for in all this the Papacy, by its pretensions, 
did but exalt the power of the reigning Em- 
peror, its suzerain Lord. But such excesses 
were full of peril to his authority. The 
power thus gradually acquired might at any 
moment be directed against the Emperor him- 
self, and the reptile having gained strength, 
might turn against the bosom that had warmed 
it, — and this result followed. The Papacy 
arose from its humiliation and soon trampled 
under foot the princes of the earth. To exalt 
the Papacy was to exalt the Church, to ag- 
grandize religion, to ensure to the spirit the 
victory over the ffosh, and to God the conquest 
of the world. Such were its maxims ; in 
these, ambition found its advantage, and 
fanaticism its excuse. 

The whole of this new policy is personified 
in one man, Hildebrand. 

Hildebrand, who has been by turns indis- 
creetly exalted or unjustly traduced, is the 
personification of the Roman pontificate in its 
strength and glory. He is one of those cha- 
racters in history, which include in them- 
selves a new order of things, resembling in 
this respect Charlemagne, Luther, and Na- 
poleon, in different spheres of action. 

Leo IX. took notice of this monk as he was 
going to Cluny, and carried him with him to 
Rome. From that time Hildebrand was the 
soul of the Papacy, till he himself became 
Pope. He had governed the Church under 
different Pontiffs, before he himself reigned 
under the name of Gregory VII. One grand 
idea occupied his comprehensive mind. He 
desired to establish a visible theocracy, of 
which the Pope, as the vicar of Christ, should 
be the head. The recollection of the ancient 
universal dominion of heathen Rome, haunted 
his imagination and animated his zeal. He 
wished to restore to Papal Rome what Rome 
had lost under the Emperors. " What Marius 
and Caesar," said his flatterers, "could not 
effect by torrents of blood, you have acccm 
plished by a word." 

Gregory VII. was not actuated by the spirit 
of Christ. That spirit of truth, humility, 
and gentleness, was to him unknown. He 
could sacrifice what he knew to be the truth, 
whenever he judged it necessary to his policy. 
We may instance the case of Berengarius. 
But without doubt he was actuated by a spirit 
far above that of the generality of Pontiffs, 
and by a deep conviction of the justice of his 
cause. Enterprising, ambitious, persevering 
in his designs, he was at the same time skil- 
ful and politic in the use of the means of 
success. 

His first task was to remodel the militia of 
the Church. It was needful to gain strength 
before attacking the Imperial authority. A 
council held at Rome, removed the pastors 
from their families,- and obliged them to de- 
vote themselves undividedly to the hierarchy. 
The law of celibacy, devised and carried intc 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



operation by the Popes, (who were them- 
selves monks, ^ changed the clergy into a 
monastic order. Gregory VII. claimed to 
exercise over the whole body of bishops and 
priests of Christendom, a power equal to 
that possessed by an abbot of Cluny over the 
order subjected to his rule. The legates of 
Hildebrand passed through the provinces, 
depriving the pastors of their lawful partners, 
and the Pope himself, if necessary, excited 
the populace against the married clergy. 

But Gregory's great aim was to emancipate 
Rome from subjection to the Emperor. Never 
would he have dared to conceive so ambitious 
a design, if the discord which disturbed the 
minority of Henry IV., and the revolt of the 
German princes from that young Emperor had 
not favoured his project. The Pope was at 
this time one of the magnates of the empire. 
Making common cause with some of the 
greatest of its vassals, he strengthened him- 
self in the aristocratic interest, and then pro- 
ceeded to prohibit all ecclesiastics from 
receiving investiture from the Emperor, under 
pain of excommunication. 

He thus snapt asunder the ancient ties 
which connected the several pastors and their 
churches with the royal authority, but it was 
that he might bind them to the pontifical 
throne. He undertook to restrain by a power- 
ful hand, priests, princes, and people; and to 
make the Pope a universal monarch. It was 
Rome alone that every priest was to fear — and 
in her only he was to hope. The kingdoms 
and principalities of the earth were to be her 
domain ; and kings were to tremble before the 
thunders of the Jupiter of New Rome. Wo 
to those who should resist her. Their subjects 
were released from their oaths of allegiance — 
their whole country placed under interdict — 
public worship was to cease — the churches to 
be closed — the bells mute — the sacrament no 
longer administered — and the malediction ex- 
tended even to the dead, to whom, at the com- 
mand of the proud Pontiff, the earth refused 
the peace and shelter of the tomb. 

The Pope, whose power had been from the 
very beginning subordinate, first to the Roman 
Emperors ; then to the Frankish princes ; 
and lastly, to the Emperors of Germany ; at 
once freed himself, and assumed the place of 
an equal, if not of a master. Yet Gregory 
the Vllth was in his turn humbled ; Rome 
was taken, and Hildebrand obliged to flee. 
He died at, Salerno; his last words were, 
Dilexi justitiam et odivi ihiquitatem ; propter ea 
mor'ior in exilio.* And who will dare to 
charge with hypocrisy words uttered at the 
very gates of the tomb. 

The successors of Gregory acted like soldiers 
arriving after a great victory. They threw 
themselves as conquerors on the unresisting 
Churches. Spain, delivered from the presence 
of Islamism, and Prussia, reclaimed from 
idolatry, fell into the embrace of the crowned 
priest. The crusades, undertaken at his 

* 1 have loved righteousness and hated ini- 
quity — therefore I die in exile. 



instance, spread far and wide, and everywheie 
confirmed his authority: — the pious pilgrims, 
who in imagination had seen saints ana 
angels conducting their armed hosts, and who 
entering humbly and barefooted within the 
walls of Jerusalem, had burned alive the 
Jews in their synagogue, and shed the blood 
of tens of thousands of Saracens on the spots 
where they came to trace the footsteps of the 
Prince of Peace, bore with them to the East 
the name of the Pope, whose existence had 
been scarcely known there, since the period 
when he exchanged the supremacy of the 
Greeks for that of the Franks. 

Meanwhile that which the arms of the 
republic and of the empire had failed to effect, 
was achieved by the power of the Church. 
The Germans brought to the feet of a bishop 
the tribute their ancestors had refused to the 
mightiest generals ; and their princes thought 
they received from the Popes their crown, 
while in reality the Popes imposed upon them 
a yoke. The kingdoms of Christendom, 
already subject to the spiritual empire of 
Rome, became her serfs and tributaries. 

Thus every thing was changed in the 
Church. 

At the beginning it was a society of breth- 
ren, and now an absolute monarchy is reared 
in the midst of them. All Christians were 
priests of the living God, (1 Pet. ii. 9,) with 
humble pastors for their guidance. But a 
lofty head is uplifted from the midst of these 
pastors ; a mysterious voice utters words full 
of pride ; an iron hand compels all men, small 
and great, rich and poor, freemen and slaves, 
to take the mark of its power. The holy and 
primitive equality of souls before God is lost 
sight of. Christians are divided into two 
strangely unequal camps. On the one side a 
separate class of priests daring to usurp the 
name of the Church, and claiming to be pos- 
sessed of peculiar privileges in the sight of 
the Lord. On the other, timid flocks reduced 
to a blind and passive submission; a people 
gagged and silenced and delivered over to a 
proud caste. Every tribe, language, and na- 
tion of Christendom submitted to the dominion 
of this spiritual king who had received power 
to overcome. 

But side by side with that principle that 
should have pervaded the history of Christi- 
anity was a principle that was given to pre- 
side over its doctrine. This was the great 
principle of Christianity ; its leading idea — 
that of grace, of pardon, and amnesty, and of 
the gift of eternal life. This idea supposed 
ah alienation from God, and an inability in 
man to enter, by any power of his own, into 
communion with an infinitely holy Being. 
The opposition of true and false doctrine can- 
not assuredly be entirely summed up in the 
question of salvation by faith or by works. 
Nevertheless, it is the most striking feature 
in the contrast. We may go farther : Salva 
tion considered as derived from any power in 
man is the germinating principle of ail errors 
and perversions. The scandals produced by 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



this fundamental error brought on the Refor- 
mation ; — and the profession of the contrary 
principle was the means by which it was 
achieved. It is therefore indispensable that 
this truth should be prominent in an introduc- 
tion to the history of that Reformation. 

Salvation by Grace. Such, then, was the 
second peculiarity which was designed espe- 
cially to distinguish the religion that came 
from God from all human systems. And what 
had become of this great and primordial 
thought? Had the Church preserved it as a 
precious deposit 1 Let us follow its history. 

The inhabitants of Jerusalem, of Asia, of 
Greece, and of Rome, in the time of the Ro- 
man Emperors, had heard this gospel. Ye 

ARE SAVED BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH IT IS 

the gift of god, (Eph. ii. 8 ;) and at this 
voice of peace, at the sound of these good 
tidings, at this word of power, multitudes of 
sinners believed, and were attracted to Him 
who alone can give peace to the conscience; 
and numerous societies of believers were formed 
in the midst of the degenerate communities of 
that age. 

But ere long an important error began to 
prevail, as to the nature of Saving Faith. — 
Faith (according to St. Paul) is the way 
through which the whole being of the believer, 
— his understanding, his heart, and his will, 
enters upon present possession of the salvation 
purchased by the incarnation and death of the 
Son of God. Jesus Christ is apprehended by 
Faith, and from that hour becomes all things 
to, — and all things, in the believer. He com- 
municates to the human nature a divine life; 
and the believer, renewed and set free from 
the power of self and of sin, feels new affec- 
tions, and bears new fruits. Faith, says the 
theologian, labouring to express these thoughts, 
is the subjective appropriation of the objective 
Work of Christ. If faith is not the appropri- 
ation of Salvation it is nothing — the whole 
economy of Christian doctrine is out of place ; 
the fountains of the new life are sealed, and 
Christianity is overturned from its foundation. 

And this consequence did in fact ensue. By 
degrees this practical view of Faith was for- 
gotten, and ere long it was regarded, as it still 
is by many, as a bare act of the understand- 
ing, a mere submission to a commanding 
evidence. 

From this primary error a second neces- 
sarily resulted. When Faith was robbed of 
its practical character, it could no longer be 
maintained that Faith alone saved. Works 
no longer following in their places as its 
fruits — it seemed necessary to range them on 
one line with it; and the Church was taught 
to believe that the sinner is justified by Faith 
and by Works. In place of that Christian 
unity in doctrine, which comprises in a single 
principle Justification and. Works — Grace and 
a rule of life — belief and responsibility, suc- 
ceeded that melancholy quality which regards 
religion and moral duty as things altogether 
unconnected; a fatal delusion which brings in 
death, by separating the body from the spirit, 
whoee continued union is the necessary con- 



dition of life itself. The word of the Apostle 
heard across the interval of ages is, " Having 
begun in the spirit, are ye now made perfect 
by the flesh." 

Another error contributed to unsettle the 
doctrine of Grace. This was Pelagianisrn. 
Pelagius asserted that man's nature was not 
fallen, — that, there is no such thing as here- 
ditary evil, and that man having received 
power to do good has only to will in order to 
perform it. If the doing "good things" con- 
sists in certain external acts, Pelagius judged 
truly. But if regard is had to the motives 
whence these external acts proceed, — or to the 
entire inward life of man, (see Matt. xii. 34,) 
then we discern in all his works selfishness — 
forgetfulness of God, pollution and weakness. 
This was the doctrine of St. Augustine. He 
proved that to entitle any action to approval, 
it was needful not merely that it should seem 
right when looked at by itself and from the 
outside, but above all that its real spring in 
the soul should be holy. The Pelagian doc- 
trine rejected by St. Augustine from the 
church when it presented itself broadly for in- 
vestigation, re-appeared ere long with a side 
aspect as semi-Pelagian, and under forms of 
expression borrowed from St. Augustine's own 
writings. It was in vain that eminent Father 
opposed its progress. He died soon after. 
The error spread with amazing rapidity 
throughout Christendom — passing from the 
West to the East, and even at this day it con- 
tinues to disturb and harass the Church. The 
danger of the doctrine appeared in this: that 
by placing goodness in the external act rather 
than in the inward affections, it led men to 
put a high value upon outward action, legal 
observances and works of penance. The 
more of such works the greater the reputed 
sanctity — heaven was to be obtained by means 
of them — and (extravagant as such a thought 
must appear to us) it was not long before cer- 
tain persons were believed to have made at- 
tainments in holiness beyond that which was 
required of them. 

Thus did the proud heart of man refuse to 
give the glory to that God to whom all glory 
belongs. Thus did man claim to deserve, 
what God had decreed to give freely ! He 
essayed to find in himself the salvation which 
the Gospel brought to him ready wrought out 
from heaven. He spread a veil over the 
saving truths of salvation which cometh from 
God, and not from man — a salvation which 
God gives — but barters not; and from that 
day all the other truths of religion were over- 
clouded ; darkness spread over the church, 
and from this deep and deplorable gloom weie 
seen to arise innumerable errors. 

And in the first place we may observe that 
both great divisions of error converged to one 
effect. Pelagianism, while it corrupted the 
church's teaching - , strengthened the hierarchy 
— by the same influence by which it hid the 
doctrine of grace, it exalted the authority of 
the Church — for grace was God's part in the 
work as the Church was man's ! 

As soon as salvation was taken out of the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hands of God, it fell into the hands of the 
Priests. The latter put themselves in the 
place of the Lord ; and the souls of men 
thirsting 1 for pardon were no longer taught to 
look to heaven, but to the Church, and espe- 
cially to its pretended Head. The Roman 
Pontiff was in the place of God to the blinded 
minds of men. Hence all the grandeur and 
authority of the Popes, and hence also unut- 
terable abuses. 

Doubtless the doctrine of salvation by Faith 
was not entirely lost to the Church. We meet 
with it in some of the most celebrated Fathers, 
after the time of Constantine; and in the mid- 
dle ages. The doctrine was not formally de- 
nied. Councils and Popes did not hurl their 
bulls and decrees against it; but they set up 
beside it a something which nullified it. Sal- 
vation by Faith was received by many learned 
men, by many a humble and simple mind, — 
but the multitude had something- very different. 
Men had invented a complete system of for- 
giveness. The multitude flocked to it and 
joined with it, rather than with the Grace of 
Christ; and thus the system of man's devising 
prevailed over that of God. Let us examine 
some of the phases of this deplorable change. 

In the time of Vespasian and his sons, he 
who had been the most intimate companion of 
the despised Galilean, one of the sons of Ze- 
bedee, had said : " If we confess our sins, God 
is faithful and just to forgive our sins." 

About 120 years later, under Commodus, 
and Septimius Severus, Tertullian, an illus- 
trious pastor of Carthage, speaking- of pardon, 
already held a very different language. "It 
is necessary (said he) to change our dress and 
food, we must put on sackcloth and ashes, we 
must renounce all comfort and adorning of the 
body, and falling down before the Priest, im- 
plore the intercession of the brethren." Behold 
man turned aside from God, and turned back 
upon himself. 

Works of penance, thus substituted for the 
salvation of God, multiplied in the Church 
from the time of Tertullian to the 13th cen- 
tury. Men were enjoined to fast, to go bare- 
headed, to wear no linen, &c. or required to 
leave home and country for distant lands, or 
else to renounce the world and embrace a 
monastic life. 

In the 11th century were added voluntary 
flagellations ; a little after they became an ab- 
solute mania in Italy, which was then in a 
very disturbed state. Nobles and peasants, 
old and young, even children of five years old, 
went in pairs, through the villages, the towns, 
and the cities, by hundreds, thousands, and 
tens of thousands, without any other covering 
than a cloth tied round the middle, and visiting 
the churches in procession in the very depth 
of winter. Armed with scourges, they lashed 
themselves without pity, and the streets re- 
sounded with cries and groans, which drew 
forth tears of compassion from all who heard 
them. 

And yet long before the evil had arrived at 
this height, men sighed for deliverance from 
the tyranny of the priests. The priests them- 



selves were sensible that if they did not deviso 
some remedy, their usurped power would be 
at an end. Then it was that they invented the 
system of barter known by the name of indul- 
gences. It is under John, surnamed the Faster, 
archbishop of Constantinople, that we see its 
first commencement. The priests said, " O 
penitents, you are unable to perform the pen- 
ances we have imposed upon you. Well then, 
we, the priests of God, and your pastors, will 
take upon ourselves this heavy burden. Who 
can better fast than we] Who better kneel 
and recite psalms than ourselves V But the 
labourer is worthy of his hire. "For a seven 
weeks fast, (said Regino, abbot of Prum,) such 
as are rich shall pay twenty pence, those who 
are less wealthy ten pence, and the poor three 
pence, in the same proportion for other things." 
Some courageous voices were raised against 
this traffic, but in vain. 

The Pope soon discovered what advantages 
he might derive from these indulgences. His 
want of money continued to increase. Here 
was an easy resource, which, under the appear- 
ance of a voluntary contribution, would re- 
plenish his coffers. It seemed desirable to 
establish so lucrative a discovery on a solid 
footing. The chief men of Rome exerted them- 
selves for this purpose. The irrefragable doc- 
tor, Alexander de Hales, invented, in the 13th 
century, a doctrine well suited to secure this 
mighty resource to the Papacy. A bull ot 
Clement VII. declared the new doctrine an 
article of the faith. The most sacred truths 
were made to subserve this persevering policy 
of Rome. Christ, it was affirmed, has done 
much more than was required for reconciling 
God and man. One single drop of his blood 
would have sufficed for that; but he shed his 
blood abundantly, that he might form for his 
church a treasury that eternity itself should 
never exhaust. The supererogatory merits of 
the saints, the reward of the works they have 
done, beyond and additional to the obligations 
of duty, have still further enriched this treasu- 
ry. Its guardianship and distribution are con- 
fided to the Vicar of Christ upon earth. He 
applies to every sinner, for sins committed 
after baptism, these merits of Christ and of 
his saints, in the measure and degree that his 
sins have made necessary. Who would dare 
to attack a custom of so high and holy an 
origin. 

Rapidly was this almost inconceivable in- 
vention reduced to a system. The scale im- 
posed ten, twenty years of penance, for such 
and such kinds of sin. "It is not merely fi>r 
each kind of sin, but for each sinful action, that 
this penance of so many years is demanded," 
exclaimed the mercenary priests. Behold 
mankind, bowed down under the weight of a 
penance that seemed almost eternal. 

" But for what purpose this long- penance, 
when life is so short — when can it take effect] 
How Can man secure the time requisite for its 
performance] You are imposing on him cen- 
turies of severe discipline. When death comes 
he will but laugh at you — for death will dis- 
charge him from his burden. Ah, welcome 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



9 



death !" But this objection was provided 
against. The philosophers of Alexandria had 
spoken of a fire in which men were to be pu- 
rified. Some ancient doctors in the church had 
received the notion. Rome declared this phi- 
losophic tenet the ddctrine of the church; and 
the Pope, by a bull, added purgatory to his 
domain. He declared that man would have 
to expiate in purgatory all he could not ex- 
piate on earth ; but that indulgences would 
deliver men's souls from that intermediate 
state in which their sins would otherwise hold 
them. Thomas Aquinas set forth this new 
doctrine in his celebrated Summa. Nothing 
was left undone to fill the mind with terror. 
Man is by nature inclined to fear an unknown 
futurity and the dark abodes beyond the grave ; 
but that fear was artfully excited and increased 
by horrible descriptions of the torments of this 
purifying fire. We see at this day in many 
Catholic countries paintings exposed in the 
temples, or in the crossways, wherein poor 
souls engulphed in flames invoke alleviation 
for their miseries. Who could refuse the 
money that, dropt into the treasury of Rome, 
redeemed the soul from such horrible torments ? 

But a further means of increasing this traffic 
was now discovered. Hitherto it had been 
the sins of the living that had been turned to 
profit ; they now began to avail themselves of 
the sins of the dead. In the 13th century it 
was declared that the living might, by making 
certain sacrifices, shorten or even terminate the 
torments their ancestors and friends w 7 ere en- 
during in purgatory. Instantly the compas- 
sionate hearts of the faithful offered new trea- 
sures for the priests. 

To regulate this traffic, they invented short- 
ly after, probably in the Pontificate of John 
XXII. the celebrated and scandalous tax of 
indulgences, of which more than forty editions 
are extant: a mind of the least delicacy would 
be shocked at the repetition of the horrors there- 
in contained. Incest was to cost, if not de- 
tected, five groschen, if known, or flagrant, six. 
A certain price was affixed to the crime of mur-_ 
der, another to infanticide, adultery, perjury, 
burglary, &c. Oh, shame to Rome ! exclaims 
Claudius of Espersa, a Roman divine ; and 
we may add, Oh, shame to human nature! 
For no reproach can attach to Rome which 
does not recoil with equal force on mankind 
in general. Rome is human nature exalted, 
and displaying some of its worst propensities. 
We say this in truth as well a~ in justice. 

Boniface VIII., the boldest and most ambi- 
tious of the Popes, after Gregory VII., effected 
still more than his predecessors had done. 

He published a bull in 1300, by which he 
declared to the church that all who sh.ould at 
that time or thenceforth make the pilgrimage 
to Rome, which should take place every hun- 
dred years, should there receive a plenary in- 
dulgence. Upon this multitudes flocked from 
Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, France,Spain, 
Germany, Hungary, and other quarters. Old 
men. of sixty and seventy, set out on the pil- 
grimage; and it was computed that 200,000 
visited Rome in one month. All these foreign- 



ers brought with them rich offerings, and the 
Pope and the Romans saw their coffers re- 
plenished. 

The avarice of the Pontiffs soon fixed this 
jubilee at intervals of fifty years, afterwards 
at thirty-three years, and at last at twenty-five. 
Then, for the greater convenience of the pur- 
chasers, and to increase the profits of the 
venders, they transferred both the jubilee and 
its indulgences from Rome to the market- 
places of all the nations of Christendom. It 
was no longer necessary to abandon one's 
home; what others had been obliged to seek 
beyond the Alps, each might now obtain at 
his own door. 

The evil was at its height, — and then the 
Reformer arose. 

We have seen what had become of the 
principle which was designed to govern the 
history of Christianity ; we have also seen 
what became of that which should have per- 
vaded its doctrine. Both were now lost. 

To set up a single caste as mediators be- 
tween God and man, and to barter in exchange 
for works and penances, and gold, the salva- 
tion freely given by God;— rsuch was Popery. 

To open wide to all, through Jesus Christ, 
and without any earthly mediator, and with- 
out that power that called itself the Church, 
free access to the gift of God, eternal life; — 
such was Christianity, and such was the Re- 
formation. 

Popery may be compared to a high wall 
erected by the labour of ages, between man and 
God. Whoever will scale it must pay or suf- 
fer in the attempt ; and even then he will fail 
to overleap it. 

The Reformation is the power which has 
thrown down this wall, has restored Christ to 
man, and has thus made plain the way of ac- 
cess to the Creator. 

Popery interposes the Church between God 
and man. 

Christianity and the Reformation bring God 
and man face to face. 

Popery separates man from God : — the Gos- 
pel re-unites them. 

After having thus traced the history of the 
decline and loss of the two gran-' 1 principles 
which were to distinguish the religion of God 
from systems of man's devising, let us see 
what were the consequences of this immense 
change. 

But first let us do honour to the church of 
that middle period, which intervened between 
the age of the Apostles and the Reformers. 
The church was still the church, although fallen 
and more and more enslaved. In a word, she 
was at all times the most, powerful friend of 
man. Her hands, though manacled, still dis- 
pensed blessings. Many eminent servants 
of Christ diffused during these ages a benefi- 
cent light; and in the humble convent — the 
sequestered parish — there were found pool 
monks and poor priests to alleviate, bitter suf- 
ferings. The church Catholic \v;is not. the Pa- 
pacy. This filled the place of the oppressor; 



10 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that of the oppressed. The Reformation 
which declared war against the one, came to 
liberate the other. And it must be acknow- 
ledged, that the Papacy itself was at times, in 
the hands of Him who brings good out of evil, 
a necessary counterpoise to the ambition and 
tyranny of princes. 

Let us now contemplate the condition of 
Christianity at that time. 

Theology and religion were then widely 
different. The doctrine of the learned, and 
the practice of priests, monks, and people, 
presented two very different aspects. They 
had, however, great influence upon each other, 
and the Reformation had to deal with both. 
Let us examine them, and take a survey first 
of the Schools, or Theology. 

Theology was still under the influence of 
the middle ages. The middle ages had awoke 
from their long trance, and had produced 
many learned men. But their learning had 
•been directed neither to the interpretation of 
the Holy Scriptures, nor to the examination 
of the history of the Church. Scriptural ex- 
position, and the study of history, the two 
great sources of theological knowledge, still 
slumbered. 

A new science had usurped their place. It 
was the science of Dialectics. The art of rea- 
soning became the fruitful mine of a new 
theology. The middle ages had discovered 
the long lost writings of Aristotle. Their 
knowledge of him was derived either from old 
Latin versions, or from translations from the 
Arabic. The resuscitated Aristotle appeared 
in the West as a giant, subjecting the minds, 
and even the consciences of men. His philo- 
sophic method added strength to the disposi- 
tion for dialectics which marked the age. It 
was a method well suited to subtle researches 
and trivial distinctions. The very obscurity 
of the translations of the Greek philosopher 
favoured the dialectic subtlety which had capti- 
vated the West. The Church, alarmed at its 
progress, for a while opposed this new tenden- 
cy. She feared that this taste for discussion 
might engender heresies. But the dialectic 
philosophy proved to be easily compounded 
with ; monks employed it against heretics, 
and thenceforward its victory was secure. 

It was the characteristic of this method of 
teaching, to suggest numerous questions on 
every branch of theology, and then to decide 
them by a solution. Often these inquiries 
turned upon most useless matters. It was 
asked whether all animals had been enclosed 
in Noah's ark ; and whether a dead man 
could say mass, &c. But we should be 
wrong to form our judgment of the scholastic 
divines from such examples only. On the 
contrary, we must often acknowledge the 
depth and extent of their inquiries. 

Some among them made a distinction be- 
tween theological and philosophical truth, 
afhrming that a proposition might be theologi- 
cally true, and philosophically false. In this 
way it was hoped to reconcile incredulity with 
a cold and dead adherence to the forms of the 
Church. But there were others, and Thomas 



Aquinas at their head, who maintained that 
the doctrine of revelation was in no respect at 
variance with an enlightened reason; and that 
even as Christian charity does not annihilate 
the natural affections, but chastens, sanctifies, 
ennobles, and governs them, so Faith does not 
destroy Philosophy, but may make use of it 
by sanctifying and illuminating it with its 
own light. 

The doctrine of the Trinity, opened a wide 
field for the dialectic method of the theolo- 
gians. By dint of distinctions and disputes, 
they fell into contrary errors. Some distin- 
guished the three Persons so as to make of 
them three Gods. This was the error of Ro- 
celin of Cornpeigrne and his followers. Others 
confounded the Persons so as to leave only an 
ideal distinction. This was the C3?e with 
Gilbert of Poictiers and his adherents. But 
the orthodox doctrine was ably maintained by 
others. 

The dialectic subtlety of the times was not 
less directed to the article of the Divine Will. 
How are we to reconcile the will of God with 
his almighty power and holiness] The scho- 
lastic divines found in this question numerous 
difficulties, and laboured to remove them by 
dialectic distinctions. " W T e cannot say that 
God wills the existence of evil" said Peter 
the Lombard, "but neither can we say that 
He wills that evil should not exist." 

The majority of these theologians sought 
to weaken by their dialectic labours the doc- 
trine of Predestination which they found in 
the church. Alexander de Hales availed him- 
self for this purpose of the following distinc- 
tion of Aristotle; that every action supposes 
two parties, namely, an agent, and the thing 
subjected to the action. Divine Predestina- 
tion, said he, acts doubtless for man's salva- 
tion ; but it is requisite that it find in the soul 
of man a capacity for the reception of this 
grace. Without this second party the first 
cannot effect any thing; and Predestination 
consists in this, that God knowing by his pre- 
science those in whom this second requisite 
will be found, has appointed to give them his 
grace. 

As to the original condition of man, these 
theologians distinguished natural gifts and 
free gifts. The first they held to consist in 
the primitive purity and strength of the human 
soul. The second were the gifts of God's 
grace that the soul might accomplish good 
works. But here again the learned were di- 
vided ; some contended that man had original- 
ly possessed only natural gifts, and had by 
his use of them to merit those of grace. But 
Thomas Aquinas who was generally on the 
side of sound doctrine, affirmed that the gifts 
of grace had from the beginning been closely 
united with the gifts of nature, because the 
first man was perfect in his moral health. 
The Fall, said the former, who leaned to- 
wards Free-will, has deprived man of the 
gifts of grace, but it has not entirely stripped 
him of the primitive strength of his naiure ; 
for the least sanctification would have been 
impossible if there had been no longer with 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



11 



him any moral strength. Whilst, on the other 
eide, the stricter theologians thought that the 
Fall had not only deprived man of grace, bat 
corrupted his nature. 

All acknowledged the work of Reconcilia- 
tion wrought out by Christ's sufferings and 
death. But some maintained that redemption 
could have been effected in no other way than 
by the expiatory satisfaction of the death of 
Jesus Christ, whilst others laboured to prove 
that God had simply attached redemption and 
grace to this price. Others again, and among 
these last we may particularize Abelard, made 
the saving efficacy of redemption to consist 
merely in its fitness to awaken in man's heart 
a confidence and love toward God. 

The doctrines of Sanctiflcation or of Grace 
discovers to us' in fresh abundance the dialectic 
subtlety of these divines. All of them, ac- 
cepting the distinction of Aristotle already 
mentioned, laid down the necessity of the ex- 
istence in man of a materia disposita, a some- 
thing disposed to the reception of grace. But 
Thomas Aquinas ascribes this disposition to 
grace itself. Grace, said they, was formative 
for man before the Fall ; now, that there is in 
him something to extirpate, it is grace re- 
formative. And a farther distinction was laid 
down between grace given gratuitously, gra- 
tia gratis data, and grace that makes accept- 
able, gratia gratum faciens ,• with many other 
similar distinctions. 

The doctrine of penance and indulgence, 
which we have already exhibited, crowned the 
whole of this system, and ruined whatever 
good it might contain. Peter the Lombard 
had been the first to distinguish three sorts of 
penitence; that of the heart or compunction; 
that of the lips, or confession; that of works, 
or satisfaction by outward action. He distin- 
guished, indeed, absolution in the sight of God 
from absolution before the church. He even 
affirmed that inward repentance sufficed to 
obtain the pardon of sins. But he found a 
way back into the error of the church through 
another channel. He allowed that for sins 
committed after baptism, it was necessary 
either to endure the fires of purgatory, or to 
submit to the ecclesiastic penance ; excepting 
only the sinner whose inward repentance and 
remorse should be so great as to obviate the 
necessity of further sufferings. He proceeds 
to propose questions which, with all his skill 
in dialectics, he is embarrassed to resolve. If 
two men, equal in their spiritual condition, but 
one poor and the other rich, die the same day, 
the one having no other succours than the ordi- 
nary prayers of the church, while for the other 
man)' masses can be said, and many works of 
charity can be done, what will be the event"? 
The scholastic divine turns on all sides for an 
answer, and concludes by saying that they will 
have the like fate, but not by the like causes. 
The rich man's deliverance from purgatory will 
not be more perfect, but it will be earlier. 

We have given a few sketches of the sort 
of Theology which reigned in the schools at 
the period of the Reformation. Distinctions, 
ideas, sometimes just, sometimes false, but 



still mere notions. The Christian doctrine had 
lost that odour of heaven, that force and prac- 
tical vitality which came from God, and which 
had characterized it as it existed in the apos- 
tolic age : and these were destined again to 
come to it from above. 

Meanwhile the learning of the schools was 
pure when compared with the actual condition 
of the Church. The theology of the learned 
might be said to flourish, if contrasted with 
the religion, the morals, the instructions of 
the priests, monks, and people. If Science 
stood in need of a revival, the Church was in 
still greater need of a Reformation. 

The people of Christendom, and under that 
designation almost all the nations of Europe 
might be comprised, no longer looked to a 
living and holy God for the free gift of eternal 
life. They therefore naturally had recourse 
to all the devices of a superstitious, fearful, 
and alarmed imagination. Heaven was peopled 
with saints and mediators, whose office it was 
to solicit God's mercy. All lands were filled 
with the works of piety, of mortification, of 
penance and observances, by which it was to 
be procured. Take the description of the state 
of religion at this period given by one who 
was for a long while a monk, and in after life 
a fellow-labourer with Luther, — Myconius. 

"The sufferings and merits of Christ were 
looked upon (says he) as an empty tale, or 
as the fictions of Homer. There was no lon- 
ger any thought of that faith by which we are 
made partakers of the Saviour's righteousness, 
and the inheritance of eternal life. Christ was 
regarded as a stern judge, prepared to condemn 
all who should not have recourse to the inter- 
cessions of saints or to the Pope's indulgences. 
Other intercessors were substituted in his 
stead ; first the Virgin Mary, like the heathen 
Diana; and then the saints, whose numbers 
were continually augmented by the Popes. 
These intercessors refused their mediation 
unless the party was in good repute with the 
monastic orders which they had founded. To 
be so, it was necessary not only to do what 
God had commanded in his word, but also to 
perform a number of works invented by the 
monks and priests, and which brought them 
in large sums of money. Such were Ave 
Marias, the prayers of St. Ursula, and of St. 
Bridget. It was necessary to chaunt and cry 
day and night. There were as many different 
pilgrimages as there were mountains, forests, 
and valleys. But with money these penances 
might be compounded for. The people there- 
fore brought to the convents and to the priests 
money, and every thing they possessed that 
was of any value, fowls, ducks, eggs, wax, 
straw, butter, and cheese. Then the chaunt- 
ings resounded, the bells rang, the odour of 
incense filled the sanctuary, the sacrifices were 
offered up, the tables groaned, the glasses cir- 
culated, and these pious orgies were termina- 
ted by masses. The bishops no longer ap- 
peared in the pulpits, but they consecrated 
priests, monks, churches, chapels, images, 
books, and burial places, and all these brought 



12 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a large revenue. Bones, arms, feet, were pre- 
served in boxes of silver or gold; they gave 
them to the faithful to kiss during mass, and 
this increased their gains. 

" All maintained that the Pope being in the 
place of God (2 Thessal. ii. 4) could not err; 
and there were none to contradict them." 

At the church of All Saints, at Wittemberg, 
was shewn a fragment of Noah's ark; some 
root from the furnace of the three children ; a 
pjpce of wood from the crib of the infant Jesus ; 
some hair of the beard of the great St. Chris- 
topher; and nineteen thousand other relics. 
more or less precious. At Schaff hausen was 
shown the breath of St. Joseph, that Nicode- 
mus received on his glove. In Wurtemburg, 
might be seen a seller of indulgences disposing 
of his merchandise with his head adorned 
with a feather plucked from the wing of the 
Archangel Michael. But there was no need 
to seek so far for these precious treasures. 
Those who farmed the relics overran the coun- 
try. They bore them about in the rural dis- 
tricts, (as has since been done with the Holy 
Scriptures;) and carried them into the houses 
of the faithful, to spare them the cost and 
trouble of the pilgrimage. They were exhibit- 
ed with pomp in the churches. These wan- 
ering hawkers paid a certain sum to the pro- 
prietors of the relics, with a per centage on 
their profits. The kingdom of heaven had 
disappeared ; and men had opened in its place 
on earth, a market of abominations. 

At the same time, a profane spirit had in- 
vaded religion, and the most solemn recollec- 
tions of the church ; the seasons which seemed 
most to summon the faithful to devout reflec- 
tion and love, were dishonoured by buffoonery 
and profanations altogether heathenish. The 
Humours of Easter held a large place in the 
annals of the Church. The festival of the 
Resurrection claiming to be joyfully com- 
memorated, preachers went out of their way 
to put into their sermons whatever might excite 
the laughter of the people. One preacher imi- 
tated the cuckoo; another hissed like a goose; 
one dragged to the altar a la} T man dressed in 
a monk's cowl ; a second related the grossest 
\ndecencies; a third recounted the tricks of 
the Apostle St. Peter, — among others, how, 
at an inn, he cheated the host, by not paying 
his reckoning. The lower orders of the clergy 
fallowed the example, and turned their supe- 
riors into ridicule. The very temples were 
converted into a stage, and the priests into 
mountebanks. 

If this was the state of religion, what must 
have been the morals of the age? 

Doubtless the corruption was not universal. 
— Justice requires that this should not be for- 
gotten. The Reformation elicited many shin- 
ing instances of piety, righteousness, and 
strength of mind. The spontaneous power 
of God was the cause; but how can we doubt 
that by the same power the germs of this new 
life had been deposited long before in the bo- 
som of the church. If, in these our days, any 
one were to collect the immoralities and de- 
grading vices that are committed in any single 



country, such a mass of corruption wouM 
douhtless be enough to shock even' mind. 
But the evil, at the period we speak of, bore a 
character and universality that it has not borne 
at any subsequent date; and above all, the 
abomination stood in the holy plar-es, which 
it has not been permitted to do since the Re- 
formation. 

Moral conduct had declined with the life cf 
faith. The tidings of the gift of eternal life 
is the power of God to regenerate men. Once 
take away the salvation which is God's gift, 
and you take away sanctification and good 
works: — and this was the result. 

The proclamation and sale of indulgences 
powerfully stimulated an ignorant people to 
immorality. It is true that, according to the 
Church, they could benefit those only who 
made and kept a promise of amendment. But 
what could be expected from a doctrine in- 
vented with a view to the profit to be gained 
from it ] The venders of indulgences were 
naturally tempted to further the sale of their 
merchandise by presenting them to the 
under the most attractive and seducing aspect ; 
even the better instructed did not fully com- 
prehend the doctrine in respect to them. All 
that the multitude saw in them was a permis- 
sion to sin ; and the sellers were in no haste 
to remove an impression so favourable to the 
sale. 

What disorders, what crimes, in these ages 
of darkness, in which impunity was acquired 
by money ! What might not be feared when 
a small contribution to the building of a 
church was supposed to deliver from the pun- 
ishments of a future world ! What hope of 
revival when the communication between God 
and man was at an end ; and man. afar off 
from God, who is spirit and life, — moved only 
in a circle of pitiful ceremonies and gross 
practices. — in an atmosphere of death. 

The priests were the first who felt the effects 
cf this corrupting influence. Desiring to ex- 
alt themselves, they had sunk themselves 
lower. Infatuated men ! They aimed to rob 
God of a ray of his glory, and to place it on 
their own brows ; but their attempt had failed, 
and they had received only a leaven of cor- 
ruption from the power of evil. The annals 
of the age swarm with scandals. In many 
places the people were well pleased that the 
priest should have a woman in keeping, that 
their wives might be safe from his seductions. 
What scenes of humiliation were witn-ssed 
in the house of the pastor! The wretched 
man supported the mother and her children, 
with the tithe and the offering; his conscience 
was troubled; he blushed in presence of his 
people, of his servants, aihd before God. The 
mother, fearing to come to want when the 
priest should die, provided against it before- 
hand, and robbed the house. Her character 
was gone: her children were a living accusa- 
tion of her. Treated on all sides with con- 
tempt, thev plunged into brawls and debauch- 
eries. Such was the family of the priests. 
These horrid scenes were a kind of instruction 
that the people were ready enough to follow. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



13 



The mral districts were the scene of nu- 
merous excesses. The abodes of the clergy 
were frequently the resorts of the dissolute. 
Cornelius Adrian, at Bruges, the Abbot 
Trinkler, at Cappel, imitated the customs of 
the East, and had their harems. Priests, con- 
sorted with abandoned characters, frequented 
the taverns, played dice, and finished their 
orgies by quarrels and blasphemy. 

Tne council of Schaffhausenpronibited the 
clergy from dancing in public except at wed- 
ding's; from carrying two kinds of weapons; 
and decreed that a priest who should be found 
in a house of ill-fame should be stripped of 
his ecclesiastical habit. In the archbishopric 
of Mentz they scaled the walls in the night, 
committed disturbances and disorders of all 
kinds in the inns and taverns, and broke open 
doors and locks. In several places the priest 
paid to the bishop a regular tax for the woman 
with whom he lived, and for every child he 
had by her. A German bishop, who was pre- 
sent at a grand entertainment, publicly de- 
clared that in one year eleven thousand priests 
had presented themselves to him for that pur- 
pose. It is Erasmus who records this. 

The higher orders of the hierarchy were 
equally corrupt. Dignitaries of the Church 
preferred the tumult of camps to the service of 
the altar. To be able, lance in hand, to com- 
pel his neighbours to do him homage, was 
one of the most conspicuous qualifications of 
a bishop. Baldwin, archbishop of Treves, 
was constantly at war with his neighbours 
and vassals; razing their castles, building 
fortresses of his own, and thinking only now 
to enlarge his territory. A certain bishop of 
Eichstadt, when dispensing justice, wore under 
his habit a coat of mail, and'held in his hand 
a long sword. He used to say he did not fear 
five Bavarians, provided they would but at- 
tack him in the open field. Everywhere the 
bishops were engaged, in constant war with 
the towns; the citizens demanding freedom, 
and the bishops requiring implicit obedience. 
If the latter triumphed, they punished the re- 
volters, by sacrificing numerous victims to 
their vengeance ; but the flame of insurrection 
broke out again at the very moment when it 
was thought to be extinguished. 

And what a spectacle was presented by the 
Pontifical Throne in the generation imme- 
diately preceding the Reformation ! Rome, 
it must be acknowledged, has seldom been 
witness to so much infamy. 

Rodrigo Borgia, after living in illicit inter- 
course with a Roman lady, had continued a 
similar connection with one of her daughters, 
by name Rosa Vanozza, by whom he had five 
children. He was living ■ at Rome with 
^ anozza and other abandoned women, — as 
cardinal, and archbishop, visiting the churches 
and hospitals, — when the death of Innocent 
VIII. created a vacancy in the Pontifical 
chair. He succeeded in obtaining it by brib- 
ing each of the cardinals at a stipulated price. 
Four mules, laden with silver, were publicly 
driven into the palace of Sforza, the most in- 
fluential of the cardinals. Borgia became 



Pope under the name of Alexander VI. and 
rejoiced in the attainment of the pinnacle of 
pleasures. 

The very day of his coronation he created 
his son Caesar, a ferocious and dissolute 
youth, archbishop of Valencia and bishop of 
Pampeluna. He next proceeded to celebrate 
in the Vatican the nuptials of his daughter 
Lucrezia, by festivities, at which his mistress 
Julia Bella was present, and which were en- 
livened by farces and indecent songs. " Most 
of the ecclesiastics," says an historian, "had 
their mistresses, and all the convents of the 
capital were houses of ill fame." Caesar 
Borgia espoused the cause of the Guelphs, 
and when by their assistance he had annihi- 
lated the power of the Ghibelines, he turned 
upon the Guelphs, and crushed them in their 
turn. But he would allow none to share in 
the spoils of his atrocities. In the year 1497, 
Alexander conferred upon his eldest son the 
duchy of Benevento. The Duke suddenly 
disappeared. That night a faggot-dealer on 
the banks of the Tiber saw some persons 
throw a corpse into the river; but he said no- 
thing of it, for such things were common. 
The Duke's body was found. His brother 
CsesaT had been the instigator of the murder. 
He did not stop there. His brother-in-law 
stood in the way of his ambition. One day 
Caesar caused him to be stabbed on the stair- 
case of the Pope's palace, and he was carried 
covered with blood to his own apartments. 
His wife and sister never left him. Dreading 
lest Caesar should employ poison, they were 
accustomed to prepare his meals with their 
own hands. Alexander placed guards before 
his door, — But Caesar ridiculed these precau- 
tions, and on one occasion when the Pope 
visited him dropped the remark, "What can- 
not be done at dinner may be at supper." 
Accordingly, he one day gained admittance to 
the chamber of the wounded man, turned out 
his wife and sister, and calling Michilotto, the 
executioner of his horrors, and the only man 
in whom he placed any confidence, commanded 
him to strangle his victim before his eyes. 
Alexander had a favourite named Peroto, 
whose preferment offended the young Duke. 
Caesar rushed upon him, Peroto sought refuge 
under the Papal mantle, clasping the Pontiff 
in his arms;— Caesar stabbed him, and the 
blood of the victim spirted in the Pontiff's 
face. " The Pope," adds a contemporary and 
witness of these atrocities, — "loves the Duke 
his son, and lives in great fear of him." Caesar 
was one of the handsomest and most power 
ful men of his age. Six wild bulls fell be- 
neath his hand in single combat. Nightly 
assassinations took place in the streets of . 
Rome. Poison often destroyed those whom 
the dagger could not reach. Every one feared 
to move or breathe lest he should be the next 
victim. Caesar Borgia was the hero of crime. 
The spot on earth where all iniquity met and 
overflowed was the Pontiff's seat. When 
man has given himself over to the power of 
evil, — the higher his pretensions before God, 
the lower he is seen to sink in the depths of 



14 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hell. The dissolute entertainments given by 
the Pope and his son Caesar and his daughter 
Lucrezia, are such as can neither be described 
nor thought of. The most impure groves of 
ancient worship saw not the like. Historians 
have accused Alexander and Lucrezia of in- 
cest, but the charge is not sufficiently esta- 
blished. The Pope, in order to rid himself 
of a wealthy Cardinal, had prepared poison 
in a small box of sweetmeats, which was to 
be placed on the table after a sumptuous feast : 
the Cardinal receiving a hint of the design, 
gained over the attendant, and the poisoned 
box was placed before Alexander. He ate of 
it and perished. The whole city came to- 
gether, and- could hardly satiate themselves 
with the sight of this dead viper. 

Such was the man who filled the pontifical 
throne at the commencement of the age of the 
Reformation. 

Thus the clergy had disgraced religion and 
themselves. Well might a powerful voice 
exclaim, " The ecclesiastic order is opposed 
to God and to his glory. The people well 
know it; and it is but too evident, from the 
many songs, proverbs, and jests on the priests, 
current amongst the common people, as also 
from the figures of monks and priests scrawled 
on the walls, and even on the playing cards, 
that every one has a feeling of disgust at the 
sight or name of a priest." It is Luther who 
thus speaks. 

The evil had spread through all ranks ; a 
spirit of delusion had been sent among men ; 
the corruption of morals corresponded to the 
corruption of the faith ; the mystery of iniquity 
weighed down the enslaved Church of Christ. 

Another consequence necessarily ensued 
from the neglect into which the fundamental 
doctrine of the Gospel had fallen. From the 
darkness of the understanding resulted the 
corruption of the heart. The priests having 
taken into their own hands the dispensing a 
salvation which belonged only to God, had 
thereby secured a sufficient hold on the respect 
of the people. What need had they to study 
sacred learning 1 It was no longer their office 
to explain the Scriptures, but to grant letters 
of indulgence ; and for the fulfilling of that 
ministry, it was unnecessary to have acquired 
any great learning. 

In country parts, says Wimpheling, they 
appointed as preachers poor wretches whom 
they had taken from beggary, and t who had 
been cooks, musicians, huntsmen, stable boys, 
and even worse. 

The superior clergy themselves were sunk 
in great ignorance. A bishop of Dunfeldt 
congratulated himself on never having learned 
Greek or Hebrew. The monks asserted that 
all heresies arose from these languages, but 
especially from the Greek. "The New Tes- 
tament," said one of them, i'is a book full of 
serpents and thorns. Greek," continued he, 
*' is a modern language, but recently invented, 
and against which we must be upon our guard. 
As to Hebrew, my dear brethren, it is certain 
that whoever studies /Aar immediately becomes 
a Jew." heresbach, a friend of Erasmus, 



and a respectable writer, reports these very 
words. Thomas Linacer, a learned and cele- 
brated divine, had never read the New Tes- 
tament. Drawing near his end (in 1524) he 
called for it, but quickly threw it from him 
with an oath, because his eye had caught the 
words, " But I say unto you, Swear not at 
all." "Either this is not the Gospel," said 
he, " or we are not Christians." Even the 
school of theology in Paris did not scruple to 
declare before the Parliament, " There is an 
end of religion if the study of Hebrew an'3 
Greek is permitted." 

If here and there among the clergy some 
learning existed, it was not in sacred litera- 
ture. The Ciceronians of Italy affected a 
great contempt for the Bible on account of its 
style: men who arrogated to themselves the 
title of Priests of Christ's Church translated 
the words of the Holy Ghost into the style of 
Virgil and of Horace, to accommodate them 
to the ears of men of taste. The Cardinal 
Bembo wrote always, instead of the Holy 
Spirit, " the breath of the celestial zephyr ;" 
for remission of sins he substituted the "pity 
of the Manes and of the Gods;" and instead 
of Christ the Son of God, " Minerva sprung 
from the brows of Jupiter." Finding one day 
the respectable Sadoletus employed on a trans- 
lation of the Epistle to the Romans, "Leave 
these childish productions," said he, " such 
puerilities do not become a sensible man." 

Behold some of the consequences of the 
system that then weighed down Christendom. 
This picture no doubt exhibits in strong co 
lours both the corruption of the Church and 
the need of reformation. It is for that reason 
we have sketched it. The vital doctrines of 
Christianity had almost disappeared, and with 
them the life and light which constitute the 
essence of true religion. The internal strength 
of the Church was gone, and its lifeless and 
exhausted frame lay stretched over the Roman 
world. 

Who shall give it new life 1 Whence shall 
we look for a remedy for so many evils'? 

For ages a reformation in the church had 
been loudly called for, and all the powers o* 
this world had attempted it. But God alone 
could bring it to pass. And he began by 
humbling the power of man, that he might ex- 
hibit man's helplessness. We see human 
assailants, one after another, fail and break to 
pieces at the feet of the Colossus they under- 
took to cast down. 

First temporal princes resisted Rome. The 
whole power of the Hohenstaufens, heroes 
who wore the Imperial crown, seemed directed 
to humble and reform Rome, and deliver the 
nations, and especially Germany, from her ty- 
ranny. But the castle of Canossa gave proof 
of the weakness of the Imperial power against 
the usurped dominion of the Church. A war- 
like prince, the Emperor Henry IV., after a 
long and fruitless struggle against Rome, was 
reduced to pass three days and nights in the 
trenches of that Italian fortress, exposed to the 
winter's cold, stripped of his imperial robes, 
barefoot, in a scanty woollen garment, [mplcu- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



15 



ing with tears and cries the pity of Hil de- 
brand, before whom he kneeled, and who, 
after three nights of lamentation, relaxed his 
papal inflexibility, and pardoned the suppliant. 
Behold the power of the high and mighty of 
the earth, of kings and emperors against Rome ! 

To them succeeded adversaries perhaps 
more formidable, — men of genius and learn- 
ing. Learning awoke in Italy, and its awaken- 
ing was with an energetic protest against the 
Papacy. Dante, the father of Italian poetry, 
boldly placed in his Hell the most powerful of 
the Popes ; he introduced St. Peter in heaven 
pronouncing stern and crushing censures on 
his unworthy successors, and drew horrible 
descriptions of the monks and clergy. Pe- 
trarch, that eminent genius, of a mind so su- 
perior to all the emperors and popes of his 
time, boldly called for the re-establishment of 
the primitive order of the Church. For this 
purpose he invoked the efforts of the age and 
the power of the emperor Charles VII. Lau- 
rentius Valla, one of the most learned men of 
Italy, attacked with spirit the pretensions of 
the Popes, and their asserted inheritance from 
Constantine. A legion of poets, learned men, 
and philosophers, followed in their track ; the 
torch of learning was everywhere kindled, 
and threatened to reduce to ashes the Romish 
scaffolding that intercepted its beams. But 
every effort failed; Pope Leo X. enlisted 
among the supporters and satellites of his 
court,- — literature, poetry, sciences and arts ; 
and these came humbly kissing the feet of a 
power that in their boasted infancy they had 
attempted to dethrone. Behold the power of 
letters and philosophy against Rome ! 

At last an agency which promised more 
ability to reform the church came forward. 
This was the Church itself. At the call for 
Reformation, reiterated on all sides, and which 
had been heard for ages past, that most impos- 
ing of ecclesiastical conclaves, the Council 
of Constance, assembled. An immense num- 
ber of cardinals, archbishops, bishops, eighteen 
hundred doctors of divinity and priests ; the 
Emperor himself, with a retinue of a thousand 
persons; the Elector of Saxony, the Elector 
Palatine, the Duke of Bavaria and Austria, 
and ambassadors from all nations, gave to this 
assembly an air of authority, unprecedented 
in the history of Christianity. Above the rest, 
we must mention the illustrious and immortal 
doctors of the University of Paris, the Aillys, 
the Gersons, the Clemangnis, — those men of 
piety, learning, and courage, who by their 
writings and eloquence communicated to the 
Council an energetic and salutary direction. 
Every thing bowed before this assembly ; with 
one hand it deposed three Popes at once, while 
with the other it delivered John Huss to the 
flames. A commission was named, composed 
of deputies from different nations, to propose 
a fundamental reform. The Emperor Sigis- 
mund supported the proposition with the whole 
weight of his power. The Council were unani- 
mous. The cardinals all took an oath that 
he among them who should be elected Pope 
would not dissolve the assembly, nor leave 
3 



Constance before the desired reformation 
should be accomplished. Colonna was chosen 
under the name of Martin V. The moraen 1 
was come which was to decide the Reform of 
the Chuich; all the prelates, the Emperor, the 
princes, and the representatives of different na- 
tions, awaited the result with intense desire. 
" The Council is at an end," exclaimed Martin 
V. as soon as he had placed the tiara on his 
brow. Sigismund and the clergy uttered a 
cry of surprise, indignation, and grief; but 
that cry was lost upon the winds. On the 
16th of May, 1418, the Pope, arrayed in the 
pontifical garments, mounted a mule richly 
caparisoned ; the Emperor was on his right 
hand, the Elector of Brandenburg on his left, 
each holding the reins of his palfrey ; four 
counts supported over the Pope's head a mag- 
nificent canopy; several princes surrounded 
him bearing the trappings ; and a mounted 
train of forty thousand persons, says an histo- 
rian, composed of nobles, knights, and clergy 
of all ranks, joined in the solerrKi procession 
outside the walls of Constance. Then indeed 
did Rome, in the person of her pontiff sitting 
on a mule, inwardly deride the superstition 
that surrounded her; then did she give proof 
that to humble her a power must be exerted 
far different from any thing that could be put 
in motion by emperors, or kings, or bishops, 
or doctors of divinity, or all the learning of 
the age and of the church. 

How could the Reformation proceed from 
the very thing to be reformed ? How could 
the wound find in itself the elements of : ts 
cure "? 

Nevertheless the means employed to reform 
the Church, and which the result showed to 
be inefficacious, contributed to weaken the 
obstacles and prepared the ground for the Re- 
formers. 

The evils which then afflicted Christendom, 
namely, superstition, incredulity, ignorance, 
unprofitable speculation, and corruption of 
morals, — evils naturally engendered in the 
hearts of men, — were not new on the earth 
They had made a great figure in the history 
of nations. They had invaded, especially in 
the East, different religious systems, which 
had seen their times of glory. Those enervated 
systems had sunk under these evils, and not 
one of them had ever arisen from its fall. 

And was Christianity now to undergo the 
same destiny 1 Was it to be lost like those 
old religions of the nations'? Was the blow 
that had doomed them to death Co be of powei 
to destroy it? Was there nothing to secure 
its preservation 1 ? And these opposing forces 
which overflowed it, and which had al- 
ready dethroned so many various systems of 
worship, were they indeed to have power to 
seat themselves without resistance on the 
ruins of the Church of Jesus Christ 1 ? 

No: — there is in Christianity that which 
there was not in any of these national systems. 
It does not, like them, offer certain general 
ideas, mixed with tradition and fables, des- 
tined, sooner or later, to fall before the march 
of human reason; but it contains within it pure 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Truth, built upon Tacts which challenge the 
scrutiny of any upright and enlightened mind. 
Christianity has for its object not merely to 
excite in man certain vague religious feelings, 
of which the impression, once forgotten, can 
never be revived; its object is to satisfy, and 
it does in reality satisfy, all the religious wants 
of human nature, in whatever degree that na- 
ture may be developed. It is not the contri- 
vance of man, whose works pass away and are 
forgotten, but it is the work of God, who up- 
holds what he creates ; and it has the promises 
of its Divine Author for the pledge of its dura- 
tion. 

It is impossible that human nature can ever 
oe above the need of Christianity. And if 
ever man has for a time fancied that he could 
do without it, it has soon appeared to him 
clotned in fresh youth and vigour, as the only 
cure for the human soul; and the degenerate 
nations have returned with new ardour to 
those ancient, simple, and powerful truths, 
which in the hour of their infatuation they 
despised. 

In fact, Christianity displayed, in the 16th 
century, the same regenerative power which 
it had exercised in the first. After the lapse 
of fifteen hundred years, the same truths pro- 
duced the same effects. In the days of the 
Reformation, as in the days of Peter and Paul, 
— the Gospel, with invincible energy, over- 
came mighty obstacles. The efficacy of its 
sovereign power was displayed from north to 
south; amidst nations differing most widely 
in manners, in character, and in civilization. 
Then, as in the times of Stephen and of James, 
it kindled the fire of enthusiasm and devotion 
in the midst of the general deadness, and raised 
on all sides the spirit of martyrs. 

How was this revival in the Church and 
in the world brought to pass 1 

An observant mind might then have dis- 
cerned two laws by which God governs the 
course of events. 

He *irst prepares slowly and from afar that 
which he designs to accomplish. He has 
ages in which to work. 

Then, when his time is come, he effects the 
greatest results by the smallest means. He 
acts thus in nature and in providence. For 
the production of a gigantic tree, He deposits 
in the earth a tiny seed ; for the renovation of 
his church, He makes use of the meanest in- 
strument to accomplish what emperors, learn- 
ed men, and even the heads of that church 
have failed to effect ! We shall shortly have 
to investigate and bring to light this little seed 
that a divine hand placed in the earth in the 
Hays of the Reformation. We must now 
distinguish and recognise the different methods 
by which God prepared the way for the great 
change. 

We will first survey the condition of the 
Papacy ; and from thence we will carry our 
view over the different influences which God 
caused to concur to the accomplishment of 
his purposes. 

At the period when the Reformation was on 
the point of breaking forth, Rome appeared in 



peace and safety. One might have said thai 
nothing could for the future disturb her tri- 
umph. She had gained great and decisive 
victories. The general councils, those uppei 
and lower senates of Catholicism, had been 
subdued. The Vaudois and the Hussites had 
been put down. No university, (except per 
haps that of Paris, which sometimes raised 
its voice at the instance of its kings,) 
doubted of the infallibility of the oracles of 
Rome. Every one seemed to take part with 
its power. The superior clergy preferred 
to give to a remote head the tenth of their 
revenues, and quietly to consume the remain- 
der to the hazarding of all for the acquisition 
of an independence which would cost dear, 
and bring little advantage. The humbler 
clergy, before whom were spread the prospects 
and baits of higher dignities, were willing to 
purchase these cherished hopes by a little 
slavery. Add to which, they were every- 
where so overawed by the heads of the hie- 
rarchy, that they could scarcely move under 
their powerful hands, and much less raise 
themselves and make head against them. 
The people bowed the knee before the Roman 
altar, and even kings, who began in secret to 
despise the Bishop of Rome, could not have 
dared to raise the hand against it, lest they 
should be reputed guilty of sacrilege. 

But if at the time when the Reformation 
broke out, opposition seemed outwardly to 
have subsided, or even ceased altogether, its 
internal strength had increased. If we take 
a nearer view, we discern more than one symp- 
tom which presaged the decline of Rome. The 
general councils, had, in their fall, diffused 
their principles through the Church, and car- 
ried disunion into the camp of those who im- 
pugned them. The defenders of the hierarchy 
had separated into two parties; those who 
maintained the system of the absolute power 
of the Pope, according to the maxims of Hilde- 
brand ; and those w T ho desired a constitutional 
Papacy, offering securities and liberty to the 
churches. 

To this we may add, that in all parties faith 
in the infallibility of the Roman bishop had 
been rudely shaken. If no voice was raised 
to attack him, it was oecause every one was 
anxious to retain the little faith he still pos- 
sessed. The slightest shock was dreaded, 
lest it should overturn the edifice. The 
Christianity of the age held in its breath ; but 
it was to avoid a calamity in which it feared 
to perish. From the moment w^hen man 
trembles to quit a once venerated creed, he 
no longer holds it, and he will soon abandon 
its very semblance. 

Let us see what had brought about this 
singular posture of mind. The church itself 
was the primary cause. The errors and super- 
stitions she had introduced into Christianity, 
were not, properly speaking, what had so fatal- 
ly wounded her. This might indeed be thought 
if the nations of Christendom had risen above 
the Church in intellectual and religious de- 
velopement. But there was an aspect of the 
question level to the observation of the laity, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



17 



and it was under that view that the Church 
was judged: — it was become altogether earth- 
ly. That priestly sway which governed the 
world, and which could not subsist but by the 
power of illusion, and of that halo which in- 
vested it, had forgotten its true nature, and 
left Heaven and its sphere of light and glory, 
to immerse itself in the low interests of citi- 
zens and princes. Born to the representation 
of the spirit, the priestnuod had forsaken the 
spirit — for the flesh. They had thrown aside 
the treasures of learning and the spiritual pow- 
er of the word, and taken up the brute force 
and false glory of the age: and this had 
naturally resulted. It was truly the spiritual 
order that the Church had at first attempted 
to defend. But to protect it against the re- 
sistance and invasion of the nations, she had 
from false policy had recourse to earthly in- 
struments and vulgar weapons. When once 
the Church had begun to handle these wea- 
pons, her spiritual essence was lost. Her 
arm could not become carnal without her 
heart becoming the same ; and the world soon 
saw her former character inverted. She had 
attempted to use earth in defence of Heaven : 
she now employed Heaven itself to defend 
earthly possessions. Theocratic forms be- 
came, in her hands, only instruments of world- 
ly schemes. The offerings which the people 
laid at the feet of the sovereign pontiff of 
Christendom, were used to support the luxury 
of his court, and the charge of his armies. 
His spiritual power supplied the steps by 
which he placed his feet above the kings and 
nations of the earth. The charm was dis- 
pelled ; and the power of the Church was 
gone, from the hour that men could say, " she 
is become as one of us." 

The great were the first to scrutinize the 
title to this supposed power. The very ques- 
tioning of it might possibly have sufficed to 
overturn Rome. But it was a favorable cir- 
cumstance on her side, that the education of 
the princes was everywhere in the hands of 
her adepts, These persons inculcated in their 
noble pupils a veneration for the Roman pon- 
tiffs. The chiefs of nations grew up in the 
sanctuary of the Church. Princes of ordinary 
minds scarce ever got beyond it. Many even 
desired nothing better than to be found with- 
in it at the close of life. They chose to die 
wearing a monk's cowl rather than a crown. 
Ny Italy was mainly instrumental in enlighten- 
ing the sovereigns of Europe. They had to 
contract alliances with the Popes, which had 
reference to the temporal Prince of the States 
of the Church, — arid not to the Bishop of bish- 
ops. Kings were much astonished to. find 
the Popes ready to sacrifice some of the assert- 
ed rights of the Pontiff, that they might retain 
the advantages of the Prince. They saw these 
seli-styled organs of truth resort to all the 
petty artifices of policy, deceit, dissimulation, 
and even perjury. Then it was that the 
bandage that education had drawn over the 
eyes of secular princes fell off. It was then 
that the artful Ferdinand of Arragon had re- 
course to stratagem against siratagem ; it was 



I then that the impetuous Louis XII. struck a 
medal with this legend, Perdatn Babylonia 
nomtn:* and the respectable Maximilian of 
Austria, grieved at hearing of the treachery of 
Leo X., exclaimed, "This Pope, like the rest, 
is in my judgment a scoundrel. Henceforth 
I can say that in all my life no Pope has 
kept his faith or word with me. I hope, if 
God be willing, that this one will be the last 
of them." 

Discoveries of this sort made by kings 
gradually took effect upon the people. Many 
other causes had unclosed the long sealed eyes 
of Christian nations. The most reflecting be- 
gan to accustom themselves to the idea that 
the Bishop of Rome was a man, and some- 
times even a very bad man. The people be- 
gan to suspect that he was not much holier 
than their own bishops, whose characters 
were very doubtful. But the popes them- 
selves contributed more than any single cause 
to their own dishonour. Released from con- 
straint after the Council of Basle, they gave 
themselves up to the boundless licentiousness 
of victory. Even the dissolute Romans shud- 
dered. The rumours of these disorders spread 
through other countries. The people, incapa- 
ble of arresting the torrent that swept their 
treasure into this gulf of profligacy, sought 
amends in hatred. 

Whilst many circumstances contributed to 
sap what then existed, there were others tend- 
ing to the production of something new. 

The singular system of theology that had 
established itself in the Church, was fitted 
powerfully to assist in opening the eyes of 
the rising generation. Formed for a dark age, 
as if the darkness were to endure forever, this 
system was destined to be superseded and scat- 
tered to the winds as soon as the age should 
outgrow it. And this took place. The Popes 
had added now this, and now that article to 
the Christian doctrine. They had changed or 
removed only what could not be made to square 
with their hierarchy ; what was not opposed 
to their policy was allowed to remain during 
pleasure. There were in this system true 
doctrines, such as redemption, the power of 
the Spirit of God, &c, which an able theolcw 
gian, if one had been found, could have use<!» 
to combat and overturn the rest. The pure 
gold mixed with the baser metal in the mint 
of the Vatican, was enough to reveal the fraud. 
It is true that if any courageous opponent took 
notice of it, the winnowing fan of Rome was 
immediately set to work to cast the pure grain 
forth. But. these rejections and condemna- 
tions did but augment the confusion. 

That confusion was without bounds, and 
the asserted unity was but one vast disorder. 
At Rome there were the doctrines of the Court, 
and the doctrines of the Church. The faith 
of the metropolis differed from that of the pro- 
vinces. Even in the provinces there was an 
infinite diversity of opinion. There was the 
creed of princes, of people, and, above all, of 
the religious orders. There were the opinions 



* I will extirpate the name of Babylon. 



w 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of this conv -mt, of that district, of this doctor, 
and of that monk. 

Truth, that it might pass safe through the 
period when Rome would have crushed it with 
her iron sceptre, had acted like the insect that 
weaves with its threads the chrysalis in which 
it envelopes itself during the winter. And, 
strange to say, the means that had served in 
this way to preserve the truth, were the scho- 
lastic divines so much decried. These inge- 
nious artisans of thought had strung together 
all the current theological notions, and of these 
threads they had formed a net, under which it 
would have been difficult for more skilful per- 
sons than their contemporaries to recognise 
the truth in its first purity. We may regret, 
that the insect, full of life, and so lately shining 
with the brightest colours, should wrap itself 
in its dark and seemingly inanimate covering; 
but that covering preserves it. It was thus 
with the truth. If the interested and suspi- 
cious policy of Rome, in the days of her power, 
had met with the naked truth, she would have 
destroyed it, or, at least, endeavoured to do so. 
Disguised as it was by the divines of that pe- 
riod, under endless subtleties and distinctions, 
the Popes did not recognise it, or else per- 
ceived that while in that state it could not 
trouble them. They took under their protec- 
tion both the artisans and their handy-work. 
But the spring might come, when the hidden 
truth might lift its head, and throw off all the 
threads which covered it. Having acquired 
fresh vigour in its seeming tomb, the world 
might behold it in the days of its resurrection, 
obtain the victory over Rome and all her er- 
rors. This spring arrived. At the same time 
that the absurd coverings of the scholastic di- 
vines fell, one after another, beneath the skil- 
ful attacks or derisions of a new generation, 
the truth escaped from its concealment in full 
youth and beauty. 

It was not only from the writings of the 
scholastir divines that powerful testimony was 
rendered to the truth. Christianity had every- 
where mingled something of its own life with 
the life of the people. The Church of Christ 
was a dilapidated building : but in digging 
there were in some parts discovered in its 
foundations the living rock on which it had 
been first built. Some institutions which bore 
date from the best ages of the Church still ex- 
isted, and could not fail to awaken in many 
minds evangelical sentiments opposed to the 
reigning superstition. The inspired writers, 
the earliest teachers of the Church, whose 
writings were deposited in different libraries, 
uttered here and there a solitary voice. It was 
doubtless heard in silence by many an atten- 
tive ear. Let us not doubt (and it is a consol- 
ing thought) that Christians had many breth- 
ren and sisters in those very monasteries where- 
in we are too apt to see nothing but hypocri- 
sy and dissoluteness. 

It was not only old things that prepared the 
tevival of religion; there was also something 
new which tended powerfully to favour it. 
The human mind was advancing. This fact 
alone would have brought on its enfranchise- 



ment. The shrub as it increases in its giowth 
throws down the walls near which it was 
planted, and substitutes its own shade for theirs. 
The high priest of Rome had made himself 
the guardian of the nations. His superiority 
of understanding had rendered this office easy ; 
and for a long time he kept them in a state of 
tutelage and forced subjection. But they were 
now growing and breaking bounds on all sides. 
This venerable guardianship, which had its 
origin in the principles of eternal life and of 
civilization, communicated by Rome to the 
barbarous nations, could no longer be exer- 
cised without resistance. A formidable adver- 
versary had taken up a position opposed to her, 
and sought to control her. The natural dis- 
position of the human mind to develope itself, 
to examine and to acquire knowledge, had 
given birth to this new power. Men's eyes 
were opening: they demanded a reason fo? 
every step from this long respected conductor, 
under whose guidance they had marched in 
silence, so long as their eyes were closed. 
The infancy of the nations of Modern Europe 
was passed ; a period of ripe age was arrived. 
To a credulous simplicity, disposed to believe 
every thing, had succeeded a spirit of curiosi- 
ty, an intelligence impatient to discover the 
foundations of things. They asked of each 
other what was the design of God in speaking 
to the world ] and whether men had a right to 
set themselves up as mediators between God 
and their brethren] One thing alone could 
have saved the Church; and this was to rise 
still higher than the laity. To keep on a le/el 
with them was not enough. But, on the con- 
trary, the Church was greatly behind them. It 
began to decline just when they began to 
arise. While the laity were ascending in the 
scale of intelligence, — the priesthood was ab- 
sorbed in earthly pursuits and worldly in- 
terests. A like phenomenon has been often 
seen in history. The eaglet had become full 
fledged, and there was none who could reach 
it or prevent its taking flight. 

Whilst in Europe the light was thus issuing 
from the prisons in which it had been held 
captive, the East was sending new lights to 
the West. The standard of the Osmanlis, 
planted in 1453 on the walls of Constantino- 
ple, had driven thence the learned of that city. 
They had carried Grecian literature into Italy 
The torch of antiquity rekindled the intellec- 
tual flame which had for so many ages been ex- 
tinguished. Printing, then recently discover- 
ed, multiplied the energetic protests against 
the corruption of the Church, and the not less 
powerful calls which summoned the human 
mind to new paths. There was at that time, 
as it were, a burst of light. Errors and vain 
ceremonies were exposed. But this light, 
well suited to destroy, was most unfit to build 
up. It was not given to Homer or Virgil to 
rescue the Church. 

The revival of letters, of science, and of the 
arts, was not the moving principle of the Re- 
formation. We may rather say that the Pa- 
ganism of the poets, when it re-appeared in 
Italy, brought with it the Paganism of the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



19 



heart. Vain superstitions were attacked ; — 
but it was incredulity that established itself 
in their stead, with a smile of disdain and 
mockery. Ridicule of all thing's, even the 
most sacred, was the fashion, and deemed the 
mark of wit. Religion was regarded only as 
an instrument of government. "I have one 
fear," exclaimed Erasmus in 1516, " it is that 
with the study of ancient literature the ancient 
Paganism should re-appear." 

True, the world saw then, as after the 
mockeries of the Augustan age, and as in our 
own times after those of the last century, a 
new Platonic Philosophy, which, in its turn, at- 
tacked this impudent incredulity ; and sought, 
like the philosophy of our own days, to inspire 
respect for Christianity, and re-animate the 
sentiments of religion. At Florence the Medici 
favoured these efforts of the Platonists. But 
never can philosophical religion regenerate the 
Church or the World. Proud — despising the 
preaching of the cross — pretending to see in 
the Christian dogmas only types and symbols 
unintelligible to the majority of minds — it may 
evaporate in mystical enthusiasm, but must 
ever be powerless to reform or to save. 

What then would have ensued if true 
Christianity had not re-appeared in the world 
— and if true faith had not replenished the 
heart with its sirength and holiness ? The 
Reformation saved religion, and with it so- 
ciety. If the Church of Rome had had at 
heart the glory of God, and the happiness of 
nations, she would have welcomed the Refor- 
mation with joy. But what were these to a 
LeoX? 

In Germany, the study of ancient learning 
had effects the very reverse of those which 
attended it in Italy and France. It was 
'mixed with faith.' What had, in the latter, 
produced only a certain trivial and sterile re- 
finement of taste, penetrated the lives and 
habits of the Germans, warmed their hearts, 
and prepared them for a better light. The 
first restorers of letters in Italy and in France 
were remarkable for their levity ; often for 
their immorality. The German followers, 
with a grave spirit, sought zealously for truth. 
There was formed in that country a union of 
free, learned, and generous individuals, among 
whom were some of the princes of the land, 
and who laboured to render science useful to 
religion. Some of them brought to their stu- 
dies the humble teachableness of children : 
others an enlightened and penetrating judg- 
ment,, inclined perhaps to overstep the limits 
of sound and deliberate criticism ; but both 
contributed to clear the passages of the tem- 
ple, hitherto obstructed by so many supersti- 
tions. 

The monkish theologians perceived the 
danger, and they began to clamour against the 
very same studies that they had tolerated in 
Italy and France, because they were there mix- 
ed with levity and dissoluteness. A conspiracy 
was entered into against languages and sci- 
ences, for in their rear they perceived the true 
faith. One day a monk, cautioning some one 
against the heresies of Erasmus, was asked 



*' in what they consisted ?" He confessed he 
had not read the work he spoke of, and could 
but allege "that it was written in too good 
Latin." 

Still all these exterior causes would have 
been insufficient to prepare the renovation of 
the Church. 

Christianity had declined, because the two 
guiding truths of the new covenant- had been 
lost. The first, in contradistinction to Church 
assumption, is the immediate relation existing 
between every individual soul and the Foun- 
tain of Truth— r-the second, (and this stood 
directly opposed to the idea of merit in human 
works,) is the doctrine of salvation by Gnee. 
Of these two principles, immutable and im- 
mortal in themselves,, — forever true, however 
slighted or corrupted, which, — it might then 
have been asked, — was to be first set in mo- 
tion, and give the regenerative impulse to the 
Church] — Was it to be the former, the prin- 
ciple of Church authority 1 ? Or was it to be 
the latter, the energy of the Spirit] — In our 
days men pretend to operate through the social 
condition upon the soul ; through human na- 
ture in general, upon individual character. It 
will be concluded that the principle of a 
Church was prominent in the movement:— 
History has shown the very contrary : — it has 
proved that it is by individual influence that 
an impression is produced on the community, 
and that the first step toward restoring the 
social condition — is to regenerate the soul. 
All the efforts for amelioration witnessed in 
the middle ages arose out of religious feeling ; 
—the question of authority was never mooted 
till men were compelled to defend against the 
hierarchy the newly discovered truth. — It was 
the same in later times, in Luther's case. — 
When the Truth that saves appears on the one 
side, sustained by the authority of God's word, 
— and on the other, the Error that destroys, 
backed by the power of the Roman hierarchy, 
Christians cannot long hesitate; and in spite 
of the most specious sophisms and the fairest 
credentials, the claim to authority is soon dis- 
posed of. 

The Church had fallen because the great 
doctrine of Justification through faith in Christ 
had been lost. It was therefore necessary that 
this doctrine should be restored to her before 
she could arise. Whenever this fundamental 
truth should be restored, all the errors and 
devices which had usurped its place, the train 
of saints, works, penances, masses, and indul- 
gences would vanish. The moment the one 
Mediator and his one sacrifice were acknow- 
ledged, all other mediators, and all other 
sacrifices, would disappear. "This article 
of justification," says one* whom we may look 
upon as enlightened on the subject, "is that 
which forms the Church, nourishes it, builds 
it up, preserves and detends it. No one can 
well teach in the Church, or successfully re- 
sist its adversary, if he continue not in his 
attachment to this grand truth." "It is," 
adds the Reformer, referring to the earliest 

* Luther to Brentius. 



20 



HISTORY OF THE RE FOR M ATI N. 



prophecy, " the heel that crushes the serpent's 
head." 

God, who was then preparing his work, 
raised up, during a long course of ages, a suc- 
cession of witnesses to this truth. But the 
generous men, who bore testimony to this 
truth, did not clearly comprehend it, or at 
least did not know how to bring it distinctly 
forward. Incapable of accomplishing the 
work, they were well suited to prepare it. 
We may add also, that if they were not pre- 
pared for this work, the work itself was not 
ready for them. The measure was not yet 
full — the need of the true remedy was not yet 
felt so extensively as was necessary. 

Thus, instead of felling the tree at the root 
by preaching chiefly and earnestly the doc- 
trine of salvation by grace, they confined 
themselves to questions of ceremonies, to the 
government of the Church, to forms of wor- 
ships, to the adoration of saints and images, 
or to the transubstantiation, &c. ; and thus 
limiting their efforts to the branches, they 
might succeed in pruning the tree here and 
there, but they left it still standing. In order 
to a salutary reformation without, there must 
be a real reformation within. And faith alone 
can effect this. 

Scarcely had Rome usurped power before a 
vigorous opposition was formed against her ; 
and this endured throughout the middle ages. 

Archbishop Claudius of Turin, in the ninth 
century, Peter of Bruys, his pupil Henry, 
Arnold of Brescia, in the twelfth century, in 
France and Italy, laboured to restore the wor- 
ship of God in spirit and in truth ; but they 
sought that worship too much in the riddance 
from images and outward ceremony. 

The Mystics, who have existed in almost 
every age, seeking in silence, holiness, righ- 
teousness of life, and quiet communion with 
God, beheld with alarm and sorrow the 
wretched condition of the Church. They 
carefully abstained from the quarrels of the 
schools, and all the unprofitable discussions 
beneath which true piety had been well nigh 
buried. They laboured to turn men from the 
empty form of an outward worship, from noise 
and pomp of ceremonies, that they might lead 
them to the inward peace of the soul that 
seeks all its happiness in God. They could 
not do this without coming in collision with 
all the received opinions, and exposing the 
wounds of the Church; but still even they 
had no clear views of the doctrine of justifica- 
tion by faith. 

Far superior to the Mystics in purity of doc- 
trine, the Vaudois formed a long-continued 
chain of witnesses for the truth. Men more 
free than the rest of the Church appear from 
early times to have inhabited the summits of 
the Piedmontese Alps. Their numbers had 
increased, and their doctrine had been purified 
by the disciples of Valdo. From the heights 
of their mountains the Vaudois protested for 
ages against the superstitions of Rome. 
"They contended," said they, "for their 
lively hope in God through Christ; for re- 
generation and inward renewal by faith, hope, 



and charity; for the merits of Christ, and the 
all-sufficiency of his grace and righteousness." 

And yet this primary truth of the Justifica- 
tion of the sinner, which ought to rise pre- 
eminent above other doctrines, like Mount 
Blanc above the surrounding Alps, was not 
sufficiently prominent in their system. 

Pierre Vaud, or Valdo, a rich merchant of 
Lyons, (a. d. 1170,) sold all his goods and 
gave to the poor. He and his friends appear 
to have had for their object to re-establish in 
the intercourse of life the perfection of primi- 
tive Christianity. He began then, like others, 
at the branches, and not at the root. Never- 
theless his preaching was powerful; for he 
recalled the minds of his hearers to the Scrip- 
tures which menaced the Roman hierarchy in 
its foundation. 

In 1360, Wicklif made his appearance in 
England, and appealed from the Pope to the 
Word of God; but the real inward wound of 
the Church appeared to him as only one of 
many symptoms of its malady. 

John Huss preached in Bohemia a century 
before Luther appeared in Saxony. He 
seemed to enter more deeply than all who had 
gone before him into the essence of Christian 
truth. He besought Christ to grant him grace 
to glory only in his cross, and in the inesti- 
mable humiliation of his sufferings. But he 
attacked rather the lives of the clerg.y than 
the errors of the Church. And yet he was, 
if we may be allowed the expression, the 
John the Baptist of the Reformation. The 
flames of his martyrdom kindled a fire which 
shed an extensive light in the midst of the 
general gloom, and was destined not to be 
speedily extinguished. 

John Huss did more: prophetic words re- 
sounded from the depths of his dungeon. He 
foresaw that a real reformation of the Church 
was at hand. When driven from Prague, and 
compelled to wander in the fields of Bohe- 
mia, where he was followed by an immense 
crowd eager to catch his words, he exclaimed : 
"The wicked have begun by laying treache- 
rous snares for the goose.* But if even the 
goose, which is only a domestic fowl, a tame 
creature, and unable to rise high in the air, 
has yet broken their snares, other birds, whose 
flight carries them boldly towards heaven, will 
break them with much more power. Instead 
of a feeble goose, the truth will send foTth 
eagles and keen-eyed falcons." The Reform 
ers fulfilled this prediction. 

And when the venerable priest was, sum- 
moned, by order of Sigismund. before the 
Council of Constance, and cast into prison, 
the chapel of Bethlehem, where he had pro- 
claimed the Gospel and the future triumph of 
Christ, employed his thoughts more than his 
own defence. One night, the holy martyr 
thought he saw from the depths of his dungeon 
the pictures of Christ, which he had painted 
on the walls of his oratory, effaced by the 
Pope and his bishops. This dream distressed 
him. Next night he saw several painters 



The word Huss in Bohemian signifying goose. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



21 



engaged in restoring the figures in greater 
numbers and more vivid colouring; and this 
work performed, the painters, surrounded by 
an immense multitude, exclaimed: "Now 
let the popes and bishops come when they 
will, they will never again be able to efface 
them." — " And many persons thereupon re- 
joiced in Bethlehem, and I amongst them," 
adds Huss. "Think of your defence, rather 
than of your dreams," said his faithful friend, 
the Chevalier de Chlum, to whom he had im- 
parted his dream. "I am no dreamer," re- 
plied Huss; "but I hold it certain, that the 
image of Christ will never be effaced. They 
desired to destroy it, but it will be imprinted 
anew on the hearts of men by much better 
preachers than myself. The nation that loves 
Christ will rejoice at this. And I, awaking 
from the dead, and rising as it were from the 
grave, shall leap for joy." 

A century elapsed ; and the Gospel torch, 
rekindled by the Reformers, did in truth en- 
lighten many nations, who rejoiced in its 
beams. 

But it was not only amongst those whom 
Rome regarded as her adversaries, that a life- 
giving word was heard at that period. Ca- 
tholicism itself — and we may take comfort 
from the thought — reckons amongst its own 
members numerous witnesses for the truth. 
The primitive edifice had been consumed ; but 
a holy fire smouldered beneath its ashes, and 
from time to time bright sparks were seen to 
escape. 

Anselm of Canterbury, in a work for the 
use of the dying, exhorted them " to look 
solely to the merits of Jesus Christ." 

A monk, named Arnoldi, offered up every 
day in his peaceful cell this fervent prayer, 
" Oh, Lord Jesus Christ! I believe that in 
thee alone 1 have redemption and righteous- 
ness." 

A pious bishop of Bale, Christopher de 
Utenheim, had his name written upon a pic- 
ture painted on glass, which is still at Bale, 
and round it this motto, which he wished to 
have always before him, — " My hope is in 
the cross of Christ ; I seek grace, and not 
works." 

A poor Carthusian, brother Martin, wrote 
this affecting confession : " Oh, most merciful 
God ! I know that I can only be saved, and 
satisfy thy righteousness, by the merit, the 
innocent suffering, and death of thy well- 
beloved Son. Holy Jesus! my salvation is 
in thy hands. Thou canst not withdraw the 
hands of thy love from me; for they have 
created, and formed, and redemeed me. Thou 
hast inscribed my name with a pen of iron, 
in rich mercy, and so as nothing can efface it, 
on thy side, thy hands, and thy feet ; &c. &c. 
After this the good Carthusian placed his 
confession in a wooden box, and enclosed the 
box in a hole he had made in the wall of his cell. 

The piety of brother Martin would never 
have been known, if his box had not been 
found, on the 21st of December, 1776, in tak- 
ing down an old building which had been part 
of the Carthusian convent at Bale. How 



| many convents may have concealed simile, 
treasures ! 

But these holy men only held this faith 
themselves, and did not know how to commu- 
nicate it to others. Living in retirement, they 
might, more or less adopt the words of good 
brother Martin, written in his box: u Et si 
hsec pr&dida confiteri non possim lingua, con 
fiteor tamen corde at scripio. — If I cannot con- 
fess these things with my tongue, I at least 
confess them with my pen and with my heart." 
The word of truth was laid up in the sanc- 
tuary of many a pious mind, but to use an 
expression in the Gospel, it had not free course 
in the world. 

If men did not openly confess the doctrine 
of salvation, they at least did not fear, even 
within the pale of the Romish Church, boldly 
to protest against the abuses which disgraced 
it. Italy itself had at that time her witnesses 
against the priesthood. The Dominican, Sa- 
varonola, preached at Florence in 1498 against 
the insupportable vices of Rome; but the 
powers that then were, despatched him by the 
inquisition and the stake. 

Geiler of Kaisersberg was for three-and- 
thirty years the great preacher of Germany. 
He attacked the clergy with energy. " When 
the summer leaves turn yellow," said he, " we 
say that the root is diseased ; and thus it is, a 
dissolute people proclaim a corrupted priest- 
hood." " If no wicked man ought to say mass," 
said he to his bishop, " drive out all the priests 
from your diocese." The people, hearing this 
courageous minister, learned even in the sanc- 
tuary to see the enormities of their spiritual 
guides. 

This state of things in the Church itself 
deserves our notice. When the Wisdom of 
God shall again utter his teachings, there will 
everywhere be understandings and hearts to 
comprehend. When the sower shall again 
come forth to sow, he will find ground pre- 
pared to receive the seed. When the word 
of truth shall resound, it will find echoes to 
repeat it. When the trumpet shall utter a 
war-note in the Church, many of her children 
will prepare themselves to the battle. 

We are arrived near the scene on which 
Luther appeared. Before we begin the his- 
tory of that great commotion, which caused to 
shoot up in all its brilliancy that light of 
truth which had been so long concealed, and 
which, by renovating the Church, renovated 
so many nations, and called others into ex- 
istence, creating a new Europe and a new 
Christianity, let us take a glance at the differ- 
ent nations -in the midst of whom this revolu- 
tion in religion took place. 

The Empire was a confederacy of different 
states, with the Emperor at their head. Each 
of these states possessed sovereignty over its 
own territory. The Imperial Diet, composed 
of all the princes, or sovereign states, exercised 
the legislative power for the whole of the 
Germanic body. The Emperor ratified the 
laws, decrees, or resolutions, of this assembly, 
I and it was his office to publish and execute 
! them. The seven more powerful princes, un- 



22 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Jer the title of Electors, had the privilege of 
awarding th.3 Imperial crown. 

The princes and states of the Germanic Con- 
federacy had been anciently subjects of the 
Emperors, and held their lands of them. But 
after the accession of Rodolph of Hapsburg, 
(1273,) a series of troubles had taken place, 
in which princes, free cities, and bishops, 
acquired a considerable degree of independ- 
ence, at the expense of the Imperial sovereign. 

The north of Germany, inhabited chiefly by 
the old Saxon race, had acquired most liberty. 
The Emperor, incessantly attacked by the 
Turks in his hereditary possessions, was dis- 
posed to keep on good terms with courageous 
chiefs and communities, whose alliance was 
then necessary to him. Several free cities in 
the north-west and south of Europe had, by 
commerce, manufactures, and industry, at- 
tained a considerable degree of prosperity, 
and, by that means, of independence. The 
powerful house of Austria, which wore the 
crown of the Empire, controlled the majority 
of the states of central Germany, overlooked 
their movements, and was preparing to extend 
its dominion, over and beyond the whole Em- 
pire, when the Reformation interposed a power- 
ful barrier to its encroachments, and saved the 
liberties of Europe. 

If, in the time of St. Paul, or of Ambrose, 
of Austin, of Chrysostom, or even in the days 
of Anselm and Bernard, the question had been 
asked, what people or nation God would be 
likely to use to reform the church, — the thought 
might have turned to the countries honoured 
by the Apostles' ministry, — to Asia, to Greece, 
or to Rome, perhaps to Britain or to France, 
where men of great learning had preached ; 
but none would have thought of the barbarous 
Germans. All other countries of Christendom 
had, in their turn, shone in the history of the 
Church ; Germany alone had continued dark. 
Yet it was Germany that was chosen, 

God, who prepared during four thousand 
years the Advent of his Messiah, and led 
through different dispensations, for many ages, 
the people among whom he was to be born, 
also prepared Germany in secret and unob- 
served, unknown indeed even to itself, to be 
the cradle of a Religious Regeneration, which, 
in a later day, should awaken the various na- 
tions of Christendom. 

As Judea, the birthplace of our religion, lay 
in the centre of the ancient world, so Germa- 
ny w r as situated in the midst of Christian na- 
tions. She looked upon the Netherlands, 
England, France, Switzerland, Italy, Hunga- 
ry, Bohemia, Poland, Denmark, and the whole 
of the north. It was fit that the principle of 
life should develope itself in the heart of Eu- 
rope, — that its pulses might circulate through 
all the arteries of the body the generous blood 
designed to vivify its members. 

The particular form of constitution that the 
Empire had received, by the dispensations of 
Providence, favoured the propagation -of new 
ideas. If Germany had been a monarchy, 
strictly so called, like France or England, the 
arbitrary will of the sovereign might have suf- 



ficed to delay for a long time the progress of 
the Gospel. But it was a confederacy. The 
truth, opposed in one state, might be received 
with favour by another. Important centres of 
light, which might gradually penetrate through 
the darkness, and enlighten the surrounding 
population, might be quickly formed in dif- 
ferent districts of the Empire. 

The internal peace which Maximilian had 
given to the Empire was no less favourable to 
the Reformation. For a long while, the nu- 
merous members of the Germanic body had 
laboured to disturb each other. Nothing had 
been seen but confusions, quarrels, wars in- 
cessantly breaking out between neighbours, 
cities, and chiefs. Maximilian had laid a so- 
lid basis of public order by instituting the Im- 
perial chamber appointed to settle all dif- 
ferences between the states. — The Germans, 
after so many confusions and anxieties, saw a 
new aera of safety and repose. This condition 
of affairs powerfully contributed to harmonize 
the general mind. It was now possible in the 
cities and peaceful valleys of Germany to seek 
and adopt ameliorations, which discord might 
have banished. We may add, that it is in the 
bosom of peace that the Gospel loves most to 
gain its blessed victories. Thus it had been 
the will of God, fifteen centuries before, that 
Augustus should present a pacified world for 
the blessed triumphs of Christ's religion. 
Nevertheless the Reformation performed a 
double part in the peace then beginning for 
the Empire. It was as much cause as effect. 
Germany, when Luther appeared, offered to 
the contemplation of an observer the sort of 
movement which agitates the sea after a con- 
tinued storm. The calm did not promise to 
be lasting. The first breath might again call 
up the tempest. We shall see more than one 
example of this. The Reformation, by com- 
municating a new impulse to the population, 
destroyed forever the old motives of agitation. 
It made an end of the system of barbarous 
times, and gave to Europe one entirely new. 

Meanwhile the religion of Jesus Christ had 
had its accustomed influence on Germany. 
The common people had rapidly advanced ; 
numerous institutions arose in the Empire, 
and particularly in the free cities, — well adapt- 
ed to develope the minds of the mass of the 
people. The arts flourished ; the burghers 
followed in security their peaceable labours and 
the duties of social life. They gradually open- 
ed to information, and thus acquired respect 
and influence. It w T as not magistrates bend- 
ing conscience to political expediency, or no- 
bles emulous of military glory, or a clergy 
seeking gain or power, and reo-ardino- relio-iun 
as their peculiar property, who were to be the 
founders of the Reformation in Germany. It 
was to be the work of the bourgeoisie — of the 
people — of the whole nation. 

The peculiar character of the Germans was 
such as especially to favour a Reformation in 
Religion. A false civilization had not en- 
feebled them. The precious seeds that a fear 
of God deposits in a nation had not been 
scattered to the winds. Ancient manners still 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



23 



subsisted. There was in Germany that up- 
rightness, fidelity, love, and toil, and perseve- 
rance,— that religious habit of mind — which 
we still find there, and which presages more 
success to the Gospel than the scornful or 
brutal levity of other European nations. 

Another circumstance may have contributed 
to render Germany a soil more favourable to 
the revival of Christianity than many other 
countries. God had fenced it in ; he had pre- 
served its strength for the day of its giving 
birth to his purpose. It had not fallen from 
the faith after a period of spiritual vigour, as 
had been the case with the churches of Asia, 
of Greece, of Italy, of France, and of Britain. 
The Gospel had never been offered to Germa- 
ny in its primitive purity; the first missiona- 
ries who visited the country gave to it a reli- 
gion already vitiated in more than one particu- 
lar. It was a law of the Church, a spiritual 
discipline, that Boniface and his successors 
carried to the Frisons, the Saxons, and other 
German nations. Faith in the " good tidings," 
that faith which rejoices the heart and makes 
it free indeed, had remained unknown to them. 
Instead of being slowly corrupted, the religion 
of the Germans had rather been purified. In- 
stead of declining, it had arisen. It was in- 
deed to be expected that more life and spiritual 
strength would be found among this people 
than among those enervated nations of Chris- 
tendom where deep darkness had succeeded to 
the light of truth, and an almost universal cor- 
ruption had taken place of the sanctity of the 
earliest times. 

We may make the like remark on the exte- 
rior relation between the Germanic body and 
the Church. The Germans had received from 
Rome that element of modern civilization, the 
faith. Instruction, legislation, all, save their 
courage and their weapons, had come to them 
from the Sacerdotal city. Strong ties had from 
that time attached Germany to the Papacy. The 
former was a spiritual conquest of the latter, and 
we know to what use Rome has ever turned 
her conquests. Other nations, which had held 
the faith and civilization before the Roman 
Pontiff existed, had continued in more inde- 
pendence of hirn. But this subjection of 
Germany was destined only to make the re- 
action more powerful at the moment of 
awakening. When Germany should open 
her eyes, she would indignantly tear away 
the trammels in which she had been so long 
kept bound. The very measure of slavery 
she had had to endure would make her deliver- 
ance and liberty more indispensable to her, 
and strong champions of the truth would come 
forth from the enclosure of control and re- 
striction in which her population had for ages 
been shut up. 

When we take a nearer view of the times 
of the Reformation, we see, in the government 
of Germany, still further reasons to admire the 
wisdom of Him, by whom kings reign and 
princes execute judgment. There was, at 
that time, something resembling what has in 
our own days been termed a system of see- 
taw. When an energetic sovereign presided 



over the Empire, the imperial power was 
strengthened ; on the other hand, when he was 
of feeble character, the authority of the Elec- 
tors gained force. 

Under Maximilian, the predecessor of 
Charles V., this alternate rise and depression 
of the various states was especially remark- 
able. At that time the balance was altogether 
against the Emperor. The princes had re- 
peatedly formed close alliances with one ano- 
ther. The emperors themselves had urged 
them to do so, in order that they might direct 
them at one effort against some common ene- 
my. But the strength that the princes ac- 
quired from such alliances against a passing 
danger, might, at an after period, be turned 
against the encroachments or power of the 
Emperor. This did indeed ensue. At no 
period had the electors felt themselves more 
independent of their head, than at the period 
of the Reformation. And their head having 
taken part against it, it is easy to see that this 
state of things was favourable to the propaga- 
tion of the Gospel. 

We may add, that Germany was weary of 
what the Romans contemptuously termed "the 
patience of the Germans." The latter had, in 
truth, manifested much patience ever since 
the time of Louis of Bavaria. From that 
period the emperors had laid down their arms, 
and the ascendency of the tiara over the crown 
of the Caesars was acknowledged. But the 
battle had only changed its field. It was to 
be fought on lower ground. The same con- 
tests, of which emperors and popes had set the 
example, were quickly renewed in miniature, 
in all the towns of Germany, between bishops 
and magistrates. The commonalty had caught 
up the sword dropped by the chiefs of the 
empire. As early as 1329, the citizens of 
Frankfort on the Oder had resisted with in- 
trepidity their ecclesiastical superiors. Ex- 
communicated for their fidelity to the Mar- 
grave Louis, they had remained twenty-eight 
years without masses, baptisms, marriage, or 
funeral rites. And afterwards, when the 
monks and priests reappeared, they had open- 
ly ridiculed their return as a farce. Deplora- 
ble irreverence, doubtless ; but of which the 
clergy themselves were the cause. At the 
epoch of the Reformation, the animosity be- 
tween the magistrates and the ecclesiastics 
had increased. Every hour the privileges and 
temporal possessions of the clergy gave rise 
to collision. If the magistrates refused to 
give way, the bishops and priests imprudently 
had recourse to the extreme means at their 
disposal. Sometimes the Pope interfered; 
and it was to give an example of the most re- 
volting partiality, or to endure the humiliating 
necessity of leaving the triumph in the hands 
of the commons, obstinately resolved to main- 
tain their right. These continual conflicts had 
filled the cities with hatred and contempt of 
the Pope, and the bishops, and the priests. 

But not only among the burgomasters, 
councillors, and town clerks did Rome and 
the clergy find adversaries; they had oppo- 
nents both above and below the middle chsses 



24 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of society. From the commencement of the 
16th century, the Imperial Diet displayed an 
inflexible firmness against the papal envoys. 
In May, 1510, the States assembled at Augs- 
burg, handed to the Emperor a statement of 
ten leading grievances against the Pope and 
clergy of Rome. About the same time, there 
was a violent ferment among the populace. 
It broke oui in 1512 in the Rhenish provinces ; 
where the peasantry, indignant at the weight 
of the yoke imposed by their ecclesiastical 
sovereigns, formed among themselves the 
League of the Shoes. 

Thus, on all sides, from above and from 
beneath, was heard a low murmur, the fore- 
runner of the thunderbolt that was about to 
fall. Germany appeared ripe for the work 
appointed for the 16th century. Providence, 
in its slow course, had prepared all things; 
and even the passions which God condemns 
were to be turned by His power to the fulfil- 
ment of His purposes. 

Let us take a view of other nations. 

Thirteen small republics, placed with their 
allies in the centre of Europe, among moun- 
tains which compose as it were its citadel, 
formed a simple and brave population. Who 
would have thought of looking to these ob- 
scure valleys for the men whom God would 
shoose to be, jointly with the children of the 
Germans, the liberators of the church 1 Who 
would have guessed that poor and unknown 
villages, just raised above barbarism— hidden 
among inaccessible mountains, in the ex- 
tremity of lakes never named in history, — 
would, in their connexion with Christianity, 
eclipse Jerusalem, Antioch, Ephesus, Corinth, 
and Rome? Yet so it was. Such was the 
will of him who causeth it to rain upon one 
city, afid causeth it not to rain upon another 
city, and maketh his showers to descend on 
one piece of land, while another withereth 
under drought. (Amos iv. 7.) 

Circumstances of another kind seemed to 
surround with multiplied rocks the course of 
the Reformation in the bosom of the Swiss 
population. If, in a monarchy, it had to fear 
the hinderances of power; in a democracy it 
was exposed to the hazards of the precipita- 
tion of the people. True, this Reformation, 
which, in the states of the Empire, could but 
advance slowly and step by step, might have 
its success decided in one day in the general 
council of the Swiss republic. But it was 
necessary to guard against an imprudent haste, 
which, unwilling to wait a favourable moment, 
should abruptly introduce innovations, other- 
wise most useful, and so compromise the 
public peace, the constitution of the state, and 
even the future prospects of the Reformation 
itself. 

But Switzerland also had had its prepara- 
tions. It was a wild tree, but one of generous 
nature, which had been guarded in the depth 
of the valleys, that it might one day be grafted 
with a fruit of the highest value. Providence 
had diffused among this recent people, princi- 
ples of courage, independence, and liberty, I 
destined to manifest ail their strength when 



the signal of conflict with Rome should be 
given. The Pope had conferred on the Swiss 
the title of protectors of the liberties of the 
Church; but it seems they had understood 
this honourable name in a totally different 
sense from the pontiff. If their soldiers guard- 
ed the Pope in the neighbourhood of the Capi- 
tol, their citizens, in the bosom of the Alps, 
carefully guarded their own religious libprties 
against the invasion of the Pope and of the 
clergy. Ecclesiastics were forbidded to have 
recourse to any foreign jurisdiction. The 
" lettre des pretres" vfas a bold protest of Swiss 
liberty against the corruptions and power of 
the clergy. Zurich was especially distin- 
guished by its courageous opposition to the 
claims of Rome. Geneva, at the other ex- 
tremity of Switzerland, struggled against its 
bishops. Doubtless the love of political inde- 
pendence may have made many of its citizens 
forget the true liberty ; but God had decreed 
that this love of independence should lead 
others to the reception of a doctrine which 
should truly enfranchise the nation. These 
two leading cities distinguished themselves 
among all the rest in the great struggle we 
have undertaken to describe. 

But if the Helvetic towns, open and ac- 
cessible to ameliorations, were likely to be 
drawn early within the current of the Reforma- 
tion, the case was very different with the 
mountain districts. It might have been 
thought that these communities, more simple 
and energetic than their confederates in the 
towns, would have embraced with ardour a 
doctrine of which the characteristics were 
simplicity and force: but He who said — "At 
that time two men shall be in the field, the 
one shall be taken and the other left," saw fit 
to leave these mountaineers, while He took 
the men of the plain. Perhaps an attentive 
observer might have discerned some symptoms 
of the difference which was about to manifest 
itself between the people of the town and of 
the hills. Intelligence had not penetrated to 
those heights. Those Cantons, which had 
founded Swiss liberty, proud of the part they 
had played in the grand struggle for inde- 
pendence, were not disposed to be tamely in- 
structed by their younger brethren of the 
plain. Why, they might ask, should they 
change the faith in which they had expelled 
the Austrians, and which had consecrated by 
altars all the scenes of their triumphs 1 Their 
priests were the only enlightened guides to 
whom they could apply; their worship and 
their festivals were occupation and diversion 
for their tranquil lives, and enlivened the 
silence of their peaceful retreats. They con- 
tinued close against religious innovations. 

Passing the Alps, we find ourselves in that 
Italy, which, in the eyes of many, was the 
Holy Land of Christianity. Whence would 
Europe look for good to the Church but from 
Italy, and from Rome itself! The power 
which placed successively upon the pontifical 
chair so many different characters, might it 
not x one day plac^ thereon a pontiff who should 
become an instrument of blessing io the Lord's 




JEROME OP PRAGUE DRAGGED TO PRISON. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



25 



heritage 1 Even if no hope was to be placed 
on the popes, were there not there bishops and 
councils which would reform the Church 1 
Nothing good can come out of Nazareth ; it 
must proceed from Jerusalem, — from Rome. 
Such might have been the thoughts of man, 
but God's thoughts were not as theirs. He 
says, " Let him that is filthy be filthy still ;" 
Rev. xxii. 11, and He left Italy to its unright- 
eousness. Many causes conspired to deprive 
this unhappy country of Gospel light. Its 
different states, sometimes rivals, sometimes 
enemies, came into violent collision as often as 
they were shaken by any commotion. This 
lana of ancient glory was by turns the prey 
of intestine wars and foreign invasions ; the 
stratagems of policy, the violence of factions, 
the agitation of battles, seemed to be its sole 
occupation, and to banish for a long time the 
Gospel of peace. 

Italy, broken to pieces, and without unity, 
appeared but little suited to receive one gene- 
ral impulse. Every frontier line was a new 
barrier, where truth would be stopped and 
challenged, if it sought to cross the Alps, or 
land on those smiling shores. It was true 
the Papacy was then planning a union of all 
Italy, desiring, as Pope Julius expressed it, 
to expel the barbarians, — that is, the foreign 
princes ; and she hovered like a bird of prey 
over the mutilated and palpitating members 
of ancient Italy. But if she had gained her 
ends, we may easily believe that the Reforma- 
tion would not have been thereby advanced. 

And if the truth was destined to come to 
them from the north, how could the Italians 
so enlightened, of so refined a taste and so- 
cial habits, so delicate in their own eyes, con- 
descend to receive any thing at the hands of 
the barbarous Germans. Their pride, in fact, 
raised between the Reformation and them- 
selves a barrier higher than the Alps. But 
the very nature of their mental culture was a 
still greater obstacle than the presumption of 
their hearts. Could men, who admired the 
elegance of a well cadenced sonnet more than 
the majestic simplicity of the Scriptures, be a 
propitious soil for the seed of God's word ! 
A false civilization is, of all conditions of a 
nation, that which is most repugnant to the 
Gospel. 

Finally, whatever might be the state of 
things to Italy — Rome was always Rome. 
Not only did the temporal power of the Popes 
incline the several parties in Italy to court at 
any cost their alliance and favour, but, in ad- 
dition to this, the universal sway of Rome 
offered more than one inducement to the ava- 
• rice and vanity of the Italian states. When- 
ever it should become a question of emanci- 
pation of the rest of the world from the yoke 
of Rome, Italy would again become Italy ! 
Domestic quarrels would not be suffered to 
prevail to the advantage of a foreign system ; 
and attacks directed against the head of the 
peninsula would immediately call up the af- 
fections and common interests from their long 
sleep. 

The Reformation, then, had little prospect 



of success in that country. Nevertheless 
there were found within its confines souls pre- 
pared to receive the Gospel light, and Italy 
was not then entirely disinherited. 

Spain possessed what Italy did not, — a se- 
rious and noble people, whose religious mind 
had resisted even the stern trial of the eight- 
eenth century, and of the Revolution, and 
maintained itself to our own days. In every 
age this people has had among its clergy men 
of piety and learning, and it was sufficiently re- 
mote from Rome to throw off without difficulty 
her yoke. There are few nations wherein one 
might more reasonably have hoped for a re- 
vival of that primitive Christianity, which 
Spain had probably received from St. Paul 
himself. And yet Spain did not then stand 
up among the nations. She was destined to 
be an example of that word of the Divine 
Wisdom, " The first shall be last." Various 
circumstances conduced to this deplorable 
result. 

Spain, considering its isolated position, and 
remoteness from Germany, would feel but 
slightly the shocks of the great earthquake 
which shook the Empire. But more than 
this, she was busily occupied in seeking trea- 
sure very different from that which the Word 
of God was then offering to the nations. In 
her eyes the new world outshone the eternal 
world. A virgin soil, which seemed to be 
composed of gold and silver, inflamed the 
imagination of her people. An eager desire 
after riches left no room in the heart of the 
Spaniard for nobler thoughts. A powerfu. 
clergy, having the scaffolds and the treasures 
of the land to their disposal, ruled the Pen- 
insula. Spain willingly rendered to its priests 
a servile obedience, which, releasing it from 
spiritual pre-occupations, left it to follow its 
passions, and go forward in quest of riches, 
and discoveries of new continents. Victori- 
ous over the Moors, she had, at the expense 
of her noblest blood, thrown down the cres- 
cent from the towers of Granada, and many 
other cities, and planted in its place the cross 
of Jesus Christ. This great zeal for Chris- 
tianity, which promised so much, — turned 
against the truth, — for could Catholic Spain, 
that had triumphed over infidels, refuse to op- 
pose heretics'? How could a people who had 
expelled Mahomet from their noble country, 
allow Luther to make way in it] Their kings 
went further. They fitted out their fleets 
against the Reformation. They went forth to 
meet and conquer it in England and in Hol- 
land. But these attacks had the effect of 
elevating the nations assailed ; and, ere long, 
their power crushed the power of Spain. 
Thus those Catholic countries lost, owing to 
the Reformation, that very temporal wealth 
which had led them, at the first, to reject the 
spiritual liberty of the Gospel. Yet the Spa- 
nish nation was generous and brave ; and 
many of its noble people, with equal ardour 
and better knowledge, than those who had 
rushed upon the swords of the Arabs, — gave 
up their lives at the stake to the Inquisition. 

Portugal was nearly in the same condition 



26 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



as Spain. Emanuel the Fortunate gave to it 
an "age of gold," which tended to unfit it for 
that self-denial which Christianity requires. 
The nation precipitating itself on the newly 
discovered routes to India and the Brazils, 
turned its back upon Europe and the Refor- 
mation. 

Few countries seemed likely to be better 
disposed than France for the reception of the 
evangelical doctrines. Almost all the intel- 
lectual and spiritual life of the middle ages 
was concentrated in her. It might have been 
said that the paths were everywhere trodden 
for" a grand manifestation of the truth. Men 
of the most opposite characters, and whose 
influence over the people had been most 
powerful, had in some degree countenanced 
the Reformation. Saint Bernard had set the 
example of that heartfelt faith, that inward 
piety which is the most beautiful feature of 
its character. Abelard had introduced into 
the study of theology the rational principle, 
which, though incapable of developing the 
truth, is yet powerful for the destruction of 
error. Many heretics, so called, had revived 
the light of God's word in the provinces. 
The University of Paris had placed itself in 
opposition to the Church, and had not feared 
to combat it. In the beginning of the fifteenth 
century, the Clemang.is and the Gersons had 
spoken out with undaunted courage. The 
Pragmatic Sanction had been a grand Act of 
Independence, and promised to be the palla- 
dium of Gallic liberty. The French nobility, 
numerous, jealous of their pre-eminence, and 
having at this period been gradually deprived 
of their privileges by the growing power of 
their kings, must have been favourably dis- 
posed towards a religious change which might 
restore to them some portion of the inde- 
pendence they had lost. The people, of quick 
feelings, intelligent, and susceptible of gene- 
rous emotions, were as open, or even more so, 
than most other nations, to the truth. It 
seemed as if the Reformation must be, among 
them, the birth which should crown the tra- 
vail of several centuries. But the chariot of 
France, which for so many generations seemed 
to be advancing to the same goal, suddenly 
turned at the moment of the Reformation, and 
took a contrary direction. Such was the will 
of Him who rules nations and their kings. 
The prince, then seated in the chariot, and 
holding the reins, and who, as a pattern of 
learning, seemed likely to be foremost in pro- 
moting the Reformation, turned his people in 
another direction. The augury of ages was 
deceived, and the impulse given to France 
was spent and lost in struggles against the 
ambition and fanaticism of her kings. The 
race of Valois deprived her of her rights. 
Perhaps if she had received the Gospel, she 
might have become too powerful. God had 
chosen a weaker people, a people that as yet 
was not, — 'to be the depository of his truth. 
France, after having been almost reformed, 
found herself, in the result, Roman Catholic. 
The sword of her princes, cast into the scale, 
caused it to incline in favour of Rome. Alas ! 



another sword, that of the Reformers them- 
selves, insured the failure of the effort for 
Reformation. The hands that had become ac- 
customed to warlike weapons, ceased to be 
lifted up in prayer. It is by the blood of its 
confessors, not by that of its adversaries, thai 
the Gospel triumphs. Blood shed by its de- 
fenders, extinguishes and smothers it. Francis 
I., in the very beginning of his reign, eagerly 
sacrificed the Pragmatical Sanction to the 
Papacy, substituting a concordat detrimental 
to France, and advantageous to the crown and 
to the Pope. Maintaining by his sword the 
rights of the German Protestants at war with 
his rival, this " father of the sciences" plunged 
it up to the hilt in the hearts of his own re- 
formed subjects. His successors did, from 
motives of fanaticism, or weakness, or to 
silence the clamours of a guilty conscience, 
what he had done for ambition. They met 
indeed with a powerful resistance, but it was 
not always such as the martyrs of the first 
ages had opposed to their Pagan persecutors. 
The strength of the Protestants was the source 
of their weakness; their success drew after it 
their ruin. 

The Low Countries formed, at that period, 
one of the most flourishing portions of Eu- 
rope. Its population was industrious, bettei 
informed, owing to its numerous connections 
with different regions of the earth, full ot 
courage, and passionately attached to its inde 
pendence, its privileges, and its liberty. On 
the very borders of Germany, it would be the 
first to hear the report of the Reformation ; it 
was capable of receiving it. But all did not 
receive it. To the poor it was given to re 
ceive the truth. The hungry were filled with 
good things, and the rich sent empty away. 
The Netherlands, which had always been 
more or less connected with the Empire, had 
forty years before fallen to the possession of 
Austria, and after Charles V., they devolved 
to the Spanish branch, .and so to the ferocious 
Philip. The princes and governors of this 
ill-fated country trampled the Gospel under 
foot, and waded through the blood of its mar- 
tyrs. The country was composed of two di- 
visions widely dissimilar the one from the 
other. The south, rich, and increased in 
goods succumbed. How could its extensive 
manufactures, carried to such perfection, — 
how could Bruges, the great mart of northern 
merchandise, or Antwerp, the queen of com- 
mercial cities, make their interests consist 
with a long and bloody struggle for the things 
of faith 1 But the northern provinces, de- 
fended by their dykes, the sea, their marshes, 
and, still more, by the simple manners of the 
population, and their determination to suffer 
the loss of all, rather than of the Gospel,- 
not only preserved their franchises, their prj 
vileges and their faith, but achieved independ 
ence and a glorious existence as a nation. 

England then gave little promise of all sha 
has subsequently acquired. Driven from the 
Continent, where she had long obstinately 
contended for the conquest of France, she be- 
gan to turn her eyes towards the ocean as to 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



2? 



the empire which was designed to be the true 
end of her victories, and of which the inherit- 
ance was reserved for her. Twice converted 
to Christianity, first under the Britons, then 
under the Anglo-Saxons, she paid devoutly 
the annual tribute of St. Peter's pence. Yet 
was she reserved for a lofty destiny. Mis- 
tress of the ocean, everywhere present through 
all parts of the earth, she was ordained to be 
one day, with the people to whom she should 
give birth, as the hand of God to scatter the 
seed of life in remotest islands and on bound- 
less continents. Already some circumstances 
gave presage of her destinies. Great intel- 
lectual light had shone in the British Isles, 
and some glimmerings of it still remained. A 
crowd of foreigners, artists, merchants, work- 
men, from the Low Countries, Germany, and 
other regions, thronged her harbours and 
cities. The new religious opinions would 
therefore be easily and quickly introduced. 
Finally, England had then an eccentric king, 
who, endowed with some learning and con- 
siderable courage, was continually changing 
his purposes and notions, and turning from 
one side to another, according to the direction 
in which his violent passions impelled him. 
It was possible that one of the inconsistencies 
of Henry VIII. might prove favourable to the 
Reformation. 

Scotland was then torn by factions. A 
king five years old, a queen regent, ambitious 
nobles, an influential clergy, harassed this 
courageous nation on all sides. It was how- 
ever destined to hold a distinguished place 
amongst the nations which should receive the 
Reformation. 

The three northern kingdoms, Denmark, 
Sweden, and Norway, were united under one 
government. These rude and warlike people 
seemed likely to have little sympathy with 
the doctrine of love and peace. Yet from the 
very energy of their character, they were per- 
haps better disposed to receive the spirit of 
the evangelical doctrine than the southern na- 
tions. But these descendants of warriors and 
pirates brought perhaps too warlike a spirit to 
the support of the Protestant cause; in sub- 
sequent times they defended it heroically by 
the sword. 

Russia, situate at the extremity of Europe, 
had but little connection with other states, we 
may add, that she belonged to the Greek 
Church. The Reformation effected in the 
West had little or no influence upon the East. 

Poland seemed well prepared for a reforma- 
tion. The vicinity of the Bohemian and 
Moravian Christians had disposed it to receive 
that religious impulse which the neighbouring 
states of Germany were destined speedily to 
.impart to it. As early as the year 1500, the 
nobility of Poland had demanded that the cup 
should be given to the laity, appealing to the 
custom of the primitive Church. The liberty 
which was enjoyed in the cities, and the inde- 
pendence of its nobles, made this country a 
safe asylum for Christians who were perse- 
cuted in their own. The truth they brought 
with them was joyfully welcomed by num- 



bers. — It is the country which m our times has 
the fewest conlessors of the Gospel. 

The flame of Reformation, which had long 
flickered in Bohemia, had almost been extin- 
guished in blood. Nevertheless some poor 
survivors, escaped from the carnage, were still 
living to see the day that Huss had predicted. 

Hungary had been distracted by intestine 
wars, under the rule of princes without ability 
or experience, who, in the result, made the 
country a dependency of Austria, by enrolling 
that powerful house among the heirs of the 
crown. 

Such was the condition of Europe at the 
beginning of that sixteenth century, which 
was destined to produce so mighty a change 
in the great Christian family. 

But we have already observed, it was on 
the vast platform of Germany, and more par- 
ticularly in Wittemberg, in the heart of the 
Empire, that the grand drama of the Reforma- 
tion was to commence. 

Let us contemplate the actors in the pro- 
logue which ushered in, or contributed to the 
work of which Luther was appointed to be in 
God's hands the hero. 

■j Of all the electors of the Empire the most 
powerful at that time was Frederick of Saxony, 
surnamed the Wise. The influence he exer- 
cised, joined to his wealth and generosity, 
raised him above his equals. God selected 
him to serve as a tree, under shadow of which 
the seed of truth might put forth its first shoot 
without being rooted up by the tempests 
around it. 

Born at Torgua in 1463, he manifested from 
his early youth much love for science, philoso- 
phy, and piety. Succeeding, in 1487, in con- 
junction with his brother John, to the govern- 
ment of the hereditary states of his family, he 
received the dignity of Elector from the Em- 
peror Frederick III. In 1493, the pious prince 
undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre. 
Henry of Schaumburg on that sacred spot con- 
ferred upon him the order of the Holy Sepul- 
chre. He returned to Saxony in the follow- 
ing summer. In 1502 he founded the univer- 
sity of Wittemberg, which was destined to be 
the nursery of the Reformation. 

When the light dawned, he did not commit 
himself on either side, but stood by to secure 
it. No man was fitter for this office ; he pos- 
sessed the general esteem, and was in the in- 
timate confidence of the Emperor. He even 
acted for him in his absence. His wisdom 
consisted not in the skilful working of deep 
laid policy, but in an enlightened and prescient 
prudence, of which the first law was never for 
the sake of any self-interest to infringe the 
rules of honour and religion. 

At the same time he felt in his heart tne 
power of the word of God. One day, when 
the Vicar-General, Staupitz, was in his com- 
pany, the conversation turned on public de- 
claimed : "All sermons," said the Elector, 
"made up of mere subtleties and human tra- 
ditions, are marvellously cold, without nerve 
or power, since there is no subtlety we can 
advance that may not by another subtlety be 



•28 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



overturned. Holy Scripture alone is clothed 
with such power and majesty that shaming us 
out of our rules of reasoning, it compels us to 
cry out ' Never man spake as this.' " Staupitz 
assenting entirely to his opinion, the Elector 
cordially extended his hand to him, and said, 
" Promise me that you will always think thus." 

Frederic was precisely the prince that was 
needed for the cradle of the Reformation. Too 
much weakness on the part of those friendly 
to the work might have allowed it to be crush- 
ed. Too much haste would have caused too 
early an explosion of the storm that from its 
origin gathered against it. Frederic was mo- 
derate but firm ; he possessed that Christian 
grace which God has in all times required 
from his worshippers; he waited for God. He 
put in practice the wise counsel of Gamaliel — 
" If this work be of man it will come to 
naught ; — if it be of God we cannot overthrow 
it." " Things are come to such a pass," said 
the prince to one of the most enlightened men 
of his time, Spengler of Nuremberg, " that 
men can do no more : — God alone can effect 
anything; therefore we must leave to his power 
those great events which are too hard for us." 
We may well admire the wisdom of Provi- 
'dence in the choice of such a prince to guard 
the small beginnings of its work. 

Maximilian I., who wore the Imperial crown 
from 1493 to 1519, may be reckoned among 
those who contributed to prepare the way of 
the Reformation. He afforded to the other 
princes the example of enthusiasm for litera- 
ture and science. He was less attached than 
any other to the Popes, and had even thoughts 
of seizing on the Papacy. No one can say 
what it might have become in his hands; but 
we may be allowed to imagine from this cir- 
cumstance, that a rival power to the Pope, 
such as the Reformation, would not have 
reckoned the Emperor of Germany among its 
fiercest opponents. 

Among even the princes of the Romish 
Church were found venerable men, whom sa- 
cred study and sincere piety had prepared for 
the divine work about to be wrought in the 
world. Christopher of Stadion, bishop of 
Augsburg, knew and loved the truth ; but he 
would have had to sacrifice all by a coura- 
geous confession of it. Laurentius de Biba, 
bishop of Wurtzburg, a kind, pious, and wise 
man, and esteemed by the Emperor and princes, 
was accustomed to speak openly against the 
corruption of the Church. But he died in 
151 9, too early to take part in the Reforma- 
tion. John VI., bishop of Meissen, was used 
to say, "As often as I read the Bible, I find 
there a different religion from that which is 
taught to us." John Thurzo, bishop of Breslau, 
was called by Luther the best bishop of the 
age. But he, too, died in 1520. William 
Brieonnet, bishop of Meaux, contributed large- 
ly to introduce the Reformation in France. 
Who indeed can say to what extent the en- 
lightened piety of these bishops and of many 
others, was of use in preparing, each in his 
diocese, and beyond it, the great work of the 
Reformation ] 



But it was reserved to men of lower station 
than these princes or bishops to become the 
chief instruments of God's providence in the 
work of preparation. It was the scholars and 
the learned, then termed kuma?iists, who ex 
ercised the greatest influence on their age. 

There existed at that time open war be- 
tween these disciples of letters and the scho- 
lastic divines. The latter beheld with alarm 
the great movements going on in the field of 
intelligence, and took up with the notion that 
immobility and ignorance would be the best 
safeguards of the Church. It was to save Rome 
that divines opposed the revival of letters ; but 
by so doing they in reality contributed to her 
ruin, and Rome herself unconsciously co- 
operated in it. In an unguarded moment, 
under the pontificate of Leo X., she forsook 
her old friends, and embraced her youthful ad- 
versaries. The Papacy formed with literature 
a union which seemed likely to break the old 
alliance with the monastic orders. The Popes 
did not at first perceive that what they had 
taken up as a toy was in reality a sword that 
might destroy them. Thus in the last century 
we beheld princes who received at their courts 
a tone of politics and a philosophy which, if 
they had experienced their full effect, would 
have overturned their thrones. The alliance 
of which w r e have spoken did not last long. 
Literature advanced, entirely regardless of 
that which might endanger the power of its 
patrons. The monks and the scholastic di- 
vines perceived that to forsake the Pope would 
be to abandon their own interests. And the 
Pope, notwithstanding the transient patronage 
which he bestowed upon the fine arts, adopted, 
when it suited his interest, measures most 
opposed to the spirit of the time. 

The revival of letters presented at that time 
an animating spectacle. Let us sketch soms 
lines of this picture, selecting such as have 
the closest connexion with the revival of the 
true faith. 

In order that the truth might triumph, it was 
necessary that the arms that were to achieve 
the victory should be taken from the arsenal 
in which for ages they had lain hidden. These 
weapons were the Holy Scriptures of the Old 
and New Testament. It was necessary to 
revive in Christendom the love and study of 
the sacred Greek and Hebrew texts. The 
man chosen by God for this work was John 
Reuchlin. 

A A very sweet toned child's voice had been 
noticed in the choir of the church of Pforzheim. 
It attracted the attention of the Margrave of 
Baden. It proved to be that of John Reuchlin, 
a young boy, of pleasing manners and of a 
sprightly disposition, the son of an honest ci- 
tizen of the place. The Margrave treated him 
with great favour, and made choice of him in 
1473 to accompany his son Frederick to the 
University of Paris. 

The son of the bailiff of Pforzheim in trans- 
ports of joy arrived in company with the 
prince at this most celebrated school of the 
West. He there found the Spartan Hermo- 
nymos, and John W 7 eissel, surnamed the Light 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



29 



of the World, and he had now an opportunity 
of studying, under the most able masters, the 
Greek and Hebrew, of which there was at 
that time no professor in Germany, and which 
he himself was destined one day to restore in 
the land of the Reformation. The young 1 and 
indigent German transcribed for rich students 
the verses of Homer, and the orations of 
Isocrates, and thus earned the means of prose- 
cuting his studies, and purchasing books. 

But he heard other things from Weissel 
which made a powerful impression on his 
mind. "The Popes may be deceived," said 
Weissel. " All satisfaction made by men is 
blasphemy against Christ, who has com- 
pletely reconciled and justified mankind. To 
God alone belongs the power of giving com- 
plete absolution. It is not necessary to con- 
fess our sins to the priests. There is no 
purgatory, unless it be God himself, who is a 
consuming fire, and purifies from all pollu- 
tion." 

When Reuchlin was hardly twenty, he 
taught philosophy and Greek and Latin at 
Bale, and it was then accounted almost a 
miracle that a German should speak Greek. 

The partisans of Rome began to be uneasy 
when they saw men ol independent character 
searching into these ancient treasures. " The 
Romans make a wry face," said Reuchlin, 
" and clamorously assert that all such literary 
labours are contrary to Roman piety, since 
the Greeks are schismatics. Oh ! what pains 
and patience are needed to restore wisdom and 
learning to Germany !" 

Soon after, Eberhard of Wiirtemberg- in- 
vited Reuchlin to Tubingen, to adorn that 
rising university ; and in 1487 he took him 
into Italy. Chalcondylas, Aurispa, John 
Picus of Mirandola, were his friends and 
companions at Florence. And at Rome, when 
Eberhard had a solemn audience of the Pope, 
surrounded by his cardinals, Reuchlin pro- 
nounced an address in such pure and elegant 
Latin, that the assembly, who expected no- 
tning of that kind from a barbarous German, 
were in the utmost astonishment, and the 
Pope exclaimed, " Certainly this man de- 
serves to be ranked with the best orators of 
France and Italy." 

Ten years after, Reuchlin was obliged to 
take refuge at Heidelberg, at the court of the 
Elector Philip, to escape the vengeance of the 
successor of Eberhard. Philip, in conjunc- 
tion with John of Dalberg, bishop of Worms, 
his friend and chancellor, endeavoured to dif- 
fuse the light that was beginning to dawn in 
all parts of Germany. Dalberg had formed a 
library, which was open to all the studious. 
Reuchlin made in this new field, great efforts 
to enlighten and civilize the people. 

Being sent to Rome by the Elector in 1498, 
on an important mission, he employed the 
time and money he could command, either in 
improving himself in the Hebrew, under the 
instruction of the learned Jew, Abdias Sphorna, 
or in purchasing whatever Hebrew and Greek 
manuscripts he could meet with, intending to 
use them as torches, to diffuse in his own 



country the light which was beginning to ap- 
pear. 

An illustrious Greek, Argyropylos, was ex 
plaining in that metropolis, to a numerous 
auditory, the wonderful progress his nation 
had formerly made in literature. The learned 
ambassador went with his suite to the room 
where the master was teaching, and on his 
entrance saluted him, and lamented the misery 
of Greece, then languishing under Turkish 
despotism. The astonished Greek asked the 
German: "Whence come you, and do you 
understand Greek V Reuchlin replied : " I 
am a German, and am not quite ignorant of 
your language." At the request of Argyro- 
pylos, he read and explained a passage of 
Thucydides, which the professor happened to 
have before him; upon which Argyropylos 
cried out in grief and astonishment, " Alas ! 
alas ! Greece, cast out and fugitive, is gone to 
hide herself beyond the Alps." 

It was thus that the sons of barbarous Ger- 
many and those of ancient Greece met together 
in the palaces of Rome ; thus it was that the 
East and the W T est gave each other the right 
hand of fellowship in this rendezvous of the 
world, and that, the former poured into the 
hands of the latter those intellectual treasures 
which it had carried off in its escape from the 
barbarism of the Turks. God, when his plans 
require it, brings together in an instant, by 
some unlocked for catastrophe, those who 
seemed forever removed from each other. 

On his return to Germany, Reuchlin was 
again permitted to take up his abode at Wiir- 
temberg. It was at this time that he entered 
upon tne labours that were most useful to 
Luther and to the Reformation. He trans- 
lated and expounded the Penitential Psalms, 
revised the Vulgate, and especially distin- 
guished himself, by the publication of the 
first Hebrew and German Grammar and Dic- 
tionary. Reuchlin, by this labour, took off. 
the seals from the ancient Scriptures, and 
made himself a name more enduring than 
brass. 

But it was not alone by his writings, bu 
also by his life, that Reuchlin sought to pro- 
mote the cause of truth. He had great influ- 
ence over the minds of youth, and who can 
estimate how much the reformation ow r es to 
him on that account 1 We will mention but 
one example. A young man, a cousin of his, 
the son of an artisan, famous as a manufac- 
turer of arms, whose name was Schwarzerd, 
came to lodge with his sister Elizabeth, for 
the purpose of studying under his direction. 
Reuchlin, delighted with the talents and dili- 
gence of his young pupil, adopted him, and 
spared neither advice, presents of books, ex- 
ample, nor any thing else that was likely to 
make his relation useful to the Church and to 
his country. He rejoiced in seeing his work 
prosper in his hands; and thinking his Ger- 
man name Schwarzerd too harsh, he trans- 
lated it into Greek, according to the custom 
of the time, and called the young student 
Melandhon. This was the illustrious friend 
of Luther. 



30 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Soon after, the amiable Reuchlin was in- 
volved, much against his inclination, in a 
violent contest, which was one of the preludes 
of the Reformation. 

There was at Cologne a baptised Jew, 
named PfefFerkorn, intimately connected with 
the inquisitor Hochstraten. This man and 
the Dominicans solicited and obtained from 
the Emperor Maximilian, probably with no 
bad motives, an order, requiring the Jews to 
bring all their Hebrew books (the Bible ex- 
cepted) to the town-hall of the city in which 
they resided, there to be publicly burnt. The 
reason alleged was, that they were full of 
blasphemies against Jesus. It must be con- 
fessed, that they were at least full of absurdi- 
ties, and that the Jews themselves would not 
have lost much by the proposed measure. 
However, they did not think so; and no 
power could rightly deprive them of works 
which were, in their estimation, of great 
value. Add to which, the Dominicans might 
be influenced by other motives than zeal for 
the Gospel. It is probable that they expected, 
by this means, to extort considerable ransoms 
from the Jews. 

The Emperor asked Reuchlin to give his 
opinion of these works. The learned doctor 
pointed out the books that were written 
against Christianity, leaving them to the fate 
they deserved ; but he tried to save the rest : 
" The best way to convert the Jews," he 
added, " would be to establish in each uni- 
versity two masters of the Hebrew language, 
who should teach divines to read the Bible in 
Hebrew, and thus refute the Jewish doctors." 
The Jews, in consequence of this advice, had 
their writings restored to them. 

The proselyte and the inquisitor, like ravens 
who see their prey escaping, uttered cries of 
rage and fury. They picked out different 
passages from the writings of Reuchlin, per- 
verted the sense, declared the author a he- 
retic, accused him of being secretly inclined 
to Judaism, and threatened him with the in- 
quisition. Reuchlin was at first alarmed, but 
these men becoming more insolent, and pre- 
scribing to him disgraceful conditions of peace, 
he published, in 1513, a " Defence against his 
Slanderers at Cologne," in which he described 
the whole party in the liveliest colours. 

The Dominicans vowed vengeance. Hoch- 
straten erected, at Mayence, a tribunal against 
Reuchlin. The writings of this learned man 
were condemned to the flames. Reuchlin 
appealed to Pope Leo X. This Pope, who 
did not much like those narrow-minded and 
fanatical monks, referred the whole affair to 
the Bishop of Spires ; the latter declared 
Reuchlin innocent, and condemned the monks 
to pay the expenses of the investigation. 

This affair was of great importance, and 
made much noise in Germany. It exhibited 
in the most revolting publicity, the very large 
class of monkish theologians ; it drew to- 
gether in closer alliance all the friends of 
learning — then called Reuchlinists, from the 
name of their distinguished head. This strug- 
gle was like an affair of advanced posts, | 



which influenced in a considerable degree the 
great contest which the heroic courage of Lu- 
ther afterwards waged with error. 

This union of letters with the faith is an 
important feature of the Reformation, and 
serves to distinguish it both from the esta- 
blishment of Christianity, and from the revival 
in religion taking place in our own days. 
The Christians, in the Apostles' time, had 
against them the intellectual cultivation of 
the age; and, with some exceptions, it is the 
same at this day. But the majority of mpn 
jf letters were ranged on the side of the Re 
formers. Even general opinion was favour- 
able to them. The work gained in extension : 
perhaps it lost in depth ! 

Luther, acknowledging all that Reuchlin 
had done, wrote to him shortly after his vic- 
tory over the Dominicans: "The Lord has 
wrought in you, that the light of his holy 
word may again shine forth in Germany, 
where, for so many ages, it has been, alas ! 
not only stifled, but extinct." 

Reuchlin was about twelve years old when 
one of the greatest geniuses of the age was 
born. A man, full of vivacity and wit, named 
Gerard, a native of Gouda, in the Low 
Countries, had formed an attachment to the 
daughter of a physician, named Margaret. 
The principles of the Gospel did not govern 
his life; or, to say the least, his passion si- 
lenced them. His parents, and nine brothers, 
urged him to enter into the Church. He fled, 
leaving Margaret on the point of becoming a 
mother, and repaired to Rome. The shame- 
struck Margaret gave birth to a son. Gerard 
heard nothing of it ; and, some time after- 
wards, he received from his parents intelli- 
gence, that she he loved was no more. Over- 
whelmed with grief, he took priest's orders, 
and devoted himself to the service of God. 
He returned to Holland; and, lo ! Margaret 
was still living, she would never marry an- 
other ; and Gerard remained faithful to his 
priest's vows. Their affection was concen- 
trated on their infant son. His mother had 
taken the tenderest care of him. The father, 
after his return, sent him to school, when he 
was only four years old. He was not ye* 
thirteen, when his master, Sinthemius of De- 
venter, embracing him one day in great joy. 
exclaimed : " That child will attain the high- 
est summits of learning." This was Eras- 
mus of Rotterdam. 

About this time his mother died ; and shortly 
after his father, from grief, followed her. 

The young Erasmus,* alone in the world, 
felt the strongest aversion to the monastic life, 
which his tutors would have constrained him 
to embrace. At last, a friend persuaded him 
to enter himself in a convent of regular ca- 
nons; which might be done without taking 
orders. Soon after, we find him at the court 
of the Archbishop of Cambray; and, a little 
later, at the university of Paris. There he 



* He was named Gerhard after his father. He 
translated this Dutch name into Latin (Deside- 
rius,) and into Greek (Erasmus.1 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



34 



pursued his studies in the greatest poverty, 
but with the most indefatigable perseverance. 
Whenever he could obtain any money, he 
employed it in the purchase of Greek authors, 
— and then, of clothes. Often the poor Hol- 
lander solicited in vain the generosity of his 
protectors: hence, in after life, it was his 
greatest satisfaction to contribute to the sup- 
port of young and poor students. Devoted 
incessantly to the investigation of truth and 
learning, he yet shrunk from the study of 
theology, from a fear lest he should discover 
therein any error, and so be denounced as a 
heretic. 

The habits of application which he formed, 
at this period, continued to distinguish him 
through life. Even in his journeys, which 
were generally on horseback, he was not idle. 
He was accustomed to compose on the high 
road, or travelling across the country, and, on 
arriving at an inn, to note down his thoughts. 
It is in this way that he composed his cele- 
brated '•'•Praise of Folly? during a journey 
from Italy to England. 

Erasmus very early acquired a high reputa- 
tion among scholars. 

But the monks, irritated by his " Praise of 
Folly," in which he had turned them to ridi- 
cule, vowed vengeance against him. Courted 
by princes, he constantly excused himself from 
their invitations ; preferring to gain his lively- 
hood with Frobenius the printer, by correcting 
his proofs, to a life of luxury and favour in 
the splendid courts of Charles V., of Henry 
VIII., and Francis I. ; or even to encircling 
his head with the cardinal's hat, which was 
offered to him. 

From 1509 he taught at Oxford. In 1516 
he came to Bale, and in 1521 fixed his abode 
there. 
A What was his influence on the Reforma- 
tion] 

It has been too much exalted by some, and 
too much depreciated by others. Erasmus 
never was, and never could have become, a 
Reformer ; but he prepared the way for others. 
Not only did he in his time diffuse a love of 
learning and a spirit of inquiry and discussion, 
which led much farther than he himself would 
follow, but, in addition to this, he was able, 
sheltered by the protection of great prelates 
and powerful princes, to unveil and combat 
the vices of the Church by the most pungent 
satires. 

He did more; not satisfied with attacking 
abuses, Erasmus laboured to recall divines 
from the scholastic theology to the study of 
the Holy Scriptures. "The highest use of 
the revival of philosophy," said he, "will be 
to discover in the Bible the pure and simple 
Christianity." A noble saying! and would 
to God that the organs of the philosophy of 
our days understood as well their proper duty, 
"lam firmly resolved," said he again, " to 
die in the study of the Scripture. In that is 
my joy and my peace." "The sum of all 
Christian philosophy," says he in another 
place, "is reduced to this: — to place all our 
hope in God, who, without our deserts, by 
4 



grace, gives us all things by Jesus Christ; to 
know that we are redeemed by the death of 
his Son ; to die to the lusts of the world ; and 
to walk conformably to his doctrine and ex- 
ample ; not merely without doing wrong to 
any, but doing good to all ; to bear with 
patience our trial in the hope of a future re- 
compense ; and finally to ascribe no honour 
to ourselves on the score of our virtues, but 
to render praise to God for all our strength 
and works. And it is with this that man 
must be imbued until it becomes to him a se 
cond nature." 

But Erasmus was not content with making 
so open a confession of the evangelic doctrine ; 
his labours did more than his words. Above 
all, he rendered a most important service to the 
truth by publishing his New Testament ; the 
first, and for a long time, the only critical edi 
tion. It appeared at Bale in 1516, the year 
previous to the usual date of the Reformation. 
He accompanied it with a Latin translation, 
wherein he boldly corrected the Vulgate, and 
with notes, defending his corrections. Thus 
Erasmus did that for the New Testament 
which Reuchlin had done for the Old. 

Divines and learned men might thus read 
the word of God in the original language; 
and at a later period they were enabled to re- 
cognise the purity of the doctrine of the Re- 
formers. "Would to God," said Erasmus, 
in sending forth this work, " woulcl to God it 
might bear as much fruit for Christianity as it 
has cost me labour and application." His 
wish was realized. In vain did the monks 
clamour against it. " He pretends to correct 
the Holy Ghost!" said they. The New 
Testament of Erasmus shed a brilliant light. 
This great man also diffused a taste for the 
word of God by his paraphrases of the Epistle 
to the Romans. The effect of his studies 
went beyond his own intentions :jf Reuchlin 
and Erasmus gave the Scriptures to the 
learned ; — Luther, to the people. 4 

Erasmus served as a stepping-stone to seve- 
ral others. Many who would have taken alarm 
at evangelical truths brought forward in all 
their energy and purity, suffered themselves 
to be drawn on by him, and became after- 
wards the most zealous actors in the Refor- 
mation. 

But the very causes that made him a fit in- 
strument to prepare this great work, disquali- 
fied him for accomplishing it. "Erasmus 
knows very well how to expose error," said 
Luther, " but he does not know how to teach 
the truth." The Gospel of Christ was not the 
fire that kindled and sustained his life, the 
centre around which his activity revolved. In 
him Christianity was second to learning. He 
was too much influenced by vanity to acquire 
a decided influence over his contemporaries. 
He carefully weighed the effect that each 
step might have upon his own reputation 
There was nothing that he liked better to talk 
about than himself and his own glory. "The 
Pope," he wrote to an -intimate friend, with a 
childish vanity, at the period when he declared 
i himself the adversary of Luther, " the Pope 



32 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



has sent me a diploma full of good-will and 
honourable testimonials. His secretary de- 
clares that it is an unprecedented honour, and 
that the Pope himself dictated it word for 
word." 

Erasmus and Luther are the representatives 
of two great ideas relative to a Reformation, — 
of two great parties in their age, and in all 
ages. The one class are men of a timid pru- I 
dence ; the other those of active courage and I 
resolution. These two great bodies of men 
existed at this period, and they were personified | 
in these two illustrious heads. The former 
thought that the cultivation of theological 
science would lead gradually and without 
violence to the Reformation of the Church. 
The more energetic, class thought that the 
spread of more correct ideas amongst the learn- 
ed would not put an end to the gross supersti- 
tions of the people, and that to reform such or 
such an abuse was of little importance, so long 
as the life of the church was not thoroughly 
renovated. 

" A disadvantageous peace," said Erasmus, 
"is better than the most just war." He thought, 
— (and how many Erasmuses have lived since 
that time, and are still living) he thought that 
a Reformation which should shake the Church 
would risk the overturning it ; he foresaw with 
terror passions excited, evil mingling every- 
where with the little good that might be done ; 
existing institutions destroyed without others 
being substituted in their stead, and the vessel 
of the Church, letting in water on every side, 
engulphed at last in the raging billows. 
"They who let in the ocean to new beds," 
said he, "are often deceived in the result of 
their toil : for the mighty element once ad- 
mitted, stops not where they would have it 
stayed, but overflows where it will, spreading 
devastation around." 

But the more courageous party was not at a 
loss for an answer. History had sufficiently 
proved that a candid exhibition of the truth, 
and a decided war against imposture, could 
alone ensure the victory. If they had used 
caution and political artifice, the Papal court 
would have extinguished the light in its first 
glimmerings. Had not gentler means been 
tried for ages'? Had they not seen Council 
after Council convoked with the intention of 
reforming the Church ? All had been in vain. 
Why aoain try an experiment that had so often 
failed 1 

Undoubtedly a thorough Reformation was 
not to be effected without violence. But when 
has anything great or good appeared amongst 
men without causing some disturbance 1 
Would not the fear of seeing evil mingling 
with good, if it were allowed, put a stop to 
the very noblest and holiest undertakings'? 
We must not fear the evil that may arise from 
general disturbance, but we must strengthen 
ourselves to resist and overcome it. 

Is there not, moreover, a marked difference 
between the agitation which arises from hu- 
man passions, and that which is wrought by 
the Spirit of God 1 ? The former loosens the 
bonds of society, but the latter strengthens 



them. How erroneous was it to suppose, 
with Erasmus, that in the state in which 
Christianity then was, with that mixture of 
opposing elements, of truth and error, of life 
and death, a violent convulsion could possibly 
be avoided. Close if you can, the crater of 
Vesuvius when the contending elements are 
already agitating its bosom ! The middle ages 
had witnessed more than one violent commo- 
tion, with an atmosphere less stormy than that 
existing at the time of the Reformation. We 
must not at such a moment think of arresting 
and repressing, but rather of directing and 
guiding. 

If the Reformation had not broke forth, who 
can estimate the ruin that would have en- 
sued 1 Society a prey to a thousand destruc- 
tive elements, without any regenerating or 
preserving principles, would have been fright- 
fully subverted. Certainly, a Reformation 
such as Erasmus contemplated, and such as 
many moderate but timid men of our times 
still dream of, would have overturned Chris- 
tian society. The people, deprived of the 
light and piety which a true Reformation 
brought down even to the lowest ranks, aban- 
doned to violent passion and a restless spirit 
of revolt, would have burst the chain like an 
enraged animal roused by provocation to un- 
controllable fury. 

The Reformation was nothing less than the 
coming in of the Spirit of God among men, a 
regulating principle, placed by God upon the 
earth. It might, it is true, move the elements 
of ferment which are hidden in the human 
heart, but God triumphed over all. The evan- 
gelical doctrine, the truth of God, penetrating 
among the mass of the people, destroyed what 
was destined to be destroyed, — but every- 
where strengthened what was to be maintain- 
ed. The effect of the Reformation was to 
build up. Only prejudice could say that it 
lowered. And it has been justly observed 
that the ploughshare might as well be accused 
of injuring the earth it breaks up only to pre- 
pare it for fruitfulness. 

The great maxim of Erasmus was, " Give 
light, and the darkness will disperse of itself." 
The principle is good ; Luther acted upon it. 
But when the enemies of the light attempted 
to extinguish it, or to snatch the torch from 
him who bore it, was it fit that, from a love of 
peace, they should be suffered to do sol Was 
it not a duty to resist the wicked 1 

Erasmus was deficient in courage. But 
courage is as necessary to effect a reformation 
as to capture a city. There was much timi- 
dity in his character. From his youth he 
trembled at the mention of death. He took 
the most extraordinary care of his health. He 
would av.oid, at any sacrifice, a place where 
contagion prevailed. His relish for the com- 
forts of life surpassed even his vanity, and 
this was his reason for declining more than 
one brilliant offer. 

Thus it was that he did not pretend to the 
part of a Reformer. " If the corrupted morals 
of the court of Rome require a great and speed} 
remedy," said he, "it is not for me, or such 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



33 



as me to effect it." He had none of that j 
strength of faith which animated Luther. 
Whilst the latter was ever ready to lay down 
his life for the truth, Erasmus, with perfect 
ingenuousness, could say, " Let others affect I 
martyrdom : for my part, I think myself un- j 
worthy of that honour. I fear, if a tumult | 
arose, I should be like Peter in his fall." 

Erasmus, by his writings and discourses, 
had, more than any other person, hastened the 
Reformation ; and yet he trembled when he 
saw the tempest he had raised approaching. 
He would have given every thing to restore 
the former calm, even with its heavy vapours. 
But it was too late, — the dam was broken 
down. It was no longer possible to stay the 
violence of the torrent that was at once to 
cleanse and fertilize the world. Erasmus was 
powerful, so long as he was an instrument in 
God's hands. When he ceased to be that — 
he was nothing. 

In the result Erasmus knew not on which 
side to range himself. None pleased him, 
and he dreaded all. " It is dangerous to 
speak," said he, " and dangerous to be silent." 
In all great religious movements, there are* 
such undecided characters, — respectable in 
some things, but hindering the truth, and who, 
from a desire to displease no one, displease all. 

What, we may ask, would become of truth, 
if God were not to raise up in its defence more 
courageous champions? 

Listen to the advice given by Erasmus to 
Vigilius Zuichem, afterwards president of the 
superior court of Brussels, as to his deport- 
ment towards the sectaries, (for that was the 
name he gave to the reformers.) "My friendship 
for you makes me desire that you should keep 
yourself quite clear of contagion of sects, and 
that you give them no ground to claim Zuichem 
as their own. If you approve their teaching, at 
least dissemble yourjipproval ; and, above 
all, never dispute with them. A jurisconsult 
must be on his guard with these people, as a 
certain dying man eluded the devil. The 
devil asked him what he believed'. The dying 
man, fearing that, if he confessed, he should 
be surprised in some heresy, answered, 'What 
the Church believes.' His interrogator press- 
ed him with the question, ' What does the 
Church believe]' The other replied, ' What 
I believe] Again the devil, — 4 And what do 
you believe ] and the dying man rejoined, 
'What the Church believes.'" 

So, the Duke George of Saxony, the mortal 
enemy of Luther, having received an equivocal 
answer to a question he had addressed to Eras- 
mus, exclaimed alo.ud, "My dear Erasmus, 
wash me the robe, if you can, without wetting 
it." Secundus Curio, in one of his works, 
depicts two heavens, the Papal and the 
Christian. He found Erasmus in neither; 
but perceived him incessantly wheeling in 
never ending eddies between both. 

Such was Erasmus. He wanted that 
'liberty of heart' which makes truly free. 
How different would he have been, if he had 
given up himself to devote his soul to truth. 
But after trying to work some reforms, with 



the approbation of the heads of the Church,— 
after having, for the sake of Rome, abandoned 
the Reformation, when he saw that the two 
could not walk together, — he lost all his in- 
fluence with either. On the one side, his re- 
cantations could not repress the indignation 
of the fanatic partisans of Popery. Thevfelt 
the injury he had done them, and nevei for- 
gave it. The monks poured forth abuse on 
him from their pulpits. They called him a 
second Lucian, — a fox that had laid waste the 
vineyard of the Lord. A doctor of Constance 
had the portrait of Erasmus hung up in his 
study, that he might spit in his face as often 
as he pleased. 

And on the other hand, Erasmus, forsaking 
the standard of the Gospel, found himself de- 
prived of the affections and esteem of the 
noblest men of his age, and had doubtless to 
suffer the loss of those heavenly consolations 
which God sheds into the hearts of those who 
act as good soldiers of Christ. So at least it 
would seem from the bitter tears, painful 
vigils, disturbed rest, failure of appetite and 
loss of relish for literary pursuits, once his 
only enjoyments, wrinkled forehead, sallow 
complexion, and dejected and sorrowful ex- 
pression, that hatred of what he calls a cruel 
life, and desire of death which he described to 
his friends. Poor Erasmus! 
I The enemies of Erasmus went a little beyond 
the truth, when they said, on the appearance 
of Luther, " Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther 
has hatched it." 

The same signs of new life that, were seen 
among the princes, the bishops and the learn- 
ed, were visible among men of the world, 
nobles, knights, and warriors. The nobles of 
Germany played an important part in the Re- 
formation. Many of the most illustrious sons 
of Germany formed a close alliance with lite- 
rary men, and, inflamed with a zeal some- 
times indiscreet, made efforts to deliver their 
dependents from the yoke of Rome. 

Various causes would contribute to make 
friends to the Reformation among the nobles. 
Some, having frequented the Universities, had 
there received into their bosoms that fire with 
which the learned were animated. Others, 
educated in noble sentiments, had hearts open 
to the elevating doctrines of the Gospel. Many 
found in the Reformation a vague and chival- 
rous something to charm and captivate them. 
Others, it must be owned, were influenced by 
ill-will to the clergy, who had helped, under 
the rule of Maximilian, to deprive them of 
their ancient independence, and reduce them 
to submission to their princes. Full ©f enthusi- 
asm, they deemed the Reformation the prelude 
of a great political renovation; they hoped to 
behold the Empire emerge from the crisis with 
a splendour altogether unprecedented, and a 
better and more glorious state of things estab- 
lished in the world, as much by the sword of 
chivalry as by the word of God. 

Ulric de Hutten, surnamed the Demosthenes 
of Germany from his philippics against the 
Papacy, forms, as it were, the link which then 
held united the knigrhtsand the men of letters 



8* 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



He was no less distinguished by his writings ' 
than by his military exploits. Descended 
from an ancient family of Franconia, he was 
sent when eleven years old, to the convent of 
Fulda, to become in due time a monk. But 
Ulric, who felt no inclination for that vocation, 
fled from the convent in his sixteenth year, 
and repaired to the University of Cologne, 
where he devoted himself to the study of lan- 
guages and poetry. At a later period he led 
a wandering life, was present in 1513 at the 
siege of Padua, in the capacity of a common 
soldier, saw Rome and all her abominations, 
and there sharpened the darts which he -after- 
wards hurled against her. 

On his return to Germany, Hiitten com- 
posed against Rome a writing entitled The 
Roman Trinity. He there strips bare the 
disorders of that court, and shows the neces- 
sity of putting a forcible stop to its oppres- 
sions. "There are three things," says a 
traveller named Vadiscus, introduced in this 
tract, " which we commonly bring away with 
us from Rome, — a bad conscience, a vitiated 
stomach, and an empty purse. There are 
three things which Rome does not believe in : 
the immortality of the soul, the resurrection 
of the dead, and hell. There are three things 
which Rome trades in: the grace of Christ, 
the dignities of the church, and women." — 
The last writing obliged Hiitten to quit the 
court of the Archbishop of Mentz, where 1*ie 
was residing when he composed it. 

When Reuchlin's affair with the Domini- 
cans made a noise, Hiitten took the part of the 
learned doctor. One of his university ac- 
quaintances, Crotus Robianus,and others, com- 
posed at that time the famous satire known by 
the name of " Letters of Obscure Men," which 
first appeared in 1516, one year before the 
theses of Luther. This writing was attributed 
especially to Hiitten, and it is very probable 
that, he had a large share in its composition. 
In it the monks who were the enemies of 
Reuchlin, and are exhibited as the authors of 
these letters, discourse of the affairs of the 
time, and of theological subjects, in their man- 
ner and in barbarous Latin. They address to 
their correspondent Eratius, professor at Co- 
logne, the most idiotic and useless questions; 
they discover with the utmost simplicity their 
gross ignorance, incredulity, superstition, and 
low and vulgar spirit, and at the same time 
their pride, and fanatical and persecuting zeal. 
They relate to him many of their low adven- 
tures and debaucheries, and many scandalous 
particulars of the conduct of Hochstraten, 
Pfefferkorn, and other heads of their party. 
These letters are very amusing, from their 
mixture of hypocrisy and stupidity : and the 
whole was so much to the life, that the Domi- 
nicans and Franciscans of England received 
the writing with great approbation, and thought 
it to be really composed in the principles and 
for the defence of their order. A prior of Bra- 
bant, in his credulous simplicity, bought a 
large number of copies, and sent them as pre- 
sents to the most distinguished of the Domi- 
nicans. The monks, more and more irritated, 
importuned Leo X. for a severe bull against 



all who should dare to read these letters; but 
that pontiff refused them. They were com- 
pelled to endure the general ridicule, and to 
suppress their anger. No work ever struck 
a more terrible blow at the pillars of Popery. 
But it was not by ridicule and satire that the 
Gospel was ordained to triumph. If lis 
friends had continued their progress in these 
ways ; — if the Reformation, instead of attack- 
ing error with the weapons of God, had had 
recourse to the spirit of mockery, — its cause 
had been lost. Luther loudly condemned 
these satires. One of his acquaintances hav- 
ing sent him one, entitled "The Burden of 
the Petition of Pasquin." "The absurdities 
you have sent me," said he, "appear to be 
the production of an ill-regulated mind. I 
have shown them to some friends, and they 
all formed the same opinion of them." And 
in reference to the same work, he wrote to 
another of his correspondents. "This peti- 
tion seems to me a freak of the same buffoon 
who wrote the Letters of Obscure Men. I 
approve his design, but not his performance; 
for he deals only in reproachful and insulting 
language." This judgment may be thought 
severe, but it shows the spirit of Luther, and 
how he arose above his contemporaries. — Yet 
it must be added that he did not always follow 
these wise maxims. 

Ulric, being obliged to renounce the. protec- 
tion of the Archbishop of Mentz, courted the 
favour of C harles V., who was then at variance 
with the Pope. 

He repaired to Brussels, where Charles 
held his court. But, far from gaining any 
advantage, he learned that the Pope had re- 
quired the Emperor to send him bound hand 
and foot to Rome. The inquisitor Hochstra- 
ten, the persecutor of Reuchlin, was one of 
those charged with the office of bringing him 
to trial. Indignant that his enemies should 
have dared to make such a demand of the 
Emperor, Ulric quitted Brabant. Just outside 
Brussels he met Hochstraten on the road. 
The terrified inquisitor fell upon his knees and 
commended his soul to God and the saints. 
"No," said the knight; "I will not soil my 
weapon with thy blood !" He gave him some 
strokes with the flat of his sword, and allowed 
him to pass unhurt. 

Hiitten sought refuge in the Castle of 
Ebernburg, where Francis of Sickingen offered 
an asylum to all who were persecuted by the 
Ultramontanes. It was there that his zeal, 
panting for the enfranchisement of his nation, 
dictated those remarkable letters addressed to 
Charles V., Frederic the elector of Saxony, 
Albert archbishop of Mentz, and the princes 
and nobility, which place him in the first rank 
of orators. There he composed all those 
writings, destined to be read and compre- 
hended by the common people, which spread 
throughout the German population a horror of 
Rome and a love of liberty. Devoted to the 
cause of the Reformer, his design was to lead 
the nobles to take up arms in favour of the 
Gospel, and to rush sword in hand on that 
Rome which Luther aimed to destroy only 
by the word and invincible power of the truth 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



35 



And yet, in the midst of all this warlike exul- 
tation, it is delightful to find in Hiitten kind and 
considerate feelings. ' At the death of his pa- 
rents, he gave up to his brothers all the 
property of the family, though he was the 
eldest son, and even begged them not to write 
to him nor send him any money, lest, notwith- 
standing their innocence, they should be ex- 
posed to the malice of his enemies, and fall 
with him into the pit. ■ 

If truth cannot acknowledge him as one of 
her children, for she ever walks in company 
with holiness of life and charity of heart, she 
will at least accord to him all honourable 
mention as one of the most formidable enemies 
of error. 

The same may be said of Francis of Sick- 
ingen, his illustrious friend and protector. 
This noble knight, whom many of his con- 
temporaries judged worthy of the Imperial 
crown, sMnes in the foremost rank of the war- 
like antagonists of Rome. Though delight- 
ing in the noise of battles, he was full of ar- 
dour for learning, and veneration for its pro- 
fessors. At the head of an army which 
threatened Wiirtemberg, he commanded that 
in case Stutgard should be taken by assault, 
the house and property of the distinguished 
scholar, John Reuchlin, should be respected. 
He afterwards invited him to his camp, em- 
braced him and tendered him his assistance 
in the contest between him and the monks of 
Cologne. Chivalry had for a long time prided 
itself in despising learning. The period we 
are retracing presents a new spectacle. Under 
the ponderous cuirasses of Sickingen and Hiit- 
ten, we perceive that new movement of the 
general intelligence then everywhere begin- 
ning to make itself felt. The Reformation 
gave to the world as its first fruits, warriors 
Who were friends of the arts and of peace. 

Hiitten, during his residence at the castle 
of Sickingen, after his return from Brussels, 
encouraged the brave knight to study the 
evangelic doctrine, and explained to him the 
main truths on which it is based. " And is 
there any man," exclaimed Sickingen in as- 
tonishment, "that dares seek to overturn such 
a doctrine ! Who dares to attempt it 1 ?" 

Several who were at a later period distin- 
guished as Reformers found a refuge in his 
castle. Among others Martin Bucer, Aquila, 
Schwebel, CEcolampadius; so that Hiitten, 
with some reason, designated Ebernburg the 
"house of the just." CEcolampadius preach- 
ed, according to his custom, every day at the 
castle. Nevertheless the warriors there col- 
lected were ere long weary of hearing so much 
of the mild virtues- of Christianity; the ser- 
mons were too long for them, though CEcolam- 
padius did his best to be brief. They, how- 
ever, came every day to church, but it was 
merely to hear the benediction, or to make a 
short prayer, so that GScolampadius was used 
to exclaim, "Alas! the word is here sown 
upon rocks." 

Soon after, Sickingen, wishing to help the 
cause of truth in his own fashion, declared 
war against the Archbishop of Treves, " to 



open a door," as he said "for the Gospel.' 
It was in vain that Luther, who had then ap 
peared, dissuaded him from it; he attacked 
Treves with five thousand horse and a thou 
sand foot. The courageous Archbishop as- 
sisted by the Palatine and the Landgrave of 
Hesse, compelled him to retreat. In the 
spring following, the allies besieged him in 
his castle of Landstein. After a bloody as- 
sault, Sickingen was obliged to retire:' he was 
mortally wounded. The three princes pene- 
trated into the fortress, and passing through 
its apartments, found the lion-hearted knight 
in a vault, stretched on his death-bed. He 
put forth his hand to the Palatine, without 
seeming to notice the princes who accompa- 
nied him. But they overwhelmed him with 
questions and reproaches. "Leave me in 
quiet," said he, " for I must now prepare tc 
answer to a greater Lord than ye." When 
Luther heard of his death, he exclaimed, " The 
Lord is just but wonderful ! It is not by the 
sword thathe will have his gospel propagated." 

Such was the melancholy end of a warrior 
who, as Emperor, or as an Elector, might 
perhaps have raised Germany to a high degree 
of glory, but who, confined within a narrow 
circle, expended uselessly the great powers 
with which he was gifted. It was not in the 
tumultuous minds of these warriors that divine 
truth came to fix her abode. It was not bj 
their arms that the truth was to prevail ; and 
God by bringing to nought the mad projects 
of Sickingen, confirmed anew the testimony 
of St. Paul, "The weapons of our warfare are 
not carnal, but mighty through God." 

Another knight, Harmut of Cronberg, the 
friend of Hiitten and Sickingen, appears, how- 
ever, to have had more wisdom and knowledge 
of the truth. He wrote with much modesty 
to Leo X., urging him to restore his temporal 
power to him to whom it belonged, namely, 
to the Emperor. Addressing his subjects as 
a father, he endeavoured to explain to them 
the doctrines of the Gospel, and exhorted them 
to faith, obedience, and trust in Jesus Christ, 
"who," added he, "is the sovereign Lord of 
all." He resigned to the Emperor a pension 
of two hundred ducats, " because he would no 
longer serve one who gave ear to the enemies 
of the truth." And we find a saying of his re- 
corded, which places him in our judgment 
above Hiitten and Sickingen. " Our heaven- 
ly teacher, the Holy Ghost, can, when he 
pleases, teach us in one hour much more of 
the faith of Christ, than could be learned in 
ten years at the University of Paris." 

However, those who only look for the 
friends of the Reformation on the steps of 
thrones, or in cathedrals and academies, and 
who suppose it had no friends amongst the 
people, are greatly mistaken. God, who was 
preparing the hearts of the wise and powerful, 
was also preparing amongst the lowest of the 
people many simple and humble men, who 
were one day to become the promoters of his 
truth. The history of those times shows the 
excitement that prevailed among the lower 
classes. There were not only many young 



36 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



men who rose to fill the highest offices in the 
Church, but there were men who continued 
all their lives employed in the humblest occu- 
pations, who powerfully contributed to the 
revival of Christianity. We relate some cir- 
cumstances in the life of one of them. 

He was the son of a tailor named Hans 
^ Sachs, and was born at Nuremberg-, the 5th 
November, 1494. He was named Hans 
(John) after his father, and had made some 
progress in his studies, when a severe illness 
obliging him to abandon them, he applied 
himself to the trade of a shoemaker. Young 
Hans took advantage of the liberty this hum- 
ble profession afforded to his mind, to search 
into higher subjects better suited to his incli- 
nation. Since music had been banished from 
the castles of the nobles, it seemed to have 
sought and found an asylum amongst the 
lower orders of the merry cities of Germany. 
A school for singing was held in the church 
of Nuremberg. The exercises in which young 
Hans joined opened his heart to religious im- 
pressions, and helped to excite in him a taste 
for poetry and music. However, the young 
man's genius could not long be confined 
within the walls of a workshop. He wished 
to see that world of which he had read so 
much in books, of which his companions had 
told him so much, and which his youthful 
imagination peopled with wonders. In 1511, 
he took his bundle on his shoulders, and set 
out, directing his course towards the south. 
The young traveller, who met with merry 
companions on his road, students who were 
passing through the country, and many dan- 
gerous attractions, soon felt within himself a 
fearful struggle. The lusts of life and his 
holy resolutions contended for the mastery. 
Trembling for the issue, he fled and sought 
refuge in the little town of Wels, in Austria, 
(1513,) where he lived in retirement, and in 
the cultivation of the fine arts. The Emperor 
Maximilian happened to pass through the 
town with a brilliant retinue. The young 
poet was carried away by the splendour of 
this court. The prince received him into his 
hunting establishment, and Hans again forgot 
his better resolutions in the joyous chambers 
of the palace of Inspruck. But again his 
conscience loudly reproached, him. The 
young huntsman laid aside his glittering uni- 
form, set out, repaired to Schwartz, and after- 
wards to Munich. It was there, in 1514, at 
the age of twenty, he sang his first hymn, 
'to the honour of God," to a well known 
chant. He was loaded with applause. 
Everywhere in his travels he had occasion to 
notice numerous and melancholy proofs of the 
abuses under which religion was labouring. 

On his return to Nuremberg, Hans settled 
in life, married, and became the father of a 
family. When the Reformation burst forth, 
ne lent an attentive ear. He clung to that 
holy book which had already become lear to 
him as a poet, and which he now m longer 
searched for pictures and music, but for the | 
light of truth. To this sacred truth he soon j 
dedicated his lyre. From a humble work- 1 



j shop, situated at one of the gates of the im- 

| perial city of Nuremberg, proceeded sounds 

| that resounded through all Germany, prepar- 

j ing the minds of men for a new era, and every- 

j where endearing to the people the great revo- 

| lution which was then in progress. The 

spiritual songs of Hans Sachs, his Bible in 

verse, powerfully assisted, this work. It 

would perhaps be difficult to say to which it 

was most indebted, the Prince Elector of 

Saxony, Administrator of the Empire, or the 

shoemaker of Nuremberg ! 

There was at this time something in every 
class of society that presaged a Reformation. 
In every quarter signs were manifest, and 
events were pressing forward that threatened 
to overturn the work of ages of darkness, and 
to brincr about " a new order of things." The 
light discovered in that age had communicat- 
ed to all countries, with inconceivable rapidi- 
ty, a multitude of new ideas. The minds of 
men, which had slept for so many ages, seem- 
ed resolved to redeem by their activity the time 
they had lost. To have left them idle and 
without nourishment, or to have offered them 
no other food than that which had long sus- 
tained their languishing existence, would 
have shown great ignorance of human nature. 
The mind of man saw clearly what was, and 
what was coming, and surveyed with daring 
eye the immense gulf that separated these 
two worlds. Great princes were seated upon 
the throne, the ancient colossus of Rome was 
tottering under its own weight; the by-gone 
spirit of chivalry was leaving the world, and 
giving place to a new spirit which breathed 
at the same time from the sanctuaries of learn- 
ing and from the dwellings of the common 
people. The art of printing had given wings 
to the written word, which carried it, like 
certain seeds, to the most distant regions. 
The discovery of the Indies enlarged the 
boundaries of the world. Every thing pro 
claimed a mighty revolution at hand. 

But whence was the stroke to come that 
should throw down the ancient edifice, and 
call up a new structure from the ruins'? No 
one could answer this question. Who had 
more wisdom than Frederic I Who had more 
learning than Reuchlinl W"ho had more ta- 
lent than Erasmus 1 Who had more wit and 
energy than Hiitten] Who had more courage 
than Sickingen 1 Who had more virtue than 
Cronberg 1 And yet it was neither Frederic, 
nor Reuchlin, nor Erasmus, nor Hiitten, nor 
Sickingen, nor Cronberg. Learned men, 
princes, warriors, the Church itself, all had 
undermined some of the old foundations; but 
there they had stopped: and no where was 
seen the hand of power that was to be God's 
instrument. 

However, all felt that it would soon be 
seen. Some pretended to have discovered in 
the stars snre indications of its appearing. 
Some, seeing the miserable state of religion, 
foretold the near approach of Antichrist. 
Others, on the contrary, presaged some refor- 
mation at hand. The world was in expecta- 
tion. Luther appeared. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK II. 



THE YOUTH, CONVERSION, AND EARLY LABOURS OF LUTHER. 



1483—1517. 



iUther's Parents — Birth of Luther — Luther's Early Life — Magdeburg — His Hardships — The "Shu 
namite" — Recollections — The University — Discovery — The Bible — Mental Agitation — Visit to 
Mansfeld — Luther's Resolution — The Farewell — The Convent — Humiliations — Endurance — 
His Studies — Ascetic Life — Mental Struggle — Monastic Tendencies — Staupitz — Staupitz and 
Luther — Present of a Bible — The Aged Monk — The Change — Consecration — Luther at Eisleben 
— Invitation to Wittemberg — First Instructions — Lectures — The Old Chapel — His Preaching — 
Journey to Rome — Sickness at Bologna — Luther in Rome — Effects of his Journey — Pilate's 
Staircase — Confession of Faith — Luther leaves Home. — Carlstadt — Luther's Oath — Luther's 
Courage — Attacks the Schoolmen — Spalatin — Luther's Faith — His Preaching — Luther on Idolatry 
— On Superstitions — His Conduct — George Spenlein — The True Righteousness — Luther and 
Erasmus — Christian Charity — 'George Leiffer — Luther's Theses — His Visitation — Plague at 
Wittemberg — The Elector and the Relics — Spalatin — Duke George — Luther's Sermon — Emser 
— The Supper — Free Will — Theses — Nature of Man — Doctor Eck — Urban Regius — The Theses 
sent to Eck — Effect of the Theses. 



All things were ready. God who prepares 
his work for ages, accomplishes it, when his 
time is come, by the feeblest instruments. It 
is the method of God's providence to effect 
great results by inconsiderable means. This 
law, which pervades the kingdom of nature, 
is discerned also in the history of mankind. 
God chose the Reformers of the Church from 
the same condition, and worldly circum- 
stances, from whence he had before taken 
the Apostles. He chose them from that hum- 
ble class which, though not the lowest, can 
hardly be said to belong to the middle ranks. 
Everything was thus to make manifest to the 
world, that the work was not of man, but of 
God. The reformer, Zwingle, emerged from 
a shepherd's hut among the Alps; Melanc- 
thon, the great theologian of the Reformation, 
from an armourer's workshop : and Luther 
from the cottage of a poor miner. 

The opening period of a man's life, — that 
in which his natural character is formed and 
developed under the hand of God, — is always 
important. It is especially so in Luther's 
career. The whole Reformation was there. 

The different phases of this work succeeded 
each other in the mind of him who was to be 
the instrument for it, before it was publicly 
accomplished in the world. The knowledge 
of the Reformation effected in the heart of 
Luther himself is, in truth, the key to the 
Reformation of the Church. It is only by 
studying the work in the individual that we 
can comprehend the general work. They 
who neglect the former, will know but the 
form and exterior signs of the latter. They 
may gain knowledge of certain events and 
results, but they will never comprehend the 
intrinsic nature of that renovation ; for the 
principle of life that was the soul of it will 
remain unknown to them. Let us then study 
the Reformation of Luther himself, before we 
contemplate the facts that changed the state 
of Christendom. 

John Luther, the son of a peasant of the 
village of Mora, near Eisenach, in the county 
of Mansfeld, in Thuringia, descended from an 
ancient and widely-spread family of humble 



peasantry, married the daughter of an inhabit- 
ant of Neustadt, in the bishopric of Wurzburg, 
named Margaret Lindemann. The newly 
married couple left Eisenach, and went to set- 
tle in the little town of Eisleben, in Saxony. 

Seckendorff relates, on the testimony of 
Relhan, the superintendant of Eisenach in 
1601, that the mother of Luther, thinking that 
her time was not near, had gone to the fair of 
Eisleben, and that there she was brought to 
bed of her son. Notwithstanding the credit 
that is due to Seckendorff, this fact does not 
seem well authenticated ; indeed it is not al- 
luded to by any of the oldest historians of 
Luther ; moreover, the distance from Mora to 
Eisleben must be about twenty-four leagues, 
— a journey not likely to have been underta- 
ken in the state in which Luther's mother 
then was, for the sake of going to a fair; and 
lastly the testimony of Luther himself appears 
to contradict this assertion. 

John Luther was a man of upright charac- 
ter, diligent in his business, open-hearted, and 
possessing a strength of purpose bordering 
upon obstinacy. Of more cultivated mind 
than the generality of his class, he read much. 
Books were then rare ; but John did not 
neglect any opportunity of procuring them. 
They were his recreation in the intervals of 
rest that his severe and assiduous labours al- 
lowed him. Margaret possessed those vir- 
tues which adorn good and pious women. 
Modesty, the fear of God, and devotion, espe- 
cially marked her character. She was con- 
sidered by the mothers of families in the place 
where she resided, as a model worthy of their 
imitation. 

It is not precisely known how long the new- 
married couple had been settled at Eisleben, 
when, on the 10th of November, at 11 o'clock 
in the evening, Margaret gave birth to a son. 
Melancthon often questioned the mother of 
his friend as to the time of her son's birth. " I 
well remember the day and the hour," replied 
she; "but I am not certain about the year." 
But James, the brother of Luther, an honest 
and upright man, said that, according to the 
opinion of all the family, Martin was born in 



38 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the year of our Lord 1483, on the 10th of No- 
vember. It was the eve pf St. Martin. The 
first thought of his pious parents was to de- 
vote to "God, by the rite of baptism, the child 
that had been sent them. The next day, which 
was Tuesday, the father, with joy and grati- 
tude, carried his son to St. Peter's church. It 
was there he received the seal of his dedica- 
tion to the Lord. They named him Martin, 
in memory of the day. 

Little Martin was not six months old, when 
his parents left EisieDen, to go to Mansfeld, 
which is only five leagues distant. The mines 
of Mansfeld were then much celebrated. John 
Luther, an industrious man, feeling that he 
should perhaps be called .upon to bring up a 
numerous family, hoped to get a better liveli- 
hood there for himself and his children. It 
was in this town that the understanding and 
physical powers of young Luther were first 
developed ; it was there that his activity began 
to displa}' itself; — there he began to speak and 
act. The plains of Mansfeld, the banks of 
the Vipper, were the theatre of his first sports 
with the children of the neighbourhood. 

The early years of their abode at Mansfeld 
were full of difficulty for the worthy John and 
his wife. They lived at first in extreme 
poverty. " My parents," said the Reformer, 
"were very poor. My father was a woodcut- 
ter, and my mother has often carried the wood 
on her back, that she might earn wherewith 
to bring us children up. They endured the 
hardest labour for our sakes." The example 
of parents whom he reverenced, and the habits 
they trained him to, very early accustomed 
Luther to toil and frugal fare. How often may 
Martin, when a child have accompanied his 
mother to the wood, and made up and brought 
to her his little fagot. 

There are blessings promised to the labour 
of the righteous; and John Luther experienced 
their reality. He gradually made his way, 
and established at Mansfeld two small fur- 
naces for iron. By the side of these forges 
little Martin grew up, — and it was with the 
earnings of this industry that his father was 
afterwards able to place him at school. " It 
was from a miner's fireside," sa3 r s the worthy 
Mathesius, " that one who was destined to 
recast vital Christianity was to go forth : — an 
expression of God's purpose, by his means, to 
cleanse the sons of Levi, and refine them as 
gold in His furnace." Respected by all for 
his uprightness, irreproachable conduct, and 
good sense, he was made one of the council 
of Mansfeld, the chief town of the district so 
called. Circumstances of too pinching want 
might have weighed down their child's spirit; 
while comparatively easy circumstances would 
dilate, his heart and raise his character. 

John took advantage of his new appoint- 
ment, to court the society he preferred. He 
Taaid great attention to the learned, and often 
invited to his table the ecclesiastics and school- 
masters of the place. His house afforded a 
sample of those social meetings of citizens 
that did honour to Germany in the beginning 
of ihe 16th century. It was a kind of mirror, 



to which came, and wherein were reflected, 
the numerous subjects which successively 
took possession of the agitated stage of the 
times. The child derived advantage from 
this. Doubtless the sight of these men, to 
whom so much respect was shown in his 
father's house, excited in the heart of young 
Martin the ambitious desire that he himself 
might one day be a schoolmaster or a man of 
learning. 

As soon as he was old enough to receive 
instruction, his parents endeavoured to com- 
municate to him the knowledge of God, to 
train him in His fear, and form him to the 
practice of the Christian virtues. They applied 
the utmost care to this earliest domestic educa- 
tion. But their solicitude was not confined to 
this instruction. 

His father, desiring to see him acquire the 
elements of that learning for which he had so 
much esteem, invoked upon him the blessing 
of God, and sent him to school. Martin was 
then a little child. His father and Nicholas 
Emler, a young man of Mansfeld, often car- 
ried him in their arms to the house of George 
Emilius, and came again to fetch him. Years 
afterwards, Emler married Luther's sister. 
Fifty years later, the Reformer reminded the 
aged Nicholas of this touching mark of affec- 
tion received in his childhood, and commemo- 
rated it on the blank leaves of a book present- 
ed to this old friend. 

The piety of his parents, their active turn 
of mind and strict virtue, gave to the boy a 
happy impulse, and helped to form in him a 
habit of seriousness and application. In those 
days it was the practice to use chastisements 
and fear as the main impulses in education. 
Margaret, although she sometimes approved 
the too great severity of her husband, often 
opened her maternal arms to Martin, and com- 
forted him in his tears. Yet she herself over- 
stepped the precept of that wisdom which tells 
us that he who loves his child will chastise 
him early. The resolute character of the child . 
gave frequent occasion for correction and re- 
primand. " My parents," said Luther in after 
life, "treated me cruelly, so that I became 
very timid ; one day for a mere trifle my 
mother whipped me till the blood came. They 
truly thought they were doins' right; but they 
had no discernment of character, which is yet 

j absolutely necessary, that we may know when, 
on whom, and how, punishment should be 
inflicted." 

At school, the poor child was treated with 
equal severity. His master flogged him fifteen 
times in one day. " It is right," said Luther, 

j relating this fact, " it is right to punish child- 

, ren. but at the same time we must love them." 

j With such an education Luther early learned 
to despise the attractions of a self-indulgent 
life. It is a just remark of one of his earliest 
biographers, that " that which is to become 

; great must begin in small things ; and if child- 
ren are from their youth brought up with too 

j much daintiness and care, they are injured for 

I the rest of their lives." 

1 Martin learned something at school. He 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



39 



was taught the heads of the Catechism, the 
Ten Commandments, the Apostles' Creed, 
the Lord's Prayer, some hymns, some forms 
of prayer, a Latin Grammar composed in the 
fourth century by Donatus, master of St. 
Jerome, and which, improved by Remigius, a 
French monk, in the eleventh century, was for 
a long while in great repute in the schools; 
he also read the Cisio Janus, a singular 
calendar, composed in the tenth or eleventh 
century; — in a word all that was studied in 
the Latin school of Mansfeld. 

But it appears that the child was not yet led 
to God. The only religious feeling that he 
then manifested was that of fear. Every time 
that he heard Christ spoken of, he turned pale 
with terror; foi he had been represented to 
him only as an angry judge. This servile 
fear, which is so far removed from true reli- 
gion, perhaps prepared his mind for the good 
tidings of the gospel, and for that joy which 
he afterwards felt when he learned to know 
Christ as meek and lowly of heart. 

John Luther, in conformity with his pre- 
dilections, resolved to make his son a scholar. 
That new world of light and science which 
was everywhere producing vague excitement, 
reached even to the cottage of the miner of 
Mansfeld, and excited the ambition of Martin's 
father. The remarkable character, and per- 
severing application of his son, made John 
conceive the highest hopes of his success. 
Therefore, when Martin was fourteen years 
of age, in 1497, his father came to the resolu- 
tion of parting from him, and sending him to 
the school of the Franciscans at Magdeburg. 
Margaret was obliged to yield to this decision, 
and Martin made preparations for leaving his 
paternal roof. 

Amongst the young people of Mansfeld, 
there was one named John Reinecke, the son 
of a respectable burgher. Martin and John, 
who had been school-fellows, in early child- 
hood, had contracted a friendship which lasted 
to the end of their lives. The two boys set 
out together for Magdeburg. It was at that 
place, when separated from their families, 
that they drew closer the bonds of their friend- 
ship. 

Magdeburg was like a new world to Martin. 
In the midst of numerous privations, (for he 
had hardly enough to subsist on,) he observed 
and listened. Andreas Proles, a provincial 
of the Augustine order, was then preaching 
with great zeal the necessity of reforming 
Religion and the Church. Perhaps these 
discourses deposited in the soul of the youth 
the earliest germ of the thoughts which a 
later period unfolded. 

This was a severe apprenticeship for Luther. 
Cast upon the world at fourteen, without 
friends or protectors, he trembled in the pre- 
sence of his masters, and in his play-hours he 
and some children, as poor as himself, with 
difficulty begged their bread. "I was accus- 
tomed," says he, "with my companions to 
beg -a little food to supply our wants. One 
day about Christmas time, we were going all 
together through the neighbouring villages. 



from house to house, singing in concert tho 
usual carols on the infant Jesus born at 
Bethlehem. We stopped in front of a pea- 
sant's house which stood detached from the 
rest, at the extremity of the village. The 
peasant hearing us sing our Christmas carols, 
came out with some food which he meant to 
give us, and asked in a rough loud voice, 
'Where are you, boys?' Terrified at these 
words, we ran away as fast as we could. We 
had no reason to fear, for the peasant offered 
us this assistance in kindness; but our hearts 
were no doubt become fearful from the threats 
and tyranny which the masters then used 
towards their scholars, so that we were seized 
with sudden fright. At last, however, as the 
peasant still continued to call after us, we 
stopped, forgot our fears, ran to him, and 
received the food that he offered us. It is 
thus," adds Luther, " that we tremble and 
flee when our conscience is guilty and alarmed. 
Then we are afraid even of the help that is 
offered us, and of those who are our friends, 
and wish to do us good." 

A year had scarcely elapsed, when John 
and Margaret, hearing what difficulty theii 
son found in supporting himself at Magdeburg, 
sent him to Eisenach, where there was a cele 
brated school, and at which place they had 
relations. They had other children, and though 
their circumstances were much improved, they 
could not maintain their son in a city where 
he was a stranger. The unremitting labours 
of John Luther could do no more than support 
the family at Mansfeld. He hoped that when 
Martin got to Eisenach he would find it easier 
to earn his living. But he was not more 
fortunate there than he had been at Magdeburg. 
His relations who lived in the town did not 
trouble themselves about him, or perhaps they 
were very poor and could not give him any 
assistance. 

When the young scholar was pressed with 
hunger, he was obliged, as at Magdeburg, to 
go with his school-fellows and sing in the 
streets to earn a morsel of bread. This cus- 
tom of Luther's time is still preserved in 
many towns in Germany. These young 
people's voices sometimes form a most harmo- 
nious concert. Often the poor modest boy, 
instead of bread, received nothing but harsh 
words. More than once, overwhelmed with 
sorrow, he shed many tears in secret; he 
could not look to the future without trem- 
bling. 

One day, in particular, after having been 
repulsed from three houses, he was about to 
return fasting to his lodging, when having 
reached the Place St. George, he stood before 
the house of an honest burgher, motionless, 
and lost in painful reflections. Must he, for 
want of bread, give up his studies, and go to 
work with his father in the mines of Mans- 
feld ? Suddenly a door opens, a woman 
appears on the threshold : — it is the wife of 
Conrad Cotta, a daughter of the burgomaster 
of Eilfeld. Her name was Ursula. The 
chronicles of Eisenach call her " the pious 
Shunamite," in remembrance of her who so 



40 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



earnestly entreated the prophet Elijah to eat 
bread with her. This Christian Shunamite 
had more than once remarked young Martin 
in the assemblies of the faithful ; she had 
been affected by the sweetness of his voice 
and his apparent devotion. She had heard 
the harsh words with which the poor scholar 
Jiad been repulsed. She saw him over- 
whelmed with sorrow before her door; she 
;ame to his assistance, beckoned him to enter. 
*nd supplied his urgent wants. 

Conrad approved his wife's benevolence; 
ne even found so much pleasure in the society 
of young Luther, that, a few days afterwards, 
he took him to live in his house. From that 
moment he no longer feared to be obliged to 
relinquish his studies. He was not to return 
to Mansfeld, and bury the talent that God 
had committed to his trust! God had opened 
the heart and the doors of a Christian family 
at the very moment when he did not know 
what would become of him. This event 
disposed his soul to that confidence in God, 
which at a later period the severest trials could 
not shake. 

In the house of Cotta, Luther lived a very 
different life from that which he had hitherto 
done. He enjoyed a tranquil existence, 
exempt from care and want; his mind became 
more calm, his disposition more cheerful, his 
heart more enlarged. His whole nature was 
awakened by the sweet beams of charity, and 
began to expand into life, joy, and happiness. 
His prayers were more fervent; his thirst for 
learning became more ardent ; and he made 
rapid progress in his studies. 

To literature and science he united the 
study of the arts; for the arts also were then 
advancing in Germany. The men whom 
God designs to influence their contemporaries, 
are themselves at first influenced and led by 
the tendencies of the age in which they live. 
Luther learned to play on the flute and on the 
lute. He often accompanied his fine alto 
voice with the latter instrument, and thus 
cheered his heart in his hours of sadness. 
He also took pleasure in expressing by his 
melody his gratitude to his adoptive mother, 
who was very fond of music. He himself 
loved this art even to his old age, and com- 
posed the words and music of some of the 
most beautiful German hymns. 

Happy time for the young man ! Luther 
always looked back to them with emotion ! 
and a son of Conrad having gone many years 
after to study at VVittemberg, when the poor 
scholar of Eisenach had become the learned 
teacher of his age, he joyfully received him at 
his table and under his roof. He wished to 
repay in part to the son what he had received 
from the father and mother. 

It was when memory reverted to the Chris- 
tian woman who had supplied him with bread 
when every one else repulsed him, that he 
uttered this memorable saying: "There is 
nothing sweeter than the heart of a pious wo- 
man." 

But never did Luther feel ashamed of the 
time, when, pressed by hunger, he sorrow- 



fully begged the bread necessary for the sup- 
port of life and the continuance of his studies. 
So far from this, he thought with gratitude on 
the extreme poverty of his youth. He con- 
sidered it as one of the means that God had 
made use of to make him what he afterwards 
became, and he thanked him for it. The condi- 
tion of poor children, who were obliged to lead 
the same kind of life, touched him to the heart. 
" Do not despise," said he, " the boys who 
try to earn their bread by chanting before 
your door, ; bread for the love of God,' Paiiem 
■propter Dtum. I have done the same. It is 
true that in later years my father maintained 
me at the University of Erfurth, with much 
love and kindness, supporting me by the 
sweat of his brow ; but at one time I was only 
a poor mendicant. And now by means of my 
pen, I have succeeded so well, that I would 
not change fortunes with the Grand Seignor 
himself. I may say more : if I were to be 
offered all the possessions of the earth heaped 
one upon another, I would not take them in 
exchange for what I possess. And yet I 
should never have known what I do, if I had 
not been to school, and been taught to write." 
Thus did this great man acknowledge that 
these humble beginnings were the origin of 
his glory. He was not afraid of reminding 
his readers that that voice whose accents elec- 
trified the Empire and the world, had not very 
long before begged a morsel of bread in the 
streets of a petty town. The Christian takes 
pleasure in such recollections, because they 
remind him that it is in God alone that he is 
permitted to glory. 

The strength of his understanding, the live- 
liness of his imagination, and his excellent 
memory, enabled him in a short time to gel 
the start of all his fellow-students. He made 
especially rapid progress in the dead lan- 
guages, in rhetoric, and in poetry. He wrote 
sermons, and made verses. Cheerful, oblig- 
ing, and what is called good-hearted, he was 
beloved by his masters and his companions. 

Amongst the professors, he was particularly 
attached to John Trebonius, a learned man, of 
an agreeable address, and who had that regard 
for the young which is so encouraging to them 
Martin had observed that when Trebonius 
came into the school-room he took off his hat 
and bowed to the scholars ; a great condescen 
sion in those pedantic times. This had 
pleased the young man. He began to per- 
ceive that he himself was something. The 
respect paid him by his master had raised the 
scholar in his own estimation. The col- 
leagues of Trebonius, whose custom was dif- 
ferent, having one day expressed their asto- 
nishment at this extreme condescension, he 
answered them; — and his answer made an 
impression on young Luther. " There are," 
said he, " amongst these youths, some whom 
God will one day raise to the ranks of bur- 
gomasters, chancellors, doctors and magis- 
trates. Though you do not now see the 
outward signs of their respective dignities, it 
is yet proper to treat them with respect." 
Doubtless the young scholar heard these 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



41 



words with pleasure, and perhaps he then 
saw himself in prospect adorned with a doc- 
tor's cap. 

Luther had attained his eighteenth year. 
He had tasted the sweets of learning. He 
thirsted after knowledge. He sighed for a 
university education. He longed to go to one 
of those fountains of all knowledge, where his 
thirst for it might be satisfied. His father re- 
quired him to study the law. Full of confi- 
dence in his son's talents, he desired to see him 
cultivate them and make them known in the 
world. Already, in anticipation, he beheld 
him filling honourable offices amongst his fel- 
low-citizens, gaining the favour of princes, and 
shining on the great stage of the world. It 
was determined that the young man should be 
sent to Erfurth. 

Luther arrived at that university in the 
year 1501; Jodocus, surnamed the Doctor of 
Eisenach, was then teaching scholastic philo- 
sophy in that place with great success. Me- 
lancthon regrets that there was at that time 
nothing taught at Erfurth but a logic beset 
with difficulties. He expresses the opinion 
that if Luther had met with professors of a 
different character, if he had been taught the 
milder and more tranquillizing doctrines of 
true philosophy, it might have moderated and 
softened the natural vehemence of his cha- 
racter. The new pupil, however, began to 
study the philosophy of the times in the writ- 
ings of Occam, Scotus, Bonaventura, and 
Thomas Aquinas. In later years he looked 
upon this class of writers with abhorrence; — 
he trembled with rage when even the name of 
Aristotle was pronounced in his presence; and 
he went so far as to say that if Aristotle had 
not been a man, he should be tempted to take 
him for the devil. But his mind, eager for 
instruction, required better food; and he ap- 
plied himself to the study of the best ancient 
authors, Cicero, v irgil, and others. He did 
not satisfy himself, like the generality of stu- 
dents, with learning by heart the works of 
these writers; but he endeavoured especially 
to fathom their thoughts, to imbibe the spirit 
by which they were animated, to make their 
wisdom his own, to comprehend the object 
they aimed at in their writings, and to enrich 
his understanding with their weighty sen- 
tences and brilliant descriptions. He often 
pressed his tutors with inquiries, and soon 
outstript his school-fellows. Gifted with a 
retentive memory and a vivid imagination, all 
that he had read or heard remained fixed on 
his memory; it was as if he had seen it him- 
self. Thus did Luther distinguish himself 
in his early youth." The whole University," 
says Melancthon, "admired his genius." 

But even at this early period the young 
man of eighteen did not study merely with a 
view of cultivating his understanding; there 
was within him a serious thoughtfulness, a 
heart looking upwards, which God gives to 
those whom he designs to make his most 
zealous servants. Luther felt that he de- 
pended entirely upon God, — a simple and 
powerful conviction, which is at once a prin- 



ciple of deep humility and an incentive to 
great undertakings He fervently invoked 
the divine blessing upon his labours. Every 
morning he began the day with prayer; then 
he went to church ; afterwards he commenced 
his studies, and he never lost a moment in the 
course of the day. "To pray well," he was 
wont to say, "was the better half of study." 

The young student spent in the library of 
the university the moments he could snatch 
from his academical labours. Books being 
then scarce, it was in his eyes a great privi- 
lege to be able to profit by the treasures of this 
vast collection. One day, (he had been then 
two years at Erfurth, and was twenty years 
of age,) he was opening the books in the li- 
brary one after another, in order to read the 
names of the authors. One which he opened 
in its turn drew his attention. He had not 
seen anything like it till that hour. He reads 
the title : — it is a Bible ! a rare book, unknown 
at that time. His interest is strongly excited ; 
he is filled with astonishment at finding more 
in this volume than those fragments of the 
gospels and epistles which the Church has se- 
lected to be read to the people in their places 
of worship every Sunday in the year. Till 
then he had thought that they were the whole 
word of God. And here are so many pages, 
so many chapters, so many books, of which 
he had no idea ! His heart beats as he holds 
in his hand all the Scripture divinely inspired. 
With eagerness and indescribable feelings he 
turns over these leaves of God's word. The 
first page that arrests his attention, relates the 
history of Hannah and the young Samuel. He 
reads, and can scarcely restrain his joyful 
emotion. This child whom his parents lend 
to the Lord as long as he liveth ; Hannah's 
song in which she declares that the Lord 
raiseth up the poor out of the dust and lifteth 
up the beggar from the dunghill, to set him 
among princes ; the young Samuel who grows 
up in the temple before the Lord ; all this his- 
tory, all this revelation which he has discover- 
ed, excites feelings till then unknown. He 
returns home with a full heart. " Oh !" 
thought he, "if God would but give me such 
a book for my own ! Luther did not yet under- 
stand either Greek or Hebrew. It is not pro- 
bable that he should have studied those lan- 
guages during the first two or three years of 
his residence in the university. The Bible 
that filled him with such transport was in 
Latin. He soon returned to the library to find 
his treasure again. He read and re-read, and 
then in his surprise and joy, he went back to 
read again. The first gleams of a new tiuth 
then arose in his mind. 

Thus has God caused him to find His word ! 
He has now discovered that book of which he 
is one day to give to his countrymen that ad- 
mirable translation in which the Germans for 
three centuries have read the oracles of God. 
For the first time, perhaps, this precious 
volume has been removed from the place that 
it occupied in the library at Erfurth. This book, 
deposited upon the unknown shelves u( a dark 
room, is soon to become the book of life to a 



42 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



whole nation. The Reformation lay hid in 
that Bible. 

It was in the same year that Luther took 
his first academical degree, that of a bachelor. 

The excessive labour he had undergone in 
preparing for his examination, occasioned a 
dangerous illness. Death seemed at hand. 
Serious reflections filled his mind. He thought 
his earthly career was at an end. All were 
interested about the young man. " It was a 
pity," thought they, "to see so many hopes 
so early extinguished." Several friends came 
to visit him on his sick bed. Amongst them 
was an old man, a venerable priest, who had 
observed with interest the labours and academi- 
cal life of the student of Mansfeld. Luther 
could not conceal the thoughts that filled his 
mind. "Soon," said he, " I shall be sum- 
moned hence." But the prophetic old man 
kindly answered. " My dear bachelor, take 
courage! you will not die this time. Our 
God will yet make you his instrument in com- 
forting many others. For God lays his cross 
upon those whom he loves, and those who 
bear it patiently gain much wisdom." The 
words impressed the sick youth. It was a? 
he lay in the dust of death that he heard the 
voice of a priest remind him that God, as 
Samuel's mother had said, raiseth up the poor. 
The old man has poured sweet consolation 
into his heart, and revived his spirits ; he will 
never forget it. " This was the first prophecy 
the doctor ever heard," says Mathesius, the 
friend of Luther, who relates this circumstance, 
"and he often recollected it." We may easily 
comprehend in what sense Mathesius calls 
this speech a prophecy. 

When Luther was restored to health there 
was in him a something new. The Bible, his 
sickness, the words of the old priest, seemed 
to have called him to a new vocation. There 
was, however, as yet, no settled purpose in 
his mind. He resumed his studies. In 1505 
he was made master of arts, or doctor in phi- 
losophy. The university of Erfurth was then 
the most celebrated in all Germany. The others 
were in comparison but inferior schools. The 
ceremony was performed according to custom, 
with much pomp. A procession with torches 
came to do honour to Luther. The festival 
was magnificent. There was general rejoicing. 
Luther, perhaps, encouraged by these honours, 
prepared to apply himself entirely to the study 
of the law, agreeably to the wishes of his father. 

But God willed otherwise. Whilst Luther 
was engaged in various studies, and beginning 
to teach natural philosophy and the ethics of 
Aristotle, with the other branches of philoso- 
phy, his conscience incessantly reminded him 
that religion was the one thing needful, and 
that his first care should be the salvation of 
his soul. He had learned God's hatred of 
sin; he remembered the penalties that his 
word denounces against the sinner; and he 
asked himself tremblingly, if he was sure that 
he possessed the favour of God. His con- 
science answered: No! His character was 
prompt and decided; he resolved to do all 
that depended upon himself, to ensure a well 



grounded hope of immortality. Two events 
occurred, one after the other, to rouse his soul 
and confirm his resolution. 

Amongst his college friends there was one, 
named Alexis, with whom he was very inti- 
mate. One morning a report was spread in 
Erfurth that Alexis had been assassinated. 
Luther hurried to the spot and ascertained the 
truth of the report. This sudden loss of his 
friend affected him, and the question which he 
asked himself: "What would become of me, 
if / were thus suddenly called away 1" filled 
his mind with the liveliest apprehension. 

It was then the summer of 1505. Luther 
availed himself of the leisure afforded him by 
the university vacation, to take a journey to 
Mansfeld, to revisit the beloved abode of his in 
fancy, and to see his affectionate parents. Per- 
haps, also, he intended to open his heart to his 
father, to sound him upon the plan that was 
forming in his mind, and obtain his permission 
to engage in a different vocation. He foresaw 
all the difficulties that awaited him. The idle 
life of the greater part of the priests was par- 
ticularly offensive to the active miner of Mans- 
feld. The ecclesiastics were moreover little 
esteemed in society : most of them possessed 
but a scanty revenue, and the father who had 
made many sacrifices to keep his son at the 
university, and saw him lecturing publicly in 
his twentieth year, in a celebrated school, was 
not likely readily to renounce his proud hopes. 

We are not informed of what passed during 
Luther's abode at Mansfeld. Perhaps the de- 
cided wish of his father made him fear to open 
his mind to him. He again left his father's 
house for the halls of the academy. He was 
within a short distance of Erfurth when he 
was overtaken by a violent storm. The thun- 
der roared ; a thunderbolt sunk into the ground 
by his side. Luther threw himself on his 
knees. His hour is perhaps come. Death, 
judgment, eternity, are before him in all their 
terrors, and speak with a voice which he can 
no longer resist. " Encompassed with the 
anguish and terror of death," ashe himself 
says, he makes a vow, if God will deliver him 
from this danger, to forsake the world, and 
devote himself to His service. Risen from 
the earth, having still before his eyes that 
death that must one day overtake him, he ex- 
amines himself seriously, and inquires what 
he must do. The thoughts that formerly 
troubled him return with redoubled power. 
He has endeavoured, it is true, to fulfil all his 
duties. But what is the state of his soul ] 
Can he, with a polluted soul, appear before 
the tribunal of so terrible a God 1 He must 
become holy. He now thirsts after holiness 
as he had thirsted after knowledge. But 
where shall he find it'] How is it to be at- 
tained 1 The university has furnished him 
with the means of satisfying his first wish. 
Who will assuage this anguish, this vehement 
desire that consumes him now 1 To what school 
of holiness can he direct his steps? He wiil 
go into a cloister ; the monastic life will ensure 
his salvation. How often has he been told 
of its power to change the heart, to cleanse 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



43 



the sinner, to make man perfect ! He will 
enter into a monastic order. He will there 
hecome holy. He will thus ensure his eter- 
nal salvation. 

Such was the event that changed the voca- 
tion and the whole destiny of Luther. The 
hand of God was in it. It was that powerful 
hand that cast to the ground the young master 
of arts, the aspirant to the bar, the intended 
jurisconsult, to give an entirely new direction 
to his after life. Rubianus, one of Luther's 
friends at the university of Erfurth, wrote to 
him in later times : " Divine Providence fore- 
saw what you would one day become, when, 
on your return from your parents, the fire of 
heaven struck you to the ground, like another 
Paul, near the city of Erfurth, and separating 
you from us, led you to enter the Augustine 
order." Thus, similar circumstances marked 
the conversion of two of the greatest instru- 
ments chosen by Divine Providence to effect 
the two greatest revolutions that have ever 
taken place upon the earth : Saint Paul and 
Luther.* 

Luther re-onters Erfurth. His resolution is 
unalterable. Still it is with reluctance that 
he prepares to break ties that are so dear to 
him. He does not communicate his design 
to any of his companions. But one evening 
he invites his college friends to a cheerful and 
simple repast. Music once more enlivens 
their social meeting. It is Luther's farewell 
to the world. Henceforth the companions of 
his pleasures and studies are to be exchanged 
for the society of monks; cheerful and witty 
discourse for the silence of the cloister : merry 
voices, for the solemn harmony of the quiet 
chapel. God calls him; he must sacrifice all 
things. Now, however, for the last time, let 
him give way to the joys of his youth ! The 
repast excites his friends. Luther himself 
encourages their joy. But at the moment 
when their gaiety is at its height, the young 
man can no longer repress the serious thoughts 
that occupy his mind. He speaks. He de- 
clares his intention to his astonished friends ; 
they endeavour to oppose it; but in vain. 
And that very night Luther, perhaps dreading 
their importunity, quits his lodgings. He 
leaves behind his books and furniture, taking 
with him only Virgil and Plautus. (He had 
not yet a Bible.) Virgil and Plautus! an 
epic poem, and comedies ! Singular picture 
of Luther's mind ! There was, in fact, in his 
character, the materials of a complete epic 
poem; beauty, grandeur, and sublimity; but 
his disposition inclined to gaiety, wit, and 
mirth; and more than one ludicrous trait 
broke forth from the serious and noble ground- 
work of his life. 

Furnished with these two books, he goes 
alone in the darkness of the night, to the con- 



* Some historians relate that Alexis was killed 
by the thunder-bolt that alarmed Luther; but two 
contemporaries, Mathesius and Selneccer (in Orat. 
de Luth.) distinguish between these two events ; 
we may even add to their testimony that of Me- 
lancthon, who says, " Sodalem nescio quo casu 
imerfectum." (Vita Luth. N 



vent of the hermits of St. Augustine. He 
asks admittance. The door opens and closes 
again. Behold him forever separated from 
his parents, from his companions in study, 
and from the world. It was the 17th of 
August, 1505. Luther was then twenty-one 
years and nine months old. 

At length he is with God. His soul is safe. 
He is now to obtain that holiness he so ar- 
dently desired. The monks who gathered 
round the young doctor were full of admiration, 
commending his decision and renunciation of 
the world. But Luther did not forget his 
friends. He wrote to them, bidding adieu to 
them and to the world, and the next day he sent 
them these letters, together with the clothes he 
had till then worn, and the ring he received, 
when made master of arts, which he returned 
to the university, that nothing might remind 
him of the world he had renounced. 

His friends at Erfurth were struck with 
astonishment. Must it be, thought they, thai 
such eminent talents should be lost in thai 
monastic life, which is but a kind of burial 
alive. Full of grief, they immediately re- 
paired to the convent, in hopes of inducing 
Luther to retract so fatal a resolution; but in 
vain. The doors were closed against them. 
A whole month was to elapse before any one 
could be permitted to see the new monk, or to 
speak to him. 

Luther had almost immediately communi- 
cated to his parents the great change that had 
now taken place. His father was thunder- 
struck. He trembled for his son, as Luther 
himself tells in the dedication of his book on 
monastic vows, addressed to his father. Hia 
weakness, his youth, the strength of his pas- 
sions, made his father fear that, after the first 
moments of enthusiasm should have passed, 
the indolent life of a monk might either tempt 
the young man to despair, or occasion him to 
fall into some grievous sin. He knew that a 
monastic life had already ruined many. Be- 
sides, the miner of Mansfeld had formed 
other plans for his sow. He had hoped that 
he would contract a rich and honourable mar- 
riage. And now all his ambitious projects 
were overthrown in one night by this impru- 
dent step. 

John wrote an angry letter to his son, in 
which he used a tone of authority that he had 
laid aside from the period when his son had 
been made Master of Arts. He withdrew all 
his favour, and declared him disinherited from 
a father's love. In vain did John Luther's 
friends, and doubtless his wife, endeavour to 
soften his displeasure, by saying: "If you 
would make a sacrifice to God, let it be the 
best and dearest of your possessions, your 
son, your Isaac." The inexorable town-coun- 
cillor of Mansfeld would listen to nothing. 

After some time, however, (Luther tells us 
this in a sermon preached at Wittemberg, the 
20th of January, 1544,) the plague visited the 
neighbourhood, and deprived John Luther of 
two of his sons. Just then there came one 
who told the father, who was in deep afflic- 
tion : " The monk of Erfurth is also dead." 



44 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



His friends took that opportunity of recon- 
ciling the father to the young novice. " If it 
should be a false report," said they, "at least 
sanctify your present affliction by consenting 
that your son should be a monk." " Well, be 
it so," said John Luther, with a heart broken 
and yet struggling; "and God grant he may 
prosper!" When Luther, at a later period, 
reconciled to his father, related the event that 
had induced him to embrace a monastic life : 
" God grant," replied the worthy miner, "that 
you may not have mistaken a delusion of the 
devil for a sign from heaven." 

There was then in Luther little of that 
which made him in after life the Reformer of 
the Church. His entering into a convent is 
a proof of this. It was an act in that spirit 
of a past age from which he was to contribute 
to deliver the Church. He who was about to 
become the teacher of the world, was as yet 
only its servile imitator. A new stone was 
added to the edifice of superstition, by the very 
person who was shortly to overturn it. Lu- 
ther was then looking for salvation in himself, 
in works and observances ; he knew not that 
salvation cometh of God only. He sought to 
establish his own righteousness and his own 
glory, — being ignorant of the righteousness and 
glory of God. But what he was then igno- 
rant of he soon learned. It was in the cloister 
of Erfurth that the great change was effected 
which substituted in his heart God and His 
wisdom, for the world and its traditions, and 
prepared the mighty revolution of which he 
was the most illustrious instrument. 

Martin Luther, on entering the convent, 
changed his name, and took that of Augustine. 
" What can be more mad and impious," said 
he, in relating this circumstance, "than to re- 
nounce one's Christian name for the sake of a 
cowl! It is thus the popes are ashamed of 
their Christian names, and show thereby that 
they are deserters from Jesus Christ." 

The monks had received him joyfully. It 
was no small gratification to their self-love to 
see the university forsaken, by one of its most 
eminent scholars, for a house of their order. 
Nevertheless, they treated him harshly, and 
imposed upon him the meanest offices. They 

fierhaps wished to humble the doctor of phil- 
osophy, and to teach him that his learning 
did not raise him above his brethren ; and 
thought, moreover, by this method, to prevent 
his devoting himself to his studies, from which 
the convent would derive no advantage. The 
former master of arts was obliged to perform 
the functions of door-keeper, to open and shut 
the gates, to wind up the clock, to sweep the 
church, to clean the rooms. Then, when the 
poor monk, who was at once porter, sexton, 
and servant of the cloister, had finished his 
work: " Cum sacco per civitatem — With your 
bag through the town !" cried the brothers ; 
and, loaded with his bread-bag, he was obliged 
to go through the streets of Erfurth, begging 
from house to house, and perhaps at the doors 
of those very persons who had been either his 
friends or his inferiors. But he bore it all. 
fnclined, from his natural disposition, to de- 



vote himself heartily to whatever he under- 
took, it was with his whole soul that he had 
become a monk. Besides, could he wish to 
spare the body? to regard the satisfying of 
the flesh? Not thus could he acquire the 
humility, the holiness, that he had come to 
seek within the walls of a cloister'? 

The poor monk, overwhelmed with toil, 
eagerly availed himself of every moment he 
could snatch from his degrading occupations. 
He sought to retire apart from his companions, 
and give himself up to his beloved studies. 
But the brethren soon perceived this, came 
about him with murmurs, and forced him to 
leave his books: " Come, come! it is not by 
study, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, 
meat and money, that you can benefit the 
cloister." And Luther submitted, put away 
his books, and resumed his bag. Far from 
repenting of the yoke he had taken upon him- 
self, he resolved to go through with it. Then 
it was that the inflexible perseverance with 
which he ever prosecuted the resolutions he 
had once formed began to develope itself. His 
patient endurance of this rough usage gave a 
powerful energy to his will. God was exer- 
cising him first with small trials, that he might 
learn to stand firm in great ones. Besides, to 
be able to deliver the age in which he lived 
from the miserable superstitions under which 
it groaned, it was necessary that he should 
feel the weight of them. To empty the cup, 
he must drink it to the very dregs. 

This severe apprenticeship did not, how- 
ever, last so long as Luther might have feared. 
The prior of the convent, upon the intercession 
of the university of which Luther was a mem- 
ber, freed him from the mean offices the monks 
had imposed upon him. The young monk 
then resumed his studies with fresh zeal. 
The works of the Fathers of the Church, es- 
pecially those of St. Augustine, attracted his 
attention. The exposition which this cele- 
brated doctor has written upon the Psalms, 
and his book concerning the Letter and the 
Spirit, were his favourite reading. Nothing 
struck him so much as the opinions of this 
Father upon the corruption of man's will, and 
upon the grace of God. He felt, in his own 
experience, the reality of that corruption, and 
the necessity for that grace. The words of 
St. Augustine found an echo in his heart: if 
he could have belonged to any other school 
than that of Christ, it would have undoubted- 
ly been that of the doctor of Hippo. He 
almost knew by heart the works of Peter 
d'Ailly and of Gabriel Biel. He was struck 
with an observation of the former, that if the 
Church had not decided otherwise, it would 
have been preferable to allow that we really 
receive the bread and wine in the Holy Sacra- 
ment, and not mere accidents. 

He also studied with attention Occam ind 
Gerson, who have so freely expressed them- 
selves concerning the authority of the Popes 
To this course of reading he united other ex- 
ercises. He was heard publicly to unravel 
the most complicated arguments, and extri- 
cate himself from labyrinths whence others 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



45 



?ould find no outlet. His hearers were asto- 
nished. 

But it was not to gain the credit of being 
a great genius that he entered a cloister; it 
was to find the aliments of piety to God. He 
regarded these pursuits only as recreations. 

He loved, above all, to draw wisdom from 
the pure spring of the Word of God. He 
found in the convent a Bible, fastened by a 
chain. He had constant recourse to this 
chained Bible. He understood but little of 
the Word ; but still it was his most absorbing 
study. Sometimes he would meditate on. a 
single passage for a whole day ; another time 
he learned by heart some parts of the Prophets, 
but above all he wished to acquire, from the 
writings of the Apostles and Prophets, the 
knowledge of God's will, — to increase in 
reverence for His name, — and to nourish his 
faith by the sure testimony of the word. 

It was apparently at this period, that he 
began to study the Scriptures in the originals, 
and, by this means, to lay the foundation of the 
most perfect and useful of his printed works, 
— the translation of the Bible. He made use 
of the Hebrew Lexicon, by Reuchlin, which 
had just appeared. John Lange, a brother in 
the convent, who was skilled in the Greek 
and Hebrew, and with whom he always main- 
tained an intimate acquaintance, probably as- 
sisted him at the outset. He also made much 
use of the learned comments of Nicholas Lyra, 
who died in 1340. It was this circumstance 
that made Pflug (afterwards Bishop of Naum- 
burg) remark : " Si Lyra nan lyrasset, Luther- 
us nun saltasset. — If Lyra had not played his 
lyre Luther had never danced." 

The young monk applied himself to his 
studies with so much zeal, that often, for two 
or three weeks together, he would omit the 
prescribed prayers. But he was soon alarmed 
by the thought that he had transgressed the 
rules of his order. Then he shut himself up 
to redeem his negligence ; he set himself to 
repeat conscientiously all his omitted prayers 
without thinking of his necessary food. On 
one occasion he passed seven weeks almost 
without sleep. 

Burning with the desire after that holiness 
which he had sought in the cloister, Luther 
gave himself up to all the rigour of an ascetic 
life. He endeavoured to crucify the flesh by 
fastings, macerations, and watchings. Shut 
up in his cell, as in a prison, he was continu- 
ally struggling against the evil thoughts and 
inclinations of his heart. A little bread, a 
single herring, were often his only food. In- 
deed he was constitutionally abstemious. So 
it was that his friends have often seen him, — 
even after he had learned that heaven was not 
to be purchased by abstinence, — content him- 
self with the poorest food, and go four days 
together without eating or drinking. This is 
stated on the authority of a credible witness, 
— Melancthon ; and we see from this how 
little attention is due to the fables which igno- 
rance and prejudice have circulated as to in- 
temperance in Luther. Nothing was too 
great a sacrifice, at the period we speak of, 



for the sake of becoming holy to gain heaven. 
Never did the Romish Church contain a monk 
of more piety ; never did a cloister witness 
efforts more sincere and unwearied to purchase 
eternal happiness. When Luther, become a 
Reformer, declared that heaven could not be 
thus purchased, he knew well what he said: 
" Verily," wrote he to Duke George of Sax- 
ony, "I was a devout monk, and followed the 
rules of my order so strictly, that I cannot tell 
you all. If ever a monk entered into heaven 
by his monkish merits, certainly I should have 
obtained an entrance there. All the monks 
who knew me will confirm this ; and if it had 
lasted much longer, I should have become 
literally a martyr, through watchings, prayer, 
reading, and other labours." 

We approach the period which made Luther 
a new man; and, by discovering to him the 
unfathomable *love of God, created in him the 
power to declare it to the world. 

Luther did not find, in the tranquillity of the 
cloister and monkish perfection, the peace he 
was in quest of. He wanted an assurance 
that he was saved. This was the great want 
of his soul ; without it he could not rest. 
But the fears which had shaken him in the 
world, pursued him to his cell. Nay, more, 
they increased there, and the least cry of his 
conscience seemed to resound beneath the 
vaulted roofs of the cloister. God had led 
him thither, that he might learn to know him- 
self, and to despair of his own strength or 
virtues. His conscience, enlightened by the 
Divine Word, taught him what it was to be 
holy ; but he was filled with terror at finding, 
neither in his heart nor in his life, the tran* 
script of that holiness which he contemplated 
with wonder in the Word of God. Melancholy 
discovery ! and one that is made by every 
sincere man. No righteousness within ; no 
righteousness in outward action: everywhere 
omission of duty, — sin, pollution. — The more 
ardent Luther's natural character, the more 
powerful was this secret and constant resis- 
tance of his nature to that which is good, and 
the deeper did it plunge him into despair. 

The monks and theologians encouraged him 
to do good works, and in that way satisfy the 
divine justice. "But what works," thought 
he, " can proceed out of a heart like mine ? 
How can I, with works, polluted even in their 
source and motive, stand before a Holy 
Judge?" — "I was, in the sight of God, a 
great sinner," says he ; " and I could not 
think it possible for me to appease him with 
my merits." 

He was agitated and dejected ; shunning 
the trivial and dull discourse of the monks. 
The latter, unable to comprehend the tempes- 
tuous heavings of his soul, watched him with 
astonishment, while they complained of his 
silent and unsocial manners. One day, 
Cochlreus tells us, whilst mass was perform- 
ing in the chapel, Luther's abstraction led him 
thither, and he found himself in the choir in 
the midst of the monks, dejected and in 
anguish of mind. The priest had bowed 
before the altar — the incense was offered, the 



46 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



Gloria chanted, and the gospel was being 
read, when the unhappy monk, unable to 
suppress his mental torment, exclaimed, fall- 
ing upon his knees, " It is not I — it is not I." 
The monks were all amazement, and the 
solemnity was for an instant interrupted. 
Luther may perhaps have thought he heard 
some reproach of which he knew himself 
guiltless; or he may have meant, at the mo- 
ment, to declare himself undeserving of being 
of the number of those to whom Christ's 
death had brought eternal life. According to 
Cochlaeus, the gospel of the day was the 
account of the dumb man out of whom Jesus 
cast a devil. Possibly Luther's exclamation 
(if the story be true,) had reference to this 
fact, and that resembling the dagmoniac in 
being like him speechless, he by his cry pro- 
tested that his silence was owing to a different 
cause from daemoniacal possession. Indeed, 
Cochlasus tells us that the monks did some- 
times ascribe the mental distresses of their 
brother to a secret intercourse with the devil, 
and that writer appears himself to have shared 
in the opinion. 

A tender conscience led him to regard the 
least sin as a great crime. No sooner had he 
detected it, than he laboured to expiate it by 
the strictest self-denial ; and that served only 
to make him feel the inutility of all human 
remedies. " I tormented myself to death," 
says he, " to procure for my troubled heart and 
agitated conscience peace in the presence of 
God : but encompassed with thick darkness, I 
nowhere found peace." 

All the practices of monkish holiness which 
quieted so many drowsy consciences around 
him, and to which in his agony of mind he 
had recourse, soon evinced themselves to be 
useless prescriptions of an empirical quackery 
in religion. " When during the time I was a 
monk, I felt temptations assail me, I am a lost 
man, thought I. Immediately I resorted to a 
thousand methods to appease the reproaches 
of my heart. I confessed every day. But. all 
that was of no use. Then, overwhelmed with 
dejection, I distressed myself by the multi- 
tude of my thoughts. See, said I to myself, 
thou art envious, impatient, passionate; there- 
fore wretch that thou art ! it is of no use to 
thee to have entered into this holy order." 

And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices 
of the age, had from his youth deemed the re- 
medies of which he now experienced the in- 
efficacy, the certain cure of a sick soul. What 
was to be thought of this strange discovery 
which he had just made in the solitude of his 
cloister 1 ? One may then live in the sanctuary, 
and yet carry within a man of sin. He has 
obtained another garment, but not another 
heart; his hopes are disappointed ; where shall 
he turn] All these rules and observances, 
can they be mere inventions] Such a suppo- 
sition appeared to him one moment as a temp- 
tation of the devil, — and the next, an irresisti- 
ble truth. Struggling either against the holy 
voice which spoke in his heart, or against the 
venerable institutions which had the sanction 
of ages, Luther's existence was a continued 



conflict. The young monk moved, like a 
spectre, through the long corridors of the clois- 
ters with sighs and groans. His bodily powers 
failed, his strength forsook him; sometimes he 
was motionless as if dead. 

One day, overcome with sadness, he shut 
himself in his cell, and for several days and 
nights suffered no one to approach him. One 
of his friends, Lucas Edemberger, uneasy 
about the unhappy monk, and having some 
presentiment of his state, took with him some 
young boys, choral singers, and went and 
knocked at the door of his cell. No one open- 
ed or answered. The good Edemberger, still 
more alarmed, broke open the door, and dis- 
covered Luther stretched on the floor in un- 
consciousness, and without any sign of life. 
His friend tried in vain to recall his senses, 
but he continued motionless. Then the young 
choristers began to sing a sweet hymn. Their 
clear voices acted like a charm on the poor 
monk, to whom music had always been a 
source of delight, and by slow degrees his 
strength and consciousness returned. But if 
for a few instants music could restore to him 
a degree of serenity, another and more power- 
ful remedy was needed for the cure of his mala- 
dy ; there was needed that sweet and penetrat- 
ing sound of the Gospel, which is the voice 
of God. He felt this to be his want. Accord- 
ingly his sufferings and fears impelled him to 
study with unwearied zeal the writings of the 
Apostles and Prophets. 

Luther was not the first monk who had 
passed through these conflicts. The cloisters 
often enveloped in their dark walls abomina- 
ble v vices, which, if they had been revealed, 
would have made an upright mind shudder; 
but often also they concealed Christian vir- 
tues, which grew up beneath the shelter of a 
salutary retirement; and which, if they had 
been brought forth to view, would have been 
the admiration of the world. They who pos- 
sessed these virtues, living only with each 
other and with God, drew no attention from 
without, and were often unknown even to the 
small convent in which they were enclosed ; — 
their life was known only to God. At times 
these humble recluses fell into that mystic theo- 
logy, the melancholy failing of the noblest 
minds, which in an earlier age had been the 
delight of the first monks on the banks of the 
Nile, and which wears out unprofitably the 
souls in which it reigns. 

But whenever one of these men was called 
to fill a distinguished post, he manifested vir- 
tues of which the salutary effects were long 
and widely felt. The candle being placed on 
the candlestick, gave light to all the house; 
many were awakened by this light. Thus it 
was that these pious souls were propagated 
from generation to generation; and they were 
shining like distant torches in the very periods 
when the cloisters were often only the impure 
receptacles of darkness. 

There was a young man who had thus dis- 
tinguished himself in one of the convents in 
Germany. His name was John Staupitz; he 
was descended from a nob\e family in Misnia, 




LUTHER WORN-OUT BY PENANCES. 

WfWM' 




LUTHER COMFORTED BY A MONK. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



47 



From early youth he had been marked by a 
taste for letters and a love of virtue. He felt 
the necessity of retirement that he might de- 
vote himself to learning. But he soon found 
that philosophy, and the study of nature, 
could do nothing for ou,r eternal salvation. 

He therefore began to study divinity. But 
he especially endeavoured to join obedience 
with knowledge. " For," says one of his 
biographers, " it is in vain to call ourselves 
divines, if we do not confirm that noble title 
by our lives." The study of the Bible and 
of St. Augustine, the knowledge of himself, 
the war he, like Luther, had to wage with the 
deceitfulness and lusts of his own heart, — 
led him to the Saviour. He found in faith in 
Christ,, Peace to his soul. The doctrine of 
the Election by Grace especially engaged his 
thoughts. The uprightness of his life, the 
depth of his learning, the eloquence of his 
speech, no less than a striking exterior and 
dignified manners, recommended him to his 
contemporaries. The Elector of Saxony, 
Frederic the Wise, honoured him with his 
friendship, employed him in several embas- 
sies, and founded under his direction the Uni- 
versity of Wittemberg. Staupitz was the 
first professor of divinity in that school, from 
whence the light was one day U, issue to en- 
lighten the schools and churches of so many 
nations. He was present at the Council of 
Lateran, in place of the archbishop of Salz- 
burg, became provincial of his order in Thu- 
ringia and Saxony, and afterwards Vicar- 
general of the Augustines for all Germany. 

Staupitz deeply lamented the corruption of 
morals and the errors of doctrine which then 
devastated the Church. His writings on ' the 
love of God,' 'on Christian faith,' and 'con- 
formity with the death of Christ,' as well as 
the testimony of Luther, give proof of this. 
But he considered the first of these two evils 
as much greater than the latter. Besides, the 
gentleness and indecision of his character, his 
desire not to go beyond the sphere of action 
which he thought assigned to him, made him 
more fit to be the restorer of a convent than 
the Reformer of the Church. He would have 
wished to raise none but men of distinguished 
characters to offices of importance, but not 
finding them, he submitted to the necessity of 
employing others. " We must," said he, 
" plough with such horses as we can find ; 
and if we cannot find horses, we must plough 
with oxen." 

We have seen the anguish and internal 
struggles which Luther underwent in the con- 
vent of Erfurth. At this period the visit of 
the Vicar-general was announced. Staupitz, 
in fact, arrived in his usual visitation of in- 
spection. The friend of Frederic, the founder 
of the University of Wittemberg, the chief of 
the Augustines, cast a benevolent look upon 
those monks who were subject to his authority. 
Soon one of the brothers attracted his notice. 
He was a young man of middle stature, re- 
duced by study, fasting, and watching, so that 
you might count his bones. His eyes, which 
were afterwards compared to a falcon's, were 
5 



sunk; his demeanour was dejected ; his coun« 
tenance expressed a soul agitated with severe 
conflicts, but yet strong and capable of en- 
durance. There was in his whole appearance 
something grave, melancholy, and solemn 
Staupitz, who had acquired discernment by 
long experience, easily discerned what was 
passing in that mind, and at once distinguished 
the young monk from all his companions 
He felt drawn towards him, had a kind of 
presentiment of his singular destiny, and soon 
experienced for his inferior a paternal interest. 
He, like Luther, had been called to struggle; 
he could, therefore, understand his feelings. 
He could, above all, show him the path to 
that peace which he had himself found. What 
he was told of the circumstances that had in- 
duced the young Augustine to enter the con- 
vent, increased his sympathy. He enjoined 
the prior to treat him with more mildness. 
He availed himself of the opportunities his 
office afforded for gaining the confidence of 
the young monk. He approached him affec- 
tionately, and endeavoured in every way to 
overcome the timidity of the novice — a timidity 
increased by the respect and fear that he felt 
for a person of rank so exalted as that of 
Staupitz. 

The heart of Luther, which had remained 
closed under harsh treatment, at last opened 
and expanded to the sweet beams of love. 
" As in water face answereth to face, so the 
heart of man to man." (Prov. xxvii. 9.) 
Staupitz's heart responded to that of Luther. 
The Vicar -general understood him. The monk 
felt towards him a confidence till then un- 
known. He opened to him the cause of his 
sadness, he described the horrid thoughts that 
distressed him, and hence ensued, in the clois- 
ter of Erfurth, conversations full of wisdom 
and instruction. 

"It is in vain," said the dejected Luther 
to Staupitz, "that I make promises to God; 
sin is always too strong for me." 

" Oh, my friend," answered the Vicar- 
general, looking back on his own experience, 
"I have vowed to the holy God more than a 
thousand times that I would live a holy life, 
and never have I kept my vow ! I now make 
no more vows, for I know well I shall not 
keep them. If God will not be merciful to 
me for Christ's sake, and grant me a happy 
death when I leave this w T orld, I cannot, with 
all my vows and good works stand before 
him. I must perish." 

The young monk is terrified at the thought 
of divine justice. He confesses all his fears. 
The unspeakable holiness of God — his sove- 
reign majesty fill him with awe. Who can 
endure the day of his coming] Who can 
stand when he appeareth 1 

Staupitz resumed. He knew where he had 
found peace, and it was in his heart to tell the 
young man. " Why," said ne, " do you dis- 
tress yourself with these speculations and 
high thoughts ?• Look to the wounds of Jesus 
Christ, to the blood which he has shed for 
you ; it is there you will see the mercy of 
God. Instead of torturing yourself for your 



48 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



faults, cast yourself into the arms of the Re- 
deemer. Trust in him, — in the righteousness 
of his life, in the expiatory sacrifice of his 
death. Do not shrink from him; God is not 
against you ; it is you who are estranged and 
averse from God. Listen to the Son of God. 
He became man to assure you of the divine 
favour. He says to you, ' You are my sheep ; 
you hear my voice; none shall pluck you out 
of my hand.' " 

But Luther could not find in himself the 
repentance he thought necessary to his salva- 
tion ; he answered, (and it is the usual answer 
of distressed and timid minds,) " How can 1 
dare believe in the favour of God, so long as 
there is no real conversion'? I must be 
changed before He can receive me." 

His venerable guide proves to him that 
there can be no real conversion, so long as 
man fears God as a severe judge. " What 
will you say then," cries Luther, "to so 
many consciences, to whom are prescribed a 
thousand insupportable penances in order to 
gain heaven?" 

Then he hears this answer from the Vicar- 
general ; — or rather he does not believe that it 
comes from a man ; it seems to him a voice 
resounding from heaven. "There is," said 
Staupitz, " no true repentance but that which 
begins in the love of God and of righteous- 
ness. That which some fancy to be the end 
of repentance is only its beginning. In order 
to be filled with the love of that which is 
good, you must first be filled with the love of 
God. If you wish to be really converted, do 
not follow these mortifications and penances. 
Love him who has first loved you" 

Luther listens, and listens again. These 
consolations fill him with a joy before un- 
known, and impart to him a new light. "It 
is Jesus Christ," thinks he in his heart; 
"yes, it is Jesus Christ himself who comforts 
me so wonderfully by these sweet and saluta- 
ry words." 

These words, indeed, penetrated the heart of 
the young monk like a sharp arrow from the 
bow of a strong man. In order to repentance, 
we must love God! Guided by this new light, 
he consulted the Scriptures. He looked to all 
the passages which speak of repentance and 
conversion. These words, so dreaded hitherto, 
(to use his own expressions,) become to him 
an agreeable pastime and the sweetest refresh- 
ment. All the passages of Scripture which 
once alarmed him, seemed now to run to him 
from all sides, to smile, to spring up and play 
around him. 

" Before," he exclaims, " though I carefully 
dissembled with God as to the state of my 
heart, and though I tried to express a love for 
him, which was only a constraint and a mere 
fiction, there was no word in the Scripture 
more bitter to me than that of repentance. But 
now there is not one more sweet and pleasant 
tome. Oh! how blessed are all God's pre- 
cepts, when we read them not in books alone, 
but in the precious wounds of the Saviour. 1 ' 

However, Luther, though comforted by the 
words of Staupitz, sometimes relapsed into 



depression. Sin was again felt in his timid 
conscience, and then to the joy of salvation, 
succeeded all his former despair. " Oh, my 
sin ! my sin ! my sin !' cried the young monk, 
one day in the presence of the Vicar-general, 
and in a tone of the bitterest grief. " Well, 
would you be only the semblance of a sinner," 
replied the latter, " and have only the semblance 
of a Saviour V And then Staupitz added 
with authority : " Know that Jesus Christ is 
the Saviour of those even who are real and 
great sinners, and deserving of utter con- 
demnation." 

It was not only the sin that he found in his 
heart that troubled Luther: to the doubts of 
his conscience were added those of his reason. 
If the holy precepts of the Bible distressed 
him, some of the doctrines of the divine word 
increased his distress. The truth, which is 
the great instrument by means of which God 
gives peace to man, must necessarily begin by 
taking from him that false confidence which 
is his ruin. The doctrine of election especially 
troubled the young man, and launched him 
into a field difficult indeed to explore. Must 
he believe that it was man who first chose God 
for his portion? or that it was God who first 
chose man? The Bible, history, daily expe- 
rience, the writings of Augustine, all had 
shown him that we must always and in every 
thing refer in the last case to that sovereign 
will by which every thing exists, and upon 
which every thing depends. But his ardent 
mind desired to go farther. He wished to 
penetrate into the secret counsels of God, — to 
unveil his mysteries, to see the invisible, and 
comprehend the incomprehensible. Staupitz 
checked him. He persuaded him not to at- 
tempt to fathom God, who hideth himself; but 
to confine himself to what He has revealed of 
his character in Christ. " Look at the wounds 
of Christ," said he, "and you will there see 
shining clearly the purpose of God towards 
men. We cannot understand God out of 
Christ. ' In Christ you will see what I am 
and what I require,' hath the Lord said ; ' you 
will not see it elsewhere, either in heaven or 
on earth.' " 

The Vicar-general did yet more. He brought 
Luther to acknowledge the fatherly design of 
God's providence in permitting these tempta- 
tions and varied struggles with which his soul 
had to contend. He made him see them in a 
light well suited to revive his spirit. God 
prepares for himself by such trials the souls 
which he destines to some important work. 
We must prove the vessel before we launch 
it on the mighty deep. If education is neces- 
sary for every man, there is a particular educa- 
tion necessary for those who are to influence 
the generation in which they live. This is 
what Staupitz represented to the monk of Er- 
furth. " It is not for nothing," said he, " that 
God proves you by so many trials; however, 
you will see there are great things in which 
he will make use of you as his minister." 

These words, which Luther heard with 
wonder and humility, filled him with courage, 
and discovered to him in himself, powers which 






HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



lio had not even suspected. The wisdom and i 
prudence of an enlightened friend gradually 
revealed the strong man to himself. Staupitz 
did not stop there. He gave him valuable di- 
rections for his studies. He advised him to 
derive henceforth all his divinity from the 
Bible, laying aside the systems of the schools. 
u Let the study of the Scriptures," said he, 
"be your favourite occupation." Never was 
better advice, or better followed. But what 
especially delighted Luther, was the present 
that Staupitz made him of a Bible. At last 
he himself possessed that treasure which until 
that hour he had been obliged to seek either 
in the library of the University, or at the chain 
in the convent, or in the cell of a friend. From 
that time he studied the Scriptures, and espe- 
cially St. Paul's Epistles, with increasing 
zeal. His only other reading was the works 
of St. Augustine. All that he read was power- 
fully impressed upon his mind. His struggles 
had prepared him to understand the word. The 
soil had been deeply ploughed ; the incorrupti- 
ble seed took deep root. When Staupitz left 
Erfurth, a new light had arisen upon Luther. 
Still the work was not finished. The Vicar- 
general had prepared it. God reserved the 
completion of it for a more humble instrument. 
The conscience of the young Augustine had 
not yet found repose. His health at last sunk 
under the exertions and stretch of his mind. 
He was attacked with a malady that brought 
him to the gates of the grave. It was then 
the second year of his abode at the convent. 
All his anguish and terrors returned in the 
prospect of death. His own impurity and 
God's holiness again disturbed his mind. One 
day when he was overwhelmed with despair, 
an old monk entered his cell, and spoke kindly 
to him. Luther opened his heart to him, and 
acquainted him with the fears that disquieted 
him. The respectable old man was incapable 
of entering into all his doubts, as Staupitz had 
done; but he knew his Credo, and he had 
found there something to comfort his own 
heart. He thought he would apply the same 
remedy to the young brother. Calling his 
attention therefore to the Apostle's creed, 
which Luther had learnt in his early child- 
hood at the school of Mansfeld, the old monk 
uttered in simplicity this article: u I believe 
in the forgiveness of sins." These simple 
words, ingenuously recited by the pious 
brother at a critical moment, shed sweet con- 
solation in the mind of Luther. " I believe," 
repeated he to himself on his bed of suffering, 
"I believe the remission of sins." "Ah," 
said the monk, "you must not only believe 
that David's or Peter's sins are forgiven : the 
devils believe that. The commandment of 
God is that we believe our own sins are for- 
given." How sweet did this commandment 
appear to poor Luther! " Hear what St. Ber- 
nard says in his discourse on the Annuncia- 
tion," added the old brother. " The testimony 
which the Holy Ghost applies to your heart 
is this : ' Thy sins are forgiven thee.'' " 

From that moment the light shone into the 
heart of the young monk of Erfurth. The 



word of Grace was pronounced, and he believed 
it. — He renounced thethought of meriting sal- 
vation; — and trusted himself with confidence 
to God's Grace in Christ Jesus. He did not 
perceive the consequence of the principle he 
admitted ; — he was still sincerely attached to 
the Church : — and yet he was thenceforward 
independent of it; for he had received salva- 
tion from God himself; and Romish Catho- 
licism was virtually extinct to him. From 
that hour Luther went forward ; — he sought 
in the writings of the Apostles and Prophets 
for all that might strengthen the hope which 
filled his heart. Every day he implored help 
from above, and every day new light was im- 
parted to his soul. 

This comfort to his spirit restored health to 
his body. He quickly arose from his sick-bed. 
He had received new life in more than one 
sense. The festival of Christmas, which 
soon after arrived, was to him an occasion of 
rich enjoyment of all the consolations of faith. 
He took part in the solemnities of that sacred 
season with sweet emotion; and when, in the 
services of the day, he had to sing these words, 
" beata culpa quae talem meruisti Redemp- 
torem!'' his whole soul joyfully responded — 
Amen. 

Luther had now been two years in the clois- 
ter. The time drew near when he was to be 
ordained priest. He had received largely ; 
and he looked forward with joy to the liberty 
afforded, by the priest's office, of freely giving 
what he had so freely received. He resolved 
to take advantage of the approaching solem- 
nity, to be perfectly reconciled to his father. 
He invited him to be present at it, and even 
asked him to fix the day. John Luther, who 
had not yet entirely forgiven his son, neverthe- 
less accepted this invitation, and named Sun- 
day, May 2, 1507. 

Amongst the number of Luther's friends was 
John Braun, vicar of Eisenach, who had been 
his faithful adviser during his abode in that 
town. Luther wrote to him on the 22d of 
April : this is the earliest letter extant of the 
Reformer. It is addressed : " To John Braun, 
holy and venerable priest of Christ and of 
Mary." 

It is only in the two earliest letters of 
Luther that the name of the Virgin occurs. 

"God, who is glorious and holy in all his 
works," said the candidate for the priesthood, 
"having condescended to raise me up, who 
am but a wretched man, and in every way an 
unworthy sinner, and to call me, by his alone 
and most free mercy, to his high and holy 
ministry, I, that I may testify my gratitude 
for goodness so divine and munificent, ought 
(as far as dust and ashes can) to fulfil, with 
all my heart, the office intrusted to me. 

" For this cause, my beloved father, lord, 
and brother, 1 ask you, if you have time, and 
your ecclesiastical and domestic affairs allow 
it, to deign to assist me by your presence and 
your prayers, that my sacrifice may be ac- 
ceptable in the sight of God. 

" But I give you notice, that you must come 
straight to our monastery, and spend some 



50 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



time with us, without seeking any other lodg- 
ing; you must become an inhabitant of our 
cells." 

At length the day arrived. The miner of 
Mansfeld did not fail to be present at the con- 
secration of his son. He even gave him an 
unequivocal proof of his affection and gene- 
rosity, by making him a present on this occa- 
sion of twenty florins. 

The ceremony took place. Jerome, bishop 
of Brandenburg, officiated. At the moment 
in which he conferred upon Luther the power 
of celebrating the mass, he put the cup into 
his hand, and addressed him in these solemn 
words: " Jlcci/pe putestafem mcriftcandi pro 
vivis et mortuis — Receive the power of offering 
sacrifice for the living and the dead." Luther, 
at that moment listened calmly to these words, 
which granted him power to do the work of 
the Son of God himself; but, at a later period, 
they made him shudder. "That the earth 
did not then swallow us both up," says he, 
" was an instance of the patience and long- 
suffering of the Lord." 

His father afterwards dined in the convent 
with his son, the friends of the young priest, 
and the monks. The conversation turned on 
Martin's enterance into the cloister. The 
brethren commended it as a highly meritori- 
ous action; on which the inflexible John, turn- 
ing to them, remarked : " Have you not read 
in the scripture, that it is a duty to obey father 
and mother V These words struck Luther. 
They exhibited the action which brought him 
into the convent in a totally different light; 
and long afterwards they resounded in his 
heart. 

Luther, after his consecration, acting by the 
advice of Staupitz, made several short excur- 
sions on foot to the parishes and convents of 
the environs ; either to occupy his mind, or 
for the sake of necessary exercise ; or else to 
accustom himself to preaching. 

It had been appointed that Corpus-Christi 
should be kept with much ceremony at Eisle- 
ben. The Vicar-general was to be present : 
Luther attended. He still felt his need of 
Staupitz, and took every opportunity of being 
in the company of that enlightened guide, who 
helped forward his soul in the way of life. 
The procession was numerous and gaudy. 
Staupitz himself carried the host: — Luther 
followed next in his priestly garments. The 
thought that Jesus Christ himself was borne 
before him by the Vicar-general, — the idea 
that the Lord in person was present, — sudden- 
ly struck upon Luther's imagination, and so 
overawed him, that it was with difficulty he 
went forward: — a cold sweatcame over him; he 
staggered, and thought he should die in the ago- 
ny of his fear : — at last the procession stopped. 
The host which had awakened the monk's ter- 
rors was reverently deposited in the sacristy, 
and Luther, left alone with Staupitz, threw 
himself into his arms, and confessed the cause 
of his fear. Then the Vicar-general, who 
had long known that gracious Saviour who 
breaks not the bruised reed, gently whis- 
pered ! — " Dear brother, it was not Jesus 



Christ; for Christ does not terrify; he ever 
comforts." 

Luther was not destined to remain hidden 
in an obscure convent. The time had arrived 
which was to transfer him to a wider theatre. 
Staupitz, with whom he still maintained a 
regular correspondence, was well persuaded 
that there was in the young monk a spirit too 
stirring to be confined within a narrow range. 
He spoke of him to Frederic, the Elector of 
Saxony; and that enlightened prince invited 
Luther, in 1508, probably near the close of 
that year, to become professor of the Univer- 
sity of Wittemberg. Wittemberg was the 
field on which Luther was ordained to fight 
many a hard battle. He felt himself called 
thither. He was pressed to repair quickly to 
his new post. He answered the call imme- 
diately; and in the haste of his removal, he 
had not time even to write to one whom he 
called his master and well-beloved father, the 
curate of Eisenach, John Braun. He wrote 
to him from Wittemberg, a few months after: 
" My departure was so sudden," said he, " that 
it was almost unknown to those with whom I 
was living. It is true, I am at a greater dis- 
tance, but the better half of me remains still 
with you ; and the further I am removed in 
bodily presence, the more closely my spirit is 
drawn to you." Luther had been three years 
in the cloister of Erfurth. 

Arriving at Wittemberg, he repaired to the 
convent of the Augustines, where a cell was 
assigned him ; for though a professor, he 
ceased not to be a monk. He was appointed 
to teach physics and dialectics. This ap- 
pointment was probably conferred upon him 
in consideration of his philosophical studies 
at Erfurth, and his degree of master of arts. 
Thus Luther, who was then hungering and 
thirsting for the word of God, was obliged to 
apply himself almost exclusively to the scho- 
lastic philosophy of Aristotle. He felt the 
need of that bread of life which God gives to 
the world ; and he was forced to bury himself 
in mere human subtleties. Hard necessity ! 
how did he sigh under it ! "I am very well, 
by God's favour," wrote he to Braun, " but 
that I am compelled to give my whole atten- 
tion to philosophy. From the moment of my 
arrival at Wittemberg I have longed to ex- 
change that study for theology; but," added 
he, lest he should be thought to mean the the- 
ology of that age, "I mean that theology 
which seeks the kernel of the nut, the pulp of 
the wheat, the marrow of the bone. How- 
ever things may go, God is God," continued 
he with that confidence which was the life of 
his soul, " man almost always errs in his judg- 
ment; but this is our God forever and ever; 
he will be our guide unto death." The la- 
bours that were then imposed upon Luther 
were at a later period of great use in enabling 
him to combat the errors of the schools. 

He could not rest there. The desire of his 
heart was destined to be fulfilled. That 
same power, which some years before had 
driven Luther from the bar to a religious life, 
now impelled him to the Bible. He applied 




"LUTHER* S FRIEND. ALEXIS, KILLED DY LIGHTNING. 




HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



nimself zealously to the study of the ancient 
languages, especially the Greek and Hebrew, 
that he might draw knowledge and doctrine 
from the fountain head. He was, through 
life, indefatigable in his studies. Some 
months after his arrival at the university he 
solicited the degree of bachelor in divinity. 
He obtained, it at the end of March, 1509, 
with a particular direction to Biblical theo- 
logy. 

Every day at one o'clock Luther was ex- 
pected to discourse upon the Bible ; a precious 
hour for the professor and the pupils, and 
which always gave them deeper insight into 
the divine sense of those discoveries so long 
lost to the people and to the schools. 

He began these lectures, by explaining the 
Psalms, and he soon passed to the Epistle to 
the Romans. It was especially in meditating 
upon this book that the light of truth entered 
his heart. In the retirement of his tranquil 
cell, he devoted whole hours to the study 
of- the divine word, with St. Paul's Epistle 
open before him. One day having proceeded 
as far as the 17th verse of the first chapter, he 
there read this passage of the prophet Habak- 
kuk : " The just shall live by faith." The 
precept strikes him. There is then for the just 
another life than that possessed by the rest of 
men; and this life is the fruit of faith. This 
word, which he receives into his heart as 
if God himself had planted it there, discloses 
to him the mystery of the Christian life, and 
increases that life in his soul. In the midst 
of his struggles in after life, the words often 
recurred to him, "The just shall live by 
faith." 

The lectures of Luther, with, such a prepara- 
tion, were very different from any that had 
been heard before. It jgas not now an eloquent 
rhetorician, or a pedantic schoolman who 
spoke ; it was a Christian who had experienced 
the power of revealed truths ; who derived 
them from the Bible, who drew them from the 
treasury of his own heart, and presented 
them in full life to his astonished auditors. 
It was no longer man's teaching, but God's. 

This altogether new way of exhibiting the 
truth made some noise: the rumour of it 
spread far, and attracted to the newly founded 
university a crowd of young and foreign 
students. Several even of the professors 
attended Luther's lectures, and amongst 
others, the celebrated Martin Pollich of Mel- 
lerstadt, doctor of physic, law, and philosophy, 
who, with Staupitz, had organized the uni- 
versity of Wittemberg, and had been its first 
rector. Mellerstadt, who has been often called 
"the light of the' world," modestly mixed 
with the pupils of the new professor. "This 
monk," said he, "will put all doctors to the j 
rout ; he will introduce a new style of doctrine, j 
and wiU reform the whole Church: he builds j 
upon the word of Christ; and no one in this ! 
world can either resist or overthrow that ' 
word, though it should be attacked with all : 
the .weapons of Philosophers, Sophists, Sco- ' 
tists, Albertists, and Thomists." 

Staupitz, who was as the hand of Pro- 1 



vidence to develope the gifts and treasures that 
lay hidden in Luther, invited him to preach in 
the church of the Augustines. The young 
professor shrunk from this proposal. He 
wished to confine himself to his academical 
duties; he trembled at the thought of adding 
to them those of public preaching. In vain 
Staupitz entreated him: "No, no," replied 
he, "it is no light thing to speak to men in 
God's stead." An affecting instance of humi- 
lity in this great Reformer of the Church ! 
Staupitz persisted. " But the ingenious Lu- 
ther found," says one of his historians, "fif- 
teen arguments, pretexts or evasions, to excuse 
himself from this summons." At last the 
chief of the Augustines, still persevering in 
his application : "Ah, worthy doctor," said 
Luther, "it would be the death of me. I 
could not stand it three months." "And what 
then," replied the Vicar-general ; "in God's 
name so be it ; for in heaven also the Lord 
requires devoted and able servants." Luther 
was obliged to yield. 

In the middle of the square of Wittemberg 
stood an old wooden chapel, thirty feet long 
and tw r enty broad, whose walls, propped on 
all sides, were falling to ruins. A pulpit 
made of planks, raised three feet above the 
ground, received the preacher. It was in this 
chapel that the Reformation was first preach- 
ed. It was the will of God that this work 
for the restoration of his glory should have 
the humblest beginnings. The foundation 
of the church of the Augustines was only just 
laid, and till it should be completed they 
made use of this mean place of worship. 
"That building," adds the contemporary of 
Luther, who relates these circumstances, 
"may be aptly compared, to the stable in 
which Christ was born. It was in that enclo- 
sure that God willed, if we may so speak, 
that his well-beloved Son should be born 
a second time. Amongst the thousand cathe- 
drals and parish churches with which the 
w r orld is filled, not one was chosen for the 
glorious announcement of everlasting life." 

Luther preached : every thing was striking 
in the new preacher. His expressive counte- 
nance and dignified demeanour, his clear and 
sonorous voice, charmed the audience. Before 
his time, the greater number of preachers had 
sought to amuse their hearers rather than to 
convert them. The deep seriousness that 
marked the preaching of Luther, and the joy 
with which the knowledge of the Gospel 
filled his own heart, gave to his eloquence an 
authority, energy, and unction, which none of 
his predecessors had possessed. " Gifted 
with a ready and lively intelligence," says 
one of his adversaries, "having a retentive 
memory, and speaking his mother tongue with 
remarkable fluency, Luther was surpassed in 
eloquence by none of his contemporaries. 
Addressing his hearers from his place in the 
pulpit, as if he had been agitated by some 
powerful passion, and adapting his action to 
the words, he affected, their minds in a surpris- 
ing manner, and carried them like a torrent 
whither he would. So much power, action, 



52 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and eloquence are rarely found amongst the 
people of the north." " He had," says 
Bossuet, " a lively and impetuous eloquence, 
which delighted and captivated his auditory". 

In a short time the little ehapel could no 
longer contain the crowds that flocked thither. 
The council of Wittemberg then chose Luther 
for their preacher, and called upon him to 
preach in the church of that city. The im- 
pression which he there produced was still 
greater. His wonderful genius, his eloquent 
style, and the excellency of the doctrines he 
proclaimed, equally astonished his auditors. 
His reputation spread far and wide, and Fre- 
deric the Wise himself came once to Wittem- 
berg to hear him. 

It was as if a new existence was opening 
for Luther. To the drowsiness of the cloister 
had succeeded a life of active exertion. Free- 
dom, employment, earnest and regular action 
completed the re-establishment of harmony 
and peace in his spirit. He was now at last 
in his proper place, and the work of God was 
about to open out its majestic course. Luther 
was continuing his teaching both in the hall 
of the academy and in the church, when he 
was interrupted in his labours. In 1510, or 
according to some, not till 1511 or 1512, he 
was despatched to Rome. A difference had 
arisen between seven convents of his order 
and the Vicar-general. Luther's acuteness, 
eloquence, and talents in discussion led to his 
being chosen to represent these seven monas- 
teries. This dispensation of divine Provi- 
dence was needed. It was fit that Luther 
should know what Rome was. Full of the 
prejudices and illusions of the cloister, he had 
always pictured it to himself as the seat of 
holiness. 

He set out; he crossed the Alps. But hard- 
ly had he descended into the plains of rich 
and voluptuous Italy than he found at every 
step matter of surprise and scandal. The poor 
German monk was entertained at a wealthy 
convent of the Benedictines, situate on the 
Po, in Lombardy. This convent enjoyed a 
revenue of thirty-six thousand ducats; twelve 
thousand were spent for the table, twelve 
thousand on the buildings, and twelve thou- 
sand to supply the other wants of the monks. 
The magnificence of the apartments, the rich- 
ness of the dresses, and the delicacy of the 
viands, astonished Luther. Marble, silk, and 
luxury of every kind; what a novel spectacle 
to the humble brother of the convent of Wit- 
temberg! He was amazed and silent; but 
Friday. came, and what was his surprise! The 
table of the Benedictines was spread with 
abundance of meats. Then he found courage 
to speak out. "The Church," said he, "and 
the Pope forbid such things." The Benedic- 
tines were offended at this rebuke from the 
unmannerly German. But Luther, having 
repeated his remark, and perhaps threatened 
to report their irregularity, some of them 
thought it easiest to get rid of their trouble- 
some guest. The porter of the convent hinted 
to him that he incurred danger by his stay. 
He accordingly took his departure from this 



epicurean monastery, and pursued his journey 
to Bologna, where he fell sick. Some have 
seen in this sickness the effects of poison. It 
is more probable that the change in his mode 
of living disordered the frugal monk of Wit- 
temberg, who had been used to subsist for the 
most part on dry bread' and herrings. This 
sickness was not "unto death," but for the 
glory of God. His constitutional sadness and 
depression returned. What a fate was before 
him, to perish thus far away from Germany 
under a scorching sun, in a foreign land. The 
distress of mind he had experienced at Er- 
furth again oppressed him. A sense of his 
sins disturbed him ; and the prospect of the 
judgment of God filled him with dismay. But 
in the moment when his terror was at its 
height that word of Paul, " The just shall live 
by Faith,'''' recurred with power to his thought, 
and beamed upon his soul like a ray from 
heaven. Raised and comforted, he rapidly 
regained health, and again set forth for Rome, 
expecting to find there a very different manner 
of life from that of the Lombard convents, and 
eager to efface, by the contemplation of Roman 
sanctity, the sad impression left upon his 
memory by his sojourn on the banks of the Po. 

At last, after a fatiguing journey under the 
burning sun of Italy, he approached the seven- 
hilled city. His heart was moved within him. 
His eyes longed to behold the queen of the 
earth and of the Church ! As soon as he dis- 
covered from a distance the Eternal City, — 
the city of St. Peter and St. Paul, the metro- 
polis of the Catholic World, he threw himself 
on the earth, exclaiming, " Holy Rome, I 
salute thee !" 

Luther was now in Rome; the professor of 
Wittemberg was in the midst of the eloquent 
ruins of the Rome of Consuls and of Emperors, 
the Rome of Confessors of Christ and of Mar- 
trys. There had lived Plautus and Virgil, 
whose works he had carried with him into his 
cloister ; and all those great men whose history 
had so often stirred his heart. He beheld their 
statues, and the ruined monuments which still 
attested their glory. But, all this glory and 
power had passed away. He trod under foot 
the dust of them. He called to mind, at every 
step he took, the melancholy presentiments of 
Scipio, when, shedding tears over the ruins of 
Carthage, its palaces in flames, and its walls 
broken down, he exclaimed : " It will one day 
be thus with Rome!' 1 '' "And truly," said Lu- 
ther, "the Rome of Scipios and Caesars is but 
a corpse. There are such heaps of ruin that the 
foundations of the houses rest at this hour where 
once their roofs were. There" said he, turn- 
ing a melancholy look on its ruins, " there 
were once the riches and treasures of this 
world !" All these fragments of wreck which 
his foot encountered whispered to Luther, with 
in Rome herself, that what is strongest in the 
sight of men may be destroyed by the breath 
of the Lord. 

But with these profaner ruins were mixed 
holy ashes ; the thought of this came to his 
mind. The burial places of the martyrs are 
hard by those of Roman generals and con- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



53 



queror.5. Christian Rome, and her trials, had 
more power over the heart of the Saxon monk, 
than Pagan Rome with all her glory. In this 
very phce arrived that epistle wherein Paul 
wrote, " the just shall live by faith.'''' He is 
not far hom the forum of Appius and the Three 
Taverns. In that spot was the house of Nar- 
cissus ; here stood the palace of Caesar, where 
the Lord delivered the Apostle from the jaws 
of the lieu. Oh, how did these recollections 
strengthen the heart of the monk of Wittem- 
berg! 

Rome Uen presented a widely different as- 
pect. The warlike Julius II. filled the ponti- 
fical chair, and not Leo X., as some distin- 
guished Historians of Germany have said, 
doubtless for want of attention. Luther often 
related an incident of this Pope's life. When 
the news was brought him that his army had 
been defeated by the French before Ravenna, 
he was reading his prayers ; he threw the book 
on the floor, exclaiming, with a dreadful oath, 
" Well, now thou art become a Frenchman. — 
Is it thus thou guardestthy church V Then, 
turning himself in the direction of the country 
t j whose arms he thought to have recourse, he 
uttered these words, " Holy Swiss, pray for 
as." Ignorance, levity, and dissolute morals, 
a profane contempt of every thing sacred, and 
a shameful traffic in divine things ; such was 
the spectacle presented by this wretched city. 
Vet the pious monk continued for awhile in 
nis illusions. 

Having arrived about the period of the fes- 
tival of St. John, he heard the Romans re- 
peating around him a proverb current among 
the people: "Blessed is that mother," said 
they, "whose son says mass. on St. John's 
eve." Oh, thought Luther, how gladly would 
I make my mother blessed. The pious son 
of Margaret made some attempts to say mass 
on that day, but he could not, the crowd was 
too great. 

Warm in his feeling, and confiding in dispo- 
sition, he visited all the churches and chapels, 
gave credit to all the marvellous stories there 
told him, went through with devotion the ob- 
servances required, and was pleased at being 
able to perform so many pious acts, from 
which his friends at home were debarred. 
" How do I regret," thought the pious monk, 
" that my father and mother are still living: 
how happy should I be to deliver them from 
the fire of purgatory by my masses, my prayers, 
and other admirable works." He had found 
the light; but the darkness was far from being 
wholly chased from his mind ; he had the faith 
and love of the Gospel, but not the knowledge 
of it. It was no easy matter to emerge from 
that deep gloom that had for so many ages 
overspread the earth. 

Luther said mass several Himes at Rome. He 
went through it with all the unction and dig- 
nity that such an act seemed to him to require. 
But how was the heart of the Saxon monk dis- 
tressed, when he saw the profane and heartless 
formality with which the Roman clergy cele- 
brated this Sacrament ! The priests, on their 
part, laughed at his simplicity. One day, when 



j he was officiating, he found that at the altai 
| they had read seven masses while he was 
reading one. " Quick ! quick !" said one of 
the priests, "send Our Lady her Son back 
speedily;" — thus impiously alluding to the 
transubstantiation of the bread into the body 
and blood of Christ. Another time Luther 
had only got as far as the Gospel, when the 
priest who was at his side had already finish- 
ed the mass: "Make haste, make haste!" 
whispered the latter, "do have done with it." 

His astonishment was still greater, when 
he found in the dignitaries of the Church, the 
same corruption he had observed in the infe- 
rior clergy. He had hoped better things of 
them. 

It was the fashion at, the papal court to at- 
tack Christianity : and a person was not 
counted a man of sense, if he did not hold 
some eccentric and heretical opinion in rela- 
tion to the dogmas of the Church. Some 
would have convinced Erasmus, by certain 
passages from Pliny, that there was no dif- 
ference between the souls of men and of beasts; 
and there were young courtiers of the Pope, 
who affirmed that the orthodox faith was the 
growth of the cunning invention of the saints. 

Luther's office of envoy from the Augus- 
tines of Germany, procured him invitations 
to several meetings of distinguished ecclesi- 
astics. One day, in particular, he was at 
table with several prelates: the latter exhi- 
bited openly their buffoonery in manners and 
impious conversation; and did not scruple to 
give utterance before him to many indecent 
jokes, doubtless thinking him one like them- 
selves. They related, amongst other things, 
laughing, and priding themselves upon it, 
how when saying mass at the altar, instead 
of the sacramental words which were to trans- 
form the elements into the body and blood of 
the Saviour, they pronounced over the bread 
and wine these sarcastic words : " Bread thou 
art, and bread thou shalt remain ; wine thou 
art, and wine thou shalt remain — Panis es et 
pants manebis ; vinum es et vinum manebis.'*'' 
" Then," continued they," " we elevate the 
pyx, and all the people worship." Luther 
could scarcely believe his ears. His mind, 
gifted with much vivacity, and even gayety, 
in the society of his friends, was remarkable 
for gravity when treating of serious things. 
These Romish mockeries shocked him. " I," 
says he, " was a serious and pious young 
monk ; such language deeply grieved me. 
If at Rome they speak thus openly at table, 
thought I, what, if their actions should cor- 
respond with their words, and popes, cardi- 
nals, and courtiers should thus say mass. 
And I, who have so often heard them recite 
it so devoutly, how, in that case, must I have 
been deceived?" 

Luther often mixed with the monks ana 
citizens of Rome. If some among them ex- 
tolled the Pope and the clergy, the greater 
number gave free vent to their complaints and 
sarcasms. What stories had they to tell of 
the reigning Pope, of Alexander VI. and of 
so many others ! One day, his Roman friends 



54 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



related, how Caesar Borgia, having fled from 
Rome, had been taken in Spain. On the eve 
of trial, he prayed for mercy, and asked for a 
priest to visit him in his prison. They sent 
him a monk. He murdered him, disguised 
himself in his cowl, and effected his escape. 
"I heard that at Rome: it is a thing well 
known," says Luther. Another day, passing 
along the principal street that led to St. Peter's 
church, he stopped in astonishment before a 
statue, representing a pope, under the figure 
of a woman holding a sceptre, clothed in the 
papal mantle, bearing a child in her arms. 
"It is a girl of Mentz," said the people, 
" who was chosen Pope b) r the Cardinals, 
and was delivered of a child on this spot : 
therefore no pope ever passes through this 
street." " I wonder," observed Luther, " that 
the popes allow the statue to remain." 

Luther had expected to find the edifice of 
the church encompassed with splendour and 
strength; but its doors were broken in, and 
its walls consumed by fire. He saw the 
desolation of the sanctuary, and drew back in 
alarm. He had dreamed of sanctity ; he found 
nothing but profanation. 

He was not less struck with the disorders 
committed in the city. " The police is strict 
and severe in Rome," said he. " The judge, 
or captain rides through the city every night, 
with three hundred attendants. He stops all 
he finds in the streets ; if he meets an armed 
man, he hangs him or throws him into the 
Tiber. And j'et the city is full of disorders 
and murders ; whilst, in places where the 
word of God is truly and faithfully preached, 
we see peace and order prevail, without the 
necessity for law or severity." "It is in- 
credible what sins and atrocities are com- 
mitted in Rome," he says again; "they must 
be seen and heard to be believed. So that it 
is usual to say: ' If there be a hell, Rome is 
built above it; it is an ab}'ss from whence all 
sins proceed.' " 

This sight made at the time a great impres- 
sion on Luther's mind ; an impression which 
was afterwards deepened. "The nearer we 
approach to Rome, the greater number of bad 
Christians do we find," said he several years 
after. "It is commonly observed, that he 
who goes to Rome for the first time, goes to 
seek a knave there; the second time, he finds 
him ; and the third time, he brings him away 
with him under his cloak. But now, people 
are become so clever, that they make the three 
journeys in one." One of the most profound 
geniuses of Italy, though of deplorable cele- 
brity, Macchiavelli, who was living at Flo- 
rence when Luther passed through that city 
to go to Rome, has made a similar remark : 
" The greatest symptom," said he, " of the 
approaching ruin of Christianity, (by which 
he meant the Roman Catholic religion,) is, 
that the nearer we approach the capital of 
Christendom, the less do we find of the Chris- 
tian spirit in the people. The scandalous 
example and the crimes of the court of Rome 
have caused Italy to lose every principle of 
piety and every religious sentiment. We 



Italians," continues the great historian, "are 
principally indebted to the Church and to the 
priests, for having become impious and pro- 
fligate." Luther felt, later in life, all the im- 
portance of this journey : " If any one would 
give me a hundred thousand florins," said he, 
"I would not have missed seeing Rome." 

This journey was also of advantage to him 
in regard to learning. Like Reuchlin, Luther 
profited by his residence in Italy, to obtain a 
deeper understanding of the Holy Scriptures. 
He there took lessons in Hebrew from a cele- 
brated rabbin, named Elias Levita. He ac- 
quired partly at Rome the knowledge of that 
divine word under the assault of which Rome 
was doomed to fall. 

But this journey was above all of great 
importance to Luther in another respect. Not 
only was the veil withdrawn, and the sardonic 
laugh, the jesting incredulity, which lay con- 
cealed behind the Romish superstitions, re- 
vealed to the future Reformer: but also the 
living faith which God had implanted in him 
was then powerfully strengthened. 

We have seen how he had at first submitted 
to all the vain practices which the church en- 
joins in order to purchase the remission of 
sins. One day, in particular, wishing to ob- 
tain an indulgence promised by the Pope to 
any one who should ascend on his knees what 
is called Pilate's staircase, the poor Saxon 
monk was slowly climbing those steps which 
they told him had been miraculously trans- 
ported from Jerusalem to Rome. But whilst 
he was going through this meritorious work 
he thought he heard a voice like thunder speak- 
ing from the depth of his heart: "The just 
shall live by faith." These words, which 
already on two occasions had struck upon his 
ear as the voice of an angel of God, resounded 
instantaneously and powerfully within him. 
He started up in terror on the steps up which 
he had been crawling; he was horrified at 
himself; and, struck with shame for the de- 
gradation to which superstition had debased 
him, he fled from the scene of his folly. 

This powerful text had a mysterious in- 
fluence on the life of Luther. It was a crea- 
tive word for the Reformer and for the Refor- 
mation. It was by means of that word that 
God then said : " Let there be light, and there 
was light." 

It is frequently necessary that a truth should 
be repeatedly presented to our minds, in order 
to produce its due effect. Luther had often 
studied the Epistle to the Romans, and yet 
never had justification by faith, as there taught, 
appeared so clear to him. He now understood 
that righteousness which alone can stand in 
the sight of God ; he was now partaker of that 
perfect obedience of Christ which God im- 
putes freely to the sinner as soon as he looks 
in humility to the God-man crucified. This 
was the decisive epoch in the inward life of 
Luther. That faith which had saved him from 
the fear of death became henceforward the 
soul of his theology; a strong hold in every 
danger, giving power to his preaching and 
strength to his charity, constituting a ground 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



55 



of peace, a motive to service, and a consola- 
tion in life and death. 

But this great doctrine of a salvation which 
proceeds from God and not from man, was not 
merely the power of God unto salvation to 
Luther, it also became the power of God to 
reform the Church. It was the same weapon 
which the Apostle had once wielded, and now, 
after long- disuse, it was drawn forth in its 
original brightness from the arsenal of Al- 
mighty God. At the moment when Luther 
started from his knees, transported with emo- 
tion at that word which St. Paul had address- 
ed to the inhahitants of Rome, the truth, hith- 
erto held captive and fettered in the Church, 
stood also up to fall no more. 

We must here quote his own words. 
"Though as a monk I was holy and irre- 
proachable," says he, " my conscience was 
still filled with trouble and torment. I could 
not endure the expression — the righteous jus- 
tice of God. I did not love that just and holy 
Being who punishes sinners. I felt a secret 
anger against him; I hated him because, not 
satisfied with terrifying by his law, and by 
the miseries of life, poor creatures already 
ruined by original sin, he aggravated our suf- 
ferings by the Gospel. But when by the Spirit 
of God, I understood these words, — when I 
learnt how the justification of the sinner pro- 
ceeds from God's mere mercy by the way of 
faith, -then I felt myself born again as a new 
man, and I entered by an opened door into the 
very paradise of God. From that hour I saw the 
precious and holy Scriptures with new eyes. 
I went through the whole Bible. I collected 
a multitude of passages which taught me what 
the work of God was. And as I had before 
heartily hated that expression, 'the righteous- 
ness of God,' I began from that time to value and 
to love it, as the sweetest and most consolato- 
ry truth. Truly this text of St. Paul was to 
me as the very gate of heaven." 

Hence it was, that, when he was called 
upon on some solemn occasions to confess 
this doctrine, it ever roused his enthusiasm 
and rough eloquence. "I see," said he in a 
critical moment, "that the devil, by means of 
his teachers and doctors, is incessantly attack- 
ing this fundamental article, and that he can- 
not rest to cease from this object. Well, then, 
I, Doctor Martin Luther, an unworthy evan- 
gelist of our Lord Jesus Christ, do confess 
this article, * that faith alone, without works, 
justifies in the sight of God, and I declare, 
that in spite of the emperor of the Romans, 
the emperor of the Turks, the emperor of the 
Tartars, the emperor of the Persians, the 
Pope, all the cardinals, bishops, priests, 
monks, nuns, kings, princes, nobles, all the 
world, and all the devils, it shall stand un- 
shaken forever! that if they will persist in 
opposing this truth, they will draw upon their 
heads the flames of hell. This is the true 
and holy gospel, and the declaration of me, 
Doctor Luther, according to the light given to 

me by the Holy Spirit There is no one," 

he continues, "who has died for our sins, but 
Jesus Christ the Son of God. I repeat it once 



more: let all the evil spirits of earth and hell 
foam and rage as they will, this is nevertheless 
true. And if Christ alone takes away sin, we 
can not do so by all our works. But good 
works follow redemption, — as surely as fruit 
appears upon a living tree. This is our doc- 
trine, tbis the Holy Spirit teacheth, together 
with all holy Christian people. We hold it in 
God's name. Amen!" 

It was thus that Luther discovered what 
hitherto even the most illustrious teachers and 
reformers had overlooked. It was in Rome 
that God gave him this clear view of the fun- 
damental doctrine of Christianity. He had 
come to seek in that city of the Pontiffs, the 
solution of some difficulties concerning a mon- 
astic order; he brought back in his heart, that 
which was to emancipate the Church. 

Luther left Rome, and returned to Wittem- 
berg, full of grief and indignation. Turning 
away his eyes in disgust from the pontifical 
city, he directed them trustfully to the Holy 
Scriptures, and to that new life which the 
word of God seemed then to offer to the world. 
This word gained ground in his heart in pro- 
portion as the Church lost its hold upon him. 
He disengaged himself from the one to turn 
to the other. All the Reformation was com- 
prised in that change ; for it put God in the 
place the priest had usurped. 

Staupitz and the Elector did not lose sight 
of the monk they had called to the university 
of Wittemberg. It seems as if theVicar-gene- 
ral had a presentiment of the work that was 
to be accomplished in the world, and that find- 
ing it too hard for him, he desired to urge Lu- 
ther to undertake it. Nothing is more re- 
markable, or perhaps more inexplicable, than 
the character of the man who was ever ready 
to impel the monk onward in the path to which 
God called him, and yet himself went and 
ended his days sadly in a convent. The 
preaching of the young professor had made an 
impression on the prince; he admired the 
strength of his understanding, the power of 
his eloquence, and the excellence of the sub- 
jects that he handled. The Elector and his 
friends, wishing to promote a man of such 
great promise, resolved to raise him to the 
distinction of doctor of divinity. Staupitz re- 
paired to the convent. He led Luther into 
the cloister garden, and there talking with 
him alone under a tree, which Luther after- 
wards took pleasure in pointing out to his dis- 
ciples, the venerable father said to him: "My 
friend, you must now become Doctor of the 
Holy Scriptures." Luther drew back. The 
thought of this distinguished honour overcame 
him. " Seek one more worthy of it," said he ; 
"for my part, I cannot consent to it." The 
Vicar-general pressed the point. " The Lord 
has much to do in the Church, he requires just 
now young and vigorous doctors." " This was 
said perhaps jestingly," adds Melancthon, 
"yet the event corresponded to it, for usually 
many presages announce great revolutions." 
There is no reason to suppose that Melancthon 
here speaks of prophecy, strictly so called 



56 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The last century, though remarkable for in- 
credulity, saw this exemplified: — how many 
presages, without miracle, preceded the revo- 
lution at the close of that century ! 

" But I am weak and ailing ;" said Luther ; 
" I have not long to live. Look for a strong 
man." " The Lord has work in heaven as in 
earth ; dead or alive, God requires you." 

"The Holy Spirit alone can make a doctor 
of divinity," exclaimed the monk, more and 
more overcome with fear. " Do as your con- 
vent desires," said Staupitz, " and what I your 
Vicar-general require you to do, for you have 
promised to obey us." " But think of my 
poverty," resumed the friar, " 1 having nothing 
wherewith to pay the expenses incident to 
such a promotion." " Do not make yourself 
uneasy about that," said his friend, " the prince 
is so kind as to take the charges upon him- 
self." Urged on all sides, Luther was obliged 
to submit. 

It was toward the summer of 1512, Luther 
set out for Leipsic to receive from the trea- 
surers of the Elector, the money requisite on 
his promotion. But, according to court cus- 
tom, the money did not arrive. Luther, be- 
coming impatient, wished to depart; but the 
obedience becoming the character of a monk 
restrained him. At last, on the 4th of Octo- 
ber, he received from Pfeffinger and John 
Doltzig, fifty florins. He gave them a re- 
ceipt, in which he assumed no other designa- 
tion than monk. " I, Martin," said he, " bro- 
ther of the order of the Eremites." Luther 
hastened back to Wittemberg. 

Andrew Bodenstein of Carlstadt was at that 
time the Dean of the Faculty of Theology. 
Carlstadt is the name under which this doctor 
is best known. He was also called the A. 
B. C. Melancthon first gave him that name, 
alluding to the three initials of his name. 
Bodenstein acquired in his native country the 
first elements of education. He was of grave 
and sombre character — perhaps inclined to 
jealousy, of unquiet temper, but very eager 
for learning, and gifted with great capacity. 
He visited several universities to enlarge his 
knowledge, and studied theology at Rome it- 
self. On his return from Italy to Germany, 
he established himself at Wittemberg, and 
there became doctor of theology. At this 
time, as he himself afterwards declared, he 
had not read the Holy Scriptures. This trait 
gives a very just idea of what then constituted 
theology. Carlstadt, besides his functions as 
professor, was canon and archdeacon. This 
was the man who was one day to divide the 
Reformation. JHLe then saw in Luther only an 
inferior; but the Augustine soon became an 
object of his jealousy. One day he remarked, 
" I will not be less distinguished than Luther." 
Far from anticipating at this time the future 
greatness of the young professor, Carlstadt 
conferred on his destined rival the first degree 
of the university. 

On the 18th October, 1512, Luther was 
made licentiate in theology, and took the fol- 
lowing oath : 

" I swear to defend the truth of the Gospel 



with all my strength." The following day, 
Bodenstein solemnly delivered to him, in pre- 
sence of a numerous assembly, the insignia of 
Doctor in Theology. 

He was made Biblical Doctor, and not Doc- 
tor of Sentences, and was therefore specially 
bound to devote himself to the study of the 
Bible, instead of human traditions. Then it 
was, as he himself tells us, that he espoused 
his well-beloved and Holy Scriptures He 
promised to preach them faithfully, to teach 
them in purity, to study them all his life, and 
to defend them so far as God should enable 
him, by disputation, and by writing against 
false teachers. 

This solemn vow was to Luther his voca- 
tion as a Reformer. Binding upon his con- 
science the sacred obligation to investigate 
freely, and declare openly evangelical truth, 
that oath lifted the new made doctor above the 
narrow bounds to which his monastic vow 
might have restiicted him. Called by the 
University, by his Sovereign, in the name of 
the Imperial Majesty, and of the Roman See 
itself, and bound before God, by the most sa- 
cred of oaths, he was from that time the in* 
trepid herald of the word of life. On that 
memorable day Luther was installed Cham- 
pion of the Bible. 

Therefore it is that this oath pledged to the 
Holy Scriptures may be regarded as one of 
the immediate causes of the revival of the 
Church. The infallible authority of the word 
of God was the first and fundamental princi- 
ple of the Reformation. Every reform in de- 
tail afterwards effected in doctrine, morals, 
church government, and public worship was 
but a consequence of this first principle. In 
these days we can hardly imagine the sensa- 
tion produced by this elementary truth, so 
simple, yet for ages neglected. A few men, 
of mqre enlarged discernment than the vulgar, 
alone foresaw its important consequences. 
Speedily the courageous voices of all the Re- 
formers proclaimed this powerful principle, at 
the sound of which the influence of Rome 
crumbled into the dust: " Christians receive 
no other doctrines than those which rest on 
the express words of Christ, the apostles and 
prophets. No man, nor any assembly of 
men, has power to prescribe new doctrines." 

The situation of Luther was changed. The 
call he had received became to the Reformer 
as one of those extraordinary commissions 
which the Lord intrusted to prophets under 
the old dispensation, and to apostles under the 
new. The solemn engagement he had con- 
tracted, made so profound an impression on 
his soul, that the recollection of this vow suf- 
ficed at a later period to comfort him in the 
midst of the greatest dangers and the rudest 
conflicts. And when he saw all Europe agi- 
tated and disturbed by the doctrine he had 
proclaimed, — when the accusations of Rome, 
the reproaches of many pious men, and the 
doubts and fears of his own heart (so easily 
moved) might have caused him to falter, to 
fear, and fall into despondency, he called to 
mind the oath he had taken, and remained 



HISTORY OF THE R EFORM ATION. 



57 



aim, tranquil, and rejoicing. "I came for- 
ward," said he, "in a critical moment, and I 
put myself into the Lord's hands. Let his 
will be done. Who asked of him that he 
would make of me a teacher 1 If he has made 
me such, let him suppqrt me ; — or if he change 
his purpose, let him deprive me. This tribu- 
lation then does not intimidate me. I seek 
but one thing — to have his favour in all he calls 
me to do in his work." Another time he said, 
" He who undertakes any thing without a di- 
vine call seeks his own glory. But I, Doctor 
Martin Luther, was constrained to become a 
doctor. The Papacy endeavoured to stop me 
in the discharge of my duty, but you see what 
has happened to it; — and much worse shall 
yet befall it; they cannot defend themselves 
against me. By God's help I am resolved to 
press on, to force a passage through, and 
trample dragons and vipers under foot. This 
will begin in my lifetime, and finish after 1 
am gone." 

From the hour of this oath Luther no long- 
er sought the truth for himself alone, but for 
the Church. Still retaining his recollections 
of Rome, he perceived indistinctly before him 
a path in which he purposed to go forward with 
all the energy of his soul. The spiritual life 
which hitherto had grown up within him, be- 
gan to manifest itself in outward action. This 
was the third period of his progress. His en- 
trance into the convent had turned his thoughts 
towards God ; the knowledge of the remission 
of sins, and of the righteousness of faith, had 
delivered his soul from bondage. The oath 
he had now taken had given him that baptism 
by fire which constituted him the Reformer of 
the Church. 

The first adversaries he attacked were those 
celebrated schoolmen whom he had studied 
so deeply, and who then reigned supreme in 
every university. He accused them of Pela- 
gianism; boldly opposing Aristotle (the father 
of the school !) and Thomas Aquinas, he un- 
dertook to hurl them from the throne whence 
they exercised so commanding an influence, 
the one over philosophy, and the other over 
theology. 

" Aristotle, Porphyry, the theologians of the 
Sentences," said he, writing to Lange, " these 
are the unprofitable study of this age. I de- 
sire nothing more ardently than to lay open 
before all eyes this false system, which has 
tricked the Church, by covering itself with a 
Greek mask; and to expose its worthlessness 
before the world." In all his public disputa- 
tions he was accustomed to repeat — " The 
writings of the Apostles and Prophets are 
more certain and sublime than all the sophisms 
and theology of the schools." Such language 
was new, but gradually people became familiar- 
ized with it; and about one year after this he 
was able exultingly to write, " God works 
amongst us; our theology and St. Augustine 
make wonderful progress, and are already 
paramount in our university. Aristotle is on 
the wane, and already totters to his fall, which 
is near at hand and irreversible. The lectures 
nn the Sentences are received with utter dis- 



taste. None can hope for hearers unless he 
profess the scriptural theology." Happy the 
university where such testimony could be 
given ! 

At the same time that Luther attacked Aris- 
totle, he took part with Erasmus and Reuchlin 
against their enemies. He entered into cor- 
respondence with those great men and others 
of the learned, such as Pirckheimer, Mutian, 
Hiitten, who belonged more or less to the same 
party. He formed also at this period another 
friendship, which was yet more important in 
its influence on his after life. 

There was then at the court of the Elector 
a person remarkable for wisdom and candour. 
This was George Spalatin, a native of Spaltus, 
or Spalt, in the bishopric of Eichstadt. He 
had been curate of the village of Hohenkirch, 
near the forests of Thuringia. He was after- 
wards chosen by Frederic the Wise as his 
secretary and chaplain, and private teacher of 
his nephew, John Frederic, heir of the electo- 
ral crown. Spalatin was a man of simple 
manners, in the midst of a court; timid in 
emergencies, and circumspect and prudent as 
his master; contrasting with the energetic 
Luther, with whom he was in daily commu- 
nication. Like Staupitz, he was fitted rather 
for peaceable than for stirring times. Such 
men are necessary: they are like that soft 
covering in which we wrap jewels and chrys- 
tals, to protect them from injury in transport- 
ing them from place to place. They seem of 
no use, and yet without them the preciovis 
gems would be broken or lost. Spalatin was 
not capable of great actions, but he faithfully 
and noiselessly discharged the task assigned 
to him. He was at first one of the principal 
aids of his master, in collecting those relics 
of the saints of which Frederic was long an 
amateur. But by slow degrees he, like his 
master, turned toward the truth. The faith 
which was then reappearing in the Church, 
did not so suddenly lay hold on him as on 
Luther, — he was led on by more circuitous 
paths. He became the friend of Luther at 
the court, the agent through which matters of 
business were transacted between the Re- 
former and the Princes, the go-between of the 
Church and- the state. The Elector honoured 
Spalatin with the closest intimacy, and in his 
journeys admitted him to share his carriage. 
In other respects the air of the court was often 
oppressive to the worthy Spalatin, and affected 
him with deep sadness; he would have wished 
to leave all these honours, and again to become 
a simple pastor in the woods of Thuringia. 
But Luther comforted him, and persuaded him 
to remain at his post. Spalatin acquired 
general esteem. The princes and scholars 
of his age evinced the sincerest respect for 
him. Erasmus was accustomed to say, " The 
name of Spalatin is inscribed not only as one 
of my dearest friends, but of my most revered 
protectors, and that not on paper, but on my 
heart." 

The affair of Reuchlin and the monks was 
then making much noise in Germany. The 
most pious persons often hesitated which side 



58 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to take, for the monks were bent upon destroy- 
ing the Jewish books which contained blas- 
phemies against Christ. The Elector com- 
missioned his chaplain to consult the doctor 
of Wittemberg, whose reputation was con- 
siderable. Luther replied by letter, and it is 
the earliest of his letters to the court preacher. 

"What shall I say? these monks pretend 
to expel Beelzebub, — but it is not by the 
finger of God. I never cease to complain and 
grieve at it. We Christians beg-in to be wise 
in things that are without, and senseless at 
home. There are, in all the public places of 
our Jerusalem, blasphemies a hundred times 
worse than those of the Jews, and in every 
corner of it spiritual idols. We ought in holy 
zeal to carry forth and destroy these enemies 
within. But we neglect what is most press- 
ing, and the devil himself persuades us to 
abandon our own concerns, while he hinders 
us from reforming what is amiss in others." 

Luther never lost himself in this quarrel. 
A living faith in Christ was that which 
especially filled his heart and life. " Within 
my heart," says he, "reigns alone, and must 
alone reign, faith in my Lord Jesus Christ, 
who alone is the beginning, the middle, and 
the end of the thoughts that occupy me day 
and night." 

His hearers listened with admiration as he 
spoke from the professor's chair, or from the 
pulpit, of that faith in Christ. His instruc- 
tions diffused light. The people marvelled 
that they had not earlier acknowledged truths 
which appeared so evident in his mouth. 
"The desire to justify ourselves is the spring 
of all our distress of heart," said he; "but 
he who receives Christ as a Saviour has 
joeace, and not only peace, but purity of heart. 
All sanctification of the heart is a fruit of 
faith. For faith in us is a divine work which 
changes us, and gives us a new birth, ema- 
nating from God himself. It kills Adam in 
us; and, through the Holy Spirit w T hich it 
communicates, it gives us a new heart and 
makes us new men. It is not by empty 
speculations," he again exclaims, "but by 
this practical method that we obtain a saving 
knowledge of Jesus Christ." 

It was at this time that Luther preached on 
the Ten Commandments a series of discourses, 
which have been preserved to us under the 
name of Declamations for the People. Doubt- 
less they are not free from errors. Luther 
was only gradually gaining light: "The path 
of the just is as the shining light, which 
shineth more and more unto the perfect day." 
But still what truth in these discourses ! 
what simplicity ! what eloquence! how well 
can we conceive the effect that the new 
preacher would produce on his audience and 
on his age. We will cite only one passage 
at the opening of his discourses. 

Luther ascended the pulpit of W T ittemberg, 
and read these words: "Thou shalt have no 
other gods than Me." Then turning to the 
people, who thronged the sanctuary, he said : 

All the sons of Adam are idolaters, and 
guilty transgressors of this first command 



ment." Doubtless this strange assertion 
startled his audience. He must justify u 
The speaker continued: "There are twc 
kinds of idolatry ; the one in outward action, 
the other within our hearts. 

"The outward, by which man worships 
wood, stone, reptiles, or stars. 

"The inward, by which man, dreading 
chastisement, or seeking his own pleasure, 
renders no outward worship to the creature, 
but yet in his heart loves it and trusts in it. 

" But what kind of religion is this 1 you do 
not bend the knee before riches and honour, 
but you give them your heart. The noblest 
part of your nature. Alas ! with your bodies 
you w r orship God, and with your spirits the 
creature. 

"This idolatry pervades every man until he 
is freely recovered by faith that is in Jesus 
Christ. 

"And how is this recovery brought about? 

"In this way: Faith in Christ strips you 
of all confidence in your own wisdom, and 
righteousness, and strength ; it teaches you 
that if Christ had not died for you, and saved 
you by his death, neither you nor any created 
power could have done so. Then you begin 
to despise all these things which you see to 
be unavailing. 

"Nothing remains, but Jesus — Jesus only; 
Jesus, abundantly sufficient for your soul. 
Hoping nothing from all created things, you 
have no dependence save on Christ, from 
whom you look for all, and whom you love 
above all. 

" But Jesus is the one sole and true God. 
When you have him for your God, you have 
no other gods." 

It was thus that Luther pointed out how 
the soul is brought to God, its sovereign good 
by the Gospel ; — agreeable to that declaration 
of Christ : " I am the way and no man come'ch 
unto the Father but by me." 

The man who thus spoke to this generation 
was surely intent not merely on overturning 
some abuses; his aim, above all, was to esta- 
blish true religion. His work was not merely 
negative; it was primarily positive. 

Luther then turned his discourse against 
the superstitions which filled Christendom; 
signs and mysterious omens; observances of 
particular days and months; familiar demons, 
phantoms, influences of the stars, incantations, 
metamorphoses, incubi and succubi; patro- 
nage of saints, &c. &c. &c. He attacked 
them all, one after the other, and with a strong 
arm cast down these false gods. 

But it was especially before the academy, 
before that youth, enlightened and eager for 
instruction, that Luther spread out the trea- 
sures of the word of God. " He so explained 
the Scriptures," says his illustrious friend 
Melancthon, "that, in the judgment of all 
pious and enlightened men, it was as if a new 
light had arisen on the doctrine after a long 
and dark night. He pointed out the differ- 
ence between the Law and the Gospel. He 
refuted that error then predominant in the 
Church and schools, that men by their own 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



59 



works, obtain remission of sins, and are made 
righteous before God by an external disci- 
pline. He thus brought back the hearts of 
men to the Son of God. Like John the 
Baptist, he pointed to the Lamb of God who 
has taken away the sins of the world. He 
explained that sin is freely pardoned on ac- 
count of God's Son, and that man receives 
this blessing through faith. He in no way 
interfered with the usual ceremonies. The 
established discipline had not in all his order 
a more faithful observer and defender. But 
he laboured more and more to make all under- 
stand the grand essential doctrines of Con- 
version; of the Forgiveness of Sins; ofFaith; 
and of the true consolations of the Cross. Pious 
souls w 7 ere attracted and penetrated by the 
sweetness of this doctrine ; the learned re- 
ceived it joyfully. One might have said that 
Christ and his Apostles and Prophets had 
come forth from darkness or from some impure 
dungeon. 

The firmness with which Luther appealed 
to and rested on the Gospel, gave great autho- 
rity to his teaching. But other circumstances 
added yet further to his power. With him, 
action corresponded with his words. It was 
known that these discourses were not merely 
the fruit of his lips. They came from the 
heart, and were practised in his daily walk. 
And when, at a later period, the Reformation 
burst forth, many influential men who saw 
with grief the divisions of the Church, won 
before-hand by the holy life of the Reformer, 
and his remarkable genius, not only did not 
oppose him, but embraced the doctrine to 
which his life gave testimony. The more 
men loved the Christian virtues, the more did 
they incline toward the Reformer; — all the 
most upright divines were in favour of him. 
This is what those who knew him, said of 
him, and especially the wisest man of his 
age, Melancthon, and Luther's celebrated op- 
ponent Erasmus. Envy and detraction have 
dared to talk of his dissolute life. Wittem- 
berg was changed by this preaching ofFaith. 
This city became the focus of a light which 
was soon to illuminate Germany, and spread 
over the whole Church. 

Luther, whose hear* was tender and affec- 
tionate, desired to see those whom he loved 
in possession of the light which had guided 
him in the paths of peace. He availed him- 
self of all the opportunities he possessed, as 
professor, teacher, and monk, as well as of 
his extensive correspondence, to communicate 
his treasure to others. One of his old asso- 
ciates of the convent of Erfurth, the monk 
George Spenlein, was then in the convent of 
Memmingen, having, perhaps, spent a short 
time at Wittemberg. Spenlein had commis- 
sioned Luther to sell some effects that he had 
left in his hands, a cloak of Brussels stuff, a 
work by the doctor Isenac, and a monk's hood. 
Luther carefully executed this commission. 
"He got," says he, "a florin for the cloak, 
half a florin for the book, and a florin for the 
hood,'" and had forwarded the amount to the 
Father Vicar, to whom Spenlein was indebted 



the three florins. But Luther passed quickly 
from this account of a monk's effects to a more 
important subject. 

tk I should like," says he to brother George, 
u to know how it is with your soul? Is it 
weary of its own righteousness] In a word 
does it breathe freely ] and put its trust in the 
righteousness of Christ 1 In these days, pride 
has drawn many aside, and especially those 
who labour with all their strength to be righ- 
teous. Not understanding the righteousness 
of God, which is given to us freely in Jesus 
Christ, they would stand before him on their 
own merits. But that can never be. When 
you and I were living together, you were 
under this delusion, and so was I. I contend 
against it unceasingly, and I have not yet en- 
tirely overcome it." 

" Oh, my dear brother, learn to know Christ, 
and him crucified. Learn to sing anew song 
— to despair of your own work, and to cry unto 
him, Lord Jesus, thou art my righteousness, 
and I am thy sin. Thou hast taken on thee 
what was mine, and given to me what is 
thine; what thou wast not, thou becamest, 
that I might become what I was not. Beware, 
my dear George, of aspiring after such purity 
as that thou mayest not have to acknowledge 
thyself a sinner; for Christ dwells only with 
sinners. He came down from heaven, where 
he abode with the just, to dwell also with 
sinners. Meditate often on this love of Christ, 
and you w;ll taste its unspeakable comfort. 
If our labours and afflictions could give peace 
to the conscience, why did Christ die upon 
the cross 1 You will find peace in him alone ; 
despairing of yourself and of your works, and 
beholding with what love he spreads his arms 
to you; taking all your sins on himself, and 
bestowing on you all his righteousness." 

Thus, the doctrine of power, which had 
already been the saving of the world in the 
days of the Apostles, and which was a second 
time to save it in the days of the Reformers, 
was set forth by Luther fearlessly and clearly. 
Reaching across many centuries of ignorance 
and superstition, he, in this, gave his hand to 
St. Paul. 

Spenlein was not the only one whom he 
sought to instruct in this fundamental doc- 
trine. The little of the truth he found on this 
subject in the writings of Erasmus distressed 
him. It was desirable to enlighten on this 
matter a man of such great authority and 
such admirable genius. But how to do this. 
His friend at the court, the chaplain of the 
Elector, was much respected by Erasmus; to 
him Luther addressed himself thus: " W^hat 
displeases me in Erasmus, that man of rare 
erudition, is, that where the Apostle speaks 
of the righteousness of works and of the law, 
he understands the fulfilment of the ceremonial 
law. The righteousness of the law consists 
not alone in ceremonies, but in all the works 
of the Ten Commandments. When these 
works are done without faith in Christ, they 
may, it is true, make a Fabricius, a Regulus, 
or a man of perfect integrity in man's sight, 
but they, in that case, are as little entitled to 



60 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



the name of righteousness, as the fruit of the 
medlar tree is entitled to be called a fig. For 
we do not become righteous, as Aristotle as- 
serts, by doing works of righteousness, bjit 
when we are righteous we do righteous works. 
It is necessary that the agent be changed, and 
then the works by consequence. Abel was 
first acceptable to God, and then his sacrifice 
was accepted." Luther continues : "I entreat 
you, fulfil the duty of a friend and of a Chris- 
tian in pressing these things on Erasmus." 
This letter is dated "in great haste, from the 
corner of our convent, the 19th of October, 
1516." It exhibits in its true light the rela- 
tion between Luther and Erasmus. It shows 
the sincere interest he took in what he thought 
really for the good of that illustrious writer. 
Doubtless at a later period Erasmus's opposi- 
tion to the truth obliged him to oppose him 
openly ; but he did so only after having sought 
to set his adversary right. 

The world, then, heard at length ideas at 
once clear and deep on the nature of that 
which is good. The principle was at last 
proclaimed, that what constitutes the real 
goodness of an action is not its outward cha- 
racter, but the spirit in which it is performed. 
This was aiming a death-blow at all the su- 
perstitious observances which had for centu- 
ries oppressed the Church, and prevented the 
Christian virtues from growingand prospering. 

" I read Erasmus," writes Luther elsewhere, 
" but he every day loses weight with me. I 
love to see him rebuke, with so much learning 
and firmness, the grovelling ignorance of the 
priests and monks ; but I fear he does no great 
service to the doctrine of Christ. What is of 
man, is nearer to his heart than what is of 
God. We live in critical times. To make a 
good and judicious Christian, it is not enough 
to understand Greek and Hebrew. St. Jerome, 
who knew five languages, is inferior to St. 
Augustine, who understood but one; though 
Erasmus thinks the contrary. I carefully 
conceal my opinion of Erasmus, lest I should 
give an advantage to his adversaries. It may 
be, that the Lord will give him understanding 
in his good time." 

The inability of man, — the almighty power 
of God, — these were the two truths that Lu- 
ther sought to re-establish. That is but a 
melancholy religion, and a poor philosophy, 
which directs man to his own natural strength. 
Past ages have made trial of that strength ; 
and whilst, in earthly things, man has attained 
admirable excellence, he has never been able 
to dissipate the darkness which hides God 
from his soul, or to change a single inclination 
to evil. The highest attainment in wisdom 
of the most aspiring minds, or of the souls 
most eager after perfection, has been to despair 
of themselves. It is, therefore, a generous, 
consoling, and supremely true doctrine, which 
discovers to us our impotence, that it may de- 
clare a power — of God — by which we can do 
all things; and that is a noble Reformation 
which vindicates on earth the glory of heaven, 
and pleads before man the rights of the mighty 
God. 



But no one knew better than Luther the 
intimate connection that unites the free salva- 
tion which cometh of God, with the free works 
of man. No one showed better than he, that 
it is only in receiving all from Christ, that 
man gives freely to his brethren. He ever 
presented, in the same picture, these two 
procedures, — that of God, and that of man. 
Thus, after having declared to Spenlein the 
righteousness which saves us, he added, "If 
thou firmly believest these things, as thou 
oughtest, (for cursed is he whosoever doth not 
believe them,) receive thine erring and igno- 
rant brethren as Jesus Christ hath received 
thee. Bear with them patiently; make their 
sins your own; and if you have any good 
thing to communicate to them, do it. Receive 
you one another, said the Apostle, as Christ 
also hath received us, to the glory of God. 
It is a wretched righteousness which will not 
bear with others, because it deems them evil, 
and seeks the solitude of the desert, instead 
of doing good to such, by long-suff>ring, by 
prayer and example. If thou art the lily and 
the rose of Christ, know that thy dwelling- 
place is among thorns. Only take heed, lest, 
by impatience, rash judgments, and pride, 
thou thyself become a thorn.. Christ reigns 
in the midst of his enemies. If he had desired 
to live only among the good, and die only for 
such as loved him, would he have died at all ? 
and among whom would he have lived ?" 

It is affecting to see how Luther himself 
put in practice these precepts of charity. An 
Augustine of Erfurth, George LeifFer, was 
exposed to many trials. Luther heard of it, 
and a week after he wrote this letter, he went 
to him with expressions of compassion : " I 
hear," said he, "that you are driven about by 
many tempests, and that your soul is impelled 
hither and thither by the waves. The cross 
of Christ is divided over the earth, and each 
one has his share. Do not you refuse your 
portion; rather receive it as a holy relic not, 
indeed, into a gold or silver vase, but, what is 
much preferable, into a heart of gold — a heart 
imbued with meekness. If the wood of the 
cross was so sanctified by the blood and body 
of Christ, that we deem it the most venerable 
of relics, how much more should we count as 
holy relics, the wrongs, persecutions, suffer- 
ings, and hatred of men, since they were not 
only touched by Christ's flesh, but embraced, 
kissed, and made blessed by his boundless 
love." 

The teaching of Luther bore fruit. Many 
of his disciples felt themselves impelled to a 
public profession of the truths which their 
master's lessons had revealed to them. Among 
his hearers was a young scholar, Bernard of 
Feldkirchen, professor of Aristotelian physics 
in the university, and, five years later, the 
first of the ecclesiastics who entered into the 
marriage state. 

Luther desired Feldkirchen to maintain, un- 
der his presidence, theses, in which his princi- 
ples were set forth. The doctrines professed 
by Luther acquired by this means additional 
publicity The disputation took place in 1516 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



61 



This was Luther's first attack on the reign 
of the sophists and on the Papacy, as he says 
himself. Feeble as it was, it cost him many 
misgivings. "I consent to the printing of 
these propositions,*' said he, many years after, 
when publishing them in his works, "chiefly 
that the greatness of my cause, and the suc- 
cess with which God has crowned it, may not 
lift me up; for they manifest abundantly my 
shame ; that is to say, the infirmity and igno- 
rance, the fear and trembling, with which I 
began this contest. I was alone; I had 
thrown myself rashly into the affair. Not 
being able to draw back, I gave up to the 
Pope many important points ; I even worship- 
ped his authority." 

The following were some of these proposi- 
tions : — 

" The old man is the vanity of vanities; he 
is the universal vanity, and he makes other 
creatures vain, whatever goodness may be in 
them. 

"The old man is called 'the flesh,' not 
merely because he is led by the desires of the 
flesh, but also because, though he should even 
be chaste, virtuous, and just, he is not born 
again of God, by the Spirit. 

"A man who is a stranger to the grace of 
God cannot keep the commandments of God, 
nor prepare himself, wholly or in part, to 
receive grace, but remains necessarily under 
sin. 

"The will of man, without divine grace, is 
not free, but enslaved, and willing to be so. 

"Jesus Christ, our strength, our righteous- 
ness, he who searches the heart and reins, is 
the only discerner and judge of our deserts. 

"Since all things are possible through 
Christ to him that believeth, it is superstitious 
to seek for other help, either in man's will or 
in the saints." 

This disputation made a great noise, and it 
has been considered as the commencement of 
the Reformation. 

The moment drew nigh when that Reforma- 
tion was to burst forth. God hastened the 
preparation of the instrument he designed to 
use. The Elector, having built a new church 
at Wittemberg, and given it the name of All 
Saints, despatched S.taupitz to the Low Coun- 
tries to collect relics to enrich the new temple. 
The Vicar-general commissioned Luther to 
take his place in his absence, and, in particu- 
lar, to make a visitation to forty monasteries 
of Misnia and Thuringia. 

Luther went first to Grimma, and thence to 
Dresden. Everywhere he endeavoured to 
establish the truths he had discovered, and to 
enlighten the members of his order. " Do 
not join yourself to Aristotle," said he to the 
monks, " or to the other teachers of a mis- 
leading philosophy, but apply yourselves to 
the reading of the word of God. Seek not 
your salvation in your own strength and good 
works, but in the merits of Christ, and in the 
grace of God." 

An Augustine monk of Dresden had eloped 
trom his convent, and was residing at Mentz, 
where the prior of the Augustines had received 



him. Luther wrote to the prior, desiring hirn 
to send back this stray sheep ; and he added 
these words of truth and chaiity : " I know — 
I know that it cannot be but that offences must 
come. It is no w r onder wnen man falls, but 
it is a miracle when he rises and continues 
standing. Peter fell that he might know that 
he was a man. Even at this day we see 
cedars of Lebanon falling. The - angels, 
even, (difficult as it is to conceive it.) fell in 
heaven, and Adam in Paradise. Why, then, 
should we wonder when a reed is shaken by 
the w r hirlwind, or a flickering taper is extin- 
guished." 

From Dresden, Luther repaired to Erfurth, 
and reappeared, to exercise the functions of 
Vicar-general in that same convent, where, 
eleven years before, he had wound up the 
clock, opened the gates, and swept the floor 
of the church. He placed in the post of prior 
of the convent, his friend the bachelor, John 
Lange, a man of learning and piety, but aus- 
tere in his disposition. Therefore it was he 
exhorted him to affability and patience. " Put 
on," said he, writing to him shortly after, 
" put on a spirit of meekness toward the prior 
of Nuremberg. It is proper that you should 
do so, since the prior has assumed a harsh 
and bitter tone. Bitterness is not expelled 
by bitterness, — that is to say, the devil is not 
cast out by the devil; but the sweet over- 
comes and expels the bitter, — in. other words, 
the finger of God casts out devils." Perhaps 
we may regret that Luther himself, on some 
occasions, forgot to follow these excellent 
directions. 

At Neustadt, on the Orla, there was nothing 
but disunion. Disturbances and dissensions 
reigned in the convent. The whole body of 
the monks were in open war with their prior. 
They beset Luther with their complaints. 
The prior, Michael Dressel, — or Tornator, as 
Luther calls him, translating his name into 
Latin, — enumerated to the Doctor all his 
grievances. " Oh, for peace !" said the prior. 
"You seek peace," said Luther, "but it is 
only the peace of the world, and not the peace 
that is of Christ. Do you not know that our 
God has set his peace in the midst of opposi- 
tion] He whom nobody disturbs has not 
peace, but he who, harassed by all men, and 
by the things of this life, bears all tranquilly 
and joyfully ; he it is that has the true peace. 
You cry, with Israel, peace, peace, when there 
is no peace. Say rather with Christ, the cross, 
the cross, and there will be no cross : for the 
cross ceases to be a cross when we can say 
with love : * O blessed cross ! there is no 
wood like thine !' " On his return to Wit- 
temberg, Luther, desiring to put a stop to these 
dissensions, allowed the monks to elect an- 
other prior. Luther returned to Wittemberg 
after six weeks absence. What he had witness- 
ed saddened him; but his journey gave him a 
better knowledgeof the Churchand of the world, 
and more confidence in his intercourse with 
mankind, besides offering many opportunities 
of pressing the fundamental truth that " Holy 
Scripture alone shows us the way to heaven.* 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and at the same time exhorting the brethren to 
live holily and at peace one with another. 
Doubtless a plenteous seed was sown in the 
different Augustine convents during that jour- 
ney of the Reformer. The monastic orders, 
which had long been the support of Rome, 
did more, perhaps, for the Reformation than 
against it. This was especially true of the 
Augustines. Almost all the men of liberal 
and enlightened piety who were living in the 
cloisters, turned towards the Gospel. A new 
and generous blood seemed to circulate through 
these orders, which were as the arteries of the 
Catholic body in Germany. In public, little 
was as yet heard of the new ideas of the Au- 
gustine of Wittemberg ; while they were 
already the chief subject of conversation in 
chapters and monasteries. More than one 
cloister was, in this way, the nursery of the 
Reformers. When the great struggle came, 
pious and brave men came forth from their re- 
tirement and exchanged the solitude of monk- 
ish life for the active service of ministers of 
God's word. Even as early as this visit of 
inspection in 1516, Luther aroused by his 
words many a drowsy spirit. Hence that 
year has been named " the Morning Star of 
theJRef ormation ." 

Luther now resumed his usual occupation. 
He was, at this period, overwhelmed with 
labour. Besides his duties as professor, 
preacher, and confessor, he was burdened with 
many temporal concerns of his order and con- 
vent. "I require almost continually," said 
he, " two secretaries ; for I do scarce any thing 
else all day long than write letters. I am 
preacher to the convent, reader of prayers at 
table, pastor and parish minister, director of 
studies, vicar of the priory, (that is to say, 
prior ten times over,) inspector of the fish- 
ponds of Litzkau, counsel to the inns of Herz- 
berg at Torgau, lecturer on St. Paul, and 
commentator on the Psalms. Seldom have I 
time to say my prayers, or to sing a hymn; 
not to mention my struggle with flesh and 
blood, the devil and the world. See what an 
idle man I am !" 

About this time the plague showed itself at 
Wittemberg. A great number of the students 
and doctors quitted the town. Luther re- 
mained. "I do not very well know," wrote 
he to his friend at Erfurth, " whether the 
plague will suffer me to finish the Epistle to 
the Galatians. Quick and sudden in its at- 
tacks, it makes great havoc, especially among 
the young. You advise me to flee — but whi- 
ther shall I flee 1 I hope the world will not 
go to pieces if brother Martin should fall. If 
the plague spreads, I will send the brethren 
away in all directions, but for my part I am 
placed here ; obedience does not allow me to 
leave the spot until He who called me hither 
shall call me away. Not that I am above the 
fear of death, (for I arn not the Apostle Paul, 
but only his commentator,) but I trust the 
Lord will deliver me from the fear of it." 
Such was the firm resolution of the Doctor 
of W 7 ittemberg. He whom the plague could 
not force to retire a single step, would he draw 



back from fear of Rome 1 would he recede in 
the prospect of the scaffold 1 

The same courage that Luther evinced in 
presence of the most formidable evils, he ma- 
nifested before the great ones of the world. 
The Elector was well satisfied with the Vicar- 
general. He had reaped a rich harvest of 
relics in the Low Countries. Luther gave an 
account of it to Spalatin. This affair of the 
relics is singular enough, occurring as it did 
at the moment when the Reformation was 
about to open. Assuredly the Reformers did 
not see clearly whither they were tending. 
The Elector deemed that nothing less than a 
bishopric was a reward commensurate with 
the services of the Vicar-general. Luther, to 
whom Spalatin wrote on the subject, highly 
disapproved the suggestion. "There are 
many things," answered he, " that are pleas- 
ing to your prince, which yet displease God. 
I do not deny that he is skilled in the concerns 
of the world, but in what relates to God and 
the salvatiun of souls, I consider him alto- 
gether blind, as well as his adviser Pfefflnger. 
I do not say that behind his back, like a ca- 
lumniator; I do not conceal my opinion from 
them ; for I am at all times ready myself to 
tell them both so to their faces. Why will 
you," continued he, " seek to surround that 
man (Staupitz) with all the heavings and 
tempests of episcopal cares ?" 

The Elector did not take amiss the frank- 
ness of Luther. "The prince," wrote Spa- 
latin, "often speaks of you in honourable 
terms." Frederic sent the monk some stuff 
for a gown. It was of very fine cloth. " It 
would be too fine," said Luther, " if it were 
not a prince's gift. I am not worthy that any 
man should think of me, much less a prince, 
and so noble a prince. Those are most use- 
ful to me who think worst of me. Present 
my thanks to our Prince for his favour, but 
know that I desire neither the praise of thy- 
self nor of others ; all of the praise of man 
is vain, the praise that cometh of God being 
alone true." 

The worthy chaplain would not confine 
himself to his functions at the court. He 
wished to make himself useful to the people, 
but, like many others in all ages, he wished 
to do it without offence, without irritating any 
one, and so as to conciliate general favour. 
" Point out to me," said he, in a letter to 
Luther, " some writing to translate, but one 
that shall give general satisfaction, and at the 
same time be useful !" " Agreeable and use- 
ful," replied Luther, "that is beyond my 
skill. The better things are, the less they 
please. What is more salutary than Christ? 
and yet he is to most a savour of death. You 
will say that what you intend is to be useful 
to those who love Christ; — then cause them 
to hear his voice; you will thus be agreeable 
and useful — never doubt it — but to a small 
number, for the sheep are but rare in this 
dreary region of wolves." 

Luther, however, recommended to his friend 
the sermons of Tauler the Dominican. "I 
never saw," said he, " either in Latin or in 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



63 



our language, a theology more sound or more 
conformable to the Gospel. Taste them and 
6ee how gracious the Lord is, but not till you 
have first tasted and experienced how bitter is 
every thing in ourselves." 

It was in the course of the year 1517 that 
Luther became connected with Duke George 
of Saxony. The house of Saxony had at 
that time two chiefs. Two princes, Ernest 
and Albert, carried off in their childhood from 
the castle of Altenburg, by Kunz of Kau- 
fungen, had by the treaty of Leipsic been ac- 
knowledged as the founders of the two houses 
which still bear their names. The Elector 
Frederic, son of Ernest, was at the period we 
are recording, the head of the Ernestine branch, 
as his cousin Duke George was head of the 
Albertine branch. Dresden and Leipsic were 
situated in the states of this duke, and he him- 
self resided in the former of these cities. His 
mother, Sidonia, was daughter of the King of 
Bohemia, George Podibrad. The long strug- 
gle-which Bohemia had maintained with Rome, 
since the time of John Huss, had had some 
influence on the Prince of Saxony. He had 
often manifested a desire of a Reformation. 
" He sucked it with his mother's milk," said 
they; " he is, by his nature, an enemy to the 
clergy." He annoyed, in many ways, the 
bishops, abbots, canons, and monks ; and his 
cousin, the Elector Frederic, often had to in- 
terpose in their behalf. It must have seemed 
that Duke George would be the warmest pa- 
tron of a Reformation. The devout Frederic, 
on the contrary, who had in early life assumed, 
in the holy sepulchre, the spurs of Godfrey, 
and armed himself with the long an^d heavy 
sword of the conqueror of Jerusalem,' making 
oath to fight for the Church, like that valiant 
knight, seemed marked out to be the most ar- 
dent champion of Rome. But in what pertains 
to the Gospel, all the calculations of human 
wisdom arc often deceived. The very reverse 
ensued. The Duke would have taken plea- 
sure in bringing down the Church and the 
clergy, in humbling the bishops, whose prince- 
ly retinue much exceeded his own; but to 
receive into his heart the doctrine of the Gos- 
pel, which was to humble him,— to confess 
himself a guilty sinner, incapable of being 
saved except by grace, — was quite another 
thing. He would have willingly reformed 
others, but he had no idea of reforming him- 
self. He would perhaps have put his hand 
to the work to oblige the Bishop of Mentz to 
limit himself to one bishopric, and to have 
only fourteen horses in his stables, as he said 
more than once; but when he saw one alto- 
gether unlike himself appear as the Reformer, 
— when he beheld a plain monk undertake 
this work, and the Reformation gaining ground 
among the people, — the proud grandson of 
the Hussite King became the most violent 
adversary of the reform to which he had shown 
himself favourable. 

In the month of July, 1517, Duke George 
requested Staupitz to send him a learned and 
eloquent preacher. Staupitz sent Luther, re- 
commending him as a man of great learning 
6 



and irreproachable conduct. The prince in- 
vited him to preach at Dresden in the chapel 
of the castle on St. James the Elder's day. 

The day came. The Duke and his court 
repaired to the chapel to hear the preacher 
from Wittemberg. Luther seized with joy 
the opportunity of giving his testimony to the 
truth before such an assembly. He chose as 
his text the gospel of the day : " Then the 
mother of Zebedee's children came tc him 
with her sons," &c. (Mat. xx. 20.) He 
preached on the desires and unreasonable 
prayers of men, and then proceeded to speak 
with energy on the assurance of salvation. 
He rested it on this foundation; — that they 
who hear the word of God and believe it, are 
the true disciples of Christ, elect unto eternal 
life. Then he spoke of free election : he 
showed that his doctrine, viewed in connection 
with Christ's work, has power to dispel the 
terrors of conscience, so that men, instead of 
fleeing far from the Holy God, in the consci- 
ousness of their unworthiness, are brought by 
grace to seek refuge in Him. In conclusion, 
he related a story of three virgins, from which 
he deduced edifying instructions. 

The word of truth made a profound im- 
pression on the hearers. Two of them, espe- 
cially, seemed to pay particular attention to 
the sermon of the monk of Wittemberg. The 
first was a lady of respectable appearance, 
seated on the benches of the court, and or 
whose features might be traced a deep emo- 
tion. This was Madame de la Sale, lady of 
the bed-chamber to the Duchess. The other 
was Jerome Emser, licentiate of canon law, 
and secretary and counsellor to the duke. 
Emser was gifted with talents and extensive 
acquirements. A courtier, a skilful politician, 
he would have wished at once to satisfy two 
opposite parties, — to pass at Rome as a de- 
fender of the Papacy, and at the same time 
shine among the learned men of Germany. 
But beneath this dexterous policy lay hid 
much violence of character. It was the cha- 
pel of the castle of Dresden that was the 
scene of the first meeting of Luther and 
Emser, who were destined afterwards to break 
more than one lance together. 

The dinner hour sounded in the castle, and 
soon the ducal family and the different per- 
sons of the court were assembled round the 
table. The conversation naturally turned on 
the morning preacher. "How did you like 
the sermon]" said the Duke to Madame de 
la Sale. "If I could but hear one other 
such sermon," answered she, "I would die in 
peace." "And I," replied Duke George 
angrily, "would give something not to have 
heard it ; for such sermons are good for no- 
thing, and serve only to encourage men in 
sin." 

The master having thus made known his 
opinion, the courtiers gave vent to their dis- 
satisfaction. Each was ready with his re- 
mark. Some asserted that in Luther's story 
of the three virgins, he had in his eye three 
ladies of the court; — hereupon much talk and 
| whispering ensued. The three ladies were 



64 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rallied on the circumstance of the monk of 
Wittemberg, having, as they said, publicly 
pointed them out. " He is an ignorant fel- 
low," said some. "A proud monk!" said 
others. Each one criticised the sermon in his 
own manner, and made the preacher say what 
he pleased. The truth had fallen in the midst 
of a court little prepared to receive it. Every 
one mangled it at his will. But whilst the 
word of God was thus to some an occasion of 
falling, it was to the lady of the bed-cham- 
ber a corner-stone of edification. One month 
afterwards, she fell sick, embraced with con- 
fidence the grace of the Saviour, and died 
with joy. 

As to the Duke, it was not perhaps in vain 
that he heard this testimony to the truth. 
Whatever had been his opposition to the Re- 
formation during his life, he is known to have 
declared on his death-bed that he had no other 
hope than in the merits of Christ. 

It was a matter of course that Emser should 
do the honours to Luther in the name of his 
master. He invited him to supper. Luther 
declined. But Emser pressed him until he 
assented. Luther expected to meet only a 
few friends, but he soon saw it was a trap 
laid for him. A master of arts of Leipsic and 
several Dominicans were with the Prince's 
secretary. The master of arts, full of confi- 
dence in himself, and of hatred against Luther, 
accosted him with a friendly and gentle air, 
but soon lost his temper, and talked loudly. 
The debate was opened. The discussion turn- 
ed, says Luther, on the solemn trifling of 
Aristotle and St. Thomas. In conclusion, 
Luther challenged the master of arts to define, 
with all the learning of the Thomists, in what 
obedience to God's commandments consisted. 
The master of arts, though puzzled, put a good 
face upon it. " Pay me my fees first," said 
he, holding out his hand, "Da paslum" as 
though he were called on to give a formal lec- 
ture, treating the guests as his scholars. " At 
this ridiculous reply," adds the Reformer, " we 
all laughed outright, and hereupon we sepa- 
rated." 

During this conversation, a Dominican had 
listened at the door. He wanted to enter that 
he might spit in Luther's face. He, however, 
restrained himself; but publicly boasted of it 
afterwards. Etnser, delighted to see his guests 
contending with each other, while he himself 
appeared to maintain a guarded medium, took 
pains to excuse himself to Luther on the in- 
cident of the evening. The latter returned to 
Wittemberg. 

He again applied himself laboriously to 
work. He was preparing six or seven young 
divines, who were about to undergo examina- 
tion for license to teach. What most pleased 
him was, that their promotion would contri- 
bute to the downfal of Aristotle. '* I would 
lose no time," said he, " in adding to the num- 
ber of his opponents." And with this object, 
he, about that time, published some theses 
which deserve our attention. 

The Freedom of the Will was his high sub- 
ject. He had already slightly touched on it 



in the theses of Feldkirchen; he now went 
more fully into the question. Ever since the 
promulgation of Christianity, a controversy 
has been carried on, with more or less keen- 
ness, between the two doctrines of the liberty 
and the bondage of the human will. Certain 
scholastic writers, as Pelagius, and others, 
had taught that man possessed, from his own 
nature, a freedom of will, or the power of 
loving God and doing righteousness. Luther 
denied this doctrine; not in order to deprive 
man of liberty, but that he might lead hirn to 
obtain it. The point of dispute, then, is not, 
as has been commonly said, between liberty 
and slavery ; it is between a liberty proceed- 
ing from man's nature, and a liberty that 
cometh of God. The one party, who call 
themselves the advocates of liberty, say to 
man : " Thou hast the power to do right, thou 
hast no need of more liberty !" the others, 
who have been styled the partisans of slavery, 
say to him the very reverse : *' True liberty 
is what thou needest, and it is what God of- 
fers to thee in the Gospel." On the one side, 
they talk of liberty so as to perpetuate servi- 
tude ; on the other, they proclaim to us our 
bondage that we may obtain liberty. Such 
has been the contest in St. Paul's time; in 
the days of St. Augustine; and, again, in 
those of Luther. The one party, congratulat- 
ing man on his freedom, would, in effect, re- 
concile him to slavery; the other, showing 
how his fetters may be struck off, are the true 
advocates of liberty. 

But we should be/deceiving ourselves, if we 
are to sum up, in this question, the whole of 
the Reformation. It is one, and only one, of 
many doctrines that the professor of Wittem- 
berg contended for. It would, especially, be 
a strange error to assert, that the Reformation 
was a fatalism, — an opposition to the notion 
of human liberty. It was a noble emancipa- 
tion of the mind of man. Bursting the many 
cords with which the hierarchy had tied down 
the thoughts of men, — restoring the ideas of 
liberty, of right of free investigation, — it 
liberated its own age, ourselves, and the re- 
motest posterity. And let none say : " True, 
the Reformation did liberate man from all 
human despotism; but at the same time, re- 
duced him to slavery in other things, by pro- 
claiming the sovereignty of grace." — Doubt- 
less, its aim was to bring the human will into 
harmony with the divine will, to subject the 
former absolutely to the latter, and to blend 
them together. But where is the philosopher 
who does not know, that perfect conformity 
to the will of God is the sole, sovereign, and 
complete liberty ; and that man will never be 
truly free, until perfect righteousness and un- 
changing truth reign unrivalled in his heart 
and mind 1 

The following are a few of the ninety-nine 
propositions which Luther put forth in the 
church, against the Pelagian rationalism of the 
scholastic theology : — 

" It is true that man, who is become ' a baa 
tree,' can but will and do what is evil. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



65 



"It is false that the will, left to itself, can 
do good as well as evil ; for it is not free, but 
led captive. 

" It is not in the power of man's will to 
purpose or not purpose all that is suggested 
to him. 

" Man, by nature, cannot wish that God 
should be God. He would prefer that him- 
self should be God, and that God should not 
be God. 

" The excellent, infallible, and sole prepa- 
ration for grace, is the election and the ever- 
lasting predestination of God. 

" It is false to say, that man, if he does all 
in his power, dissipates the obstacles to divine 
grace. 

"In one word, nature possesses neither a 
pure reason nor a good will. 

44 On man's part, there is nothing that goes 
before grace, — nothing but impotency and re- 
bellion. 

" There is no moral virtue without pride or 
sadness, — that is to say, without sin. 

" From first to last, we are not the masters 
of our actions, but their slaves. 

44 We do not become righteous by doing that 
Which is righteous; but having become righ- 
teous, we do that which is righteous. 

44 He who says a theologian unacquainted 
with Jogic is a heretic and empiric, makes 
an empirical and heretical assertion. 

44 There is no form of reasoning or syllogism 
suited to the things of God. 

44 If the syllogistic method were applicable 
to divine things, the doctrine of the Holy 
Trinity would be known and not believed. 

44 In a word, Aristotle is to theology as dark- 
ness to light. 

44 Man is more opposed to the grace of God 
than to the law itself. 

44 He who is destitute of the grace of God 
sins incessantly, though he should neither kill, 
nor steal, nor commit adultery. 

44 He sins, because he does not fulfil the 
law spiritually. 

44 It is the righteousness of hypocrites not 
to kill, and not to commit adultery in outward 
acts. 

44 The law of God and the will of man are 
t*vo opposites, which, without the grace of 
God, cannot be made to meet. 

44 What the law prescribes the will never 
seeks, unless, from fear or interest, it effects to 
seek it. 

44 The law is a task-master of our will, 

which is not brought into obedience, save only 

by the young child born unto us. (Isa. ix. 6.) 

44 The law makes sin to abound, for it 

irritates and repels the will. 

44 But the grace of God makes righteous- 
ness to abound 4 by Jesus Christ;' who leads 
us to love the law. 

44 All the works cf the law seem fair with- 
out, but are sin within. 

44 The will, when it turns towards the law, 
without the grace of God, does so only for its 
own-self-pleasing. 

44 They are still under the curse who do the 
works of the law 



44 Blessed are all they who do works of the 
grace of God. 

44 The law which is good, and in which we 
have life, is the love of God shed abroad in 
our hearts by the Holy Ghost. 

44 Grace is not given, that works may be 
done oftener or easier; but because, without 
grace, no work of love can be done.. 

44 To love God is to abhor ourselves, and to 
have nothing out of God." 

Thus, Luther attributes to God all good 
that man can do. It is not enough to repair 
and patch up, if we may so speak, man's will ; 
an entirely new will must be given him. 
God only could have said this; because God 
only could accomplish it. This is one of the 
greatest and most important truths that the 
human mind can receive. 

But Luther, while proclaiming the impo- 
tence of man, did not fall into a contrary 
extreme to that he opposed. He says, in his 
8th thesis: 44 It does not follow, from this 
statement, that the will is in its nature bad : 
that is, that its nature is that of evil itself, as 
the Manicheans have asserted." The nature 
of man was at first essentially good : it has 
turned aside from good, — that is, from God, — 
and inclined to evil. Still its holy and glorious 
origin remains, and it may, by the power of 
God, be restored and renewed. The office of 
Christianity is thus to restore it. It is true, 
the Gospel represents man in a condition of 
humiliation and impotence, but between two 
states of glory and of grandeur — a past glory, 
from which he has been hurled, and a future 
glory, to which he is called. That is the real 
truth : man knows it, and on the slightest 
consideration, he perceives that all that is said 
of his present purity, power, and glory, is 
nothing bnt a fiction designed to lull and 
soothe his pride. 

Luther, in his theses, protested not only 
against the pretended goodness of man's will, 
but also against the asserted illumination of 
his understanding in regard to divine things. 
The schoolmen had exalted human reason as 
well as man's will. This theology, as it had 
been represented by some of its teachers, was 
at the bottom a kind of rationalism. The 
propositions that we have quoted, show this. 
We might suppose them directed against the 
rationalism of our day. In the theses which 
were the signal of the Reformation, Luther 
censured the Church and the popular supersti- 
tions which had overloaded the Gospel with 
indulgences, purgatory, and so many other 
abuses. In the theses we have now quoted, 
he attacked the schools and the rationalism 
which had retrenched from the Gospel the 
doctrine of God's sovereign grace. The Re- 
formation turned against rationalism before it 
attacked superstition. It proclaimed the rights 
of God before it lopped off the excrescences 
of man. It was positive — before it was 
negative. This has not been sufficiently ad- 
verted to, and yet, if we do not keep it in 
mind, it is impossible to appreciate this reli- 
gious revolution and its true nature. 

However this may be, the truths that 



66 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Luther had just expressed with so much 
energy, were quite new to his hearers. To 
maintain these theses at Wittemberg would 
have been an easy thing-. His influence pre- 
vailed there. It might have been said that he 
was choosing a field in which he knew no 
antagonist could oppose him. By offering 
battle in another university, he was giving 
them a wider publicity ; and it was through 
publicity that the Reformation was to be 
effected. He chose Erfurth, whose divines 
had shown themselves so offended with him. 

He therefore sent these theses to John 
Lange, prior of Erfurth, and wrote to him 
thus: " My anxiety to know your mind on 
these paradoxes is great, perhaps extreme. I 
strongly suspect that your theologians will 
consider as paradox, and even as cacodox, that 
which I must always consider very orthodox. 
Tell me, therefore, your opinion, as soon as 
you can. Pray inform the faculty of theology, 
and all others, that I am ready to come among 
you, and publicly maintain these propositions, 
either in the University or in the monastery." 
It does not appear that Luther's challenge was 
accepted. The monks of Erfurth contented 
themselves with letting him know that these 
theses had greatly displeased them. 

But he determined to send them into another 
part of Germany. He turned his eyes, for 
that purpose, on one who played a remarka- 
ble part in the history of the Reformation, and 
whose character it is necessary we should un- 
derstand. 

John Meyer, a distinguished professor, was 
then teaching at the University of Ingolstadt, 
in Bavaria. He was a native of Eck, a vil- 
lage of Suabia, and was commonly called Doc- 
tor Eck. He was a friend of Luther, who 
nighly esteemed his talents and information. 
He was full of intelligence, well read, and 
gifted with an extraordinary memory. To his 
'earning he united eloquence. His action and 
voice expressed the liveliness of his genius. 
Eck was, as to talent, in southern Germany, 
»vhat Luther was in the north. They were 
the two most distinguished theologians of that 
period, though differing widely in their ten- 
dency, as the sequel showed. Ingolstadt 
almost rivalled Wittemberg. The reputation 
of the two Doctors drew from all sides to their 
respective universities a crowd of students 
eager to listen to their lectures. Their person- 
al qualities, not less than their learning, en- 
deared them to their scholars. The character 
of Eck has been censured. An incident of his 
life will show, that, at this period at least, his 
heart was not closed against generous im- 
pulses. 

Among the students, whom his reputation 
had attracted to Ingolstadt, was a young man 
named Urban Regius, born on the banks of 
one of the Swiss lakes. He had studied first 
at the University of Friburg in Brisgau. Ar- 
riving at Ingolstadt, whither the reputation of 
Eck had attracted him, Urban there attended 
courses of philosophy, and won the doctor's 
favour. Obliged to provide for his own ne- 
cessities, he found himself compelled to take 



charge of the education of some young nobles. 
He was not only to overlook their conduct 
and studies, but himself to buy for them the 
books and clothes they needed. These youths 
were accustomed to dress well and live ex- 
pensively. Regius, uneasy at this, requested 
the parents to remove their sons. " Take 
courage," answered they. His debts in- 
creased, his creditors became clamorous, he 
knew not what would become of him. The 
Emperor was then collecting an army against 
the Turks. Some recruiting parties arrived 
at Ingolstadt. In his desperation Urban en- 
listed. He appeared in the ranks in military 
garb, at a review preparatory to marching. 
Just then, Doctor Eck arrived in the square 
with some of his colleagues. To his great 
surprise, he recognised his student in the 
midst of the recruits. " Urban Regius !" 
said he, approaching him, and fixing on him 
a scrutinizing eye. "I am here!" said the 
conscript. " What, I pray you, is the cause of 
this change ?" The young man told his story. 
" I will settle the affair," answered Eck. He 
then proceeded to take away his halberd, and 
bought his discharge from the recruiting 
officers. The parents, threatened by the Doc- 
tor with the displeasure of their prince, sent 
the necessary funds for their children's ex- 
penditure. Urban Regius was preserved, to 
become at a later period one of the supporters 
of the Reformation. 

It was Doctor Eck that Luther pitched on 
to make known in the southern states his 
theses on Pelagianism and the Rationalism of 
the schools. He did not, however, send them 
direct to the Professor of Ingolstadt, but ad- 
dressed them to their common friend, the wor- 
thy Christopher Scheurl, town-clerk of the 
city of Nuremberg, requesting him to forward 
them to Eck, at Ingolstadt, which was not 
far from Nuremberg. " I send you," said he, 
" my propositions, (merely paradoxical, or 
even kakistodoxical as they seem to many;) 
communicate them to our dear Eck, that learn- 
ed and sagacious man, that I may know what 
he thinks of them." It was thus Luther then 
spoke of Doctor Eck ; such was the friendship 
which united them. Luther was not the first 
to break off this good understanding. 

But the combat was not to be fought on 
that field. These iheses turned, it may be 
thought, on doctrines of higher importance 
than those which, two months after, set the 
whole Church in a flame. And yet, notwith- 
standing Luther's challenge, they passed un- 
noticed. They were read, at the most in th 
precincts of the school, and they made no sen 
sation beyond its bounds. The reason of this 
was, that they contained only academic propo- 
sitions, and theological doctrines; whilst the 
theses which followed had immediate refer- 
ence to an evil which had grown up in the 
midst of the people, and overflowed Germany 
on all sides. So long as Luther confined him- 
self to bringing forth long-forgotten doctrine, 
no response was heard. When he pointed to 
the abuses which offended all minds, every 
one gave ear. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Nevertheless, Luther, in both cases, did 
but design to raise one of those theological 
discussions then frequent in the University. 
His ideas did not range beyond that circle. 
He had no thought of becoming a Reformer. 
He had a low opinion of his own powers, and 
his humility even amounted to mistrust and 
anxiety, " I deserve, — such is my ignorance," 
—said he, " nothing better than to be hidden 



in a corner unknown to every one." But a 
powerful hand drew him forth from this cor- 
ner, where he would have wished to remain 
unknown to the world. An occurrence, which 
did not depend on Luther's will, threw him on 
the field of battle, and the conflict began. It 
is this providential circumstance that the pro- 
gress of events calls on us to narrate. 



BOOK III. 



THE INDULGENCES AND THE THESES. 



1517—1518. 



Tetzel — Confessions — The Sale — Penance — Letter of Indulgence — Relaxations — A Soul in Pur- 
gatory — The Shoemaker of Hagenau — Myconius — A Stratagem — Opinions of the People — Tha 
Miser of Schneeberg — Leo X. — Albert — Farming Indulgences — Franciscans and Dominicans — 
Confession — A Calumny Refuted — Luther's Sermon — The Dream — Theses — Letter to Albert — 
Efforts for Reform — The Bishops — Spread of the Theses — Reception of the Theses — Effects 
of the Theses — Myconius — Apprehension — Opposers at Wittemberg — Luther's Answer — Dejec- 
tion of Luther — Motives — Tetzel' s Attack — Luther's Answer — Luther's Boldness — Luther and 
Spalatin — Study of the Scriptures — Scheurl and Luther — Albert Durer — Tetzel's Reply — Dispu- 
tation at Frankfort — Tetzel's Theses — Luther's Theses Burned — Outcry of the Monks — 
Luther's Composure — Tetzel's Theses Burned — The higher Clergy — Prierias — The Romish 
System — The Disciple of the Bible — The Doctrine of the Reformation — Luther's Reply to 
Prierias — Hochstraten — Doctor Eck — The " ObeUsks" — The " Asterisks"— Scheurl Attempts 
Reconciliation — Luther's Tracts — " Who art in Heaven" — " Our Daily Bread''' — " Remission of 
Sins" — Effects of Luther's Teaching — Luther's Journey — The Palatine Castle — The " Para- 
doxes" — The Disputation — Its Results — Bucer — Brentz — The Gospel of Heidelburg — Effect 
on Luther — The Old Professor — Return to Wittemberg. 



A great agitation reigned, at that time, 
among the people of Germany. The Church 
had opened a vast market on the earth. Judg- 
ing from the crowd of buyers, and the noise 
and jests of the dealers, we might call it a 
fair ; but a fair held by monks. The mer- 
chandise they extolled, offering it at a re- 
duced price, was, said they, the salvation of 
souls ! 

The dealers passed through the country in 
a gay carriage, escorted by three horsemen, in 
great state, and spending freely. One might 
have thought it some dignitary on a royal pro- 
gress, with his attendants and officers, and 
not a common dealer, or a begging monk. 
When the procession approached a town, a 
messenger waited on the magistrate: "The 
grace of God, and of the Holy Father, is at 
your gates :" said the envoy. Instantly every 
thing was in motion in the place. The clergy, 
the priests, the nuns, the council, the school- 
masters, the trades, with their flags, — men 
and women, young and old, went forth to 
meet the merchants, with lighted tapers in 
their hands, advancing to the sound of. mu- 
sic, and of all the bells of the place ; " so 
that," says an historian, " they could not 
have given a grander welcome to God him- 
self." Salutations being exchanged, the whole 
procession moved toward the church. The 
pontiff's bull of grace was borne in front, on 
a velvet cushion, or on cloth of gold. The 
chief vendor of indulgences followed, sup- 
porting a large red wooden cross; and the 



whole procession moved in this manner, 
amidst singing, prayers, and the smoke of in 
cense. The sound of organs, and a concert 
of instruments, received the monkish dealer 
and his attendants into the church. The cross 
he bore with him was erected in front of the 
altar: on it was hung the Pope's arms; and, 
as long as it remained there, the clergy of the 
place, the penitentiaries, and the sub-commis- 
sioners, with white wands in their hands, 
came every day after vespers, or before the 
salutation, to do homage to it. This great 
bustle excited a lively sensation in the quiet 
towns of Germany. 

One person in particular drew the attention 
of the spectators in these sales. It was he 
who bore the great red cross and had the 
most prominent part assigned to him. He was 
clothed in the habit of the Dominicans, and 
his port was lofty. His voice was sonorous, 
and he seemed yet in the prime of his strength, 
though he was past his sixty-third year. This 
man, who was the son of a goldsmith of Leip- 
sic, named Diez, bore the name of John Diezel 
or Tetzel. He had studied in his native town, 
had taken his bachelor's degree in 1487, and 
entered two years later into the order of the 
Dominicans. Numerous honours had been 
accumulated on him. Bachelor of Theology, 
Prior of the Dominicans, Apostolical Coin 
missioner, Inquisitor, {heretics praci'atis in- 
quisitor,) he had ever since the year 1502, 
filled the office of an agent for the sale of in- 
dulgences. The experience he had acquired 



68 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



as a subordinate functionary had very early 
raised him to the station of chief commissioner. 
He had an allowance of 80 florins per month, 
all his expenses defrayed, and he was allowed 
a carriage and three horses; but. we may rea- 
dily imagine that his indirect emoluments far 
exceeded his allowances. In 1507, he gained 
in two days at Freyberg 2000 florins. If his 
occupation resembled that of a mountebank, 
he had also the morals of one. Convicted at 
Inspruck of adultery and abominable profli- 
gacy, he was near paying the forfeit of his 
life. The Emperor Maximilian had ordered 
that he should be put into a sack and thrown 
into the river. The Elector Frederic of Saxony 
had interceded for him, and obtained his par- 
don. But the lesson he had received had not 
taught him more decency. He carried about 
with him two of his children. Miltitz, the 
Pope's legate, cites the fact in one of his let- 
ters. It would have been hard to find in all 
the cloisters of Germany, a man more adapted 
to the traffic with which he was charged. To 
the theology of a monk, and the zeal and spirit 
of an inquisitor, he united the greatest effron- 
tery. What most helped him in his office, 
was the facility he displayed in the invention 
of the strange stories with which the taste of 
the common people is generally pleased. No 
means came amiss to him to fill his coffers. 
Lifting up his voice and giving loose to a 
coarse volubility, he offered his indulgences 
to all comers, and excelled any salesman at a 
fair in recommending his merchandise. 

As soon as the cross was elevated with the 
Pope's arms suspended upon it, Tetzel as- 
cended the pulpit, and, with a bold tone, 
began, in the presence of the crowd whom the 
ceremony had drawn to the sacred spot, to ex- 
alt the efficacy of indulgences. The people 
listened and wondered at the admirable vir- 
tues ascribed to them. A Jesuit historian 
says himself, in speaking of the Dominican 
friars whom Tetzel had associated with him: 
— " Some of these preachers did not fail, as 
usual, to distort their subject, and so to exag- 
gerate the value of the indulgences as to lead 
the people to believe that, as soon as they 
gave their money, they were certain of salva- 
tion and of the deliverance of souls from pur- 
gatory." 

If such were the pupils, we may imagine 
what lengths the master went. Let us hear 
one of these harangues, pronounced after the 
erection of the cross. 

"Indulgences," said he, "are the most 
precious and sublime of God's gifts. 

"This cross" (pointing to the red cross) "has 
as much efficacy as the cross of Jesus Christ. 

" Draw near, and 1 will give you letters, duly 
sealed, by which even the sins you shall here- 
after desire to commit shall be all forgiven you. 

"I would not exchange my privileges for 
those of Saint Peter in heaven, for I have 
saved more sou. s with my indulgences than 
he with his sermons. 

" There is no sin so great that the indul- 
gence cannot remit it, and even if any one 
should (which is doubtless impossible) ravish 



the Holy Virgin Mother of God, let him pay, 
— let him only pay largely, and it shall be for 
given him. 

" Even repentance is not indispensable. 

"But more than all this: indulgences save 
not the living alone, they also save the dead. 

" Ye priests, ye nobles, ye tradesmen, ye 
wives, ye maidens, and ye young men hearken 
to your departed parents and friends, who cry 
to you from the bottomless abyss : ' We are 
enduring horrible torment ! a small alms would 
deliver us; — you can give it, and you will 
not!'" 

A shudder ran through his hearers at these 
words, uttered by the formidable voice of the 
mountebank monk. 

" The very moment," continued Tetzel, 
" that the money clinks against the bottom of 
the chest, the soul escapes from purgatory, 
and flies free to heaven. 

" O, senseless people, and almost like to 
beasts, who do not comprehend the grace so 
richly offered ! This day, heaven is on all 
sides open. Do you now refuse to enter 1 
When then do you intend to come in 1 This 
day you may redeem many souls. Dull and 
heedless man, with ten groschen you can de- 
liver your father from purgatory, and you are 
so ungrateful that you will not rescue him. In 
the day of judgment, my conscience will be 
clear; but you will be punished the more 
severely for neglecting so great a salvation. 
I protest that though you should have only 
one coat, you ought to strip it off and sell it, 
to purchase this grace. Our Lord God no 
longer deals with us as God. He has given 
all power to the Pope !" 

Then, having recourse to other inducements, 
he added, " Do you know why our most Holy 
Lord distributes so rich a grace? The dila- 
pidated Church of St. Peter and St.Paul is to 
be restored, so as to be unparalleled in the 
whole earth. That church contains the bodies 
of the holy apostles, Peter and Paul, and a 
vast company of martyrs. Those sacred bo- 
dies, owing to the present condition of the 
edifice, are now, alas ! continually trodden, 
flooded, polluted, dishonoured, and rotting in 
rain and hail. Ah ! shall those holy ashes be 
suffered to remain degraded in the mirel" 

This touch of description never failed to 
produce an impression on many hearers. 
There was an eager desire to aid poor Leo X., 
who had not the means of sheltering from the 
rain the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul ! 

The speaker next proceeded to declaim 
against the disputers who should question, 
and the traitors who should oppose his mis- 
sion: "I declare them all excommunicated!" 

Then turning to the docile souls amongrhi3 
hearers, and impiously perverting the Scrip- 
ture, " Blessed," said he, " blessed are the eyes 
that see what you see ; for I tell you that many 
prophets and many kings have desired to see 
the things which ye see, and have not seen 
them, and to hear the things which ye hear, 
and have not heard them." And as a finish 
to his address, pointing to the strong box in 
which the money was received, he genera'!? 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



69 



concluded his moving discourse by thrice call- 
ing on tne people, " Bring your money ! bring 
money ! bring money !" " He uttered this 
cry with such a dreadful bellowing,'" observed 
Luther, " that one might have thought some 
wild bull was rushing among the people and 
goring them with his horns." The moment 
he had made an end, he came down the steps 
of the pulpit, ran towards the strongbox, and, 
in sight of all the people, threw in a piece of 
silver with a loud sound ! 

Such were the discourses that Germany 
heard with astonishment, in the days when 
God was preparing Luther. 

The sermon ended, the indulgence was con- 
sidered as having "established its throne in 
the place with due solemnity." Confession- 
als, surmounted with the Pope's arms, were 
prepared. The sub-commissioners and con- 
fessors chosen were held to represent the apos- 
tolic penitentiaries, or absolving oriests of 
Rome, at the period of a great jubilee; and on 
each of their confessionals were inscribed their 
names and titles. 

Then the people came in crowds to the con- 
fessors. They came, not with contrite hearts, 
but with money in their hands. Men, women, 
the young, the poor, and those who lived by 
alms, — every one then found money. The 
absolving priest, after again setting forth the 
indulgence, thus addressed the penitents : — 
" How much money can you, in your con- 
science, spare to obtain so perfect a remis- 
sion?" "This question," said the Archbishop 
of Mentz, in his instructions to the commis- 
sioners, " must be put at the moment, in order 
that the penitents may be better disposed to 
contribute." 

These conditions fulfilled were all that was 
necessary. In the Pope's bull, something 
was indeed said of the repentance of the heart 
and confession of the lips; butTetzel and his 
companions cautiously abstained from all 
mention of these; otherwise their coffers 
might have remained empty. The archiepis- 
copal instructions forbade even to mention 
conversion or contrition. Three great benefits 
were proclaimed. It is sufficient to notice the 
first. " The first benefit we announce," said 
the commissioners, acting on their instructions, 
" is the complete pardon of all sins ; and it is 
not possible to speak of any greater benefit 
than this, since man who lives in sin is de- 
prived of the divine favour, and by this com- 
plete pardon he recovers the grace of God. 
Now, we affirm, that to obtain these great 
blessings, it is only necessary to purchase an 
indulgence. And as to those who desire to 
deliver souls from purgatory, and to procure 
for them the forgiveness of all their sins, let 
them put their money in the chest: but it is 
not needful that they should feel sorrow of 
heart, or make confession with the lips. Let 
them only hasten to bring their money, for 
they will thus do a work most profitable to 
departed souls, and to the building of the 
Church of St. Peter." Greater blessings 
could not be proposed, nor at a lower cost. 
Confession being gone through, (and it was 



soon despatched,) the faithful hastened to the 
vendor. Only one was commissioned to sell. 
He had his counter close to the cross. He 
turned a scrutinizing glance on those who 
came. He examined their manner, step, and 
attire, and demanded a sum in proportion to 
the apparent circumstances of the party pre- 
senting himself. Kings, queens, princes, 
archbishops, bishops, &c, were to pay, accord- 
ing to the regulation, for an ordinary indul- 
gence, twenty-five ducats; abbots, counts, 
barons, &c, ten. The other nobles, superiors, 
and all who had an annual income of 500 
florins, were to pay six. Those who had an 
income of 200 florins, one; the rest, half a 
florin. And, further, if this scale could not in 
every instance be observed, full power was 
given to the apostolic commissary, and the 
whole might be arranged according to the dic- 
tates of sound reason, and the generosity of 
the giver. For particular sins Tetzel had a 
private scale. Polygamy cost six ducats ; 
sacrilege and perjury, nine ducats ; murder, 
eight; witchcraft, two. Samson, who carried 
on in Switzerland the same traffic as Tetzel in 
Germany, had rather a different scale. He 
charged for infanticide, four livres tournois; 
for a parricide or fratricide, one ducat. 

The apostolic commissaries sometimes en- 
countered difficulties in their commerce. It 
often happened, as well in the towns as in the 
villages, that husbands were opposed to the 
traffic, and forbade their wives to carry any 
thing to the dealers. What were their super 
stitious partners to do ] " Have you not youi 
marriage portion, or some other property, at 
your disposal V asked the vendors. " In that 
case you can dispose of it for this holy pur- 
pose, without your husband's consent." 

The hand that delivered the indulgence 
could not receive the money : that was forbid- 
den under the severest penalties ; — there was 
good reason to fear that hand might not always 
be trustworthy. The penitent was himself to 
drop the price of his pardon into the chest. 
An angry look was cast on those who dared 
to close their purses. 

If, among those who pressed into the con- 
fessionals, there came one whose crimes had 
been public, and yet untouched by the civil 
laws, such person was obliged, first of all, to 
do public penance. He was conducted to a 
chapel, or sacristy; there he was stripped of 
his clothes, his shoes taken off his feet, and 
he left in his shirt. They made him fold his 
arms upon his breast, placed a light in one 
hand, and a wax taper in the other. Then the 
penitent walked at the head of the procession, 
which passed to the red cross. He kneeled 
till the singing and the collect were concluded ; 
then the commissary gave out the psalm, 
"Miserere mei." The confessors immediately 
approached the penitent, and led him across 
the station towards the commissary, who, 
taking the rod, and striking him thrice gently 
on the back, said, " God take pity on thee, and 
pardon thy sin !" After this, he gave out the 
Kyrie eleison, &.c. Then the penitent being 
led back, and placed before the cross, the con 



70 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fessor pronounced the apostolical absolution, 
and declared him reinstated in the company 
of the faithful. Wretched mummeries ! con- 
cluded by a passage of Scripture, which, at 
such a time, was a profanation ! 

We will give one of these letters of absolu- 
tion. It is worth while to know the contents 
of these diplomas, which gave occasion to the 
Reformation. 

" Our Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on 
thee, N. N., and absolve thee by the merits 
of his most holy sufferings ! And I, in virtue 
of the apostolic power committed to me, 
absolve thee from all ecclesiastical censures, 
judgments, and penalties that thou mayst 
have merited; and further, from all excesses, 
sins, and crimes that thou mayst have com- 
mitted, however great and enormous they 
may be, and of whatever kind, — even though 
they should be reserved to our hol) T father the 
Pope, and to the Apostolic See. I efface all 
the stains of weakness, and all traces of the 
shame that thou mayst have drawn upon thy- 
self by such actions. I remit the pains thou 
wouldst have had to endure in purgatory. I 
receive thee again to the sacraments of the 
Church. I hereby reincorporate thee in the 
communion of the saints, and restore thee to 
the innocence and purity of thy baptism; so 
that, at the moment of death, the gate of the 
place of torment shall be shut against thee, 
and the gate of the paradise of joy shall be 
opened unto thee. And if thou shouldst live 
long, this grace continueth unchangeable, till 
the time of thy end. 

" In the name of the Father, of the Son, and 
of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

"The Brother, John Tetzel, commissary, 
hath signed this with his own hand." 

In this document, we see with what "art 
presumptuous and false doctrines were inter- 
spersed among sacred and Christian expres- 
sions. 

All the faithful were to come and confess in 
the spot where the red cross was set up. 
None but the sick, old men, and women with 
child, were exempt. If, however, there was 
in the neighbourhood any noble in his castle, 
or wealthy man in his palace, his personal 
attendance was dispensed with. For he might 
not care to mingle with this mob of people, 
and his money was worth fetching from his 
residence. 

If there was any convent whose superiors, 
disapproving Tetzel's traffic, forbade their 
monks to resort to the places where the 
indulgence was offered, — means were still 
found to remedy this. Confessors were sent 
to them, commissioned to absolve them con- 
trary to the rules of their order and the will 
of their superiors. Not a vein of the mine was 
left unexplored. 

Then came what was the object and end 
of the whole affair, — the reckoning of the 
money. To guard against all risks, the chest 
had three keys ; — one was in the keeping of 
Tetzel, the other with the delegated treasurer 
of the house of Fugger of Augsburg, to 
whom, sometime before, this vast speculation 



1 had been farmed ; and the third was lodged 

; with the civil authority. When the appointed 

day arrived, the chest was opened in presence 

of a public notary, and the whole contents 

i carefully counted, and entered in the books. 

i Was it not fit that Christ should arise and 

I drive out these buyers and sellers from the 

temple ] 

The mission being ended, the dealers relax- 
ed in amusement, after their labours. The 
instruction of the commissary-general did, it 
is true, forbid their frequenting taverns and 
disreputable places. But they paid little 
regard to this interdict. Sin must have had 
few terrors for men who carried on so easy a 
traffic in it. "The mendicant friars led an 
irregular life," says a Roman Catholic histo- 
rian ; " they spent in taverns, gaming houses, 
and houses of ill-fame, what the poople had 
scraped together from their poverty." It is 
even affirmed that, when they were in the 
taverns, they would sometimes stake on dice 
the salvation of souls. 

But let us see to what scenes this sale of 
the pardon of sins gave rise in Germany. 
There are some incidents, which of them- 
selves are a picture of the times. We like to 
let those whose history we write speak for 
themselves. 

At Madgeburg, Tetzel refused to absolve a 
rich lady, unless she paid down one hundred 
florins. The lady consulted her usual con- 
fessor, who was a Franciscan. " God gives 
us remission of sins freely," answered he; 
" He does not sell it." Yet he entreated her 
not to mention what he had said. But the 
report of an opinion so adverse to his gains 
having reached the ears of Tetzel, — " Such an 
adviser," he exclaimed, " deserves to be ex- 
pelled or burnt alive." 

Tetzel found but few sufficiently enlighten- 
ed, and still fewer bold enough to resist him. 
In general he could easily manage a supersti- 
tious crowd. He had erected the red cross of 
indulgences at Zwickau, and the good people 
of the place had hastened to pour in the 
money that was to liberate souls. He was 
about to leave with a full purse. The even- 
ing before his departure, the chaplains and 
their acolytes called upon him to give them a 
farewell repast. The request was reasonable ; 
but what was to be done? — the money was 
already counted and sealed up. In the morning 
he had the large bell tolled. A crowd hurried 
to the church : — every one thought that some- 
thing extraordinary had happened, since the 
period of the station had expired. " I had 
intended," said he, "to take my departure 
this morning, but last night I was awakened 
by groans. I listened : they proceeded from 
the cemetery. Alas! it was a poor soul that 
called me, and entreated to be delivered from 
the torment that consumed it. I therefore 
have tarried one day longer, that I might 
move Christian hearts to compassion for this 
unhappy soul. Myself will be the first to 
contribute; — but he who will not follow rny 
example will be worthy of all condemnation." 
What heart would not answer to such ao 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



71 



appeal. Besides, who can tell what soul thus 
cries from the tomb 1 The gifts were many ; 
and Tetzel, with the chaplains and acolytes, 
sat down to a merry feast paid for by offerings 
for the poor soul of Zwickau. 

The dealers in indulgences had established 
themselves at Hagenau in 1517. The wife 
of a shoemaker, profiting by the permission 
given in the instruction of the Commissary- 
general, had procured, against her husband's 
will, a letter of indulgence, and had paid for 
it a gold florin. Shortly after she died ; and 
the widower omitting to have mass said for 
the repose of her soul, the curate charged him 
with contempt of religion, and the judge of 
Hagenau summoned him to appear before him. 
The shoemaker put in his pocket his wife's 
indulgence, and repaired to the place of sum- 
mons. " Is your wife dead 1" asked the 
judge. — "Yes," answered the shoemaker. 
" What have you done with her ?-' " I buried 
her and commended her soul to God." " But 
have you had a mass said for the salvation 
of her soul 1" "I have not: — it was not 
necessary : — -she went to heaven in the mo- 
ment of her death." " How do you know 
that ?" " Here is the evidence of it." The 
widower drew from his pocket the indulgence, 
and the judge, in presence of the curate, read, 
in so many words, that in the moment of 
death, the woman who had received it would 
go, not into purgatory, but straight into heaven. 
" If the curate pretends that a mass is neces- 
sary after that," said the shoemaker, " my 
wife has been cheated by our Holy Father 
the Pope; but if she has not been cheated, 
then the curate is deceiving me." There was 
no reply to this defence, and the accused was 
acquitted. It was thus that the good sense 
of the people disposed of these impostures. 

One day, when Tetzel was preaching at 
Leipsic, and had introduced into his preach- 
ing some of these stories of which we have 
given a specimen, two students indignantly 
left the church, exclaiming — " It is not possi- 
ble to listen any longer to the ridiculous and 
childish tales of that monk." One of these 
students, it is affirmed, was young Camerarius, 
who was subsequently the friend of Melanc- 
thon, and wrote his life. 

But, of all the young men of that period, 
Tetzel made the strongest impression on My- 
conius — subsequently celebrated as a Reform- 
er and an historian of the Reformation. My- 
conius hacTTeceived a religious education. 
" My son," said his father, who was a pious 
Franconian, " pray frequently ; for all things 
are freely given to. us by God alone. The 
blood of Christ," he added, "is the only ran- 
som for the sins of the whole world. Oh, my 
son! if there were but three men to be saved 
by the blood of Christ, only believe: —and 
be sure that you shall be one of those three. 
It is an insult to the Saviour's blood to doubt 
its power to save." Then, proceeding to warn 
his son against the trade that was begin- 
ning in Germany, — " The Roman indul- 
gences," said he, " are nets to fish for money, 
and delude the simple. Remission of sins 



and eternal life are not to be purchased by 
money." 

At thirteen, Frederic was sent to the school 
of Annaberg, to finish his studies. Soon after, 
Tetzel arrived in this town, and remained 
there for two months. The people flocked in 
crowds to hear him preach. "There is," ex- 
claimed Tetzel, with a voice of thunder, "no 
other means of obtaining eternal life save the 
satisfaction of good works. But this satisfac- 
tion is out of man's power. His only re- 
source is to purchase it from the Roman Pon- 
tiff." 

When Tetzel was on the point of leaving 
Annaberg his appeal became more urgent. 
" Soon," said he with a threatening accent, 
"I shall take down that cross, and close the 
gate of heaven, and put out that sun of grace 
which shines before your eyes." Then, re- 
suming a tenderer strain of exhortation, — 
" This," said he, " is the day of salvation, this is 
the accepted time." And as a last effort, the 
pontifical Stentor, speaking to the inhabitants 
of a country rich in mines, exclaimed, "In- 
habitants of Annaberg! bring hither your 
money; contribute liberally in aid of indul- 
gences, and all your mines and mountains 
shall be filled with pure silver." Finally, at 
Easter, he proclaimed that he would distribute 
his letters to the poor gratuitously, and for the 
love of God. 

The young Myconius happened to be among 
the hearers. He felt a wish to take advan- 
tage of this offer. "lama poor sinner," said 
he, addressing in Latin the commissioners to 
whom he applied, " and I need a free pardon." 
"Those only," answered the dealers, "can 
share in the merits of Christ who stretch forth 
a helping hand to the Church — that is, give 
their money." " What mean, then," said 
Myconius, "those promises of free distribu- 
tion posted up on the gates and walls of the 
churches ?" " Give at least a gros," said Tet- 
zel's people, after having vainly interceded 
for the young man with their master. " 1 
cannot." — " Only six denjers." — "I have 
not even so much." The Dominicans then 
began to apprehend that he meant to entrap 
them. "Listen," said they, " we will give 
you six deniers." — On which the young man, 
raising his voice with indignation, Teplied : 
"I will have none of the indulgences that are 
bought and sold.- If I desired to purchase 
them I should only have to sell one of my 
books. What I want is a free pardon, — and 
for the love of God. You will have to ac- 
count to God for having, for the sake of six 
deniers, missed the salvation of a soul." 
"Ah! ah!" said they, "who sent you to 
tempt us 1 ?" "No one," replied the young 
man: "the desire of receiving the grace of 
God could alone induce me to appear before 
such great lords." He left them. 

"I was grieved," says he, "at being thus 
sent away without pity. But I felt in myself 
a Comforter, who whispered that there is a 
God in heaven who forgives repentant souls 
without money and without price, for the sake 
of his Son, Jesus Christ. As I left thesn 



72 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



people, the Holy Spirit touched my heart. I 
burst into tears, — arid with sighs and groans 
prayed to the Lord: O God, since these men 
have refused remission of sins because I had 
no money to pay, do thou, Lord, take pity on 
Hie, and forgive them in mere mercy. I re- 
tired to my chamber. I took my crucifix from 
my desk, placed it on my chair, and kneeled 
before it. I cannot here put down what I ex- 
perienced. I asked of God to be my father, 
and to make me what he would have me. I 
felt my nature changed, converted, transform- 
ed. What had before delighted me was now 
distasteful. To live with God, and to please 
him, became my most ardent — my single de- 
sire." 

Thus Tetzel himself was preparing the Re- 
formation. By scandalous abuses he made 
way for a purer teaching ; and the generous 
indignation which he excited in youthful 
minds was destined one day to break forth 
with power. We may judge of this by the 
following incident. 

A Saxon gentleman had heard Tetzel at 
Leipsic, and was much shocked by his im- 
postures. He went to the monk, and inquired 
if he was authorized to pardon sins in inten- 
tion, or such as the applicant intended to com- 
mit] "Assuredly," answered Tetzel; "I 
have full power from the Pope to do so." 
"Well," returned the gentleman, "I want 
to take some slight revenge on one of my 
enemies, without attempting his life. I will 
pay you ten crowns, if you will give me a 
letter of indulgence that shall bear me harm- 
less." Tetzel made some scruples; they 
struck their bargain for thirty crowns. Shortly 
after, the monk set out from Leipsic. The 
gentleman, attended by his servants, laid wait 
for him in a wood between Jiiterboch and 
Treblin, — fell upon him, gave him a beating, 
and carried off the rich chest of indulgence- 
money the inquisitor had with him. Tetzel 
clamoured against this act of violence, and 
brought an action before the judges. But the 
gentleman showed the letter signed by Tetzel 
himself, which exempted him beforehand from 
all responsibility. Duke George who had at 
first been much irritated at this action, upon 
seeing this writing, ordered that the accused 
should be acquitted. 

This traffic everywhere agitated the minds 
of the people, and was everywhere discussed. 
It was the subject of conversation in castles, 
academies, and private houses, as well as in 
inns, taverns, and all places of resort. Opin- 
ions were divided ; some believed, some were 
indignant. But the sober part of the nation 
rejected with disgust the whole system of in- 
dulgences. This doctrine was so opposed to 
the scriptures and to sound sense, that all men 
who possessed any knowledge of the Bible, 
or any natural acuteness, had already con- 
demned it in their hearts, and only waited for 
a signal to oppose it. On the other hand, 
mockers found abundant cause for ridicule. 
The people, who had been irritated for so many 
years by the ill conduct of the priests, and 
whom the fear of punishment had alone re- 



tained in any outward respect, gave loose to 
all their animosity ; and on all sides were 
heard complaints and sarcasms upon the love 
of money that infected the clergy. 

The people went still farther. They im- 
pugned the power of the keys and the authori- 
ty of the Sovereign Pontiff. "Why," said 
they, does not the Pope deliver at once all the 
souls from purgatory by a holy charity, and 
on account of the great misery of those souls, 
since he frees so great a number for the sake 
of perishable gain and the cathedral of St. 
Peter ?" 

" Why do we continue to observe the festi- 
vals and anniversaries for the dead ] Why 
does not the Pope surrender, or why does he 
not permit people to resume the benefices and 
prebends founded in favor of the dead, since 
now it is useless, and even wrong, to pray 
for those whom indulgences have forever set 
free 1 What is this new kind of holiness of 
God and of the Pope, that for the sake of 
money they grant to a wicked man, and an 
enemy of God, the power of delivering from 
purgatory, a pious soul, beloved by the 
Lord, rather than themselves deliver it freely 
from love for it, and on account of its great 
misery?" 

Accounts were circulated of the gross and 
immoral conduct of the traffickers in indul- 
gences. " To pay," said they, " what they owe 
to drivers who carry them and their goods ; to 
innkeepers at whose houses they lodge, or to 
any one who does them service, they give a 
letter of indulgence for four, five, or as many 
souls as they wish." Thus the brevets of 
salvation were circulated in the inns and mar- 
kets, like bank notes or paper money. " Bring 
hither your money ," said the common people, 
; ' is the beginning, the middle, and the end of 
their sermons." 

A miner of Schneeberg meeting a seller of 
indulgences inquired : " Must we then believe 
what you have often said of the power of in- 
dulgences and of the authority of the Pope, 
and think that we can redeem a soul from pur- 
gatory by casting a penny into the chest?" 
The dealer in indulgences affirmed that it was 
so. " Ah !" replied the miner, " what a cruel 
man the Pope must be, thus to leave a poor 
soul to suffer so long in the flames for a 
wretched penny ! If he has no ready money, 
let him collect a few hundred thousand crowns, 
and deliver all these souls by one act. Even 
we poor folks would willingly pay him < the 
principal and interest." 

The people of Germany were weary of the 
shameful traffic that was carrying on in the 
midst of them. They could no longer bear the 
impostures of these Romish tricksters, as Lu 
ther remarks. Yet no bishop or divine dared 
to lay a finger on their quackery and deceit 
The minds of men were in suspense. They 
asked each other, if God would not raise up 
some powerful instrument for the work that 
was required to be done. But such an one 
was no where visible. 

The pqpe who then filled the pontifical 
throne was not a Borgia, but Leo X. of the il- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



lustrious family of the Medici. He was a man 
of talent, open-hearted, kind, and indulgent. 
His manners were affable, his liberality un- 
bounded, and his morals greatly superior to 
those of his court. Nevertheless the Cardinal 
Pallavicini confesses that they were not quite 
free from reproach. To these amiable quali- 
ties he added many of the accomplishments 
that form a great prince. He was, especially, 
a liberal patron of the arts and sciences. The 
earliest Italian comedies were represented in 
his presence, and most of the dramas of his 
time were honoured by his attendance. He 
was passionately fond of music, — his palace 
daily resounded with musical instruments, and 
he was often heard humming the airs that 
had been sung before him. Fond of magnifi- 
cence he spared no expense in feastings, public 
games, theatrical entertainments, and gifts. 
No court surpassed in splendour or in plea- 
sures that of the Sovereign pontiff. So that 
when news was brought th&t Julian Medici 
was about to choose Rome as a place of resi- 
dence for himself, and his young bride, Cardi- 
nal Bibliena, the most influential of Leo's 
council, exclaimed, "God be praised! We 
wanted nothing here but a female circle." A 
" female circle" was felt requisite to complete 
the attractions of the Pope's court. But a 
feeling of religion was a thing of which Leo 
was entirely ignorant. " His manners," says 
Sarpi, " were so charming, that he would have 
been a perfect man, if he had some knowledge 
in religious matters, and a little more inclina- 
tion for piety, concerning which he never trou- 
bled himself." 

Leo was in great want of money. He had 
to provide for his vast expenses ; to satisfy all 
demands on his liberality ; to fill with gold 
the purse he every day threw to the people ; 
to defray the costs of the licentious plays at 
the Vatican ; to gratify the continued demands 
of his relations and courtiers who were ad- 
dicted to voluptuousness; to portion his sister, 
who had married Prince Cibo, a natural son of 
Pope Innocent VIII.; and to bear all the ex- 
penses attending his taste for literature, arts, 
and pleasures. His cousin, Cardinal Pucci, 
who was as skilful in the art of amassing money 
as Leo was prodigal in spending, advised him 
to have recourse to indulgences. The Pope, 
therefore, published a bull, proclaiming a gene- 
ral indulgence, the product of which should 
be appropriated, he said, to the building of 
St. Peter's Church, that splendid monument 
of ecclesiastical magnificence. In a letter given 
at Rome, under the seal of the fisherman, in 
November, 1517, Leo required from his com- 
missioner of indulgences 147 gold ducats, "to 
pay for a manuscript of the 33d book of Livy." 
Of all the uses he made of the money extorted 
from the Germans, this was undoubtedly the 
best. But it was strange to deliver souls from 
purgatory that he might, purchase a manuscript 
of the wars of the Romans ! 

There was then in Germany a young prince 
who was in many respects a counterpart of 
Leo X. : — this was Albert, the younger brother 
of the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg. This 



young man, at the age of twenty-four, had 
been made Archbishop and Elector of Mentz 
and of Madgeburg; two years after he was 
made Cardinal. Albert had neither the virtues 
nor the vices which have often character- 
ized the dignitaries of the Church. Young, 
volatile, worldly-minded, but not devoid of 
generous sentiments, he plainly saw many of 
the abuses of Catholicism, and cared little foi 
the fanatical monks that surrounded him. His 
equity inclined him to acknowledge, at least 
in part, the justice of what the friends of the 
Gospel required. In his heart he was not 
greatly opposed to Luther. Capito, one of 
the most distinguished Reformers, was for a 
long time his chaplain, counsellor, and inti- 
mate confidant. Albert regularly attended his 
preaching. " He did not despise the Gospel," 
says Capito ; " on the contrary, he highly es- 
teemed it, and for a long time prevented the 
monks from attacking Luther." But he would 
have had the latter abstain from compromising 
him, and beware, while pointing out the errors 
in doctrine and the vices of the inferior clergy, 
of bringing to light the faults of the bishops 
and princes. Above all, he feared to find his 
own name thrust forward in the contest. 
" See," said Capito to Luther, at a subsequent 
period, deluding himself as is usual in such 
cases, "see the example of Christ and of his 
Apostles : they reproved the Pharisees and the 
incestuous person in the church of Corinth, 
but did not do so by name. You do not know 
what is passing in the hearts of the bishops. 
There is, perhaps, more good in them than you 
think." But the frivolous and profane turn of 
Albert's character was likely to indispose him 
for the Reformation, even more than the sus- 
ceptibilities and fears of his self-love. Affa- 
ble in his manners, witty, graceful, of expen- 
sive and even dissipated habits, delighting in 
the pleasures of the table, and in rich equi- 
pages, houses, licentious pursuits, and literary 
society, this young Archbishop and Elector 
was in Germany what Leo was at Rome. Hv « 
court was one of the most splendid of the Em 
pire. He was ready to sacrifice to pleasure 
and grandeur all the foretastes of truth thai 
might visit his soul. Yet there was in him, 
to the last, a sort of struggle with his better 
convictions ; and he more than once manifested 
moderation and equity. 

Like Leo, Albert was in want of money, 
Some rich merchants of Augsburg, named 
Fugger, had made him some advances. He 
was pressed for the means of liquidating his 
debts ; nay, more ; although he had obtained 
two archbishoprics and a bishopric, he had not 
enough to pay for his pallium at Rome. This 
ornament made of white wool, interspersed 
with black crosses, and blessed by the Pope, 
who was accustomed to send it to the arch- 
bishops as a sign of their jurisdiction, cost 
them 26,000, or, as some say, 30,000 florins. 

It was quite natural that Albert should form 
the project of resorting to the same means as 
his superior to obtain money. He solicited 
from the Pope the contract, for the " farming" of 
all the indulgences, or, as they expressed it at 



74 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Rome, " the contract for the sins of the Ger- 
mans." 

At times the Popes kept the speculation in 
their own hands. Sometimes they farmed it 
to others; as, in certain states, is still done 
with gaming-houses. Albert proposed to Leo 
to divide the profits. Leo, in accepting the 
Dargain required immediate payment of the 
pallium. Albert, who was all the while de- 
pending on the indulgences for the means of 
discharging this claim, applied to the Fuggers, 
who, thinking it a safe investment, made, on 
certain conditions, the required advances ; and 
were appointed cashiers in this great under- 
taking. They were at this period bankers to 
many princes, and were afterwards made 
counts for the services they had rendered. 

The Pope and Archbishop having thus 
divided beforehand the spoils of the credulous 
souls of Germany, it was necessary to carry 
out the project, and to find some one to under- 
take the trouble of realizing it. The charge 
was first offered to the Franciscans, and their 
guardian was associated in it with Albert. 
But the Franciscans did not desire any part in 
this undertaking, which was already in ill 
repute among good people. The Augustine 
monks, who were more enlightened than the 
other religious orders, would have cared still 
less to join in it. Meanwhile, the Francis- 
cans feared to offend the Pope, who had lately 
sent to their general, Forli, a cardinal's hat, 
which cost that poor mendicant order 30,000 
florins. The guardian therefore judged it 
most prudent not to meet the offer by a direct 
refusal ; but he raised all kinds of difficulties 
in the way of Albert ; they never could agree, 
so that the Elector was glad to accept the 
proposal that he should take the whole charge 
of the concern. The Dominicans, on their 
part, coveted a share in the lucrative trade 
about to be opened. Tetzel, already notorious 
in such matters, hastened to Mentz, and ten- 
dered his services to the Elector. His proved 
usefulness in publishing the indulgences for 
the knights of the Teutonic Order of Prussia 
and Livonia was recollected, and he was ac- 
cepted ; and thus it was that all this traffic 
passed into the hands of his order. 

The first time Luther heard speak of Tetzel 
was, as far as we are informed, in the year 
1516, at Grimma, when he was commencing 
his visitation of the- churches. Some one 
came and told Staupitz, who was still with 
Luther, that a seller of indulgences, named 
Tetzel,, was making much noise at Wurtzen. 
Some of his extravagant expressions being 
quoted, Luther was indignant, and exclaimed, 
" God willing, I will make a hole in his 
drum." 

Tetzel in his return from Berlin, where he 
had met with a most friendly reception from 
the Elector Joachim, a brother of the farmer- 
general, took up his abode at Juterboch. 
Staupitz, availing himself of the confidence 
the Elector Frederic reposed in him, had re- 
peatedly called his attention to the abuse of 
the indulgences, and the disgraceful proceed- 
ings of the collectors. The Princes of 



Saxony, indignant at the shameful traffic, ha*! 
forbidden Tetzel to enter their provinces. 
He was therefore compelled to stop on the 
territory of his patron, the Archbishop of 
Magdeburg. But he drew as near as he 
could to Saxony. At Juterboch he was only 
four miles distant from Wittemberg. "This 
great purse-drainer," said Luther, "went 
boldly to work, beating up the country all 
round, so that the money began to leap out of 
every man's purse, and fall into his chest." 
The people flocked in crowds from Wittem* 
berg, to the indulgence market at Juterboch. 

Luther was still at this time full of respect 
for the Church and for the Pope. He says 
himself, " I was then a monk, a papist of the 
maddest, — so infatuated and even steeped in 
the Romish doctrines, that I would willingly 
have helped to kill any one who had the 
audacity to refuse the smallest act of obedi- 
ence to the Pope. I was a true Saul, like 
many others still living." But, at the same 
time his heart was ready to take fire for what 
he thought the truth, and against what, in his 
judgment, was error. "I was a young doc- 
tor, fresh from the anvil, glowing andrejoicing 
in the glory of the Lord." 

One day Luther was at confessional in 
Wittemberg. Several residents of that town 
successively presented themselves: they con- 
fessed themselves guilty of great irregularities, 
adultery, licentiousness, usury, unjust gains: 
such were the things men came to talk of with 
a minister of God's word, who must one day 
give an account of their souls. He reproved, 
rebuked, and instructed. But what was his 
astonishment, when these persons replied that 
they did not intend to abandon their sins ! 
The pious monk, shocked at this, declared, 
that since they would not promise to change 
their habits of life, he could not absolve them. 
Then it was that these poor creatures appealed 
to their letters of indulgence; they showed 
them, and contended for their efficacy. But 
Luther replied, that he had nothing to do with 
their paper; and he added, "If you do not 
turn from the evil of your way, you will all 
perish." They exclaimed against this, and 
renewed their application; but the doctor was 
immoveable. "They must cease," he said, 
"to do evil, and learn to do well, or otherwise 
no absolution. Have a care," added he, 
" how }rou give ear to the indulgences : you 
have something better to do than to buy 
licences which they offer you for paltry pence." 

Much alarmed, these inhabitants of Wittem- 
berg quickly returned to Tetzel, and told him 
that an Augustine monk treated his letters 
with contempt. Tetzel, at this, bellowed 
with anger. He held forth in the pulpit, 
used insulting expressions and curses, and, to 
strike the people with more terror, he had a 
fire lighted several times in the grand square, 
and declared that he was ordered by the Pope 
to burn the heretics, who should dare to op- 
pose his most holy indulgences. 

Such was the incident that first gave occa- 
sion to the Reformation, though not the cause 
of it. A pastor sees his sheep going on in a 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



75 



way that would lead them to their ruin ; — he 
seeks to guide them out of it. He has as yet 
no thought of reforming the Church and the 
world. He has seen Rome and its corruption ; 
but he does not erect himself against Rome. 
He discerns some of the abuses under which 
Christendom groans, but he has no thought 
of correcting those abuses. He does not de- 
sire to constitute himself a Reformer. He 
has no more plan in his mind for the reform 
of the Church, than he had previously had for 
that which had been wrought in his own soul. 
God himself designed a Reformation, and to 
make Luther the instrument of its accomplish- 
ment. The same remedy, of which the effi- 
cacy was proved by the removal of his own 
distress, it was God's purpose that he should 
apply to the distresses of Christendom. He 
remains quietly in the circle assigned to him. 
He goes simply where his master calls him. 
He is discharging at Wittemberg his duties 
as professor, preacher, pastor. He is seated 
in the temple, where the members of his 
church come to open their hearts to him. It 
is there, on that field, that Evil attacks, and 
Error seeks him out. Those about him would 
hinder him from discharging his duty. His 
conscience, bound to the word of God, is 
aroused. Is it not God who calls him? 
Resistance is a duty, — therefore it is also a 
right; — he must speak. Such was the course 
of the events occurring in the providence of 
that God, who had decreed to revive Chris- 
tianity by the agency of a miner's son; and 
to refine in his furnace the corrupted teaching 
of the Church. 

After what has been stated, it is needless 
to refute a lying charge invented by some 
enemies of Luther, and not till after his death. 
It has been said it was a jealousy on the part 
of the monks of his order, — the mortification 
of seeing the Dominicans, and not the Augus- 
tines, who had previously held it, intrusted 
with this shameful and disreputable com- 
merce, that led the Doctor of Wittemberg to 
attack Tetzel, and his teaching. The well 
ascertained fact that this traffic had been at 
first offered to the Franciscans, who would 
not have it, suffices to refute this invention 
repeated by writers who do but copy one an- 
other. Cardinal Pallavicini himself declares 
that the Augustines had never held this office. 
Besides, we have seen the struggle of Luther's 
soul. His conduct needs no other explana- 
tion. He could not refrain from confessing 
aloud the doctrine to which he owed his hap- 
piness. In Christianity, when a man finds a 
treasure for himself,he hastens to impart it to 
others. In our day men have abandoned such 
puerile and unworthy attempts to account for 
the great revolution of the sixteenth century. 
It is recognised that there must be some more 
powerful lever to raise the whole world, — and 
that the reformation was not in Luther merely, 
— but that the age in which he lived must 
necessarily have given birth to it. 

Luther, called on alike by obedience to the 
truth of God and by charity to man, ascended 
the pulpit. He warned his hearers as was 



his duty, as himself tells us. His Prince hac 
obtained from the Pope some special indul 
gences for the church in the castle of Wit- 
temberg. Some of the blows, which he i3. 
about to strike at the indulgences of the in- 
quisitor, may easily fall on those of the Elec- 
tor. It matters not; he will brave his dis- 
grace. If he sought to please man, he would 
not be the servant of Christ. 

" No one can show from the Scriptures that 
God's justice requires a penalty or satisfaction 
from the sinner," said the faithful minister of 
the word to the people of Wittemberg. "The 
only duty it imposes on him is a true repent- 
ance, a sincere change of heart, a resolution 
to bear the cross of Christ, and to strive to do 
good works. It is a great error to seek our' 
selves to satisfy God's justice for our sins, for 
God ever pardons them freely by an inestima- 
ble grace. 

" The Christian Church, it is true, requires 
somewhat from the sinner, and what she re- 
quires she may remit. But that is all. And 
furthermore, these indulgences of the Church 
are only tolerated out of regard for slothful 
and imperfect Christians, who will not employ 
themselves zealously in good works; for they 
excite no one to sanctification, but leave every 
one in his lowness and imperfection." 

Then, passing to the pretext on which the 
indulgences were proclaimed, he continued : 
" It would be much better to contribute to the 
building of St. Peter's from love to God, than 
to buy indulgences for such a purpose. But 
say you, shall we then not buy them ? I have 
already said as much, and I repeat it: — my 
advice is that none should buy them. Leave 
them for drowsy Christians, but do you keep 
yourselves separate from such. Let the faith- 
ful be turned from indulgences, and exhorted 
to the works they neglect." 

Then, glancing at his adversaries, Luthei 
concluded in these words : " And if some cry 
that I am a heretic, — for the truth which 1 
preach is prejudicial to their coffers — I pay 
little regard to their clamours; they are men 
of gloomy or sickly minds, who have never 
felt the truths of the Bible, never read the 
Christian doctrine, never understood their own 
teachers, and are perishing in the tattered rags 
of their vain opinions. However, God grant 
to them and to us a right understanding! 
Amen." This said, the Doctor came down 
from the pulpit, leaving his hearers much af- 
fected by this bold harangue. 

This sermon was printed and made a deep 
impression on all who read it. Tetzel an- 
swered it, and Luther defended himself- but 
this was at a later period, in 1518. 

The feast of All Saints was at hand. Some 
chroniclers relate at this time, a circumstance, 
which, however little important it may be to 
the history of this epoch, may still serve to 
characterize it. It is a dream of the Elector, 
— beyond reasonable doubt true in the essen- 
tial parts, though some circumstances may 
have been added by those who related it. It 
is mentioned by Seckendorf. "The fear of 
giving occasion to his adversaries to say that 



76 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Luther's doctrine rested upon dreams, has 
perhaps prevented other historians from speak- 
ing of it," observes this respectable writer. 

The Elector, Frederic of Saxony, these 
chroniclers tell us, was then at his castle of 
Schweinitz, six leagues from Wittemberg. 
The morning of the 31st of October, being 
with his brother, Duke John, (who was then 
co-regent, and who reigned alone after his 
death,) and with his Chancellor, the Elector 
said to the Duke : — 

" Brother, I must tell you a dream that I 
had last night, and of which I should be very 
glad to know the meaning. It is so deeply 
engraved on my mind, that I should not for- 
get it were I to live a thousand years, for I 
dreamt it thrice, and each time with snme 
new circumstances." 

Duke John. — " Is it a good dream or bad 
dream?" 

The Elector. — " I know not : God knows." 

Duke John. — " Do not make yourself un- 
easy about it : tell it me." 

The Elector. — " Having gone to bed last 
night, tired and dispirited, I fell asleep soon 
after saying my prayers, and slept quietly 
about two hours and a half. I then woke ; 
and continued engaged till midnight with a 
variety of thoughts. I considered how I 
should keep the festival of All Saints; I 
prayed for the poor souls in purgatory, and 
besought God to guide me, my counsellors 
and my people, into all truth. I fell asleep 
again: and then I dreamt that Almighty God 
sent a monk to me, who was the true son of 
the Apostle Paul. All the saints accompanied 
him, according to the command of God, in 
order to testify to me in his favour, and to de- 
clare that he was not come with any fraudu- 
lent design, but that all he did was agreeable 
to the will of God. They asked me. at the 
same time, graciously to allow him to write 
something on the church door of the castle of 
Wittemberg ; which request I granted by the 
mouth of the Chancellor. Thereupon the 
monk went his way, and began to write, but 
in such large characters, that I could read 
from Schweinitz what he was writing. The 
pen that he used was so long that its extremity 
reached even to Rome, wounded the ears of a 
lion (Leu) that was couched there, and shook 
the triple crown on the Pope's head. All the 
cardinals and princes, running hastily towards 
him, endeavoured to support it. You and I, 
brother, among the rest, attempted to support 
it; I put out my arm: but, at that moment I 
woke, with my arm extended, in great alarm, 
and ver} r angry with the monk who handled 
his pen so awkwardly. I recovered myself a 
little; — it was only a dream. 

" But I was still hali asleep, and I closed 
my eyes again. My dream continued. The 
lion, still disturbed by the pen, began to roar 
with all his might, so that the whole city of 
Rome and all the states of the hoty Empire 
ran to inquire what was the matter. The 
Pope called upon us to restrain the monk, and 
addressed himself particularly to me, because 
ao lived in my country. I woke again ; I re- 



peated a Pater noster. I besought God to pre- 
serve the holy Father, and I then fell asleep 
again. 

" After this, I dreamt that all the Princes 
of the Empire, you and I amongst the rest, 
were flocking to Rome, trying one after the 
other to break this pen; but the more we ex- 
i erted ourselves, the stiffer it became; it resist- 
ed as if it had been made of iron; at length 
we were tired. I then asked the monk, (for 
I seemed to be sometimes at Rome, and some- 
times at Wittemberg.) where he had obtained 
that pen, and why it was so strong] 'The 
pen,' replied he. ' once belonged to the wing 
of a goose of Bohemia, a hundred years old.* 
I received it from one of my old school masters; 
its strength is — that no one can take the pith out 
of it; and I am myself quite surprised at it.' 
— Suddenly I heard a loud cry : from the 
monk's long pen had issued a great number 
of other pens. I woke a third time : it was 
daylight." 

Duke John. — " Master Chancellor, what do 
you think of it? Oh ! that we had here a 
Joseph or a Daniel enlightened by God !" 

The Chancellor. — " Your highnesses know 
the vulgar proverb, that the dreams of maidens, 
scholars, and nobles, have generally some 
hidden meaning : but we shall not know the 
meaning of this for some time, till the things 
to which it relates shall have taken place. 
Therefore, commend the accomplishment of 
it to God, and leave it in his hands." 

Duke John. — i4 I agree with you, Master 
Chancellor: it is not right that we should 
puzzle our heads about the meaning of this : 
God will turn all to his glory." 

The Elector. — " God in his mercy grant it! 
However, I shall never forget the dream. I 
have thought of one interpretation: — but I 
keep it to myself. Time will perhaps show 
if I have guessed right." 

Such, according to the manuscript of Wei- 
mar, was the conversation that took place on 
the morning of the 3 1st of October at Schwei- 
nitz. Let us next see what happened in the 
evening of the same day at Wittemberg. We 
now return to the firmer ground of history. 

The admonitions of Luther had produced 
but little effect: Tetzel, without disturbing 
himself, continued his traffic and his impious 
addresses to the people. Shall Luther sub- 
mit to these grievous abuses ? shall he keep 
silence? As a pastor, he has powerfully ex- 
horted those who attended his ministry ; and 
as a preacher, he has uttered a warning voice 
from the pulpit. He has yet to speak as a 
divine; he has yet to address himself, not 
merely to a few persons in the confessional, 
not merely to the assembly of the church of 
Wittemberg, but to all those who are, like 
himself, teachers of God's word. His reso- 
lution is formed. 

It was not the Church that he thought of 



* John Huss. — This is one of the particulars 
that may have been added at a subsequent period, 
in allusion to the well known saving of Huss him 
self 





IllllllllllllllilllW^^ 



'J.O.FELTERij 



LUTHER'S PROTEST AGAINST INDULGENCES. 



HISTORY OF THE R E FORM ATIOxN. 



77 



attacking; ; it was not the Pope he was about 
to call to account; on the contrary, his re- 
spect for the Head of the Church would not 
allow him to be any longer silent in regard to 
assumptions, by which the Pope's credit was 
disparaged. He must take his part against 
those audacious men who dared to mix up his 
venerable name with their disgraceful traffic. 
Far from thinking of a revolution that should 
overthrow the primacy of Rome, Luther con- 
ceived that he had the Pope and Catholicism 
with him, against the effrontery of the monks. 

The feast of All Saints was a very impor- 
tant day at Wittemberg, and especially at the 
church which the Elector had built and filled 
with relics. On this occasion those relics, 
encased in gold and silver, and adorned with 
precious stones, were set out to dazzle the 
eyes of the people with their magnificence. 
Whoever, on that day, visited the church, and 
there confessed himself, obtained a plenary 
indulgence. On that great day the pilgrims 
flocked in crowds to Wittemberg. 

Luther, whose plan was already formed, 
went boldly on the evening of the 31st of 
Ootober, 1517, to the church, towards which 
the superstitious crowds of pilgrims were 
flocking, and affixed to the door ninety-five 
theses or propositions, against the doctrine of 
indulgences. Neither the Elector, nor Stau- 
pitz, nor Spalatin, nor any of his friends, even 
those most intimate with him, had any pre- 
vious intimation of his design. 

Luther therein declared, in a kind of pre- 
amble, that he had written these theses in a 
spirit of sincere charity, and with the express 
desire of bringing the truth to light. He de- 
clared himself ready to defend them, next day, 
at the university itself, against all opposers. 

The attention excited by them was very 
great; and they were read and repeated on all 
sides. The pilgrims, the university, and the 
whole city were soon in confusion. The fol- 
lowing are some of the propositions written 
by the pen of the monk, and posted on the 
door of the church of Wittemberg: 

" 1. When our Master and Lord Jesus 
Christ says, ' Repent,' he means that the 
whole life of his faithful servants upon earth 
should be a constant and continual repentance. 

" 2, This cannot be understood of the sa- 
crament of penance, (that is to say of con- 
fession and satisfaction.) as administered by 
the priest. 

" 3. However, our Lord does not here speak 
only of inward repentance: inward repent- 
ance is invalid, if it does not produce out- 
wardly every kind of mortification of the flesh. 

" 4. Repentance and grief — that is to say, 
true penitence, lasts as long as a man is dis- 
pleased with himself, — that is to say, till he 
passes from this life to eternal life. 

"5. The Pope has no power or intention 
to remit any other penalty than that which he 
has imposed, according to his good pleasure, 
or conformably to the canons, that is to say, 
to the Papal ordinances. 

" 6. The Pope cannot remit any condemna- 
tion; but can only declare and confirm the 



remission that God himself has given; except 
only in cases that belong to him. If he does 
otherwise, the condemnation continues the 
same. 

"8. The laws of ecclesiastical penance can 
only be imposed on the living, and in nowise 
respect the dead. 

"21. The commissioners of indulgences 
are in error in saying, that, through -the in- 
dulgence of the Pope, man is delivered from 
all punishment, and saved. 

"25. The same power, that the Pope has 
over purgatory in the Church at large, is pos- 
sessed by every bishop in his diocese and 
every curate in his parish. 

"27. Those persons preach human inven- 
tions who pretend that, at the very moment 
when the money sounds in the strong box, 
the soul escapes from purgatory. 

"28. This is certain : that, as soon as the 
money sounds, avarice and love of gain come 
in, grow and multiply. But the assistance 
and prayers of the Church depend only on 
the will and good pleasure of God. 

" 32. Those who fancy themselves sure of 
their salvation by indulgences will go to the 
devil with those who teach them this doc- 
trine. 

" 35. They teach antichristian doctrine 
who profess that, to deliver a soul from pur- 
gatory, or to purchase an indulgence, there is 
no need of sorrow or of repentance. 

" 36. Every Christian who feels true re- 
pentance for his sins has perfect remission 
from the punishment and from the sin, with- 
out the need of indulgences. 

"37. Every true Christian, dead or living, 
is a partaker of all the riches of Christ, oi 
of the Church, by the gift of God. and with- 
out any letter of indulgence. 

"38. Yet we must not despise the Pope's 
distributive and pardoning power, for his 
pardon is a declaration of God's pardon. 

" 40. Repentance and real grief seek and 
love chastening; but the softness of the in- 
dulgence relaxes the fear of chastisement, and 
makes us averse from it. 

" 42. W T e must teach Christians, that the 
Pope neither expects nor wishes us to com- 
pare the act of preaching indulgences with 
any charitable work whatsoever. 

"43. W 7 e must teach Christians, that he 
who gives to the poor, or lends to the needy, 
does better than he who buys an indulgence. 

" 44. For the work of charity makes cha- 
rity to abound, and renders man more pious, 
whilst the indulgence makes him not better, 
but only more .confident in himself, and more 
secure from punishment. 

"45. We must teach Christians, that he 
who sees his neighbour in want, and, not- 
withstanding that, buys an indulgence, does 
not in reality acquire the Pope's indulgence, 
and draws down on himself the anger of God. 

" 46. We must teach Christians, that if 
they have no superfluity, they are bound to 
keep for their families wherewith to procure 
necessaries, and they ought not to waste 
their monev on indulgences. 



78 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



"47. We must teach Christians, that the 
purchase of an indulgence is not a matter of 
commandment, but a thing in which they are 
left at liberty. 

"48. We must teach Christians, that the 
Pope, having more need of the prayer of faith 
than of money, desires prayer rather than 
money, when he distributes indulgences. 

»' 49. We must teach Christians, that the 
Pope's indulgence is good, if we do not put 
our trust in it; but that nothing can be more 
hurtful, if it leads us to neglect piety. 

" 50. We must teach Christians, that if the 
Pope knew the exactions of the preachers of 
indulgences, he would rather that the metro- 
politan church of St. Peter were burnt to ashes, 
than see it built up with the skin, the flesh, 
and bones of his flock. 

"51. We must teach Christians, that the 
Pope, as in duty bound, would willingly give 
his own money, though it should be necessary 
to sell the metropolitan church of St. Peter for 
the purpose, to the poor people, whom the 
preachers of indulgences now rob of their last 
penny. 

"52. To hope to be saved by indulgences 
is to hope in lies and vanity; even although 
the commissioner of indulgences, nay, though 
even the Pope himself, should pledge his own 
soul in attestation of their efficacy. 

" 53. They are the enemies of the Pope and 
of Christ, who, to favour the preaching of in- 
dulgences, forbid the preaching of the word 
of God. 

" 55. The Pope can think no otherwise 
than this: "If the indulgence (which is the 
lesser) is celebrated with the sound of a belf, 
and pomp and ceremony, much more is it right 
to celebrate the preaching of the Gospel (which 
is the greater) with a hundred bells, and a 
hundred times more pomp and ceremony. 

" 62. The true and precious treasure of the 
Church is the holy Gospel of the glory and 
grace of God. 

"65. The treasures of the Gospel are nets, 
in which it formerly happened that the souls 
of rich men, living at ease, were taken. 

'■'•SS. But the treasures of the indulgence 
are nets, wherewith now they fish for rich 
men's wealth. 

"67. It is the duty of bishops and pastors 
to receive with all respect the commissioners 
of the apostolical indulgences. 

" 68. But it is much more their duty to 
satisfy themselves, by their presence, that the 
said commissioners do not preach the dreams 
of their own fancy instead of the Pope's orders. 

"71. Cursed be whosoever speaks against 
the Pope's indulgence. 

" 72. But blessed be he who opposes the 
foolish and reckless speeches of the preachers 
of indulgences. 

"78. The Pope's indulgence cannot take 
away the least of our daily sins, — so far as 
the blame or offence of it is concerned. 

"79. To say that the cross, hung with the 
Pope's arms, is as powerful as the cross of 
Christ, is blasphemy. 

'80 The bishops, pastors, and divines, 



who allow these things to be taught to the 
people will have to give account for it. 

"81. This shameless preaching, — these 
impudent praises of indulgences, — make it 
difficult for the learned to defend the dignity 
and honour of the Pope against the calumnies 
of preachers, and the subtle and artful ques- 
tions of the common people. 

"86. Why, say they, does not the Pope 
build the metropolitan church of St. Peter's 
with his own money, rather than with that of 
poor Christians, seeing that he is richer than 
the richest Crassus 1 

" 92. May we therefore be rid of those 
preachers, who say to the Church of Christ 
' Peace, peace,' when there is no peace. 

" 94. We must exhort Christians to en- 
deavour to follow Christ, their head, under the 
cross, through death and hell. 

"95. For it is better, through much tribu- 
lation, to enter into the kingdom of heaven, 
than to gain a carnal security by the consola- 
tions of a false peace." 

Here then was the beginning of the work. 
The germs of the Reformation were enclosed 
in these theses of Luther. They attacked the 
indulgences, and this drew notice; — but under 
this attack was found a principle, which, 
while it drew much less of the people's atten- 
tion, was one day to overturn the edifice of the 
Papacy. The evangelic doctrine of a free 
and gracious remission of sins was for the first 
time publicly professed. The work must now 
go forward. In fact it was evident that who- 
ever should receive that faith in the remission 
of sins proclaimed by the Doctor of Wittem- 
berg, — whoever should possess that repent- 
ance, that conversion, and that sanctification, 
of which he urged the necessity, — would no 
longer regard human ordinances, would throw 
off the bandages and restraints of Rome, and 
acquire the liberty of God's children. All 
errors would fall before this truth. It was by 
this that the light, had just entered the mind 
of Luther; it was likewise by it that the light 
was ordained to spread in the Church. A 
clear perception of this truth was what had 
been wanting to the earlier Reformers. Hence 
the unprofitableness of their efforts. Luther 
clearly saw, at a later period, that in proclaim- 
ing justification by faith, he had laid the axe 
to the root of the tree. " It is doctrine that we 
attack in the followers of the Papacy," said 
he. " Huss and Wicklif only attacked their 
life; but in attacking their doctrine, we seize 
the goose by the throat. Every thing depends 
on the word of God, which the Pope has 
taken from us and falsified. 1 have overcome 
the Pope, because my doctrine is according 
to God, and his is the doctrine of the devil." 

We also, in our day, have lost sight of this 
cardinal doctrine of justification by faith, 
though not in the same way as our fathers. 
"In Luther's time," says one of our contem- 
poraries, "the remission of sins cost some mo- 
ney at least; but in our days, every one takes 
it gratuitously to himself." There is much 
analogy between these two false notions. In 
our error there is perhaps more forgetfulneas 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



79 



of God than that which prevailed in the 16th 
century. The principle of justification by 
God's free grace, which delivered the Church 
from such deep darkness at the period of the 
Reformation, can alone renew this generation, 
terminate its doubts and waverings, destroy 
the egotism which consumes it, establish mo- 
rality and uprightness among the nations, — 
in a word, bring back to God the world which 
has forsaken him. 

But if these theses of Luther were strong in 
the strength of the truth they proclaimed, they 
were no less powerful in the faith of him who 
declared himself their champion. He had 
boldly drawn the sword of the word. He had 
done this in reliance on the power of truth. 
He had felt that, in dependence on the pro- 
mises of God, something might be hazarded, 
j\ as the world would express it. " Let him 
who resolves to begin a good work," (said he, 
; speaking of this bold attack,) " undertake it, 
I relying on the goodness of the thing itself, and 
• in no degree on any help or comfort to be de- 
rived from men : — moreover, let him not fear 
men, nor the whole world. For that text shall 
never be falsified: 'It is good to trust in the 
Lord, and he that trusteth»in him shall cer- 
tainly never be confounded.' But as for him 
who will not, or cannot, venture something, 
trusting in God, let him carefully abstain from 
undertaking any thing." We cannot doubt 
that Luther, after having fixed his theses on 
the door of the church of All Saints, withdrew 
to his peaceful cell, filled with that peace and 
joy which flow from an action done in the 
name of the Lord, and for the cause of ever- 
lasting truth. 

Whatever boldness may appear in these 
theses, we still discover in them the monk who 
would refuse to allow a single doubt as to the 
authority of the Roman See. But in attack- 
ing the doctrine of indulgences, Luther had 
unconsciously borne hard upon many errors, 
the discovery of which could not be agreeable 
to the Pope, since it must necessarily lead, 
sooner or later, to the discrediting his su- 
premacy. Luther's views, at that time, did 
not extend so far; but he felt the boldness 
of the step he had just taken, and thought 
therefore that he ought to qualify it, as far as 
he could, consistently with the respect he owed 
to the truth. He consequently put forth these 
theses only as doubtful propositions, in respect 
to which he solicited information from the 
learned ; and he added (in accordance, it is 
true, with an established custom,) a solemn 
protestation, by which he declared, that he did 
not mean to say or affirm anything that was 
not founded on the Holy Scriptures, the Fathers 
of the Church, and the rights and decretals of 
the court of Rome. 

Often did Luther, in after times, when he 
contemplated the vast and unexpected conse- 
quences of this courageous step, feel amazed 
at himself, and unable to comprehend how he 
had dared to take it. The truth w r as, an in- 
visible and all-powerful hand held the guiding 
rein, and urged on the herald of truth in a road 
which he knew not, and from the difficul- 
7 



ties of which he would perhaps have shrunk, 
had he been aware of them, and advanced 
alone and of his own will. " I entered on 
this controversy," said he, "without any set- 
tled purpose or inclination, and entirely un 
prepared ... I call God to witness this who 
sees the heart." 

Luther had learned what was the source of 
these abuses. A little book was brought him, 
adorned with the arms of the Archbishop of 
Mentz and Magdeburg, containing rules to 
be followed in the sale of the indulgences. 
Thus it was this young prelate, this accom- 
plished prince, who had prescribed, or at least 
sanctioned, this imposture. Luther saw in 
him only a superior, whom it was his duty to 
honour and respect. He resolved no longer 
to beat the air, but rather to apply to those 
who had the office of government in the 
church. He addressed to him a letter full of 
frankness and humility. Luther wrote to Al- 
bert the same day that he placarded his theses. 

" Forgive me, most reverend Father in 
Christ, and most illustrious Prince, if I, who 
am the very meanest of men, have the bold- 
ness to write to your sublime grandeur. The 
Lord Jesus is my witness that, feeling how 
small and contemptible I am, I have long de- 
layed to do so. Yet let your Highness look 
upon an atom of dust, and. in your episcopal 
compassion graciously receive my request. 

" Men are carrying throughout ihe country 
the papal indulgence, under your Grace's 
name. I will not so much accuse the cla- 
mours of the preachers, (for I have not heard 
them,) as the false opinions of simple and 
ignorant people, who, when they purchase 
these indulgences, think themselves sure of 
their salvation. 

" Great God ! the souls confided, my very 
excellent Father, to your care, are trained not 
for life, but for death. The strict reckoning 
that will one day be required of you, increases 
every day. I could no longer keep silence. 
No ! man is not saved by the work or the 
office of his bishop. Scarcely even is the 
righteous saved, and the way that leadeth 
unto life is narrow. Why then do the preach- 
ers of indulgences, by empty fictions, lull the 
people in carnal security. 

"The indulgence alone, if we can give ear 
to them, is to be proclaimed and exalted. 
What, is it not the chief and only duty of 
the bishops to teach the people the Gospel 
and the love of Christ'? Christ himself has 
nowhere told us to preach indulgences, but 
he has enjoined us to preach the Gospel. 
How horrid and dangerous then it is for a 
bishop to allow the Gospel to be withheld, 
and the indulgences alone to be continually 
sounded in the ears of the people ! 

" Most worthy Father in God, in the In 
struction of the Commissioners, which was 
published in your Grace's name, (certainly 
without your knowledge,) it is said, that the 
indulgence is the most precious treasure; that 
by it a man is reconciled to God, and that 
repentance is not needed by those who pur- 
chase it. 



60 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



"What can I, what ought I to do, most} 
worthy bishop and serene prince 1 ? Oh! l[ 
entreat your Highness, by the Lord Jesus 
Christ, to look into this matter with paternal 
vigilance, to suppress this book entirely, and 
to order the preachers to address to the people 
different instructions. If you neglect to do 
this, prepare yourself to hear some- day a voice 
lifted, that shall refute these preachers, to the 
great disgrace of your most serene Highness." 

Luther, at the same time, sent his theses to 
the Archbishop, and asked him in a postscript 
to read them, in order to convince himself of 
the little dependence that was to be placed on 
the doctrine of indulgences. 

Thus, the only wish of Luther was, that 
the watchmen of the Church should arouse 
themselves, and endeavour to put a stop to the 
evils that were laying it waste. Nothing 
could be more noble or respectful than this 
letter of a monk to one of the greatest princes 
of the Church and of the Empire. Never did 
any one act more in the spirit of Christ's pre- 
cept : " Render unto Caesar the things that are 
Caesar's, and unto God the things that are 
God's." This conduct bears no resemblance 
to that of the reckless revolutionist, who de- 
spises dominions and speaks evil of dignities. 
It is the conscientious appeal of a C hristian acd 
a priest, who renders honour to all, but, above 
all, has the fear of God in his heart. But all 
his entreaties and supplications were useless. 
Young Albert, wholly engrossed by pleasure 
and the pursuits of ambition, made no reply 
to this solemn address. The Bishop of Bran- 
denburg, Luther's ordinary, a learned and 
pious man, to whom he also sent the theses, 
replied that he was attacking the power of the 
Church ; that he would bring upon himself 
much trouble and grief; that the attempt 
would be found too much for his strength, and 
that he would do well to give up the affair 
altogether. The princes of the Church closed 
their ears to the voice of God, which was 
making itself heard in so affecting and ener- 
getic a manner through the instrumentality of 
Luther. They would not understand the 
signs of the times ; they were struck with 
that blindness which has already accelerated 
the ruin of so many powers and dignities. 
"They both thought at that time," as Luther 
afterwards observed, " that the Pope would 
be too powerful for a poor mendicant monk 
like me." 

But Luther could judge better than the 
bishops, of the fatal effect of indulgences on 
the, lives and morals of the people; for he 
was intimately connected with them. He 
saw constantly and close at hand, what the 
bishops only knew from reports that could 
not be depended on. If he found no help 
from the bishops, God was not wanting to 
him. The head of the Church, who sits in 
the heavens, and to whom alone all power is 
given upon earth, had himself prepared the 
soil, and committed the seed to the hand of 
his servant ; he gave wings to those seeds of 
truth, and scattered them in a moment over 
the whole field of the church. 



No one appeared next day at the university 
to impugn the propositions of Luther. Tet- 
zel's traffic was too generally decried and too 
disreputable for any other person than himself, 
or one of his followers, to dare to accept the 
challenge. But these theses w T ere destined to 
find an echo beyond the vaulted roof of the 
academy. Hardly had they been nailed to 
the church door of the castle of Wittemberg, 
when the feeble sound of the hammer was 
succeeded by a thunderclap, which shook the 
very foundations of proud Rome; threatened 
with instant ruin the walls, gates, and pillars 
of the Papacy ; stunned and terrified its cham- 
pions; and at the same time awakened from 
the slumber of error many thousands of men. 

These theses spread with the rapidity of 
lightning. Before a month had elapsed, they 
had found their way to Rome. " In the space 
of a fortnight," says a contemporary historian, 
" they had spread over Germany, and within 
a month they had run through all Christendom, 
as if angels themselves had been the bearers 
of them to all men. It is difficult to conceive 
the stir they occasioned." They w T ere after- 
wards translated into Dutch, and into Spa- 
nish ; and a traveller carried them for sale as 
far as Jerusalem. " Every one," said Luther, 
" was complaining of the indulgences, and, 
as all the bishops and doctors had kept 
silence, and no one was inclined to take the 
bull by the horns, poor Luther became a fa- 
mous doctor; because, at last, said they, one 
doctor was found who dared grapple with 
him. But I did not like this glory, and 
I thought the song in too high a key for my 
voice." 

Many of the pilgrims who had flocked 
from all sides to Wittemberg at the feast 
of All Saints, took back with them — not the 
indulgences — but the famous theses of the 
Augustine monk. Thus they helped to diffuse 
them. Every one read them, meditating and 
commenting on them. Men conversed about 
thern in convents and in colleges. The devout 
monks who had entered the convents that 
they might save their souls, and all upright 
and well-intentioned men rejoiced at so simple 
and striking a confession of the iruth, and 
heartily desired that Luther might continue 
the work he had begun. " I observe," says 
one very worthy of credit, and. a great rival 
of the Reformer, (Erasmus,) speaking to a 
cardinal, " that the more irreproachable men's 
morals, and the more evangelical their piety, 
the less are they opposed to Luther. His 
life is commended even by those who cannot 
endure his opinions. The w r orld was weary 
of a method of teaching in which so many 
puerile fictions and human inventions were 
mixed up, and thirsted for that living, pure, 
and hidden stream which flows from the veins 
of the apostles and evangelists. The genius 
of Luther was such as fitted him for these 
things, and his zeal would naturally take fire 
at so noble an enterprise." 

To form an idea of the various but prodi 
gious effect that these propositions produced 
in Germany, we should endeavour tc follow 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



SI 



them wherever they penetrated, — into the 
study of the learned, the cell of the monk, and 
the palaces of the princes. 

Reuchlin received a copy of them. He 
was tired of the rude conflict he had waged 
with the monks. The strength evinced by 
the new combatant in these theses cheered the 
depressed spirits of the old champion of 
letters, and gave fresh joy to his drooping 
heart. "Thanks be to God," exclaimed he, 
after having read them, " they have now found 
a man who will give them so much to do, that 
they will be very glad to leave my old age to 
pass away in peace." 

The cautious Erasmus was in the Low 
Countries when the theses reached him. He 
inwardly rejoiced to see his secret desires for 
the reform of abuses so courageously express- 
ed : he commended their author, only exhort- 
ing him to more moderation and prudence. 
And yet, when some one in his presence 
blamed Luther's violence, " God," said Eras- 
mus, "has sent a physician who cuts into the 
flesh, because, without such an one, the dis- 
order would become incurable." And when 
afterwards the Elector of Saxony asked his 
opinion of Luther's affair, — " I am not at all 
surprised, " answered he, smiling, " that he 
nas occasioned so much disturbance, for he 
has committed two unpardonable offences, — 
he has attacked the tiara of the Pope, and the 
bellies of the monks." 

Doctor Flek, prior of the cloister of Stein- 
lausitz, had for some time discontinued read- 
ing mass, but he told no one his true reason. 
One day he found the theses of Luther in the 
convent refectory : he took them up and read ; 
and no sooner had he gone through some 
of them, than, unable to suppress his joy, he 
exclaimed, "Oh! now at last, one is come 
who has been long waited for, and will tell 
you all ; — look there, monks !" Thence glanc- 
ing into futurity, as Mathesius remarks, and 
playing on the word Wittemberg: "All the 
world," said he, "will come to seek wisdom 
on that mountain, and will find it." He wrote 
to the Doctor, urging him by all means to con- 
tinue the glorious struggle with courage. 
Luther calls him " a man full of joy and con- 
solation." 

The ancient and famous episcopal see of 
Wiirzburg was then filled by a pious, kind, 
and prudent man, Laurence of Bibra. When 
a gentleman came to announce to him that he 
destined his daughter for the cloister, " Better 
give her a husband," said he. And he added, 
"If you want money to do so, I will lend 
you." The Emperor and all the princes had 
the highest esteem for him. He deplored the 
disorders of the Church, and especially of the 
convents. The theses reached him also in his 
episcopal palace; he read them with great 
joy, and publicly declared that he approved 
Luther's view. He afterwards wrote to the 
Elector Frederic, " Do not let the pious Doc- 
tor Martin Luther leave you, for the charges 
against him are unjust." The Elector rejoiced 
at this testimony, copied it with his own hand, 
and sent it to the Reformer. 



— The Emperor Maximilian, the predecessci 
of Charles V., himself read and admired the 
theses of the monk of Wittemberg. He per- 
ceived the wide grasp of his thoughts ; he fore- 
saw that this obscure Augustine might proba 
bly become a powerful ally in Germany, in her 
struggle with Rome. Accordingly, he sen* 
this message to the Elector of Saxony : "Take 
care of the monk Luther, for a time may come 
when we may have need of him:" and shortly 
after, meeting Pfefflnger, the confidential ad- 
viser of the Elector, at the Diet, — " Well," 
said he, " what is your Augustine about 1 
Truly his propositions are not to be despised. 
He will show wonders to the monks." 
---Even at Rome, and at the Vatican, the the- 
ses were not so ill received. Leo X. regarded 
them rather with the feelings of a friend of 
learning than a Pope. The amusement they 
gave him made him overlook the stern truths 
they contained ; and when Silvester Prierias, 
the master of the sacred palace, besought him 
to treat Luther as a heretic, he answered, 
" That same brother, Martin Luther, is a man 
of talent, and all that is said against him is 
mere monkish jealousy." 

There were few on whom the theses of 
Luther had more effect than on the student of 
'Annaberg, whom Tetzel had so unmercifully 
repulsed. Myconius had entered into a con- 
vent. That very night he had dreamed that 
he saw a wide field covered with ripe grain. 
"Reap," said the voice of him who seemed 
to conduct him ; and when he excused him- 
self as unskilled, his guide showed him a 
reaper labouring at his work with inconceiv- 
able activity. "Follow him, and do as he 
does," said his guide. Myconius, panting, 
like Luther, for holiness, gave himself up in 
the convent to watchings, fastings, macera- 
tions, and all the works of man's invention. 
But in the end he abandoned all hope of attain- 
ing the object of his pursuit. He left off study 
and applied himself only to manual labours. 
Sometimes he bound books, sometimes he 
wrought as a turner, or at some other mecha- 
nical occupation. This activity of body was 
unavailing, however, to quiet his troubled con- 
science. God had spoken to him ; he could 
not relapse into his former sleep. This dis- 
tress of mind lasted several years. Men some- 
times imagine that the paths of the Reformers 
were altogether pleasant, and that when once 
they had rejected the burdensome observances 
of the Church, nothing remained but ease and 
delight. Such persons do not know that they 
only arrived at the truth by internal struggles 
a thousand times more painful than the observ- 
ances to which servile spirits readily submitted 

At length the year 1517 arrived : the theses 
of Luther were published ; they ran through 
all lands ; they arrived at the convent in which 
the student of Annaberg was immured. He 
retired with another monk, John Voit, into a 
corner of the cloister, that he might read them 
undisturbed. There was indeed the truth he 
had learned from his father; his eyes were 
opened; he felt a voice within him responding 
to that which then resounded throughout Ger- 



82 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



many ; and a rich comfort filled his heart. 
" I see clearly," said he, " that Martin Lu- 
ther is the reaper whom I beheld in my dream, 
and who taught me to gather in the ripe corn." 
Immediately he began to profess the doctrine 
which Luther had proclaimed. The monks 
listened to him with dismay, combated his 
new opinions, and exclaimed against Luther 
and his convent. " That convent," replied 
Myconius, " is as the Sepulchre of our Lord ; 
some men attempt to hinder Christ's resurrec- 
tion, but they cannot succeed in their attempt." 
At last his superiors, seeing that they were 
unable to convince him, forbade him for a 
year and a half all intercourse beyond the 
walls of his convent; prohibiting him from 
writing or receiving letters; and threatened 
hirn with perpetual imprisonment. However, 
the hour of deliverance came also to him. 
Appointed shortly after pastor at Zwickau, 
he was the first who openly declared against 
the Papacy in the churches of Thuringia. 
" Then it was that I was enabled," says he, 
" to labour with my venerable father Lu- 
ther in the harvest of the gospel." Jonas has 
designated him a man capable of all he un- 
dertook. 

Doubtless there were other souls besides 
these to whom the theses of Luther were the 
signal of life. They kindled a new light in 
many a cell, cabin, and even palace. Whilst 
those who sought, in monastic seclusion, a 
well-supplied board, a life of indolence, or the 
reverence of their fellow-men, observes Mathe- 
sius, heaped reproaches on the Reformer's 
name, — the monks who lived in prayer, fast- 
ings, and mortifications, thanked God when 
they heard the first cry of that eagle predicted 
by John Huss, a century before. Even the 
common people, who understood but little of 
the theological question, and only knew that 
this man protested against mendicant friars 
and indolent monks, nailed him with shouts 
of joy. An extraordinary sensation was pro- 
duced in Germany by his bold propositions. 
But others of his contemporaries foresaw their 
serious consequences, and the many obstacles 
they would have to encounter// They loudly 
expressed their fears, and never rejoiced with- 
out trembling. 

"I fear much," wrote Bernard Adelman, 
the excellent canon of Augsburg, to his friend 
Pirckheimer, "that the worthy man will be, 
after all, obliged to yield to the avarice and 
power of the partisans of indulgences. His 
remonstrances have had so little effect, that 
the 'Bishop of Augsburg, our primate and me- 
tropolitan, has just ordered, in the Pope's 
name, fresh indulgences for St. Peter's at 
Rome. Let him, without losing time, seek 
the support of the princes; let him beware of 
tempting God ; for one must be void of com- 
mon sense, not to see the imminent danger in 
which he stands." Adelman rejoiced greatly 
when a report was current that King Henry 
VIII. had invited Luther to England. "He 
will there," thought he, "be able to teach the 
truth without molestation." Many there were 
who thus imagined that the doctrine of the 



Gospel needed to be supported by the power 
of princes. They knew not that it advances 
without any such power, and that often the al- 
liance of this power hinders and weakens it. 

The celebrated historian, Albert Kranz, was 
lying on his death-bed at Hamburgh, when 
the theses of Luther were brought to him. 
" Thou hast truth on thy side, brother Martin !" 
exclaimed the dying man, "but thou wilt not 
succeed. Poor monk, get thee to thy cell, and 
cry, O God, have mercy on me!" 

An old priest of Hexter in Westphalia, hav- 
ing received and read the theses in his pres- 
bytery, said, in low German, shaking his head, 
" Dear brother Martin, if you succeed in cast- 
ing down that purgatory and those sellers of 
paper, truly you will be a great man." Erbe- 
nius, who lived a hundred years later, wrote 
these lines under the words we have quoted: 

Quid vero, nunc si viveret, 
Bonus iste clericus diceret ?* 

Not only did many of Luther's friends con- 
ceive fears from his proceeding; several ex- 
pressed to him their disapproval. 

The Bishop of Brandenburg, grieved at see* 
ing so important a controversy originating in 
his own diocese, would have wished to stifle 
it. He resolved to set about it with mildness. 
"1 find," said he to Luther, by the Abbot of 
Lenin, " nothing in the theses concerning the 
indulgences at variance with the Catholic faith. 
I even myself condemn those imprudent pro- 
clamations; but for the love of peace, and out 
of regard to your bishop, cease to write on this 
subject." Luther was embarrassed that so 
distinguished an abbot and so great a bishop 
should address him with such humility. Moved 
and carried away by the first impulse of his 
heart, ne answered, "I consent; I prefer obe- 
dience even to the working of miracles, if that 
were possible to me." 

The Elector saw with regret the commence- 
ment of a contest, legitimate doubtless, but 
one of which the result could not be foreseen. 
No prince more sincerely desired to maintain 
the public peace than Frederic. Yet now 
what a vast conflagration might not this little 
fire kindle ! what great contentions, what 
rending asunder of the nations might this 
quarrel with the monks produce ! The Electoi 
sent Luther repeated intimaiions of his un- 
easiness on the subject. 

In his own order, and even in his convent 
of Wittemberg, Luther met with disapproba- 
tion. The prior and the sub-prior were fright- 
ened at the outcry made by Tetzel and all his 
companions. They went to brother Martin's 
cell, alarmed and trembling: "Pray," said 
they, "do not bring disgrace upon your order ! 
The other orders, and especially the Domini- 
cans, are already transported with joy to think 
that they are not alone in their obloquy." 
Luther was affected by these words; but soon 
recovering himself, he answered, "Dear fa- 
thers ! if the thing is not of God, it will com* 



* What would the worthy clerk now say 
If he were living in our day ? 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



83 



to -naught; if it is, let it go forward." The 
prior and the sub-prior were silent. "The 
thing is going forward still" adds,- Luther, 
after having related this circumstance, " and 
if it please God, it will go on better and better 
to the end. Amen." 

Luther had many other attacks of a very ] 
different kind to endure. At Erfurth he was j 
accused of violence and pride in the manner I 
in which he condemned the opinions of others ; | 
a reproach to which those persons are gene- 
rally exposed who have that strength of con- 
viction which is produced by the word of God. 
He was reproached with haste, and with 
levity. 

"They require modesty in me," replied 
Luther, " and they themselves trample it un- 
der foot in the judgment they pass on me ! . . . 
We behold the mote in another's eye, and con- 
sider not the beam that is in our own eye. . . . 
The truth will gain no more by my modesty 
than it will lose by my rashness." — " I should 
like to know," continued he, addressing him- 
self to Lange, " what errors you and your di- 
vines have found in my theses. Who does 
not know that we can seldom advance a new 
idea without an appearance of pride, and with- 
out being accused of seeking quarrels 1 If 
humility herself attempted any thing new, 
those of a different opinion would exclaim that 
she was proud. Why were Christ and all the 
martyrs put to death ? Because they appeared 
proud despisers of the wisdom of the times in 
which they lived, and because they brought 
forward new truths without having first hum- 
bly consulted the oracles of the old opinions. 

" Let not the wise men of the present day, 
therefore, expect from me so much humility, 
or rather hypocrisy, as to ask their judgment, 
before I publish that which my duty calls upon 
me to proclaim. What I am doing will not 
be effected by the prudence of man, but by the 
counsel of God. If the work is of God, who 
shall stop it] If it is not, who can forward 
it I Not my will, not theirs, nor ours, but 
Thy will, thine, holy Father, who art in hea- 
ven !" 

What boldness, what noble enthusiasm, 
what trust in God ! and especially what truth 
in these words, and what truth for all times! 

However, the reproaches and accusations 
which were brought against Luther from all 
sides, did not fail to make some impression 
upon his mind. He was deceived in his ex- 
pectations. He had expected to see the heads 
of the Church, the most distinguished philo- 
sophers of the nation, publicly join him ; but 
it was quite otherwise.- A word of encourage- 
ment hastily bestowed at the outset was all 
that the more favourably disposed afforded 
him ; and many of those whom he had regarded 
with most veneration were loud in their con- 
demnation of him. He felt himself alone in 
the Church; alone against Rome; alone at 
the foot of that ancient and formidable cita- 
del, whose foundations reached to the bowels 
of the earth, and whose walls, ascending to 
the skies, appeared to deride the presump- 
tuous stroke which his hand had aimed against 



them. He was disturbed and dejected at the 
thought. Doubts, which he thought he had 
overcome, returned to his mind with fresh 
force. He trembled to think that he had the 
whole authority of the Church against him. 
To withdraw himself from that authority, to 
resist that voice which nations and ages had 
humbly obeyed, to set himself in opposition 
to that Church which he had been accustomed 
from his infancy to revere as the mother of 
the faithful ; he, a despicable monk, — it was 
an effort beyond human power. No one step 
cost him so much as this, and it was in fact 
this that decided the fate of the Reformation. 

No one can describe better than himself the 
struggle he then suffered in his mind. " I 
began this affair," said he, "with great fear 
and trembling. What was I at that time ] 
a poor, wretched, contemptible friar, more 
like a corpse than a man. Who was I, to 
oppose the Pope's majesty, before which not 
only the kings of the earth and the whole 
world trembled ; but also, if I may so speak, 
heaven and hell were constrained to ohey the 
slightest intimation of his will 1 No one 
can know what I suffered those first two 
years, and in what dejection, I might say in 
what despair, I w r as often plunged. Those 
proud spirits who afterwards attacked the 
Pope with such boldness, can form no idea of 
my sufferings; though, with all their skill, 
they could have done him no injury, if Christ 
had not inflicted upon him, through me, His 
weak and unworthy instrument, a wound from 
which he will never recover. But whilst they 
were satisfied to look on and leave me to face 
the danger alone, I was not so happy, so calm, 
or so sure of success ; for I did not then know 
many things which now, thanks be to God, I 
do know. There were, it is true, many pious 
Christians who were much pleased with my 
propositions and thought highly of them. 
But I was not able to recognise these, or look 
upon them as inspired by the Holy Ghost; I 
only looked to the Pope, the .cardinals, the 
bishops, the theologians, the jurisconsults, the 
monks, the priests. It was from thence that 
I expected the Spirit to breathe However, 
after having triumphed, by means of the Scrip- 
tures, over all opposing arguments, I at last 
overcame, by the grace of Christ, with much 
anguish, labour, and great difficulty, the only 
argument that still stopped me, namely, ' that 
I must hear the church;' for, from my heart, 
I honoured the church of the Pope as the true 
church, and I did so with more sincerity and 
veneration than those disgraceful and infa- 
mous corrupters of the church, who, to oppose 
me, now so much extol it. If I had despised 
the Pope, as those persons do in their hearts, 
who praise him so much with their, lips, I 
should have feared that the earth would open 
at that instant, and swallow me up alive, like 
Korah and his company." 

How honourable are these struggles to 
Luther's character! what sincerity, what up- 
rightness, do they evince! and how much 
more worthy of our respect is he rendered by 
these painful assaults from within and from 



84 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



without, than he could have been by an intre- 
pidity untried by conflict. This travail of his 
soul is good evidence of the truth and divine 
nature of his work. We see that the cause 
and principle of all his actions was from 
heaven. VYho will dare to say, after all the 
characteristics we have pointed out, that the 
Reformation was a political affair ? No, 
certainly, it was not the fruit of human policy, 
but of divine power. If Luther had only 
been actuated by human passions, he would 
have yielded to his fears ; his disappoint- 
ments and misgivings would have smothered 
the fire that had been kindled in his soul, and 
he would only have shed a transient light 
upon the Church, as had been done before by 
so many zealous and pious men, whose names 
have been handed down to posterity. But 
now God's time was come ; the work was not 
to be arrested ; the enfranchisement of the 
Church must be accomplished. Luther was 
destined at least to prepare the way for that 
complete deliverance and that mighty increase 
which are promised to the kingdom of Christ. 
Accordingly he experienced the truth of that 
glorious promise: "The youths shall faint, 
and be weary, and the young men shal 1 utterly 
fail : But they that wait on the Lord shall re- 
new their strength; they shall mount up with 
wings, as eagles." And the same divine 
power, which, animating the heart of the Doc- 
tor of Wittemberg, had led him to the combat, 
soon restored his former courage. 

The reproaches, the timidity, or the silence 
of his friends had discouraged him ; the at- 
tacks of his enemies reanimated him: this is 
lsually the case. The adversaries of the 
truth, thinking by their violence to do their 
own work, did in fact the work of God. 
Tetzel took up the gauntlet, but with a feeble 
hand. The sermon of Luther, which had had 
the same effect upon the common people as 
the theses had had upon the learned, was the 
first thing he undertook to answer. He re- 
plied to this discourse, sentence by sentence, 
in his own manner ; he then gave notice that 
he was preparing to confute his adversary 
more at length, in some theses which he 
would maintain at the famous university of 
Frankfort upon the Oder. "Then," said he, 
referring to the conclusion of Luther's sermon, 
"every one will be able to discover who is an 
heresiarch, a heretic, a schismatic, — who is 
in error, who is rash, who is a slanderer. 
Then it will be evident to the eyes of all, who 
has 'a gloomy brain,' who has ' never felt the 
Bible, read the doctrines of Christianity, and 
understood his own teachers ;' — and in de- 
fence of the propositions that I bring forward 
I am ready to suffer any punishment what- 
soever, imprisonment, bastinado, water, or 
fire." 

One thing strikes us in this work of Tetzel's. 
It is the difference between his German and 
that of Luther. It seems as if there were a 
distance of several ages between them'. A 
foreigner especially finds it difficult to under- 
stand Tetzel, whilst the language of Luther 
18 almost entirely such as is used at the pre- 



sent day. It is sufficient to compare thri« 
writings, to see that Luther is the father o f 
the German language. This is undoubtedly 
one of the least of his merits, but still it is a 
merit. 

Luther replied to this attack withcut nam 
ing Tetzel; — Tetzel had not named him. 
But there was no one in Germany who could 
not have written in the front of their produc- 
tions the names which the authors thought fit 
to conceal./ Tetzel endeavoured to confound 
the repentance that God requires with the pe- 
nitence that the Church imposesi in order to 
give higher value to his indulgences. Luther 
undertook to clear up this point. 

" To avoid many words," said he, in his 
own picturesque language, "I give to the 
winds, (which have more leisure than I have,) 
his other remarks, which are but paper flowers 
and dry leaves, and I content myself with 
examining the foundations of his edifice of 
burrs." 

"The penitence imposed by the holy Father 
cannot be the repentance required by Christ: 
for what the holy Father imposes he can dis- 
pense with : and if these two penitences are 
one and the same thing, it follows that the 
holy Father takes away what Christ imposes, 
and destroys the commandment of God . . . 
Let him only ill treat me" continues Luther, 
after having quoted other false interpretations 
of Tetzel, "let him call me a heretic; schis- 
matical, slanderous, and whatever he pleases : 
I shall not be his enemy on that account; — 
nay, so far from it, I will, on that account, 
pray for him as for a friend. But it cannot be 
endured that he should treat the Holy Scrip- 
ture, our consolation, as a sow treats a sack 
of oats." 

We must accustom ourselves to find Luther 
sometimes using expressions too coarsely vi- 
tuperative for modern taste: it was the cus- 
tom of the time; and we generally find in 
those words wmich shock our notions, of pro- 
priety in language, a suitableness and strength 
which redeem their harshness. He con- 
tinues : 

" He who purchases indulgences, (say our 
adversaries again,) does better than he who 
gives alms to a poor man, unless he be re^ 
duced to the greatest extremity. Now, if 
they tell us that the Turks are profaning our 
churches and crosses, we may hear it without 
shuddering, for we have amongst ourselves 
Turks a hundred times worse, who profane 
and annihilate the only true sanctuary, the 
word of God, which sanctifies all things. . . . 
Let him who wishes to follow this precept, 
take good care not to feed the hungry, or to 
clothe the naked, before they die of want, and 
consequently have no more need of assistance." 

It is important to compare Luther's zeal for 
good works, with what he says about justifi- 
cation by faith. Indeed, no one who has any 
experience and knowledge of Christianity, 
wants this new proof of a truth of which he 
has felt the fullest evidence; namely, that the 
more firmly we hold the doctrine of justifica- 
tion by faith, the better we know the neces^i- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



£5 



ty of works, and the more diligent we are in 
the practice of them ; whilst on the other hand, 
any laxity of the doctrine of faith brings with 
it, of necessity, a neglect of good works. Lu- 
ther, St. Paul before him, and Howard after 
him are proofs of the former assertion. All 
men without this faith, — and the world is full 
of such, — give proof of the latter. 

Luther proceeds to refer to the insults of 
Tetzel, and returns them in this fashion : "It 
seems to me, at the sound of these invectives, 
that I hear a great ass braying at me. I re- 
joice at it, and should be very sorry that such 
people should call me a good Christian." . . . 
We must represent Luther such as he was, 
and with all his weaknesses. This inclina- 
tion to humour, and even low humour, was 
one of them. He was a great man, a man of 
God; but he was a man, and not an angel, 
nor even a perfect man. Who has the right 
to require this in him'? 

"Furthermore," adds he, defying and chal- 
lenging his adversaries to combat, "although 
for such things it is not the custom to burn 
heretics, here am I, at Wittemberg, I, Doctor 
Martin Luther! and if there is any inquisitor 
who wishes to chew iron, or blow up rocks, 
I give him notice that he may have a safe- 
conduct hither, open gates, a good table, and 
a lodging prepared for him, all through the 
gracious care of the worthy prince, Duke 
Frederic, Elector of Saxony, who will never 
be the protector of heretics." 

We see that Luther was not wanting in 
courage. He trusted in the word of God, and 
that is a rock that never fails to shelter us in 
the storm. But God in his faithfulness also 
afforded him other assistance. To the bursts 
of joy with which the multitude received the 
theses of Luther, had succeeded a mournful 
silence. The learned had timidly withdrawn 
when they heard the calumnies and insults 
of Tetzel and of the Dominicans. The bish- 
ops, who had before loudly blamed the abuse 
of the indulgences, seeing them at last attack- 
ed, had not failed, as is always the case, to 
discover that the attack was unseasonable. 
The greater part of the Reformer's friends 
were alarmed. Every one shrunk back. But 
when the first alarm was over, a change took 
place in the minds of men. The monk of 
Wittemberg, who, for some time had been al- 
most alone in the Church, soon saw himself 
again surrounded by a multitude of friends and 
admirers. ' • 

There was one, who, though timid still re- 
mained faithful to him at this crisis, and whose 
friendship was a consolation and support. 
This was Spalatin. Their correspondence 
had been kept up. " I return you thanks," 
he says to him, speaki^> of a special mark of 
friendship he had received from him, "but 
what do I not owe you ?" It was on the 11th 
of November, 1517, eleven days afterthe pub- 
lication of the theses, and consequently at the 
moment when the minds of the people were 
in the greatest ferment, that Luther thus pour- 
ed forth his gratitude to his friend. It is in- 
teresting to see in this very letter to Spalatin, 



how this strong man who had just performed 
an action requiring so much courage, acknow- 
ledges whence his strength is derived. "We 
can do nothing of ourselves; we can do all 
things by the grace of God. Ignorance -in 
any measure is altogether beyond our power 
to overcome. There is no ignorance so dark 
but the grace of God can dispel it. The more 
we labour by our own strength to attain" wis- 
dom, the more infatuated we become. And 
it is not true that this invincible ignorance 
excuses the sinner, for otherwise there is no 
such thing as sin in the world." 

Luther had sent his propositions neither to 
the prince nor to any of his courtiers. It ap- 
pears that the chaplain expressed some sur- 
prise at this. "I did not wish," answered 
Luther, "that my theses should reach the 
hands of our illustrious prince, or any of his 
circle, before those who think they are there- 
in referred to had received them, lest they 
should suppose that I published them by the 
prince's direction, or to court his favour, and 
out of ill-will to the Bishop of Mentz. I am 
told there are several who fancy this ; — but 
now I can safely affirm, that my theses were 
published without the privity of Duke Fre- 
deric." 

If Spalatin comforted his friend, and sup- 
ported him with all his influence, Luther, on 
his part endeavoured to answer all the inqui- 
ries addressed to him by the diffident chap- 
lain. Among his questions was one which 
is often proposed in our days. . " What,' 5 
asked he, " is the best method of studying the 
Scriptures ?" / 

" Hitherto," answered Luther, " worthy 
Spalatin, you have asked only things I was 
able to answer. But to guide you in the study 
of the Holy Scripture is beyond my strength. 
However, if you insist on knowing my method, 
I will not conceal it from you. 
/, "It is most plain we cannot attain to the 
'understanding of Scripture either by study or 
by strength of intellect. Therefore your first 
duty must be to begin with prayer. Entreat the 
Lord to deign to grant you, in his rich mercy, 
rightly to understand his word. There is no 
other interpreter of the word of God but the 
author of that word himself; even as He has 
said, 'They shall all be taught of God.' Hope 
nothing from your study, or the strength of 
your intellect; but simply put your trust m 
God, and in the guidance of his Spirit. Be- 
lieve one who has made trial of this method.'V, 
Here we see how Luther attained to the pos- 
session of the truth which he preached to 
others. It was not, as some have said, by 
following the guidance of his own presump- 
tuous reason; nor was it, as others assert, by 
surrendering himself to the contentious pas- 
sions. He drew from the purest and holiest 
spring, by humble, trusting, and prayerful in 
quiry of God himself. But then, there are 
few men of this age who follow his example; 
and hence it is that there are few who under- 
stand him. To a thoughtful mind these 
words of Luther are of themselves a justiiiea 
tion of the Reformation. 



86 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Luther also found consolation in the friend- 
ship of respectable laymen. Christopher 
Scheurl, the worthy town-clerk of the imperial 
city of Nuremberg, at this time afforded him 
some affecting marks of his regard. How 
sweet to the heart of a man encompassed with 
adversaries is every intimation of interest felt 
in his success! The town-clerk of Nurem- 
berg went further; he wished to bring over 
other friends to the man he himself befriended. 
He proposed to him that he should dedicate 
one of nis writings to Jerome Ebner, a juris- 
consult of Nuremberg, who was then in great 
repute. "You have a high notion of my la- 
bours," answered Luther modestly ; " but I 
myself have a very poor opinion of them. It 
was my wish, however, to comply with your 
desire. I looked, — but amongst all my papers, 
which I never before thought so meanly of, I 
could find nothing but what seemed totally 
unworthy of being dedicated to so distin- 
guished a person by so humble an individual 
as myself." Touching humility ! The words 
are those of Luther, — and he is speaking of 
the comparatively unknown name of Doctor 
Ebner ! Posterity has not ratified his esti- 
mate. 

Luther, who made no attempt to circulate 
his theses, had not only abstained from send- 
ing them to the Elector and his court, but had 
not even sent them to Scheurl. The town- 
clerk of Nuremberg expressed some surprise 
at this. " My design," answered Luther. 
" was not to make them so public. T wished 
to discuss the various points comprised in them 
w r ith some of our associates and neighbours. 
If they had condemned them, I would have 
destroyed them; if they had approved them, 
I would have published them. But now they 
have been printed again and again, and cir- 
culated so far beyond all my expectations, 
that I regret the production of them; not that 
I fear the truth being made known to the peo- 
ple, for that is my object; but they are not 
in the best form for general instruction. They 
contain some points, too, which are still ques- 
tionable in my own judgment. And if I had 
thought they would have made such an im- 
pression, there are propositions that I would 
have left out, and others that I would have 
asserted with greater confidence." Luther 
afterwards thought differently. Far from 
fearing that he had said too much, he declared 
he ought to have spoken out much more fully. 
But the apprehensions that Luther evinced to 
Scheurl do honour to his sincerity. They 
show that he had no preconceived plan, or 
party purpose ; that he was free from self- 
conceit, and was seeking the truth alone. 
When he had discovered it in its fulness, his 
language was changed. " You will find in 
my earlier writings," said he, many years 
afterwards, " that I very humbly conceded to 
the Pope many and important things which I 
now abhor and regard as abominable and 
biasphemous." 

Scheurl was not the only layman of consi- 
deration who then manifested a friendly dis- 
position towards Luther. The famous painter, 



I Albert Durer, sent him a present, probably 
hone of his productions, and the Doctor ex- 
pressed his gratitude for the gift. 

Thus Luther, at that time, experienced in 
his own person the truth of the divine word ; 
" A friend loveth at all times ; and a brother 
is born for adversity." But he recalled the 
passage foi comfort to others as well as to 
himself. 

He pleaded for the entire nation. The 
Elector had just levied a tax, and it was af- 
firmed that he was about to levy another, in 
accordance, probably, with the advice of Pfef- 
finger, his counsellor, whose conduct was 
often the subject of Luther's strictures. The 
Doctor boldly placed himself in the breach. 
" Let not your Highness," said he, " despise 
the prayer of a poor friar. I beseech you, in 
God's name, not to impose any further tax. 
I was heart-broken, — and so were many of 
those who are most devoted to you, — at see- 
ing to what a degree the last had injured your 
Highness's fair name and popularity. It is 
true that God has endowed vou with a lofty 
judgment, so that you see further into the 
consequences of these things than I or your 
subjects in general. But it may be the will 
of God that a meaner capacity shall minister 
instruction to a greater, — to the end that no 
one may trust in himself, but simply in the 
Lord our God. May he deign, for our good, 
to preserve your body in health, and your eoul 
for everlasting blessedness. Amen." Thus 
the Gospel, while it honours kings, pleads the 
cause of the people. It instructs subjects in 
their duties, and it calls upon princes to be 
regardful of their subjects' rights. The voice 
of such a Christian man as Luther, speaking 
in the secret chamber of a sovereign, may 
often do more than can be effected by a whole 
assembly of legislators. 

In this same letter, in which Luther incul- 
cated a stern lesson to his prince, he was not 
afraid to ask a boon of him, or rather, to re- 
mind him of a promise, — the promise he had 
made him of a new gown. This freedom on 
Luther's part, at a moment when he might 
fear he had offended Frederic, is equally 
honourable to the Prince and the Reformer, 
" But if," said he, " Pfeffinger has the charge 
of these matters, let him give it me in reality, 
and not in protestations of friendship. For as 
to weaving fine words together, it is what he 
excels in; but no good cloth comes of that." 
Luther thought that by his faithful counsels 
he had fairly earned his court garment. How- 
ever, two years after he had not received it, 
and his solicitation was renewed. A fact 
which seems to show that Frederic was not 
so easily wrought upon by Luther as has been 
supposed. 

The minds of men had gradually recovered 
from the alarm that had at first been commu- 
nicated to them. Luther himself was inclined 
to declare that his words did not bear the con- 
struction that had been put upon them. New 
events might have diverted public attention ; 
and the blow aimed against the Romish doc- 
trine might have spent Hself in the air, as had 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



87 



often been the case before. But the partisans 
of Rome prevented the affair from ending thus. 
They fanned the flame instead of extinguish- 
ing it. 

Tetzel and the Dominicans haughtily re- 
plied to the attack made upon them. Eager 
to crush the audacious monk who had dis- 
turbed their traffic, and to conciliate the favour 
of the Roman Pontiff, they raised a shout of 
indignation, — affirmed that to attack the in- 
dulgences established by the Pope, was to 
attack the Pope himself; and summoned to 
their assistance all the monks and divines of 
their school. It is evident, indeed, that Tet- 
zel was conscious of his own inability to cope 
with such an adversary as Luther. Quite 
disconcerted by the Doctor's attack, and irri- 
tated in the highest degree, he quitted the 
neighbourhood of Wittemberg, and went to 
Frankfort on the Oder, where he arrived in 
November, 1517. Conrad Wimpjna, a man 
of great eloquence, ano^one°^f the most dis- 
tinguished divines of the time, was one of the 
professors in the university of that city. 
Wimpina regarded^ with a jealous eye both 
the Doctor of Wittemberg and the university 
to which he belonged. The reputation en- 
joyed by both gave him umbrage. Tetzel 
requested him to answer the theses of Luther, 
and Wimpina accordingly wrote two series 
of antitheses, the first in defence of the doc- 
trine of indulgences, and the second of the 
Papal authority. 

On the 20th January, 1518, took place that 
disputation which had been so long preparing, 
which had been announced so ostentatiously, 
and on which Tetzel built his hopes. Loudly 
had he beat to arms. Monks had been gather- 
ing together from all the neighbouring clois- 
ters. MDre than three hundred were now 
assembled. Tetzel read to them his theses. 
In these he repeated all that he had advanced 
before, even the declaration that — " Whoso- 
ever shall say the soul does not take its 
flight from purgatory, immediately that the 
money is dropped into the chest is in error." 

But, above all, he put forward propositions 
by which the Pope seemed actually " seated," 
as the apostle expresses it, " in the temple of 
God, showing himself to be God." This 
shameless dealer in counterfeit wares found it 
convenient to retreat with all his disorders and 
scandals under the cover of the Pope's mantle. 
The following are positions which he de- 
clared himself ready to defend, in presence of 
the numerous assembly that surrounded him : 
"3. Christians should be taught, that the 
Pope, in the plenitude of his power, is higher 
than the universal church, and superior to 
councils ; and that entire submission is due 
to his decrees. 

"4. Christians should be taught, that the 
Pope alone has the right to decide in questions 
of Christian doctrine; — that he alone, and no 
other, has power to explain, according to his 
judgment, the sense of Holy Scripture, and to 
approve or condemn the words and works of 
others. 

" 5 Christians should be taught, that the 



judgment of the Pope, in things pertaining to 
Christian doctrine, and necessary to the salva- 
tion of mankind, can in no case err. 

"6. Christians should be taught, that they 
should place more dependence in matters of 
faith on the Pope's judgment, expressed in 
his decrees, than of the unanimous opinion 
of all the learned, resting merely upon their 
interpretation of Scripture. 

"8. Christians should be taught, that they 
who conspire against the honour or dignity of 
the Pope incur the guilt of treason, and deserve 
to be accursed. 

" 17. Christians should be taught, that there 
are many things which the Church regards as 
certain articles of the Catholic faith, although 
they are not found either in the inspired Scrip- 
tures or in the early Fathers. 

"44. Christians should be taught to regard 
as obstinate heretics all who, by speech, action, 
or writing, declare that they would not retract 
their heretical propositions, though excommu- 
nication after excommunication should be 
showered upon them like hail. 

^"48. Christians should be taught, that they 
who protect the errors of heretics, and who, 
by their authority, hinder them from being 
brought before the judge who has a right to 
hear them, are excommunicate ; — and that if, 
within the space of one year, they cease not 
from doing so, they will be declared infamous, 
and severely visited with punishment, con- 
formable to the provisions of the law, and for 
the warning of others. 

"50. Christians should be taught, that they 
who scribble so many books and tracts,- — who 
preach, or publicly, and with evil intention, 
dispute about the confession of the lips, the 
satisfaction of works, the rich and large in- 
dulgences of the Bishop of Rome and his 
power; they who side with those who preach 
or write such things, and take pleasure in their 
writings, and circulate them among the people 
and in society; and finally, all they, who, in 
secret, speak of these things with contempt or 
irreverence, must expect to fall under the pen- 
alties before recited, and to plunge themselves 
and others along with them, into eternal con- 
demnation at the great day, and the deepest 
disgrace in this present world. For every 
beast that toucheth the mountain shall be 
stoned." 

We perceive that Luther was not the only 
object of Tetzel's attack. In his 48th thesis 
he probably had an eye to the Elector of 
Saxony. In other respects these propositions 
savour strongly of the Dominican. To threaten 
all opposition with rigorous chastisements, 
was an inquisitor's argument, which there was 
no way of answering. The three hundred 
monks, whom Tetzel had assembled, were 
full of admiration of all that he had said. The 
divines of the university were too fearful of 
being classed among the promoters of heresy, 
and too much attached to the principles of 
Wimpina, openly to attack the astounding 
theses which had been read in their presence. 

This affair, therefore, about which there hao 
been so much noise, seemed likely to end like 



\ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



a mock fight ; but among the crowd of students 
presenl at the discussion was a young man, 
about twenty years of age, named JohriJCnip- 
strow. He had read the theses of Luther, and. 
found them agreeable to the Scriptures. In- 
dignant at seeing the truth publicly trampled 
under foot, without any one offering himself 
in its defence, the young man raised his voice, 
to the great surprise of the whole assembly, 
and attacked the presumptuous Tetzel. The 
poor Dominican, who had not reckoned on any 
such opposition, was thrown into dismay. 
After some attempts at an answer, he aban- 
doned the field of battle, and made room for 
Wimpina. The latter defended his cause with 
more vigour; but Knipstrow pressed him so 
hard that, to put an end to the untoward con- 
test, Wimpina, in his capacity of president, 
declared the discussion terminated, and pro- 
ceeded at once to the promoting of Tetzel to 
the rank of Doctor, as the recompense of this 
glorious dispute. After this, Wimpina, to get 
rid of his young antagonist, caused him to be 
sent to the convent of Pyritz, in Pomerania, 
with directions that he should be strictly watch- 
ed. But this newly-risen luminary, removed 
from the banks of the Oder, was destined, at a 
later period, to diffuse the light over Pome- 
rania. God, when he sees fit, employs the 
disciple to confound the master. 

Tetzel, desirous to make up for the check 
he had met with, had recourse to the ultima 
ratio of Rome and its inquisitors, — the fire. 
He set up a pulpit and a scaffold in one of the 
suburbs of Frankfort. He went thither in 
solemn processiohyarrayed in the insignia of 
an inquisitor of the faith. He inveighed, in 
his most furious manner, from the pulpit. He 
hurled his thunders with an unsparing hand, 
and loudly exclaimed, that " the heretic Luther 
ought to be burned alive." Then, placing the 
Doctor's propositions and sermon on the scaf- 
fold, he set fire to them. He showed greater 
dexterity in this operation than he had dis- 
played in defending his theses. Here there 
was none to oppose him, and his victory was 
complete. The arrogant Dominican re-entered 
Frankfort in triumph. When parties accus- 
tomed to power have sustained defeat, they 
have recourse to certain shows and semblances, 
which must be allowed them as a consolation 
for their disgrace. 

The second theses of Tetzel mark an im- 
portant epoch in the Reformation. They 
changed the ground of the dispute, transfer- 
ring it from the indulgence-market to the halls 
of the Vatican, — and diverted the attack from 
Tetzel, to direct it against the Pope. For the 
contemptible trafficker whom Luther had as- 
sailed and held powerless in his grasp, they 
substituted the sacred person of the Head of 
Church. Luther was all astonishment at this. 
A little later, probably, he would, of his own 
accord, have taken up this new position; but 
his enemies spared him the trouble. Thence- 
forward, the dispute had reference, not merely 
to a discredited traffic, but to Rome itself; 
and the blow, that a bold hand had aimed 
against Tetzel's stall, smote, and shook to , 



its foundation, the throne of the pontifica. 
king. 

The theses of Tetzel served, moreover, 
only as a signal to the troop of Romish doc- 
tors. A shout was raised against Luther by 
the monks, enraged at the appearance of an 
adversary more formidable even than Erasmus 
or Reuchlin. The name of Luther resounded 
from all the Dominican pulpits. They stirred 
up the passions of the people; they called 
the intrepid Doctor, a madman, a seducer, a 
wretch possessed by the devil. His teaching 
was decried as the most horrible of heresies. 
" Only wait," said they, " a fortnight, or, at 
most, a month, and that notorious heretic will 
be burned alive." Had it depended on the 
Dominicans, indeed, the Saxon Doctor would 
soon have met the fate of Huss and of Jerome; 
but God was watching over him. His life 
was destined to accomplish what the martyr- 
dom of Huss had begun. For each individual 
serves the purposes of God ; one by his life, 
another by his death. Already many ex- 
claimed that the whole university of Wittem- 
berg was tainted with heresy, and they pro- 
nounced it infamous. "Let us drive out the 
wretch and all his partisans," said they. And 
in many cases these clamours did, in fact, 
excite the passions of the people. Those 
who shared in the opinions of the Reformer 
were pointed out to public observation, and 
wherever the monks had power in their hands, 
the friends of the Gospel felt the effects of 
their hatred. Thus the prophecy of our Sa- 
viour began to be fulfilled: "They shall 
revile you, and persecute you, and say all 
manner of evil against you falsely, for my 
sake." This recompense of the world is in 
no age "withheld from the decided disciples of 
the Gospel. 

When Luther heard of the theses of Tetzel 
and of the general attack of which they had 
given the signal, his courage rose. He saw 
that it was necessary to face such adversaries 
boldly; his intrepid spirit felt no difficulty in 
resolving to do so. But, at the same time, 
their weakness discovered to him his own 
strength, and inspired him with the conscious- 
ness of what in reality he was. 

He did not, however, give way to those 
emotions of pride which are so congenial to 
man's heart. " I have more difficulty," wrote 
he to Spalatin, at this time, " to refrain from 
despising my adversaries, and so sinning 
against Christ, than I should have in van- 
quishing them. They are so ignorant, both of 
human and divine things, that it is humbling 
to have to dispute with them ; and yet it is 
this very ignorance which gives them their in- 
concei vable boldness and their brazen front." 
But what, above all, strengthened his heart, 
in the midst of this general hostility, was the 
deep conviction that his cause was the cause 
of truth. " Do not wonder," he wrote to Spa- 
latin, in the beginning of 1518, " that they re- 
vile me so unsparingly. I hear their reviiings 
with joy. If they did not curse me, we could 
not be so firmly assured that the cause I have 
undertaken is that of Gal himself. Christ was 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



89 



set for a sign that should be spoken against." 
" I know," said he, another time, " that from 
the beginning the Word of God has been such 
as that whosoever would carry it into the 
world, must, like the apostles, leave every 
thing, and be delivered unto death. If it were 
not so, it would not be the word of Christ." 
This peace, in the midst of agitation, is a thing 
unknown to the heroes of the world. We see 
men at the head of a government, — of a politi- 
cal party, — sink under their labours and trials. 
The Christian generally gathers new strength 
in conflict. It is because he is acquainted 
with a hidden source of refreshment and cou- 
rage, unknown to him whose eyes are closed 
against the Gospel. 

One thing, however, at times disturbed Lu- 
ther: It was the thought of the dissensions 
his courageous resistance might give rise to. 
He knew that a word might be enough to set 
the world in a flame. He at times foresaw 
prince opposing prince ; nation, perhaps, set 
against nation. His love for his country took 
alarm ; his Christian charity recoiled from the 
prospect. He would gladly have secured 
peace; yet it behoved him to speak. It was 
the Lord's will. "I tremble," said he, — "I 
shudder — at the thought that I may be an oc- 
casion of discord to such mighty princes." 

He still kept silence in regard to Tetzel's 
propositions concerning the Pope ; had he been 
carried away by passion, doubtless he would 
have fallen with impetuosity upon that astound- 
ing doctrine, under which his adversary sought 
shelter and concealment for himself. But he 
did nothing of the kind. There is in his de- 
lay, reserve, and silence, a something grave 
and solemn, which sufficiently reveals the 
spirit that animated him. He paused, yet not 
from weakness, — for the blow was but the 
heavier when at length it fell. 

Tetzel, after his auto-da-fe at Frankfort on 
the Oder, had hastened to send his theses into 
Saxony. They will serve, thought he, as an 
antidote to those of Luther. A man was de- 
spatched by the inquisitor from Alle to distri- 
bute his propositions at Wittemberg. The 
students of that university, indignant that 
Tetzel should have burned the theses of their 
master, no sooner heard of the arrival of his 
messenger than they surrounded him in troops, 
inquiring in threatening tones how he had 
dared to bring such things thither. Some of 
them purchased a portion of the copies he had 
brought with him ; others seized on the remain- 
der ; thus getting possession of his whole stock, 
which amounted to eight hundred copies ; then, 
unknown to the Elector, the senate, the rector, 
Luther, and all the professors, the students of 
Wittemberg posted bills on the gates of the 
university, bearing these words : " Whosoever 
desires to be present at the burning and obse- 
quies of the theses of Tetzel, let him repair at 
two o'clock to the market place." 

They assembled in crowds at the hour ap- 
pointed ; and, amidst the acclamations of the 
multitude, committed the propositions of the 
Dominican to the flames. One copy was saved 
from the fire. Luther afterwards sent it to his 



friend Lange, of Erfurth. The young students 
acted on the precept of them of old time, " an 
eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," and 
not on that of Christ. But when doctors and 
professors had set such an example at Frank- 
fort, can we wonder that young students should 
follow it at Wittemberg] The report of this 
academic execution spread through Germany, 
and made much noise. Luther was deeply 
grieved at it. 

"I am surprised," wrote he, to his old 
master, Jodocus, at Erfurth, " that you could 
think I had any thing to do with the burning 
of Tetzel's theses. Do you think I have utter- 
ly lost my senses 1 But what can I do 1 When 
the tale is told of me, any thing, and from every 
quarter, gains implicit belief. Can I tie up 
men's tongues'? No matter! let them tell, 
and hear, and see, and report whatever they 
please. I will go on as long as the Lord shall 
give me strength ; and, with God's help, I 
will fear nothing." — " What will come of it," 
said he to Lange, " I know not ; this only I 
know, that the peril in which I stand is greatly 
enhanced by the act." This occurrence shows 
how the hearts of the young were already 
kindled in the cause of which Luther was the 
champion. It was a sign of high import; fol 
a movement once begun among the young is 
necessarily soon communicated to the entire 
generation. 

The theses of Tetzel and of Wimpina, 
though slightly esteemed, produced a certain 
effect. They opened out the questions in dis- 
pute ; they enlarged the rent in the mantle of 
the church; they brought new questions of 
thrilling interest into the field of controversy. 
Consequently, the heads of the Church began 
to take a nearer view of the debate, and to de- 
clare themselves strongly against the Reform- 
er. " I know not, truly, on whose protection 
Luther can rely," said the Bishop of Bran- 
denburg,, "that he ventures in this way to at- 
tack the authority of the bishops." Perceiving 
that this new conjuncture called for new pre- 
cautions, the Bishop came himself to Wit- 
temberg. But he found Luther animated by 
that inward joy which springs from a good 
conscience, and determined to give battle. 
The Bishop felt that the monk was obeying a 
power higher than his own, and returned in an 
angry mood to Brandenburg. One day, (be- 
fore the close of the winter of 1518.) while 
seated at his fireside, he said, turning to those 
who surrounded him, "I will not lay my head 
down in peace until I have cast Martin into 
the fire like this fagot ;" and as he spoke he cast 
the fagot on the blazing hearth. The revolution 
of the sixteenth century was to be no more in- 
debted for support to the heads of the Church 
than that of the first century had been to the 
sanhedrim and the synagogue. The dignified 
priesthood was again, in the sixteenth centu- 
ry, opposed to Luther, the Reformation, and 
its ministers, as it had formerly been to Jesus 
Christ, the Gospel, and his Apostles, and as 
it too often is, in all periods, to the truth. 
"The Bishops," said Luther, speaking of the 
visit of the prelate of Brandenburg. " begin to 



90 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



see that they should have done what I am 
doing, and they are ashamed. They call me 
arrogant and audacious; and I do not deny 
that I am so. But they are not the people to 
know either what God is, or what we are." 

A more formidable resistance than that 
which Tetzel had offered had now sprung up 
against Luther. Rome had answered him. 
A reply had gone forth from the walls of the 
sacred palace. It was not Leo X., however, 
who condescended to meddle with theology. 
"A squabble among the monks!" said he: 
"the best way is to 4 ake no notice of it." 
And on another occasion he observed : " 1$ is 
a drunken German that has written these 
theses : when he is sober he will talk very 
differently." A Dominican of Rome, Syl- 
vester Pqeri as, master of the pontifical palace, 
filled the office' of censor. In that capacity 
he was the first to take cognisance of the 
theses published by the Saxon monk. 

A Roman censor, and the theses of Luther! 
how remarkable the encounter! Freedom of 
speech, freedom of inquiry, and freedom of 
religious belief, had now to maintain a conflict, 
within the very gates of Rome, against the 
power that claims to hold in its hands the 
monopoly of spiritual knowledge, and at its 
own will to suppress the voice of Christian 
truth or allow its utterance. The struggle 
between that Christian liberty which stamps 
men the children of God, and that pontifical 
despotism which makes them the slaves of 
Rome, is symbolized, as it were, in the very 
beginning of the Reformation, by the encounter 
of Luther and Prierias. 

This Roman censor, this prior-general of 
the Dominicans, this dignitary, whose office 
empowered him to determine what doctrines 
Christian men should profess, and on what 
points they should be silent, was eager to 
reply. He published a writing which he 
Gedicated to Leo X., and in which he spoke 
contemptuously of the German monk, and 
declared, with an assurance altogether Roman, 
that he should like to know whether that 
Martin had indeed an iron snout and a head 
of brass, which it was impossible to shatter. 
Then, under the form of a dialogue, he pro- 
ceeded to attack Luther's theses, employing 
by turns ridicule, reviling, and threats. 

The contest, between the Augustine of 
Wittemberg and the Dominican of Rome, 
was waged on the question which is in itself 
the principle of the Reformation ; namely, 
what is the sole infallible authority for Chris- 
tians? Take the system of the Church, as 
set forth by its most independent organs. 

The letter of the written word is dead, 
without that spirit of interpretation, which 
alone reveals its hidden meaning. But this 
spirit is not given to every Christian, but to 
the Church, that is, to the priests. It is great 
presumption to affirm that He, who promised 
to the Church to be with her always even to 
the end of the world, could have abandoned 
her to the power of error. It will be said, 
perhaps, that, the doctrine and constitution of 
the Church are not now such as we find them 



in the Holy Scriptures. Undoubtedly; but 
this change is only apparent, it extends only 
to the form and not to the substance. Nay, 
more, — this change is a progression. The 
life-giving power of the Divine Spirit has 
imparted reality to what, in Scripture, existed 
only in idea. To the outline of the word it 
has given a body, put a finishing touch to its 
rough draught, and completed the work oi 
which the Bible had merely furnished the 
rudiments. Consequently, we must under- 
stand the meaning of Holy Scripture as it 
has been determined by the Church, under 
the guidance of the Holy Spirit. — So far the 
Catholic doctors were agreed : at this point 
they were divided, — General Councils, said 
some, (and Gerson was of their number,) are 
the representatives of the Church. Others 
said, it is the Pope who is the depositary of 
the spirit of interpretation ; and no one has 
the right to construe Scripture otherwise than 
in accordance with the decree of the Roman 
Pontiff. This was the tenet espoused by 
Prierias. 

Such was the doctrine which the master oi 
the palace opposed to the infancy of the 
Reformation. He advanced assertions, with 
respect to the power of the Church and of the 
Pope, to which the most shameless flatterers 
of the Court of Rome would have blushed to 
subscribe. The following is one of the prin- 
ciples laid down at the commencement of his 
writing: "Whosoever does not rely on the 
teaching of the Roman Church, and of the 
Roman Pontiff, as the infallible rule of faith, 
and as that from which Holy Scripture itself 
derives its obligation and authority, is a 
heretic." 

Then follows a dialogue in which the 
speakers are Luther and Sylvester, arid in 
which the latter labours to refute the Doctor's 
propositions. The sentiments of the Saxon 
monk were altogether new and strange to a 
Roman censor; hence Prierias showed that 
he understood neither the feelings of his heart, 
nor the principles that regulated his conduct. 
He estimated the teacher of the truth by the 
petty standard of the retainers of the Papacy. 
" My good Luther," says he, " were it thy 
fortune to receive from our Lord the Pope a 
good bishopric and a plenary indulgence for 
the rebuilding of thy church, how would thy 
tone be altered, and how loudly wouldst thou 
extol the indulgence which it now delights 
thee to disparage !" With all his pretensions 
to refinement, this Italian has frequent recourse 
to the grossest scurrility of language. "If it 
is the nature of dogs to bite," says he to Lu- 
ther, " I should fear thou hadst a dog for thy 
father." Toward the close of his work, the 
Dominican even marvels at his own conde- 
scension, in parleying thus with a mutinous 
monk; and in taking leave of his adversary, 
he shows him the cruel teeth of an inquisitor. 
"The Roman Church," says he, "the supre- 
macy of whose power, spiritual and temporal, 
is vested in the Pope, can restrain, by the 
secular arm, those who, having first received 
| the faith, afterwards depart from it. 1'he 



HISTORY OF rilE REFORMATION. 



91 



Church is under no obligation to employ 
argument to combat and overcome rebels." 
Such words, proceeding from the pen of a 
dignitary of the Roman court, were deeply 
significant; yet they did not intimidate Lu- 
ther; he believed, or affected to believe, that 
this dialogue was not written by Prierias, but 



by Ulric de Hiitten, or some other contributor knovement by which Luther shifted the sup- 
to the Litteree Obxcurorum Virorum. "One /port of the highest hopes of man's heart,- — 
of that fraternity," said he, "from the mere /loosening them with a strong hand from the 
love of satire, or to set Luther against Prie-^walls of the Vatican to fix them on the rock 



rias, has collected together this mass of ab 
surdity." However, after having for some 
time kept silence, his doubts, if he had any, 
were removed ; he set to work, and in two 
days prepared his answer. 

The Bible had decided Luther's destiny : it 
had moulded the Reformer and commenced 
the Reformation. Luther's belief depended 
not on the testimony of the Church. His 
faith had come from the Bible itself: from 
within, and not from without. He was so 
deeply convinced that the evangelic doctrine 
was immovably built upon the word of God 
that all external doctrine was to him superflu- 
ous. This experimental knowledge possessed 
by Luther opened to the Church a new futu- 
rity. The living spring, which had gushed 
forth for the refreshment of the monk of Wit- 
temberg, was to become a mighty river that 
should slake the thirst of nations. 

"To understand Scripture, it is neces- 
sary that the Spirit of God should open the 
understanding," said the Church, and thus 
far it said truly. But its error lay in consider- 
ing the Holy Spirit as the exclusive privilege 
of a particular caste, and supposing that he 
tould be pent up in assemblies and colleges, 
in a city, or a conclave. " The wind bloweth 
where it listeth," said the Son of God, when 
speaking of the Spirit of God, — and else- 
where: "They shall be all taught of God." 
The corruption of the Church, the ambition of 
the Pontiffs, the passions of Councils, the ani- 
mosities of the clergy, the pomp of the pre- 
lates, had banished far from those priestly 
abodes that Holy Spirit — that Spirit of hu- 
mility and of peace. The Spirit of God had 
departed from the assemblies of the proud, 
and the palaces of princes of the Church, and 
had tabernacled with simple Christians and 
humble priests. He had turned from a tyran- 
nous hierarchy, whose bloody heel again and 
again had trampled on the poor, — from a 
proud and ignorant clergy, whose leaders were 
oetter skilled in the use of the sword than of 
the Bible, — and was present with despised 
sectaries, or with men of understanding and 
learning. The holy cloud, that had withdrawn 
itself from the stately temple and the proud 
cathedral, had descended on the secluded 
dwellings of the humble, or the tranquil 
chamber of the conscientious inquirer. The 
Churchy debased by her love' of power and 
lucre, dishonoured before the people by her 
venal perversion of the doctrine of life, — the 
Church, busy in selling salvation, that she 
might replenish a treasury exhausted by her 
prid 3 and debaucheries, — had forfeited all 



respect; and men of sense no longer attached 
any value to her testimony. Despising ai> 
authority so degraded, they gladly turned to- 
ward the divine word and its infallible au- 
thority as the only refuge open to them in that 
universal confusion. 

The age therefore was ripe. The bold 
er 



of the word of God, — was hailed with enthu- 
siasm. This was the object the Reformer had 
in view in his answer to Prierias. 

Passing by the principles the Dominion 
had laid down at the opening of his work — 
"I," said he, "following your example, \* ill 
also lay down certain principles." 

The first is this passage of St. Paul : " If 
any one preach unto you another Gospel th m 
that is preached, though he should be an angel 
from heaven, let him be accursed." 

The second is the following, from St. Au- 
gustine writing to St. Jerome : — " I have learn- 
ed to render to the inspired Scriptures ale ne 
the homage of a firm belief, that, they h?ve 
never erred ; as to others, I do not believe in 
the things they teach, 'simply because it is 
they who teach them." 

Here Luther, with a steady hand, establi?h« 
es the fundamental principles of the Reforma* 
tion. The word of God, — the whole word of 
God, — and nothing but the word of God. " If 
you rightly understand these principles," cm- 
tinues he, "you will also understand tl at 
your whole Dialogue is overturned by them ; 
tor you have done nothing but bring forward 
phrases and opinions of St. Thomas." Then, 
openly impugning the axioms of his adversai y, 
he freely confesses that he thinks both Popea 
and Councils may err. He complains of the 
flatteries of the Roman courtiers, who ascribe 
this and that power to the Pope. He declares 
that the Church exists virtually in Christ 
alone, and representatively in a General Coun- 
cil. And then, alluding to the insinuation of 
Prierias: "undoubtedly you judge me by 
yourself," said he; "but if I aspired to he 
made a bishop, I certainly should not use the 
language which you find so offensive. Do you 
imagine I am ignorant of the manner in which 
bishoprics and priest's orders are obtained at 
Rome 1 ? Do not the very children sing, in 
every street of that city, these well known 
words : — 

" Of all foul spots the wide world round, 
The foulest here in Rome is found ?" 

(Such songs had been current in Rome be- 
fore the election of one of the last Popes.) 
Yet Luther speaks of Leo with respect. " 1 
know," says he, " that he may be compared 
to Daniel in Babylon : his innocence has often 
endangered his life." He concludes by re- 
plying very briefly to the threatening language 
used by Prierias. " Lastly, you say that the 
Pope is both pontiff and emperor, and that he 
can employ the secular arm to compel obedi- 
ence. Do you thirst for blood .then] I pro- 



92 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



• 



\\ 



test to you that these rhodomontades and 
menaces of yours give me not the slightest 
alarm. For what if I were to lose my life ] 
Christ still lives; Christ my Lord, and the 
Lord of all, blessed forever. Amen." 

Thus fearlessly did Luther, in opposition to 
the infidel altar of the Papacy, set up the altar 
of the holy and infallible word of God ; an 
altar, before which he would have every knee 
to bow, and on which he declares himself 
ready to offer up his life. 

A new adversary now presented himself in 
the lists, — a Dominican, like his predecessors. 
James Hochstraten, the inquisitor of Cologne, 
of whose outcries against Reuchlin, and the 
friends of literature, we have already spoken, 
could not restrain his rage when he heard of 
the first efforts of the hero of the Reformation. 
It was not to be wondered at, that monkish ig- 
norance and fanaticism should assail the man 
who was to give them the death-blow. Mona- 
chism had arisen when the primitive truth had 
begun to disappear. From that period mona- 
chism and error had grown up side by side. 
The man who w.as to accelerate their fall had 
now appeared. But his sturdy antagonists 
would not abandon the field. The struggle 
lasted to the end of Luther's life, but we re- 
gard it as epitomised in this dispute of Hoch- 
straten and Luther; the free and courageous 
Christian, and the irascible slave of monkish 
superstitions! Hochstraten lost his temper, 
he gave vent to his indignation, and loudly 
demanded the death of the heretic. He would 
have had recourse to the stake to secure the 
triumph of Rome. " It is high treason against 
the Church," exclaimed he, " to suffer so hor- 
rid a heretic to live an hour longer. Away 
with him at once to the scaffold !" This san- 
guinary counsel was but too well followed in 
many countries, and the voices of many mar- 
tyrs, as in the earlier ages of the Church, 
gave testimony to the truth from the midst of 
the flames. But in vain were fire and sword 
invoked against Luther. The angel of the 
Lord encamped around him, and defended 
him. 

Luther answered Hochstraten in few words, 
but with much vigour : " Out upon thee," said 
he, at the close of his reply, "thou senseless 
murderer, thirsting for the blood of thy breth- 
ren ! I sincerely desire that thou shouldst not 
call me Christian and faithful ; but that thou 
shouldst continue on the contrary to decry me 
as a heretic. Understand me, thou blood- 
thirsty man ! enemy to the truth ! and if thy 
rage prompt thee to attempt my life, take care 
to act circumspectly, and to choose thy time 
well ; God knows what is my purpose if my 
life should be spared My hope and ex- 
pectation, God willing, shall not be disap- 
pointed." Hochstraten made no reply. 

An attack more trying to his feelings, await- 
ed the Reformer. Doctor Eck, the celebrated 
professor of Ingolstadt, the deliverer of Urban 
Regius, the friend of Luther, had received the 
famous theses. Eck was not a man to de- 
fend the abuses of the indulgences; but he 
was a doctor of the school, not of the Bible, — 



[ well versed in the scholastic divinity, but not 
J in the word of God. If Prierias had repre- 
sented Rome, and Hochstraten the monks, 
the new combatant represented the schools. 
The scholastic philosophy, which for almost 
five centuries held sway over Christendom, 
far from yielding to the earliest efforts of the 
Reformer, arose in its pride to crush the man 
who dared to treat it, with contempt. Eck 
and Luther, Luther and the Schools, were 
often afterwards arrayed one against the other. 
But it was now the contest opened. 

It could hardly happen but that Eck should 
consider many of Luther's assertions errone- 
ous. We have no reason to doubt the sin- 
cerity of his convictions. He was enthusiastic 
in defence of the scholastic opinions, whilst 
Luther was an equally enthusiastic adherent 
of the word of God. We may even imagine 
that Eck felt some concern at the necessity 
of opposing his old friend : and yet it appears, 
from the manner in which he assailed him, 
that passion and jealousy had some share in 
his motives. 

It was under the title of Obelisks that he 
wrote his remarks on the theses of Luther. 
Desiring at first to keep up appearances, he 
did not publish his work, but contented him- 
self with communicating it in confidence to 
his ordinary, the Bishop of Eichstadt. But 
the Obelisks were soon widely dispersed, 
either through the indiscretion of the Bishop, 
or by the Doctor's own act. One copy fell 
into the hands of Link, a preacher at Nurem- 
berg, and a friend of Luther; by him it was 
communicated to Luther himself. Eck was 
a very different adversary from either Tetzel, 
Prierias, or Hochstraten : the more his work 
excelled theirs in learning and subtlety, the 
more injurious was likely to be its effects. 
He spoke of " his feeble adversary" in a tone 
of compassion, well knowing that pity is 
more disparaging than anger. He insinuated 
that Luther's propositions were spreading the 
Bohemian poison, that they savoured of Bo- 
hemia, and by these malignant references, 
drew upon Luther the odium attaching in 
Germany to the name of Huss and the Bohe- 
mian schismatics. 

The malice that was discernible in this 
writing, roused Luther's indignation. But 
he was still more grieved at the thought that 
the blow came from an old friend. " It was 
then," thought he, " at the cost of the affec- 
tion of his friends that truth must be de- 
fended." Luther unbosomed the sadness of 
his heart, in a letter to Egranus, pastor at 
Zwickau. " In these Obelisks," said he, " 1 
am called a ' pestilent man,' ' a Bohemian,' 
'a heretic,' and reproached as 'seditious,' 
'insolent,' and 'rash.' I overlook minor 
reproaches, such as ' dull,' 'stupid,' 'igno- 
rant,' ' despiser of the sovereign pontiff,' &c. 
Throughout there are nothing but insults, and 
yet he who has written them is a distinguished 
man, in whom genius and learning are blend 
ed ; moreover, one who was united to me by 
a great intimacy, recently contracted. His 
name is John Eck, doctor of divinity, chan 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



93 



eellor of Ingolstadt, &c. a man well known 
and highly esteemed for his writings. If I 
did not know the design of Satan, I should 
wonder at the rage which has prompted Eck 
to violate a friendship so delightful, and so 
recent besides, and that without giving me 
one word of notice." 

But if Luther's heart was wounded, his 
courage was not abated. On the contrary, 
he caught fresh fire for the dispute. "Re- 
joice, brother," he said to Egranus, who had 
likewise been attacked by a violent adversary, 
"rejoice, and let not these paper missiles ter- 
rify you ! The more furious my adversaries, 
the more I advance. I leave the things that 
are behind, for them to bark at, and I stretch 
forward to those that are before, that they 
may bark at those also in their turn." 

Eck felt how disgraceful his conduct had 
been, and endeavoured to justify himself'in a 
letter to Carlstadt. In it he termed Luther 
" their common friend." He threw all the 
blame on the Bishop of Eichstadt, at whose 
solicitation he declared he had written his 
work. He had not intended to publish the 
Obelisks, he said ; if it had been otherwise he 
would have manifested more regard for the 
ties of friendship, by which he was united to 
Luther. Finally, he intimated a wish that, 
instead of engaging in a public controversy 
with him, Luther should turn his arms against 
the divines of Frankfort. The professor of 
Ingolstadt, who had not feared to strike the 
first blow, began to quail when he considered 
the strength of the adversary he had had the 
imprudence to attack. He would willingly 
have avoided the contest. But it was now 
too late. 

All these fine speeches did not satisfy Lu- 
ther; however, he wished to remain silent. 
" I will swallow patiently," he said, "this 
morsel, worthy of Cerberus." But his friends 
were of a different opinion. They importuned 
him and obliged him to comply. He there- 
fore answered Eck's Obelisks by his Asterisks, 
or Stars; "opposing," as he said, "the light 
and dazzling brightness of the stars of heaven, 
to the rust and livid hue of the Obelisks of the 
doctor of Ingolstadt." In this work he treated 
his new adversary with less harshness than 
he had used towards his former opponents ; 
but his suppressed indignation at times broke 
forth in his words. 

He proved that in all that chaos of Obelisks 
there was nothing of the Scriptures, nothing 
of the Fathers of the Church, nothing of the 
ecclesiastical canons : but throughout, nothing 
but glosses of the schools ; opinions, mere 
opinions, and dreams; in a word, all those 
very things that Luther had attacked. The 
Asterisks are full of life and energy. The 
author is indignant at the errors in his friend's 
book, but he pities the man. He again asserts 
the fundamental principle that' he had main- 
tained in his answer to Prierias ; " The sove- 
reign pontiff is a man, and may be led into 
error; but God is truth itself, and cannoterr." 
And afterwards, using an argument " ad ho- 
minem" against the scholastic doctor ; " It is 



j certainly an ac A audacity," says he, "for 
| any one to teach as the philosophy of Aris- 
j totle, what he cannot prove on Aristotle's au- 
thority.. — You allow this. — Well, with much 
greater reason is it the height of audacity, to 
affirm in the Church, and amongst Christians, 
what Christ himself has not taught. Now 
where do we find in the Bible, that the trea- 
sure of Christ's merits is confided. to the 
Pope?" 

Lastly, he adds : " As to the malicious re- 
proach of Bohemian heresy, I bear this accu- 
sation patiently, for Christ's sake. I live in 
a celebrated university, a city of note, a con- 
siderable bishopric, a powerful duchy, where 
all are orthodox, and where, undoubtedly, 
they would not tolerate so wicked a heretic.' 

Luther did not publish the Asterisks, he 
only communicated them to his friends; it 
was not till afterwards that they were given 
to the public. 

This rupture between the doctor of Ingol- 
stadt and the doctor of Wittemberg caused a 
great sensation in Germany. They had com- 
mon friends. Scheurl, especially, took alarm. 
It was through him that the two doctors had 
become acquainted. .He was one of those 
who wished to see a Reformation take place 
in the universal Germanic church, and by the 
agency of its most distinguished members. 
But if, at the outset, the most eminent theo- 
logians were to fall to quarrelling; if, whilst 
Luther was advancing new opinions, Eck 
stood up as the representative of the old, what 
confusion was to be apprehended 1 Would 
not numerous adherents flock around each 
chief, and form two hostile camps in the bo- 
som of the empire 1 

On these accounts Scheurl endeavoured to 
reconcile Eck and Luther. The latter declared 
himself ready to forget every thing; that he 
loved Eck's talents; that he admired his 
learning ; and that he felt more grief than 
anger at his old friend's conduct. " I am pre- 
pared," said he to Scheurl, " either for peace 
or war ; but 1 prefer peace. Help us, then, 
by your good offices ; grieve with us that the 
devil has kindled this beginning of discord 
among us; and afterwards rejoice that Christ 
in his mercy has extinguished it." He wrote 
affectionately to Eck, but the latter returned 
no answer. He did not even send him any 
message. The time for a reconciliation was 
past. The breach grew wider and wider. 
The pride of Eck and his implacable spirit, 
soon broke the last ties of their declining 
friendship. 

Such were the struggles which the char* 
pion of God's word had to maintain in the 
beginning of his career. But, in the estima- 
tion of a Christian, those combats are of small 
account, that are to be waged in the high 
places of this world, or in the arena of the 
schools. Human teachers imagine that they 
have obtained a splendid triumph if some 
literary circles are filled with the fame of 
j their systems. As their desire is rather to 
! gratify their self-love, or to please a party, than 
to benefit mankind, this brilliant worldly sue- 



94 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cess suffices them. Thus, their labours may j 
be compared to smoke, which, after blinding 
the eyes, passes away without leaving any 
vestige behind. Neglecting to deposit their 
principles in the masses, they do little more 
than skim the surface of society. 

Not so the Christian; his aim is neither a 
name in society , nor academical honours ; but 
the salvation of souls. He willingly foregoes 
the intellectual rivalry in which he might en- 
gage at his ease with the disputers of this 
world, — and prefers the secret labours which 
rarry light and life into the sequestered dwell- 
ings of the poor. This did Luther ; or rather, 
following his Master's precept, " He did this, 
and left no other things undone." While 
combating inquisitors, chancellors of univer- 
sities, and masters of the palace, he laboured 
to diffuse sound religious knowledge among 
the multitude. With this view, he about the 
same time published several popular tracts, 
such as his sermons on the Ten Command- 
ments, preached two years previously in the 
church of Wittemberg, and which have al- 
ready been mentioned, and also his explana- 
tion of the Lord's Prayer, for the simple and 
unlearned laity. Who would not desire to 
know what the Reformer then addressed to 
the people? We will cite, therefore, some 
of the words which he put forth to "run 
through the land," as he says in the preface 
to the last mentioned work. 

Prayer, that interior act of the heart, will 
undoubtedly be ever one of the points with 
which a true and vital reformation will com- 
mence ; Luther's thought was turned to this 
solemn subject. It is not possible to trans- 
fuse his energetic style and the vigour of his 
language, which was in course of formation, 
so to speak, under his pen, as he composed. 
We will however make some attempt. 

" When thou prayest," said he, "let thy 
words be few, but thy thoughts and feelings 
many and deep. The less thou speakest, the 
better thy prayers. Few w T ords and much 
thought is a Christian frame. Many words 
and little thought is heathenish." 

" The prayer that is external and of the 
body is that mumbling of the lips, that out- 
ward babble, gone through without attention, 
and heard and seen of men ; but prayer in 
spirit and in truth is the inward desire, the 
motions and sighs that proceed from the 
depth of the heart. The former is the prayer 
of hypocrites, and of those who trust in them- 
selves. The latter is the prayer of God's 
children who walk in his fear." 

Passing on to the opening words of the 
Lord's Prayer, he thus expresses himself: — 
Our Father. " Of all names there is not one 
which more inclines us towards God than the 
name of Father. We should feel less love, 
and derive less consolation, from addressing 
him as Lord, or God, or Judge. By that word 
Father, his bowels of compassion are moved; 
for there is no sound more sweet or prevailing 
with a father than the voice of his child." 

Tie continues, and on the words, li who art 
in heaven" he says : " Whosoever professes 



that he has a father in heaven, acknowledges 
himself to be a stranger upon earth : — hence, 
there is in his heart an ardent longing, like 
that of a child that is living among strangers 
in want and grief, afar from its fatherland. It 
is as if he said, Alas ! my father, thou art in 
heaven, and I, thy suffering child, am on earth, 
far from thee, encompassed with dangers, 
wants, and mourning. 

" Hallowed be thy name.'' — " He who is 
passionate, abusive, envious, and slanderous, 
dishonours the name of God in which he has 
been baptized. Profaning to impious uses a 
vessel that God has consecrated to himself,, 
he is like a priest who should take the holy 
cup and give drink to swine, or gather duntr 
into it." 

" Thy kingdom come.'''' — " Those who amass 
property and build magnificent mansions, who 
strive after what the world can give, and utter 
this prayer with their lips, resemble those 
huge organ pipes which incessantly sing with 
all their power in the churches, without 
speech, feeling, or reason." 

Further on, Luther attacks the error of pii- 
grimaces, which was then so prevalent: "On*? 
goes to Rome, another to St. James, a third 
builds a chapel, and a fourth endows religions 
houses, in order to attain to the kingdom of 
God ; but all neglect the one thing needful, 
which is, to become themselves his kingdom. 
Why seek the kingdom of God beyond the 
seas] It is in thy heart it should arise.'* 

" It is an awful thing," he continue."-, " to 
hear us offer this petition, 'Thy will be done.' 
Where in the church do we see this 'will of 
God?' One bishop rises against another 
bishop; one church against another church. 
Priests, monks, and nuns quarrel, and thwart, 
and wage war with each other, and every- 
where discord prevails. And yet each party 
declares that there is good will and upright 
intention ; and so, to the honour and glory of 
God., they altogether do the devil's work ..." 

" Why do we use the words, ' our bread V " 
he continues, expounding these words, " Give 
us this day our daily bread." " Because we 
do not pray for the common bread that heathens 
partake, and which God gives to all men, — 
but for 'our' bread, the bread of those who 
are 'children' of the heavenly Father." 

" And what then is this bread of God ? It 
is Jesus Christ our Lord. ' I am the bread 
of life which came down from heaven, and 
giveth life to the world.' Therefore let no 
one be deluded: whatever sermons and in- 
structions do not exhibit and make known 
Jesus Christ, cannot be the daily bread and 
nourishment of souls." 

" Of what use is it that, such bread has been 
provided, if it is not served up, and so we are 
unable to partake of it] It is as if a noble 
feast were prepared, and none were ready to 
distribute the bread, to plaGe the meat on 
table, or fill the cups, and so the guests should 
be reduced to feed on the mere sight and smell. 
Therefore we must preach Christ alone. 

" But, say you, what is it to know Christ ] 
and what good will come of it ] I answer : 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



95 



to learn and knew Christ is to understand 
what the Apostle declares, namely : that 
'Christ is made unto us of God, wisdom 
righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.' 
Now you understand that, if you acknowledge 
all your wisdom mere blameworthy foolish- 
ness, your righteousness a criminal iniquity, 
your holiness a guilty pollution, your redemp- 
tion a miserable sentence of condemnation ; 
if you feel that you are truly, before God, and 
before all creatures, a fool, a sinner, an im- 
pure and condemned man : if you manifest, 
not by w T ord alone, but from the bottom of 
your heart, and by your works, — that there is 
neither salvation nor comfort for you, save 
only in Christ. To believe is nothing else 
than feeding on this bread from heaven." 

Thus Luther faithfully adhered to his reso- 
lution to open the eyes of a blinded people, 
whom the priests were leading at their plea- 
sure. His writings rapidly dispersed through- 
out Germany, called up a new light, and shed 
abundantly the seed of truth on a soil well 
prepared for it. But, while attending to those 
who were at a distance, he did not forget those 
who were nigh at hand. 

The Dominicans, from their pulpit, anathe- 
matized the infamous heretic. Luther, — the 
man of the people, and who, if he had desired 
it, could, by a few words, have called up the 
popular fury against them, — disdained such 
triumphs, and thought only of instructing his 
hearers. 

And he did so. His reputation, which 
spread more and more widely, and the bold- 
ness with which he lifted the banner of 
Christ in the midst of an enslaved Church, 
increased the eager attendance on his preach- 
ing at YVittemberg. The crowd of hearers was 
more considerable than ever. Luther went 
straight to his mark. One day, having ascend- 
ed the pulpit, he undertook to prove the doc- 
trine of repentance, and on this occasion, he 
pronounced a discourse which became after- 
wards very celebrated, and in which he laid 
down some of the grounds of the evangelical 
doctrine. 

He first contrasted man's pardon with God's 
pardon. "There are," said he, " two kinds 
of remission : the remission of the penalty, and 
the remission of the sin. The first reconciles 
outwardly the offender with the Church. The 
second, which is the heavenly grace, recon- 
ciles the offender with God. If a man does 
not find in himself that peace of conscience, 
that joy of heart which springs from God's 
remission of sin, there is no indulgence that 
can help him, though he should buy all that 
had ever been offered upon earth." 

He continues : " They wish to do good' 
works before their sins are forgiven them,— I 
whilst it is indispensable that our sins be par- 
doned before good works can be done. It ijs 
not works which banish sin ; but drive out ski 
and you will have works. For good works 
must be done with a joyful heart, and a goqd 
conscience toward God, that is, with remission 
of sins.' 1 

He then comes to the chief object of this 
8 ^ 



sermon, which was also the great end of the 
whole Reformation. The Church had put 
itself in the place of God and his word; he 
rejects her assumption, and shows every thing 
to depend on faith in God's word. 

"The remission of the sin is out of the 
power of pope, bishop, priest, or any man 
living ; and rests solely on the word of Christ, 
and on thine own faith. For Christ did not 
design that our comfort, our hope, and our sal- 
vation, should be built on a word or work of 
man, but solely on himself, on his work, and 
on his word. . . . Thy repentance and thy 
works may deceive thee; but Christ, thy God, 
will not deceive thee, nor will he falter, and 
the devil shall not overthrow his words." 

"A pope or a bishop has no more power to 
remit sin than the humblest priest. And even, 
without any priest, every Christian, even 
though a woman or a child, can do the same. 
For if a simple believer say to thee, ' God 
pardon thy sin in the name of Jesus Christ,' — 
and thou receive that word with firm faith, and 
as though God himself spake it to thee — thou 
art absolved." 

"If thou dost not believe that thy sins are 
forgiven thee, thou makest thy God a liar, and 
showest thyself to hold more to thy vain 
thoughts than to God and his word." 

" Under the Old Testament, neither priest, 
nor king, nor prophet, had authority to declare 
remission of sins. But under the New, every 
believer has this power. The Church is full 
of remission of sins. If a devoted Christian 
should comfort thy conscience by the word of 
the cross, whether that Christian be a man or 
woman, young or old, receive that comfort 
with such faith as to endure death a hundred 
times, rather than doubt that God has ratified 
it. ^Repent; do all the works thou canst; but 
let aith in pardon through Christ hold the 
first rank, and command the whole field of 
your warfare." 

Thus spake Luther to his surprised and de- 
lighted hearers. All the superstructures which 
presumptuous priests had raised for their own 
gain between God and the soul of man were 
thrown down, and man brought face to face 
with his God. The word of forgiveness now 
descended pure from on high without passing 
through a thousand corrupting channels. That 
the witness of God should be received, it was 
no longer necessary that men should attach to 
it their delusive seal. The monopoly of the 
priestly caste was abolished ; the Church was 
delivered from her thraldom. 
/ Meanwhile it was become needful that the 
flame that had been lighted up in Wittemberg 
should be kindled elsewhere. Luther, not 
satisfied with proclaiming the truth of the 
Gospel in the place of his own-abode, as well 
to the students as to the people, was desirous 
to scatter in other places the seeds of sound 
doctrine. In the spring of 1518 the order of 
the Augustines held its chapter general at 
Heidelberg. Luther was summoned thither 
as one of the most distinguished men of his 
order. His friends made every effort to dis- 
suade him from undertaking this journey. In 



96 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



truth, the monks had laboured to make the 
name of Luther hated in all the places he 
would have to pass through. To insult they 
added threats. A little matter would suffice 
to raise a tumult on his journey, in which he 
might fall a victim. "Or else," said his 
friends, " what they dare not do by violence, 
they will accomplish by treachery and fraud.*' 
But Luther never allowed himself to be stop- 
ped short in the performance of a duty by fear 
of danger, however imminent. Accordingly, 
ne was deaf to the timid suggestions of his 
friends: he plainly showed in whom he put 
his trust, and under whose protection he was 
resolved to undertake this dreaded journey. 
Then the festival of Easter being terminated, 
he quietly set out on foot, the 13th April, 1318. 

He took with him a guide named Urban, 
who carried his little baggage, and was to ac 
company him as far as Wurtzburg. What 
thoughts must have crowded the heart of this 
servant of the Lord during his journey ! At 
Weissenfels, the pastor, who had no previous 
knowledge of him, recognised him immediate- 
ly as the Doctor of Wittemberg, and received 
him cordially. At Erfurth, two other brethren 
of the order of the Augustines joined company 
with him. At .Tudenbach, the three travellers 
met Degenhard Pfeffinger, the confidential ad- 
viser of the Elector, and were entertained by 
him at the inn. " I had the pleasure," writes 
Luther to Spalatin, " of making the rich lord 
poorer by some groschen ,• you know how I love 
on all occasions to levy contributions on the 
rich for the advantage of the poor; especially 
when the rich are friends of mine " Hereach- 
ed Coburg, overcome with fatigue. "All 
goes well, by God's favour," wrote he, "un- 
less it he that I must acknowledge myself to 
have sinned in undertaking this journey on 
foot. But for that sin I think I have no need 
of any indulgence, for my contrition is perfect, 
and the satisfaction plenary. I am exhausted 
with fatigue, and all the conveyances are full. 
Is not this enough, and more than enough, of 
oenance, contrition, and satisfaction 1 ?" 

The Reformer of Germany, not finding room 
in the public conveyances, nor any one will- 
ing to give up his place to him, was obliged, 
on the following morning, notwithstanding his 
weariness, to set out again from Coburg, on 
foot. He arrived at Wurtzburg the second 
Sunday after Easter, towards evening. From 
thence he sent back his guide. 

It was in this town that the Bishop of Bibra 
resided, who had received his theses with so 
much approbation. Luther was the bearer of 
a letter to him from the Elector of Saxony. 
The Bishop, delighted with the opportunity 
thus offered of becoming personally acquaint- 
ed with this courageous champion of the truth, 
immediately invited him to the episcopal pa- 
lace. He himself went to meet him, address- 
ad him very affectionately, and offered to pro- 
cure him a guide as far as Heidelberg. But 
Luther had met at W'urtzburg his two friends, 
the Vicar-general Staupitz, and Lange, the 
Prior of Erfurth, ancTTiTd been offeree* a seat 
in tiieir carriage. He therefore thanked Bibra 



for his proffered kindness, and the next day 
the three friends set out from Wurtzburg. 
They travelled in this manner for three days, 
conversing together. On the 21st of April 
they reached Heidelberg. Luther alighted at 
the convent of the Augustines. 

The Elector of Saxony had given him a let 
ter for the Count Palatine Wolfgang, Duke 
of Bavaria. Luther repaired to his magnifi- 
cent castle, the delightful situation of which 
is even at this day the admiration of strangers. 
The monk, a native of the plains of Saxony, 
had a heart capable of admiring the pictur- 
esque situation of Heidelberg, commanding 
the two beautiful valleys of the Rhine and the 
Necker. He delivered his letter of recom- 
mendation to John Simler, the steward of the 
household. The latter, on reading it, observed : 
"Truly, you have a valuable letter of credit 
here." The Count Palatine received Luthei 
very graciously. He invited him repeatedly 
to his table, together with Lange and Staupitz. 
It was a great comfort to Luther to meet with 
so friendly a reception. " We were very happy 
together," says he, "and amused each othei 
with agreeable and pleasant conversation, 
taking our repasts, examining the beauties of 
the Palatine palace, admiring the ornaments, 
the armoury, cuirasses, and every thing re- 
markable that this celebrated and truly royal 
castle contains." 

But Luther had another task to perform. 
He must work while it was yet day. Called 
for a time to a university which exercised an 
extensive influence over the west and south 
of Germany, he was there to strike a blow 
which should put in movement the churches 
of those countries. He began therefore to 
write some theses, which he proposed to main- 
tain in a public disputation. Such disputa- 
tions were not unusual; but Luther felt that, 
to make this useful, it must be of a striking 
character. His natural disposition, moreover, 
prompted him to present truth in a paradoxi- 
cal form. The professors of the university 
would not suffer the disputation to take place 
in their great hall. A room was, therefore, 
engaged in the convent of the Augustines, 
and the 26th of April was fixed for the dis- 
cussion. 

Heidelberg at a later period received the 
evangelical doctrine. One who was present 
at the conference in the convent of the Au- 
gustines might have then foreseen, that that 
conference would one day bear fruit. 

The reputation of Luther attracted a numer- 
ous auditory, — professors, courtiers, burghers, 
students came in crowds. The following are 
some of the Doctor's "paradoxes," — for by 
that name he designated his theses. Even in 
our day, perhaps, some might give them no 
better name; yet it would be easy to render 
them in propositions obvious to common 
sense. 

" 1. The law of God is a salutary rule of 
life ; and yet it cannot help man in the obtain 
ing of righteousness; but on the contrary im 
pedes him." 

" 3. Works of men, let them be as fair and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



good as they may, are yet evidently nothing 
but mortal sins." 

44 4. Works that are of God, however un- 
sightly and evil in appearance, have yet an 
endless efficacy." 

44 7. The works of the righteous themselves 
would be mortal sins, — if from a holy reverence 
of the Lord, they did not fear that their works 
might indeed be mortal sins." 

44 9. To say that works done out of Christ 
are truly dead works, — but not mortal sins, — 
is a dangerous forgetfulness of the fear of 
God." 

44 13. Free will, since the fall of man, is 
but an empty word; and if man does all he 
can, he still sins mortally." 

44 16. A man who dreams he can attain to 
grace by doing all that is in his power, adds 
sin to sin, — and is doubly guilty." 

44 18. It is certain that man must altogether 
despair of his own ability, if he would be 
made capable of receiving the grace of Christ." 

44 "21. A theologian of this world calls good 
— evil, and evil — good ; but a teacher of the 
cross is a teacher of the truth." 

44 -22. The wisdom which applies itself to 
learn the invisible perfections of God from 
his works, puffs up, blinds, and hardens men." 

44 23. The law calls forth God's anger: 
slays, accurses, judges, and condemns, what- 
soever is not in Christ." 

44 24. Yet this wisdom (§ 22,) is not an 
evil ; and the law (§ 23,) is not to be rejected; 
but he who learns not the wisdom of God 
under the Cross, turns to evil whatever is 
good." 

44 25. That man is not justified who does 
many works; but he who, without having 
yet done works, has much faith in Christ." 

44 26. The law says, 4 Do this,' and what it 
enjoins is never done ; Grace says, 4 Believe 
in him,' and immediately all is perfected." 

"28. The love of God finds nothing in man, 
but creates in him what He loves. Man's 
love is the gift of his well beloved." 

Five doctors of divinity attacked these the- 
ses. They had read them with the surprise 
that their novelty excited. Such-theology 
seemed to them extravagant. They, however, 
entered on the discussion, as Luther tells us, 
with a courtesy which inspired him with much 
esteem for them; yet with great earnestness 
and discernment. Luther, on his part, mani- 
fested unusual mildness in his mode of reply, 
unrivalled patience in listening to the objec- 
tions of his opponents, and all the quickness 
of St. Paul in solving the difficulties opposed 
to him. His answers short but full of the 
word of God, — astonished his hearers. 44 He 
is exactly like Erasmus," said many, 44 except 
that he surpasses him in one thing ; — that is, 
he openly professes. what Erasmus was satis- 
fied with insinuating." 

Tie disputation was drawing near to its 
close. The adversaries of Luther had, at 
least, retreated with honour from the field ; 
the youngest of them, Doctor George Niger, 
alone continued the contest with the powerful 
disputant; alarmed at the bold propositions 



of the Augustine monk, and not knowing what 
argument to have recourse to, he exclaimed, 
with an accent of fear, 44 If our peasantry heard 
such things, they would stone you to death." 
At these words a general laugh went round 
the assembly. 

Yet never did an auditory listen with more 
attention to a theological discussion. The 
first words of the Reformer had aroused men's 
minds. Questions, which but a little while 
before, would have met only with indifference, 
were, at that hour, teeming with interest. An 
observer might have read in the countenances 
of those present the new ideas which the bold 
assertions of the Saxon Doctor awakened in 
their minds. 

Three youths, especially, were much affect- 
ed. One of them, by name Martin. JEtocer, 
was a Dominican, of twenty-seven years of 
age, who, in spite of the prejudices of his 
order, seemed unwilling to lose a word of 
the Doctor's remarks. A native of a small 
town in Alsace, he had, in his sixteenth year, 
entered a convent. He soon showed such 
capacity, that the more enlightened of the 
monks formed high expectations of him. "He 
will, one day," said they, 44 be an honour to 
our order." His superiors accordingly sent 
him to Heidelberg, that he might apply him- 
self to the study of philosophy, theology, 
Greek, and Hebrew. At that period, Eras- 
mus published several of his writings. Mar- 
tin Bucer read them with avidity. 

Shortly after this, the first published writ- 
ings of Luther appeared. The student of 
Alsace hastened to compare the doctrines of 
the Reformer with the Holy Scriptures. Some 
misgivings as to the truth of Popery were 
then awakened in his mind. It was in this 
way that light was spread in those days. 
The Elector Palatine, took notice of the young 
man. His powerful and sonorous voice and 
agreeable manners, his eloquence, and the 
freedom with which he attacked the prevail- 
ing vices, made his preaching remarkable. 
Appointed chaplain to the Elector, he was 
fulfilling the functions of his office, when he 
heard of Luther's visit to Heidelberg. How 
great was his joy! He was among the first 
to repair to the hall of the convent of the Au- 
gustines. He had with him paper, pens, and 
ink, intending to take notes. But whilst his 
hand rapidly traced the words of Luther, the 
hand of God wrote in imperishable characters 
on his heart the great truths he heard. The 
first gleams of the doctrine of grace diffused 
themselves in his soul in the course of that 
memorable hour. The Dominican was won 
to Christ. 

Not far from Bucer sate Jo hn Br entz, or 
Brentius, then nineteen years of age. Brentz, 
son of a magistrate of a town in Suabia, had 
been entered student at Heidelberg in his thir- 
teenth year. His application was unequalled. 
He rose at midnight for study. This custom 
had become so confirmed, that in after life he 
could never sleep after that hour. But at a 
later period, he devoted the stillness of these 
seasons to meditation on the Scriptures. 



9B 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Brentz was one of the first to discern the new 
light then appearing in Germany. He hailed 
it with a soul overflowing with love. He 
eagerly perused the writings of Luther. But 
how was he rejoiced at the opportunity of 
hearing him at Heidelberg! One of the 
Doctor's propositions especially struck young 
Brentz. It was this: "That man is not 
justified in the sight of God who does many 
works; but he who, without having yet done 
works, has much faith in Christ." 

A pious woman of Heilbronn, on the Necker, 
the wife of one of the council of that town, 
named Snepf, following the example of Han- 
nah, haa r "cTedicated her first-born son to the 
Lord, in the fervent desire to see him devote 
himself to the study of divinity. This young 
man,, born in 1495, made rapid progress in 
learning ; but either from liking, or from am- 
bition, or else in compliance with his father's 
desire, he took to the study of jurisprudence. 
The pious mother grieved to see her son Ehr- 
hard pursuing a course different from that to 
which she had consecrated him. She ad- 
monished him, expostulated, and again and 
again reminded him of her vow made at his 
birth. At length, overcome by his mother's 
perseverance, Ehrhard Snepf complied, and he 
6oon had such a relish for his new studies, 
that nothing could have diverted him from 
them. 

He was very intimate with Bucer and 
Brentz, and this friendship continued as long 
as they lived ; " for," says one of their histo- 
rians, "friendships founded on the love of 
literature and of virtue are always lasting." 
fie was present with his two friends at the 
disputation at Heidelberg. The paradoxes 
and courageous efforts of the Doctor of Wit- 
temberg, gave a new impulse to his mind. 
Rejecting the vain opinion of human merit, 
he embraced the doctrine of the free justifica- 
tion of the sinner. 

The next day, Bucer went to Luther. "I 
had," says he, " a familiar private conversa- 
tion with him, a most exquisite repast — of no 
ordinary viands, but of the truths which he 
set before me. To every objection that I 
made, the Doctor had a ready reply; and he 
explained every thing with the greatest clear- 
ness. Oh ! would to God I had time to write 
you more about it." Luther was himself af- 
fected with Bucer's deep emotion. " He is 
the only brother of his order," he wrote to 
Spalatin, "who is sincere; he is a young 
man of great promise. He received me with 
simplicity, and conversed very earnestly. He 
deserves our love and confidence." 

Brentz, Snepf, and many others, moved by 
the new truths which were beginning to en- 
lighten their minds, also visited Luther; they 
talked and conferred with him; they requested 
an explanation of what they had not under- 
stood. The Reformer, leaning on the word 
of God, answered them. Every word that he 
epoke imparted fresh light to their minds. A 
new world seemed to open before them. 

After the departure of Luther, these noble- 
minded men began to teach at Heidelberg. 



It was fit that they should carry on what the 
man of God had begun, and not leave the 
torch that he had kindled to expire. The 
disciple will speak when the teacher is si- 
lent. Brentz, young as he was, undertook 
to expound St. Matthew's Gospel, — at first 
in his own room — afterwards, when that 
apartment was found too small, in the hall of 
Philosophy. The theologians, envious at the 
concourse of hearers tha-t this young man drew 
together, betrayed their irritation. Brentz 
then took orders, and transferred his lectures 
to the college of the canons of the Holy Ghost. 
Thus the fire, already kindled in Saxony, 
was communicated to Heidelberg. The light 
spread rapidly. This period has been called 
the seed-time of the Palatinate. 

But it was not the Palatinate alone that 
reaped the fruits of that memorable disputa- 
tion at Heidelberg. These courageous friends 
of the truth soon became shining lights in the 
Church. All of them attained to eminent 
stations, and took a conspicuous part in the 
transactions to which the Reformation gave 
birth. Strasburg, and afterwards England, 
were indebted to the labours of Bucer for a 
purer knowledge of the truth. Snepf first 
declared it at Marburg, then at Stuttgard, at 
Tubingen, and at Jena. And Brentz, after 
having laboured at Heidelberg, taught for a 
long time at Halle in Suabia, and at Tubin 
gen. We shall meet with them again, as we 
trace the course of the Reformation. 

This disputation carried forward Luther 
himself. He increased from day to day in 
the knowledge of the truth. "I am one of 
those," said he, " who have myself made 
progress by writing for and instructing others, 
— not one of those who, without any such 
training, have suddenly become great and 
learned doctors." 

He was delighted to see the eagerness with 
which the youncr students received the grow- 
ing truth. This it was that comforted him 
when he found the old doctors so deeply- 
rooted in their opinions. " I have the glorious 
hope," said he," " that even as Christ, when 
rejected by the Jews, turned towards the 
Gentiles, so we shall see the rising genera- 
tion receive the true theology, which these 
old men, wedded to their vain and fantastical 
opinions, now obstinately reject." 

The chapter being ended, Luther proposed 
returning to Wittemberg. The Count Pala- 
tine gave him a letter for the Elector, dated 
the 1st of May, in which he said that "the 
skill which Luther had shown in the disputa- 
tion did great honour to the university of Wit- 
temberg." He was not allowed to return on 
foot. The Augustines of Nuremberg con- 
ducted him as far as Wurtzburg. From thence 
he went to Erfurth with the brethren of that 
city. Immediately on his arrival, he paid a 
visit to his former master, Jocodus. The old 
professor, much grieved and scandalized at 
the course his pupil had taken, was accus- 
tomed to prefix to all Luther's propositions a 
theta, the letter which the Greeks made use 
of to denote condemnation. On several occa- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



99 



sions he had written to the young- doctor in a 
style of reproach. The latter wished to an- 
swer these letters by word of mouth. Not 
being admitted, he wrote to his master: "All 
the university, with the exception of one licen- 
tiate, think as I do. Nay, more : the Prince, 
the Bishop, several other prelates, and all the 
most enlightened of our citizens, declare 
unanimously that till now they never knew 
or understood Christ and his Gospel. I am 
willing to receive your reproofs. And even 
should they be harsh, they will appear gentle 
to me. Open your heart, therefore, without 
fear; express your displeasure: I will not 
and cannot be angry with you. God and my 
own conscience are my witnesses." 

The old doctor was affected by these ex- 
pressions of his former pupil. He wished to 
try whether there were no means of removing 
the condemnatory iheta. They talked over 
the subject, but to no purpose. " I made him 
understand, however," says Luther, "that all 
their dogmas were like that creature which is 
said to devour itself. But it is useless to talk 



to a deaf man. These doctors cling to their 
petty distinctions, though they confess that 
they have nothing to confirm them but what 
they call the light of natural reason, — a 
gloomy chaos to us who proclaim the one 
true and only light, Christ Jesus." 

Luther quitted Erfurth in the carriage be- 
longing to the convent, which took him to 
Eisleben. From thence the Augustines of the 
place, proud of the doctor who had done such 
honour to their order and their town, which 
was his native place, furnished him with 
horses to proceed to Wittemberg at their ex- 
pense. Every one wished to show some mark 
of affection and esteem to this extraordinary 
man, whose fame was daily increasing. 

He arrived on the Saturday after Ascension 
day. The journey had done him good, and 
his friends thought him looking stronger and 
in better health than before he set out. They 
rejoiced at all that he related. Luther rested 
for a while after the fatigue of his journey and 
his dispute at Heidelberg ; but this rest was 
only a preparation for severer labours. 



BOOK IV. 



LUTHER BEFORE THE LEGATE. 

May to December, 1518. 

The Pope — Leo X. — Luther to his Bishop — Luther to the Pope— Luther to the Vicar- General— 
The Cardinal to the Elector — Sermon on Excommunication — Luther's Influence — Diet at Augs- 
burg — The Emperor and the Elector — Letters to the Pope — Citation of Luther to Rome — Inter- 
cession of the University — The Legate De Vio — The Pope's Brief — Luther's Indignation — The 
Pope to the Elector — George Schwarzerd — Melancthon — Luther and Melancthon — Staupitz to 
Spalatin — Luther's Resolution — He sets out — At Nuremberg — Luiher at Nuremberg — De Vio — ■ 
Serra Longa and Luther — Return of Serra Longa — Prior of the Carmelites — Serra Longa — Luther 
and Serra Longa — The Safe Conduct — Appearance before the Legate — First Interview — De Vio's 
Proofs — Luther's Replies — A Proposal — Luther and De Vio — Luther's Declaration — The Legate's 
Answer — Luther's Request — Third Conference — Luther's Declaration — The Legate's Answer 
— Luther's Reply — The Cardinal Foiled — Rumours — De Vio and Staupitz — Luther to Carlstadt 
— The Communion — Departure of Staupitz — Letter to the Legate — Luther and the Legate — Lu- 
ther's Letter to the Legate — His Appeal — Luther's Flight — Nuremberg — The Legate to the 
Elector — Luther to the Elector — Graefenthal — Luther to Spalatin — Luther's Intended Departure — 
A Critical Hour — Deliverance — Dissatisfaction at Rome — The Pope's Bull — Luther's Appeals to 
a Council. 



At length Truth had raised its head in the 
midst of the nations of Christendom. Having 
triumphed over the inferior instruments of the 
papal power, it was now to enter upon a strug- 
gle with its head himself. We are about to 
contemplate Luther in close conflict with 
Rome. 

It was after his return from Heidelberg that 
Luther advanced to the attack. His first 
Theses on the indulgences had been imper- 
fectly understood. He resolved to set forth 
their meaning more plainly. He had found, 
by the clamours proceeding from the blind- 
ness and hatred of his enemies, how important 
it was to gain over to the side of the truth the 
more enlightened portion of the nation: — he 
decided therefore to appeal to its judgment, by 
presenting to it the grounds on which his new 
convictions rested. It was quite necessary to 



! invite the decision of Rome ; he did not hesi- 

j tate to send thither his explanations; while 
with one hand he held them forth to all his im- 
partial and enlightened fellow-countrymen, he, 
with the other, laid them before the footstool 
of the Sovereign Pontiff. 

These explanations of his theses, w r hich he 
called solutions, were written with great mo- 
deration." Luther tried to soften the passages 
that had occasioned irritation, and evinced a 
genuine modesty. But, at the same time, he 

I manifested an immovable conviction, and cou- 
rageously defended every proposition that truth 

1 obliged him to maintain. He repeated, once 
more, that every Christian who truly repented 
had remission of sins without any indulgence ; 
that the Pope had no more power than the 
lowest, priest to do anything beyond simply 

s declaring the forgiveness that God had already 



100 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



granted ; that the treasury of the merits of 
saints, administered by the Pope was a pure 
fiction : and that holy Scripture was the sole 
rule of faith. But let us listen to his own 
statement of some of these things. 

He begins by laying down the nature of true 
repentance, and contrasts that act of God, by 
which man is regenerated, with the mum- 
meries of the Romish Church. " The Greek 
word /jutavosL-te" said he, " signifies, put on 
a new spirit, a new mind, — take to you a 
new nature, so that, ceasing to be earthly, you 
may become heavenly : Christ is a teacher of 
the spirit, and not of the letter, and his words 
are spirit and life." Thus he teaches a re- 
pentance in spirit and in truth, and not those 
outward penances which the haughtiest sin- 
ner may perform without any real humiliation, 
— he requires a repentance, which may be 
wrought in every situation of life, — under the 
purple robe of kings, under the priest's cas- 
sock, the prince's hat, — in the midst of the 
splendours of Babylon, where Daniel dwelt, 
— as well as under the monk's frock, or the 
mendicant's rags.* 

Further on we read these bold words : "I 
care little what pleases or displeases the Pope. 
He is a man like other men. There have been 
many popes who have not only taken up with 
errors and vices, but things yet more extraor- 
dinary. I listen to the Pope as pope, that is, 
when he speaks in the canons, agreeably to 
the canons, or regulates any matter conjointly 
with a council, — but not when he speaks of 
his own mind. If I acted on any other rule, 
might I not be required to say, with those 
who know not Jesus Christ, that the horrible 
massacres of Christians, by which Julius II. 
was stained, were the good deeds of a kind 
shepherd of the Lord's sheep ]" f 

"I must needs wonder," ne continues, "at 
the simplicity of those who have said that the 
two swords in the Gospel represent the one 
the spiritual, the other the temporal power. 
True it is, that the Pope holds a sword of 
Iron, and thus offers himself to the view of 
Christians not as a tender father, but as an 
awful tyrant. Alas! God, in his anger, hath 
given us the sword we preferred, and with- 
drawn that which we despised. Nowhere, in 
all the earth, have there been more cruel wars 
than among Christians. Why did not the 
same ingenious critic who supplied this fine 
commentary, interpret the narrative of the two 
keys delivered to St. Peter in the same subtle 
manner, and establish, as a dogma of the 
Church, that the one serves to unlock the 
treasury of heaven, and the other the treasures 
of this world ?"t 

" It is impossible," says he, " for a man to 
be a Christian without having Christ; and, if 
he has Christ, he has, at the same time, all 
that is in Christ. What gives peace to the 
conscience is that, by faith, our sins are no 
more ours, but Christ's, upon whom God hath 
laid them all; and that, on the other hand, all 



On the first Thesis. 

t Thesis 30. 



t Thesis 26. 



Christ's righteousness is ours, to whom God 
■ hath given it. Christ lays his hand upon us, 
and we are healed. He casts his mantle upon 
us, and we are clothed ; for he is the glorious 
Saviour, blessed forever."* 

With such view of the riches of sal vation by 
Christ, there could no longer be any need of 
indulgences. 

At the same time that Luther thus attacked 
the papal rule, he spoke honourably of Leo 
X. " The times we live in," said he, " are so 
evil, that even persons of the highest station 
have no power to help the Church. We have 
at this time a very good Pope in Leo X. His 
sincerity and learning are a matter of joy to 
us. But what can he do alon , amiable and 
gracious as he is? He deserved, assuredly, 
to be elected Pope in better times. In these 
days we deserve none but such as Julian II. 
or Alexander VI." 

He then came to this point. — " I will speak 
out, in a few words and boldly. — The Church 
requires to be reformed. And it is a work 
neither for one man, as the Pope, — nor for 
several, as the cardinals and fathers in council 
assembled, — but for the whole world ; or rather 
it is a work which appertains to God alone. 
As to the time when such Reformation shall 
commence, he only knows it who has appoint- 
ed all time. The barriers are thrown down, 
and it is no longer in our power to restrain the 
overflowing billows." 

These are a few of the declarations and 
thoughts which Luther addressed to the more 
enlightened of his countrymen. W r hitsuntide 
was drawing near; and thus it was at the 
same season in which the apostles rendered 
to their risen Saviour the first testimony of 
their faith, that Luther, the new apostle, pub- 
lished this animated testimony, in which he 
breathed forth his ardent desires for the resur- 
rection of the Church. On Whitsun-eve, 22d 
May, 1518, he despatched this writing to the 
Bishop of Brandenburg, his ordinary, accom- 
panied with these words : 

" Most worthy Father in God ! 

" It is now some time since a new and un- 
heard-of doctrine, concerning the apostolic 
indulgences, began to be preached in these 
parts: the learned and the unlearned were 
troubled by it; and many persons known, or 
personally unknown to me, requested me to. 
declare from the pulpit, or by writing, my opi- 
nion of the novelty — I will not say the impu- 
dence — of the doctrine I refer to. At first I 
kept myself silent and neutral. But, at last, 
things came to such a pass, that the Pope's 
holiness was compromised. 

" What could 1 do? I thought it my part 
neither to approve nor condemn these doc- 
trines, but to open a discussion on this import- 
ant subject, till such time as the holy Church 
should pronounce upon it. 

" No one presenting himself, or accepting 
the challenge to a discussion to which I had 
invited all the world ; and my theses being 
considered not as matters for debate, but as 



Thesis 37. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



101 



propositions dogmatically asserted ; —I find 
myself obliged to put forth an explanation of 
them. Deign, therefore, to accept these offer- 
ings that I present to you, most clement Bi- 
shop". And that all may see that I am not 
acting presumptuously, I entreat your reve- 
rence to take pen and ink and blot out, or even 
throw into the fire whatever may displease 
you. I know that Christ needs none of my 
labour or services, and that he can easily, 
without my instrumentality, make known the 
good tidings in his church. Not that the de- 
nunciations and threats of my enemies alarm 
me. Quite the contrary. If they were not so 
wanting in prudence, and lost to shame, no 
one should hear or know any thing about me. 
I would immure myself in a corner, and there 
study alone for my own profit. If this matter 
is not of God, it will certainly not be to my 
honour, nor to the honour of any man, but will 
come to naught. May glory and honour be to 
Him to whom alone they belong!" 

Luther was, up to this time, under the in- 
fluence of respect for the head of the Church ; 
he gave credit to Leo for justice and a love of 
truth. Accordingly, he resolved to write to 
him also. A week after, on Trinity Sunday, 
30th May, 1518, he addressed to him a letter, 
of which the following are some fragments. 

"To the most blessed Father, Pope Leo X., 
Supreme Bishop, — brother Martin Luther, an 
Augustine, wishes eternal salvation ! 

"I hear, most holy Father, that evil reports 
circulate concerning me, and that my name is 
in bad odour with your Holiness. I am called 
a heretic, an apostate, a traitor, and a thousand 
other reproachful names. What I see sur- 
prises me, and what I hear alarms me. But 
the sole foundation of my tranquillity remains 
unmoved, being a pure and quiet conscience. 
O, holy Father! deign to hearken to me, who 
am but a child, and need instruction." 

Luther then relates the affair from its begin- 
ning, and thus proceeds: 

" Nothing was heard in all the taverns but 
complaints of the avarice of the priests, attacks 
on the power of the keys, and of the supreme 
bishop. I call all Germany to witness. When 
I heard these things, my zeal was aroused for 
the glory of Christ, — if I understand my own 
heart; or, if another construction is to be put 
on my conduct, — my young and warm blood 
was inflamed. 

"I represented the matter to certain princes 
of the Chnrch, but some laughed at me, and 
others turned a deaf ear. The awe of your 
name seemed to have made all motionless. 
Thereupon I published this dispute. 

"This, then, holy Father, this is the action 
which has been said to have set the whole 
world in a flame ! 

"And now what am I to do? I cannot 
retract what I have said, and I see that this 
publication draws down on me, from all sides, 
at inexpressible hatred. I have no wish to 
appear in the great world, for I am unlearned, 
of small wit, and far too inconsiderable for 
such great matters, more especially in this 
illustrious age, when Cicero himself, if he \ 



were living, would be constrained to hide him- 
self in some dark corner. 

" But in order to appease my enemies and 
satisfy the desires of many friends, I here pub- 
lish my thoughts. I publish them, holy Fa- 
ther, that I may dwell the more safely under 
your protection. All those who desire it may 
here see with what simplicity of heart I have 
petitioned the supreme authority of the Church 
to instruct me, and what respect I have mani- 
fested for the power of the keys. If I had not 
acted with propriety, it would have been im- 
possible that the serene Lord Frederic, Duke 
and Elector of Saxony, who shines foremost 
among the friends of the apostolic and Christian 
truth, should have endured that one, so dan- 
gerous as I am asserted to be, should continue 
in his university of Wittemberg. 

" Therefore, most holy Father, I throw my- 
self at the feet of your holiness, and submit 
myself to you, with all that I have and all that 
I am. Destroy my cause, or espouse it : pro- 
nounce either for or against me; take my life, 
or restore it, as you please; I will receive 
your voice as that of Christ himself, who pre- 
sides and speaks through you. If I have de- 
served death, I refuse not to die ; the earth is 
the Lord's, and all that therein is. May He 
be praised forever and ever. May He main- 
tain you to all eternity. Amen. 

" Signed the day of the Holy Trinity, in the 
year 1518. Brother Martin Luther, Augus- 
tine." 

What humility and truth in this fear, or 
rather this admission of Luther, that his young 
and warm blood had perhaps taken fire too 
hastily! We see here the man of sincerity, 
who, instead of presuming on himself, dreads 
the influence of his passions, even in such 
actions as are most conformable to the com- 
mandment of God. This is not the language 
of a proud fanatic. We behold Luther's 
earnest desire to gain over Leo to the cause of 
truth, to avoid all schism, and to cause the 
Reformation (the necessity of which he pro- 
claimed) to proceed from the highest authority 
in the Church. Certainly, it is not he who 
can be accused of having broken up that unity 
of the W T estern Church, which so many of all 
sects have since regretted. On the contrary, 
he gave up every thing but truth that he might 
maintain it. It was his adversaries who, re- 
fusing to allow the fulness and sufficiency of 
the salvation wrought by Jesus Christ, tore to 
shreds the Lord's vesture at the foot of the 
cross. 

After writing this letter, Luther, on the 
same day, wrote to his friend Staupitz, Vicar- 
general of his order. It was through him that 
he resolved to forward to Leo both his " Solu- 
tions" and his letter. 

" I beg of you," said he, "to receive with 
favour the poor productions that I send you,* 
and to forward them to the excellent Pope Leo 
X. Not that I mean by this to draw you into 
the peril in which I stand; lam resolved my- 
self to incur the whole danger. Christ will 

* The Solutions. 



102 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



look to it, and make it appear whether what 
[ have said comes from him or myself, — 
Christ, without whom the Pope's tongue can- 
not move, nor the hearts of kings decree. 

"As for those who threaten me, I have no 
answer for them but the saying of Reuchlin : 
'The poor man has nothing to fear, for he has 
nothing to lose.' I have neither money nor 
estate, and I desire none. If I have some- 
times tasted of honour and good report, may 
He who has begun to strip me of them finish 
his work. All that is left me is this wretched 
body, enfeebled by many trials : — let them kill 
it by violence or fraud, so it be to the glory 
of God ; by so doing they will but shorten 
the term of my life by a few hours. It is suf- 
ficient for me that I have a precious Redeem- 
er, a powerful High Priest, my Lord Jesus 
Christ. I will praise him as long as I have 
breath. If another will not join me in prais- 
ing him, what is that to me?" 

In these words we read the innermost heart 
of Luther. 

Whilst he was thus placing confidence in 
Rome, Rome had thoughts of vengeance 
against him. As early as the 3d of April, 
V/ Cardinal Raphael de Rovera had written to 
the Elector Frederic in the Pope's name, to 
intimate that some suspicion wa:> entertained 
of his fidelity, and to desire him to avoid pro- 
tecting Luther. "The Cardinal Raphael," 
observed the latter, " would have been well 
pleased to see me burned alive by Duke Fre- 
deric." Thus Rome was beginning to turn 
arms against Luther; her first blow was di- 
rected to the depriving him of his protector's 
favour. If she succeeded in destroying this 
shelter of the monk of Wittemberg, he would 
fall an easy prey to her agents. * 

The German sovereigns were very tenacious 
of their reputation as Christian princes. The 
slightest suspicion of heresy filled them with 
fears. The Roman Court had skilfully taken 
advantage of this disposition of mind. Fre- 
deric had always been attached to the religion 
of his fathers. Hence the Cardinal Raphael's 
letter produced a very considerable impression 
upon his mind. But, on the other hand, the 
Elector made it a rule never to be hasty in 
any thing. He knew that truth was not 
always on the side of the strongest. The dis- 
putes of the Empire with Rome had taught 
him to discern the interested views of that 
court. He had arrived at the conviction that, 
to be a Christian prince, it was not necessary 
to be a slave to the Pope. 

" He was not one of those profane persons," 
says Melancthon, " who would stifle all 
changes in their very birth. Frederic sub- 
mitted himself to the will of God. He care- 
fully read the writings that were put forth, 
and would not allow any to destroy what he 
thought true." He possessed this power. 
Besides being absolute sovereign of his own 
dominions, he enjoyed at least as much respect 
throughout the Empire as was paid to the 
Emperor himself. 

It is probable that Luther received some in- 
timation o^ this letter of Cardinal Raphael's, 



which reached the Elector on the 7th of July. 
Perhaps it was in the prospect of excommu- 
nication, which this Roman missive seemed 
to forebode, that he ascended the pulpit of 
Wittemberg on the 15th of the same month, 
and preached a discourse on that topic, which 
made a deep impression on his hearers. He 
explained the distinction between inward and 
outward excommunications, the former ex- 
cluding from communion with God, and the 
latter from the rites and ceremonies of the 
Church. " No one," said he, " can reconcile 
the fallen soul to God but the Lord. No one 
can separate a man from communion with God 
but that man himself, by his own sins. Bless- 
ed is that man who dies under an unjust sen- 
tence of excommunication! Whilst, for 
righteousness' sake, he suffers a cruel judg- 
ment from men, he receives from God the 
crown of everlasting happiness!" 

Some loudly commended this bold language; 
others were yet more enraged by it. 

But Luther did not now stand alone; and 
though his faith needed no other support than 
that of God himself, he had called up on all 
sides a power that protected him from his ene- 
mies. The voice of this man had been heard 
by the whole German nation. From his ser- 
mons and writings issued beams of light 
which awakened and illuminated his contem- 
poraries. The energy of his faith rushed like 
a stream of fire upon the frozen hearts of men. 
The life which God had given to this extra- 
ordinary mind was imparted to the dead body 
of the Church. Christendom, which had re- 
mained motionless for so many years, was 
now alive with religious enthusiasm. The 
popular attachment to the superstitions of 
Romanism was daily lessening ; those who 
came with money in hand to purchase pardon 
were every day fewer; and the reputation of 
Luther was every day extended. Men's 
thoughts were directed toward him, and he 
was hailed with affection and respect, as the 
intrepid defender of truth and freedom. Doubt- 
less all did not penetrate the depth of the doc- 
trines he proclaimed. It was enough for the 
greater number to know that the new doctor 
stood up against the Pope ; and that, at his 
powerful word, the dominion of the priests 
and monks was tottering to its fall. The at- 
tack of Luther was to them like a beacon-fire 
on a mountain top, which announces to a 
whole people the moment for bursting their 
bonds. Luther was not aware of the influence 
he had obtained, till all the generous spirits 
among his countrymen had by acclamation 
acknowledged him their leader. But to many 
the appearance of Luther was much more than 
this. The word of God, wiiich he handled 
with so much power, penetrated to the souls 
of men like a two-edged sword. In many 
hearts an ardent desire was kindled to obtain 
the assurance of pardon and everlasting life. 
Since the first ages of the Church, there had 
not been witnessed such hungering and thirst- 
ing after righteousness. If the preaching of 
Peter the Hermit and of Bernard had induced 
multitudes, during the middle ages, to assume 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



103 



outwardly the symbol of the cross, the preach- 
ing - of Luther influenced the hearts of men to 
take up the fr "e cross, — the truth that saves 
the soul. The superstructure, which then en- 
cumbered the Church, had smothered true 
piety : the form had extinguished the spirit. 
The word of "power given to Luther was as a 
breath of life to Christendom. At first sight 
the writings of Luther carried with them the 
sympathy both of the faithful and of the un- 
believer; — of the latter, because the positive 
doctrines, afterwards to be established, were 
not yet fully opened ; of the former, because 
those doctrines were in principle comprised in 
that living faith, which his writings set forth 
with so much power. Hence the influence of 
those writings was unbounded. They spread 
instantaneously throughout Germany, and the 
whole world. Everywhere a persuasion exv 
isted that what men now beheld was not 
merely the rise of a new sect, but a new birth 
of the Church and of society. Those who 
were then born again by the breath of God's 
Spirit rallied round him who had been instru- 
mental in imparting to them spiritual life. 
Christendom was divided into two opposing 
parties ; the one contending for the spirit 
against form ; and the other for form against 
the spirit. On the side of form there was, it 
is true, every appearance of strength and mag- 
nificence; on the side of the spirit there was 
weakness and littleness. But form, void of 
the spirit, is as an empty body which the first 
breath may overthrow. Its resemblance of 
strength serves only to exasperate the hostility 
and hasten its downfall. Thus the simple 
word of truth had called forth a whole host in 
favour of Luther. 

It could not be otherwise, for the nobles 
were beginning to bestir themselves, and the 
empire and the Church were already uniting 
their forces to rid themselves of the trouble- 
some monk. The Emperor Maximilian was 
then holding an imperial diet at Augsburg. 
Six Electors had repaired thither in person at 
his summons. All the Germanic states had 
their representatives in this assembly. The 
kings of France, of Hungary, and of Poland, 
had sent ambassadors. All these princes and 
envoys displayed great magnificence. The 
war against the Turks was one of the causes 
for which the diet was held. The Sultan 
Selim, after having poisoned his father, and 
put his brothers and their children to death, 
had carried his victorious arms into Armenia, 
Egypt, and Syria. Serious apprehensions 
were entertained that he might push forward 
his armies into Italy .and Hungary. It was 
not long, however, before death closed his 
career. But Leo X. did not, on that account, 
abandon tne project of a new crusade. His 
legate earnestly exhorted the Germanic states 
to prepare for war. "Let the. clergy," said 
he, "pay a tenth, the laity a fiftieth part of 
their property ; let each family furnish the 
pay of one soldier; let the rich give annual 
contributions, and all will go well." The 
states, bearing in mind the bad use that had 
been made of former contributions, and in- 



fluenced by the prudent advice of the Electoi 
Frederic, contented themselves with answer- 
ing that they would consider the matter, and 
at the same time brought forward new griev- 
ances against Rome. A Latin discourse, pub- 
lished whilst the Diet was sitting, boldly 
nointed out to the German princes the real 
danger. "You wish," said the author, "tc 
expel the Turk. Your intention is good, but 
1 fear you are mistaken as to his person. 
You must look for him in Italy, and not in 
Asia. Each of our princes has power suffi- 
cient to defend his country against the Turk 
of Asia; but as to the Turk of Rome, the 
whole of Christendom is not sufficient to 
conquer him. The former has not yet done 
us any harm; the latter walketh about every- 
where thirsting for the blood of the poor." 
^ Another affair no less important was to en- 
gage the attention of the Diet. Maximilian 
wished to have his grandson Charles, who 
was already King of Spain and Naples, pro- 
claimed King of the Romans, and his succes- 
sor in the Imperial dignity. The Pope un- 
derstood his own interest too well to wish to 
see the throne of the Empire filled by a prince 
whose power in Italy might make him so for- 
midable to himself. The Emperor imagined 
that he had gained over to his side the majori- 
ty of the Electors and of the states; but he 
met with a decided opposition from Frederic. 
It was in vain that he solicited him; in vain 
did the ministers and best friends of the Elec- 
tor join their entreaties to the solicitations of 
the Emperor ; the Prince was inexorable, and 
showed, as has been observed, that he had 
firmness of mind not to depart from a resolu- 
tion of which he had seen the propriety. The 
Emperor's design failed. 

From that time Maximilian sought to in- 
sinuate himself into the good graces of the 
Pope, in order to win his assent to his favour- 
ite plan. Wishing to give him a particular 
proof of his attachment, he wrote to him (on 
the 5th of August) the following letter : " Most 
holy Father, we were informed some days 
since, that a brother of the Augustine order, 
named Martin Luther, had taken himself to 
maintain certain propositions relative to the 
sale of indulgences. What gives us the more 
concern is, that the aforesaid brother meets 
with many protectors, amongst whom are some 
of exalted rank. If your Holiness and the 
most reverend Fathers of the Church (the 
Cardinals) do not promptly exert your author- 
ity to put an end to these scandalous proceed- 
ings, these mischievous teachers will not 
only seduce the common people, but will 
involve great princes in their destruction. 
We will be careful to enforce throughout our 
Empire, whatever your Holiness shall decree 
on this subject, to the glory of Almio-hty 
God." . . 

This letter must have been written in con 
sequence of some rather warm discussion that 
Maximilian had had with Frederic. The same 
day the Elector wrote to Raphael de Rovera. 
He was doubtless apprized that the Emperor 
was addressing the Roman Pontiff, and, in 



104 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



order to parry the blow, he himself opened a 
communication with Rome. 

" It will ever be my desire," said he, " to 
prove my submission to the universal Church. 

" Therefore have I never defended the writ- 
ings and discourses of Doctor Martin Luther. 
I hear, however, that he has uniformly express- 
ed his willingness to appear, under a safe-con- 
duct, before learned, Christian, and impartial 
judges, to defend his doctrine, and to submit 
to their decision, if they should be able by the 
Scriptures to convince him of error." 

Leo X., who, until this hour, had allowed 
the matter to take its course, roused at length 
by the outcry of the theologians and monks, 
now appointed an ecclesiastical court in Rome, 
for the purpose of judging Luther, and in which 
the Reformer's great enemy, Sylvester Prie- 
rias, was at once accuser and judge. The pre- 
liminaries were soori~arranged,~and the court 
summoned Luther to appear before it in person 
within sixty days. 

Luther was at Wittemberg, quietly await- 
ing the good effects which he imagined his 
submissive letter to the Pope was calculated 
to produce, when, on the ?th August, two 
days only after the letters from Frederic and 
Maximilian had been despatched to Rome, he 
received the summons from the papal tribunal. 
"At the moment that I looked for benedic- 
tion," said he, " I saw the thunderbolt descend 
upon me. I was like the lamb that troubled 
the stream at which the wolf was drinking. 
Tetzel escaped, and I was devoured." 

This summons threw all Wittemberg into 
consternation, for, whatever course Luther 
might take, he could not escape danger. If he 
went to Rome, he would become the victim of 
his enemies. If he refused to appear, he would, 
as usual, be condemned for contumacy, and 
would not escape, for it was known that the 
Legate had received from the Pope an order 
to strain every nerve to excite the Emperor 
and the German princes against Luther. His 
friends were alarmed. Shall the preacher of 
the truth go and risk his life " in that great 
city, drunk with the blood of the saints and of 
the martyrs of Jesus'?" Shall every man 
who ventures to lift his head in the midst of 
the enslaved nations of Christendom be, on 
that account, struck down? Shall this man 
be trampled under foot, who seemed formed to 
resist a power which nothing had previously 
oeen able to withstand ] Luther himself could 
see no one but the Elector able to save him ; 
but he preferred death to endangering his 
prince's safety. His friends at last agreed on 
an expedient which would not compromise 
Frederic. Let him refuse Luther a safe-con- 
duct: the latter would then have a fair excuse 
for not appearing at Rome. 

On the 8th of August, Luther wrote to 
Spalatin to ask him to use his influence with 
the Elector, to have his cause heard in Ger- 
many. " See," said he writing to Staupitz, 
u what snares they lay for me, and how I am 
surrounded by thorns. But Christ lives and 
reigns, the -rarne yesterday, to-day, and for- 
ever. My conscience tells me that I have 



taught the truth, though truth appears still more 
odious because I teach it. The Church is the 
womb of Rebecca. The children must strug- 
gle together, even to the endangering of the 
mother's life. As to the rest, pray to the Lord 
that I may not take too much joy in the trial. 
May God not lay this sin to their charge !" 

The friends of Luther did not confine them- 
sel ves to consultations and complaints. Spala- 
tin wrote, on the part of the Elector, to Ren- 
ner, the Emperor's secretary : " Doctor Martin 
will willingly submit himself to the judgment 
of any of the universities of Germany, except 
Erfurth, Leipzic, and Frankfort on the Oder, 
which have forfeited their claim to be regarded 
as impartial. It is out of his power to appear 
at Rome in person." 

The members of the university of Wittem- 
berg addressed an intercessory letter to the 
Pope himself. " His weak health," they said, 
speaking of Luther, "and the dangers of the 
journey, make it difficult, and evenimpossible, 
that he should obe} r the order of your Holiness. 
His distress and his entreaties incline us to 
compassionate him. We beseech you then, 
most Holy Father, as obedient children, to 
look upon him in the light of one who has 
never been tainted by any doctrines opposed 
to the tenets of the Romish Church." 

The university, in its solicitude, addressed 
another letter the same day to Charles von 
Miltitz, a Saxon gentleman, who was cham- 
berlain to the Pope, and was much esteeiYYed 
by him. In this letter they gave a more de- 
cided testimony in favour of Luther than they 
had dared to do in the former. " The reve- 
rend father, Martin Luther, the Augustine," 
said they, "is the noblest and most distin- 
guished member of our university. For seve- 
ral years, we have been witnesses of his talent, 
his learning, his intimate acquaintance with 
arts and literature, his irreproachable morals, 
and his truly Christian deportment." -This 
strong sympathy of those about him is one of 
the greatest proofs of Luther's worth. 

Whilst the result of this application was 
anxiously awaited, it was settled with less 
difficulty than might have been expected. 
The Legate de Vio, mortified at his failure in 
the commission he had received to excite a 
general war against the Turks, wished to give 
importance to his embassy into Germany by x^ 
some other distinguished service. He thoughl ' 
that if he were to extirpate heresy he should 
return to Rome with honour. He therefore 
petitioned the Pope to put this affair into his 
hands. Leo, on his part, was well disposed 
towards Frederic, for having so firmly resisted 
the election of Charles. He felt that he 
might again have need of his assistance. 
Without further reference to the former sum- 
mons, he commissioned his Legate, by a brief, 
dated the 23d of August, to investigate the 
affair in Germany. The Pope conceded no- 
thing by consenting to this mode of proceed 
ing, and in case Luther should be prevailed - 
on to retract, the publicity and scandal that 
must have attended his appearance at Rome 
would be avoided. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



105 



"We charge you," said the Pope, "to 
compel the aforesaid Luther to appear before 
you in person ; to prosecute and reduce him 
to submission without delay, as soon as you 
shall have received this our order ; he having 
already been declared a heretic by our dear 
brother Jerome, bishop of Asculan." 

"For this purpose," said he, " invoke the 
power and assistance of our very dear son in 
Christ, Maximilian, and the other princes of 
Germany, and of all the communities, uni- 
versities, and potentates, whether ecclesiasti- 
cal or secular. And when you have secured 
his person, cause him to be detained in safe 
3ustody, that he may be brought before us." 

We see that this indulgent concession of 
the Pope was little else than an expedient 
for dragging Luther to Rome. Then follows 
the milder alternative. 

" If he should return to a sense of his duty, 
and ask pardon for so great an offence, freely 
and of his own accord, we give you power to 
receive him into the unity of holy mother 
Church." 

The Pope soon returns to his maledictions. 

" If he should persist in his stubbornness, 
and you fail to get possession of his person, 
we give you power to proscribe him in all 
places in Germany; to put away, curse, and 
excommunicate all those who are attached to 
him, and to enjoin all Christians to shun their 
society." 

Even this is not enough. 

" And to the end," he continues, " that this 
pestilence may the more easily be rooted out, 
you will excommunicate all the prelates, reli- 
gious orders, universities, communities, counts, 
dukes, and potentates, the Emperor Maximi- 
lian excepted, who shall neglect to seize the 
said Martin Luther, and his adherents, and 
send them to you under proper and safe cus- 
tody. And if (which God forbid) the afore- 
said princes, communities, universities, and 
potentates, or any who belong to them, shelter 
the said Martin and his adherents, or give 
them publicly or secretly, directly or indirectly, 
assistance and advice, we lay an interdict on 
these princes, communities, universities, and 
potentates, with their towns, boroughs, coun- 
tries, and villages; as well as on the towns, 
boroughs, countries, and villages, where the 
said Martin shall take refuge, as long as he 
shall remain there, and three days after he 
shall have quitted the same." 

This audacious power, which affects to be 
the eanhly representative of him who said : 
" God sent not his Son into the world to con- 
demn the world, but that the world through 
him might be saved," continues its anathemas : 
and, after having pronounced penalties against 
ecclesiastics offending, thus proceeds: 

"As to the laity, if they do not obey your 
orders, without any delay or demur, we de- 
clare them reprobate, (excepting always his 
Imperial Majesty,) unable to perform any 
lawful act, disentitled to Christian burial, and 
deprived of all fiefs which they may hold 
either from the apostolic see or from any lord 
whatever." 



Such was the treatment that awaited Lu- 
ther. The Roman despot had prepared every 
thing to crush him. He had set every engine 
at work ; even the quiet of the grave must be 
invaded. His ruin seemed inevitable. How 
could he escape this powerful combination 1 
But Rome had miscalculated ; the movement 
excited by the Spirit of God could not be 
quelled by the decrees of its chancery; 

Even the semblance of a just and impartial 
inquiry had been disregarded ; and Luther 
had already been declared a heretic, not only 
before he had been heard, but even long before 
the expiration of the time allowed for his pei- 
sonally appearing. The passions (and never 
are they more strongly excited than in reli- 
gious discussions) break through all forms 
of justice. Not only in the Roman church, 
but in those Protestant churches which have 
departed from the Gospel, and in every place 
where truth has been forsaken, do we find it 
treated in this way. All means seem good 
against the Gospel. We frequently see men, 
who, in any other case, would shrink from 
committing the least injustice, not hesitating 
to trample under foot all rule and equity, when 
Christianity, or her witnesses, are concerned. 

When Luther eventually came to the know- 
ledge of this brief, he gave free expression to 
his indignation. " The most remarkable part 
of the transaction is this," said he ; " the brief 
was issued the 23d of August ; I was sum- 
moned the 7th of August; so that between 
the summons and the brief, sixteen days had 
elapsed. Now, make the calculation, and 
you will find that my Lord Jerome, bishop of 
Asculan, proceeded against me, pronounced 
judgment, condemned me, and declared me a 
heretic, before the summons reached me, or, 
at the most, within sixteen days after it had 
been forwarded to me. Now, I ask what be- 
comes of the sixty days that are granted me 
in the summons itself] They began the 7th 
of August — they would expire the 7th of Uc- 

tober Is this the style and manner of 

the Roman Court, that in the same day ahe 
summons, exhorts, accuses, judges, condemns, 
and declares guilty, and this, too, in the case 
of one who is at such a distance from Rome, 
and who can have no knowledge of what is 
going on? What answer can they make to 
all this] They certainly forgot to clear their 
brains with hellebore, before they had recourse 
to such clumsy artifice." 

But at the same time that Rome was arm- 
ing the legate with her thunders, she was en- 
deavouring, by soft and flattering speeches, to 
detach from Luther's interest the prince whose 
power she most dreaded. The same day, 
(the 23d of August, 1518,) the Pope wrote to 
the Elector of Saxony. He had recourse to 
the same practised policy which we have 
before noticed, and sought to flatter the 
Prince's vanity. 

" Dear Son," said the Roman Pontiff, 

" when we think of your noble and worthy 

i family; of you, who are its ornament and 

j head ; when we remember how you and your 

I ancestors have always wished to uphold the 



10G 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Christian faith and the honour and dignity of 
the Holy See, we cannot helieve that a man 
who abandons the faith can rely on your 
Highness's favour, and recklessly give the 
rein to his wickedness. And yet reports have 
reached us from all quarters, that a certain 
brother Martin Luther, a monk of the order of 
St. Augustine, acting the part of a child of 
iniquity and a despiser of God, has forgotten 
his habit and his order, which require humi- 
lity and obedience, and boasts that he fears 
neither the authority nor the chastisement of 
any man, assured, as he declares himself, of 
your favour and protection. 

" But, as we are sure that he is, in this, 
deceiving himself, we have thought it good to 
write to your Highness, and to exhort yon, 
according to the will of God, to be jealous of 
your honour as a Christian prince, the orna- 
ment, the glory, and the sweet savour of your 
noble family, — to defend yourself from these 
calumnies, — and to clear yourself, not only 
from the commission of so great a crime as 
that which is imputed to you, but also from 
the very suspicion which the rash presumption 
of this monk tends to bring upon you." 

Leo, at the same time, intimated to Frederic 
that he had commissioned the Cardinal of St. 
Sixtus to examine into the affair; and he de- 
sired him to deliver up Luther into the hands 
of the legate, "lest," said he, recurring to his 
favourite argument, " pious people of this or 
after times should one day lament and say, 
The most dangerous heresy that ever afflicted 
the Church of God, arose through the assist- 
ance and under the protection of that noble 
and worthy family." 

Thus Rome had taken her measures. To 
one party she offered the intoxicating incense 
of flattery ; for the other she reserved her ven- 
geance and her terrors. 

All earthly powers — emperor, pope, princes, 
and legates — were put in motion against the 
humble friar of Erfurth, whose inward con- 
flicts we have already traced. "The kings 
of the earth stood up, and the rulers took 
counsel against the Lord, and against his 
anointed." 

Before this letter and brief had yet reached 
Germany, and while Luther was still fearing 
that he should be obliged to appear at Rome, 
a fortunate circumstance occurred to comfort 
his heart. He needed a friend into whose 
bosom he could pour out his sorrows, and 
whose faithful love should comfort him in his 
hours of dejection. God sent him such a 
friend in Melancthon. 

George Schwarzerd w r as a skilful master- 
armourer of Bretten, a small town in the Pa- 
latinate. On the 14th of February, 1497, a 
son was born to him, whom he named Philip, 
and who, afterwards, became celebrated under 
the name of Melancthon. George, who en- 
joyed the esteem of the princes of the Palati- 
nate, of Bavaria, and of Saxony, was remark- 
able for the perfect uprightness of his dealings. 
Often did he refuse to take from purchasers 
the price they offered ; and, if he knew that 
*hey were poor, he obliged them to take back 



their money. He regularly rose at midnight, 
and offered a prayer upon his knees. If he 
ever happened to omit this service, he was 
dissatisfied with himself all day. Schwarz- 
erd's wife, whose name was Barbara, was the 
daughter of a respectable magistrate, John 
Reuter. She was of an affectionate disposi 
tion, somewhat inclined to superstition, but 
very discreet and prudent. Some old and 
well-known German rhymes are ascribed to 
her pen. We give their sense as well as we 
are able. 

Gifts to the poor impoverish none ; 
To church to pray will hinder none,' 
To grease ihe wheel delayeih none. 
Ill-gotten wealth enricheih none, 
God's holy book deludeth none. 

Also the following: 

He who is a freer spender 
Than his plough or toil can render, 
Sure of ruin, slow or fast, 
May perhaps be hanged at last. 

Philip was not eleven years old when his 
father died. Two days before his death, 
George summoned his son to his bedside, and 
exhorted him to "set. the Lord always before 
him." "I foresee," said the dying man, 
" that stormy times are at hand. I have wit- 
nessed great things; but there are greater still 
in preparation. God preserve and guide you, 



my son 



After receiving his father's bless- 



ing, Philip was sent to Spire, that he might 
not be present at his father's death. He wept 
bitterly on taking his departure. 

Rauter, the worthy bailiff, Philip's grand- 
father, who had a young son of his own, per- 
formed a father's part towards the orphan. 
He took both Philip and his brother George 
into his own house, and, shortly after, engaged 
John Hungarus as tutor to the three boys. 
Hungarus was an excellent man, and after- 
wards preached the gospel with great effect, 
continuing his labours to an advanced age. 
He never overlooked any fault in the young 
man, but punished it with discretion : " I 
was thus," said Melancthon, in 1554, "that 
he made me a grammarian. He loved me as 
if I had been his son ; I loved him as a father ; 
and I trust that we shall meet in heaven." 

Philip was remarkable for the excellence of 
his understanding, his quickness in acquiring, 
and his talent for communicating knowledge. 
He could never be idle, but was always seek- 
ing for some one with whom he might discuss 
the things he had heard. It often happened 
that learned foreigners passed through Bretten, 
and visited Reuter. On such occasions, the 
bailiff's grandson immediately accosted them, 
engaged them in conversation, and pressed 
them so closely on the subjects discussed, 
that bystanders were astonished. 

To a powerful genius he united great sweet- 
ness of disposition, and thus gained the favour 
of all who knew him. He had an impediment 
in his speech ; but, following the example of 
the illustrious Grecian orator, he laboured with 
so much perseverance to overcome this defect, 
that in after life no traces of it were perceptible. 

On the death of his grandfather, young Phi- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



107 



lip was sent with his brother and his uncle 
John to the school of Pforzheim. The young 1 
boys lodged with one of their female relations, 
who was sister to the celebrated Reuchlin. 
Thirsting for knowledge, Philip, under the 
tuition of George Simler, made rapid progress 
in learning, and especially in the Greek lan- 
guage, to which he was passionately devoted. 
Reuchlin often visited Pforzheim. At his 
sister's house he became acquainted with her 
young inmates, and was very much struck 
with Philip's answers.' He presented him 
with a Greek grammar and a Bible. These 
two books were destined to be the study of his 
whole life, f 

When Reuchlin returned from his second 
journey into Italy, his young relation, who 
was then twelve years old, celebrated the day 
of his arrival by acting in his presence, with 
some friends, a Latin comedy of his own com- 
posing. Reuchlin, delighted with the young 
man's talent, tenderly embraced him, called 
him his beloved son, and, smiling, placed 
upon his head the red hat he had received 
when he was made doctor. It was at this 
time that Reuchlin changed his name of 
Schwarzerd for that of Melancthon. Both 
words signify black earth, Jihe one in the Ger- 
man, the other in Greek. Most of the learned 
men of those times translated their names into 
Greek or Latin. 

I At twelve years of age Melancthon went to 
|the university of Heidelberg. It was there 
he began to slake his thirst for knowledge. 
At fourteen he was made bachelor. In 1512, 
Reuchlin invited him to Tubingen, where 
many eminent scholars w r ere assembled. He 
attended the lectures of the theologians, the 
physicians, and the jurisconsults. There was 
no kind of knowledge that he deemed unwor- 
thy of pursuit. He sought not for fame, but. 
for the possession and advantage of learning 

Holy Scripture especially engaged his at- 
tention. Those who frequented the church of 
Tubingen had remarked that he had frequently 
a book in his hand, which he read between 
the services. The mysterious volume seemed 
larger than the ordinary mass-books; and a 
report was circulated that Philip on such oc- 
casions read some profane author. But it 
turned out that the suspected book was a copy 
of the Holy Scriptures, recently printed at 
Bale by John Frobenius. He continued to 
use this book all his life, with the most dili- 
gent attention. He always carried about him 
this precious volume, taking it with him to 
the various public assemblies which he was 
called on to attend. Rejecting the vain systems 
of the schoolmen, he ad hered to the plain word 
of God. Erasmus, writing at that time, to 
(Ecolampadius, thus expresses himself. "I 
have the highest opinion and the most bril- 
liant expectations of Melancthon. May our 
Lord so order events, that he may long sur- 
vive us ! He will altogether eclipse Eras- 
mus." 

Nevertheless, Melancthon then partook of 
the errors of his time, " I shudder," said he, 
at an advanced period of his life, " when I 



think of the superstitious respect I paid to 
images, while I was yet a Papist." 

In 1514, he was made Doctor of Philoso- 
phy, and began to lecture publicly. He was 
then seventeen. The grace and charm which 
he communicated to his instructions formed a 
striking contrast to the tasteless method then 
followed by the doctors, and especially by the 
monks. He took an active part in the con- 
test in which Reuchlin was engaged with the 
ignoramuses of his time. Agreeable in con- 
versation, gentle and graceful in manners, and 
beloved by all who knew him, he soon ac- 
quired great authority and established repu- 
tation among the learned. 

It was at this time that the Elector Frederic 
formed the design of inviting some man of 
distinguished learning to become professor of "A 
the ancient languages in his university in M 
Wittemberg. He applied to Reuchlin, who \ 
recommended Melancthon. Frederic foresaw 
the celebrity that the young Grecian would 
confer on an institution so dear to him — and 
Reuchlin, overjoyed at so favourable an open- 
ing for his young friend, wrote to him in the 
words of the Lord to Abraham ; " Get thee out 
from thy country, and from thy kindred, and 
from thy father's house, and I will make thy 
name great, and thou shalt be a blessing." 
" Yes," continued the old man, " I trust it will 
be thus with thee, my dear Philip, my disci- 
ple and my joy." Melancthon acknowledged 
the voice of God in this summons. All the 
university grieved at his departure: yet were 
there some who envied and hated him. He 
bade farewell to his native place, exclaiming, 
"The will of the Lord be done !" He was 
then one-and-twenty. \\ 

Melancthon performed the journpy on horse- 
back in company with some Saxon merchants, 
as in the desert the traveller joins a caravan: 
for, as Reuchlin says, "he knew neither the 
roads nor the towns they had to pass through." 
At Augsburg he waited on the Elector, who 
was stopping there. At Nuremberg he made 
acquaintance with the excellent Pirckheimer, 
and at Leipzig with the learned Grecian, 
Mosellanus. The university of this latter 
city gave a feast in his honour. The repast 
was truly academical. A variety of dishes 
were introduced in succession, and as each 
was put upon the table, one of the professors 
rose and addressed a studied Latin speech to 
Melancthon. The latter answered impromptu. 
At last, tired of so much eloquence, he said : 
" My learned friends, suffer me to answer once 
for all to your orations ; for, being entirely un- 
prepared, I am unable to infuse into my re- 
plies so much variety as you have introduced 
in your addresses." After this the dishea 
were brought in without the accompanying 
orations. 

Melancthon arrived at Wittemberg on the 
25th of August, 1518, two days after Leo X. 
had signed the brief addressed to Cajetan, and 
the letter to the Elector. 

The professors of Wittemberg did not re- 
ceive Melancthon so graciously as those of 
Leipzig had done. Their first impression }f 



108 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



him did not answer the expectation they had 
formed. They beheld a young man, who look- 
ed even younger than he really was, of small 
stature, and of a shy and timid demeanour. Is 
this the famous Doctor, thought they, that the 
great men of our day, such as Erasmus and 
Reuchlin, so highly extol? .... Neither 
Luther, to whom he first introduced himself, 
nor Luther's colleagues, conceived any great 
hopes of him, when they remarked his youth, 
his diffidence, and his retiring manners. 

On the 29th of August, being four days 
after his arrival, he delivered his inaugural 
discourse. The whole university was con- 
vened on the occasion. The lad, as Luther 
calls him, spoke such elegant Latin, and 
manifested so much learning, so cultivated an 
understanding, and such sound judgment, that 
all his auditors were astonished. 

When he had concluded his speech, all 
crowded around him to offer their congratula- 
tions; but no one felt more delighted than 
Luther. He hastened to communicate to his 
friends the sentiments of his heart. " Me- 
lancthon," said he, writing to Spalatin on the 
31st of August, "delivered, only four days 
after his arrival, so beautiful and learned an 
oration that it was heard by all with approba- 
tion and astonishment. We soon got over the 
prejudices we had conceived from his personal 
appearance; we now extol and admire his 
eloquence. We thank the prince and yourself 
for the service you have done us. I can wish 
for no better Greek master. But I fear that 
our poor fare will not suit his delicate frame, 
and that we shall not keep him long with us, 
on account of the smallness of his allowance. 
I hear that the people of Leipzig are already 
bragging that they will be able to carry him 
off from us. Beware, my dear Spalatin, of 
despising this youth. The young man is 
worthy of the highest honour. 

Melancthon began at once to expound 
Homer and St. Paul's Epistle to Titus. He 
was full of ardour. " I will use every en- 
deavour," he wrote to Spalatin, " to win the 
favour of those at Wittemberg, who love learn- 
ing and virtue." Four days after his inaugu- 
ration, Luther-again wrote to Spalatin: 

" I commend to your special regard that 
most learned and very amiable Grecian, Philip. 
His lecture-room is always crowded. All the 
theologians, especially, attend his lectures. 
He puts them all, whether they be in the up- 
per, the lower, or the middle classes, upon 
learning Greek." 

Melancthon, on his part, felt he could return 
Luther's affection. He soon discerned in him 
a kindness of disposition, a strength of mind, 
a courage, and a wisdom, which till then he 
had never found in any man. He revered and 
loved him. " If there be any one," said he, 
" that I love and embrace with my whole heart, 
it is Maftin Luther." 

With such feelings did Luther and Melanc- 
thon meet; and their friendship continued till 
death. We cannot sufficiently admire the 
goodness and wisdom of God, in bringing to- 
gether two men so different, and yet so neces- 



sary to each other. I Melancthon was as re- 
markable for calmness, prudence, and gentle- 
ness, as Luther was for wisdom, impetuosity 
and energy, | Luther communicated vigour to 
Melancthon : — Melancthon moderated Luther 
They were like positive and negative agents 
in electricity, by whose reciprocal action an 
equilibrium is maintained. If Melancthon had 
not been at Luther's side, the torrent might 
have overflowed its banks : — when Luther was 
not by, Melancthon faltered, and gave way 
even where he ought not. Luther did much 
by power.- — Melancthon did no less, perhaps, 
by following a slower and gentler method. 
Both we^e upright, open-hearted, and gen- 
erous ; both, full of love for the word of eter- 
nal life, proclaimed it with a fidelity and de- 
votion which governed their whole lives. 

Melancthon's appearance wrought a revolu- 
tion, not merely in Wittemberg, but through- 
out Germany and the learned world. The 
study he had applied to the Greek and Latin 
classics and to philosophy had given an order, 
clearness, and precision to his ideas which 
diffused on the subjects he handled a new light 
and an indescribable beauty. The sweet spirit 
of the Gospel fertilized and animated all his 
reflections ; and in his lectures the driest 
sciences appeared clothed with a grace that 
charmed all hearers. The sterility that the 
scholastic philosophy had spread over in- 
struction wag gone, a new method of teaching 
and of study was introduced by Melancthon. 
" Thanks to him," says a distinguished his- 
torian of Germany, Plank, "Wittemberg be- 
came the school of the nation." 
i The impulse that Melancthon gave to Lu- 
Ither in his work of translating the Pible, is 
lone of the most memorable circumstances of 
the friendship between these great men. As 
early as 1517, Luther had made some attempts 
towards that translation. He got together as 
many Greek and Latin books as he could col- 
lect. With the aid of his dear Philip, his la- 
bour now proceeded with fresh energy. Lu- 
ther obliged Melancthon to take part in his 
researches, consulted him in difficult passages ; 
and the work, which was destined to be one 
of the grandest works of the Reformer, ad- 
vanced more securely and rapidly to its com- 
pletion. 

Doubtless, the arrival of Melancthon at so 
critical a moment brought with it a sweet re- 
laxation to the mind of Luther. Doubtless, 
in the delightful expansion of a new friend- 
ship, and in the midst of the Biblical studies 
to which he applied himself with fresh zeal, 
he sometimes altogether forgot Rome, Prierias, 
Leo, and that ecclesiastical court before which 
he was to appear. Yet these were brief mo- 
ments that soon passed away. His thoughts 
were ever reverting to the awful tribunal be- 
fore which he was cited by the influence of 
his implacable enemies. With what terror 
would not the thought have filled a soul de- 
siring aught but the triumph of truth ! Bat 
Luther did not tremble in the prospect of it : 
full of trust in the faithfulness and power nf 
God, he remained firm; and was ready to ex- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



109 



pose himself alone to the wrath of enemies 
more terrihle than those who had brought Huss 
to the stake. 

A few days after the arrival of Melancthon, 
and before the decision of the Pope, which re- 
moved the citation of Luther from Rome to 
Augsburg, could be known, Luther wrote thus 
toSpalatin : — "I do not ask our sovereign to do 
the least thing in defence of my theses, — I am 
willing to be delivered up, and cast alone into 
the hands of all my adversaries. Let him 
suffer the storm to exhaust all its rage on me. 
What I have undertaken to defend, I hope I 
shall, by Christ's help, be enabled to maintain. 
As to force, we must needs yield to that, but 
without forsaking the truth." 

Luther's courage communicated itself to 
others. The gentlest and most timid, behold- 
ing the danger that threatened the witness of 
the truth, found language full of energy and 
indignation. The prudent and pacific Stau- 
pitz wrote to Spalatin on the 7th September: 
" Do hot cease to exhort the Prince, our mas- 
ter not to be dismayed by the roaring of the 
lions. Let the Prince make a stand for the 
truth, without regarding Luther or Staupitz, 
or the order. Let there be at least one place 
where we may speak freely and fearlessly. I 
know that the plague of Babylon (I had almost 
said, of Rome) is let loose against all who 
attack the corruptions of those who betray 
Christ for gain. I, myself, have seen a preach- 
er of the truth pulled out of his pulpit, and, 
though on a saint's day, bound and dragged 
to prison. Others have witnessed still great- 
er atrocities. Therefore, my dearly beloved, 
persuade his Highness to continue in his pre- 
sent sentiments." 

The order for his appearance at Augsburg, 
before the cardinal legate, at length arrived. 
It was now with one of the prints of the Ro- 
man Church that Luther had to do. All his 
friends besought him not. to set out. The}' 
feared that a snare might be laid for him on 
his journey, or a design formed against his life. 
Some set about finding a place of concealment 
for him. Staupitz himself, the timid Stau- 
pitz, was moved at the thought of the danger 
which threatened that brother Martin whom 
he had drawn forth from the obscurity of the 
cloister, and launched upon the agitated sea 
where his life was now in peril. Ah ! would 
it not have been better for that poor brother to 
have remained all his life unknown 1 ? It is 
too late now. Yet he will do all in his power 
to save him. Accordingly he wrote to him 
from his convent at Salsburg, on the 15th 
September, imploring him to flee and take 
refuge with him. " It seems to me," said he, 
'* that the whole world is up in arms, and 
combined against the truth. Even so was 
the crucified Jesus hated! I see not that you 
have any thing else to expect than persecution. 
Ere long no one without the Pope's permis- 
sion will be allowed to search the Scriptures, 
and to learn Christ from them, which yet is 
Christ's injunction. Your friends are few in 
number. God grant to those few friends cou- 
rage to declare themselves in opposition to 



your formidable enemies ! Yourmostpiudent 
course is to leave Wittemberg for a time, and 
come and reside with me. Then — let us live 
and die together. This is also the Prince's 
opinion," adds Staupitz. 

From different quarters Luther received 
alarming information. Count Albert of Mans- 
feldt sent him a message to abstain from sett- 
ing out. because some great nobles had bound 
themselves by an oath, to seize and strangle, 
or drown him. But nothing could shake his 
resolution. He would not listen to tue Vicar- 
general's offer. — He will not go and hide in 
the convent of Salzburg: — he will continue 
faithfully on that stormy stage where the 
hand of God has placed him. It is by perse- 
verance in the midst of opposers, by loudly 
proclaiming the truth in the midst of the world, 
that the kingdom of the truth is advanced. 
Why then should he flee 1 He is not of those 
who draw back unto perdition, but of those 
who believe to the saving of their souls. That 
word of the Master, whom he is resolved to 
serve and love continually, resounds in his 
heart: " Whosoever shall confess me before 
men, him will I confess before my father which 
is in heaven." Everywhere, in the history 
of Luther, and of the Reformation, do we find 
ourselves in presence of that intrepid spirit, 
that elevated morality, that boundless charity, 
which the first establishment of Christianity 
had exhibited to the world. " I am like Jere- 
miah," said Luther, at the moment we are 
speaking of, — " ' a man of strife and conten- 
tion;' but the more they increase their threat- 
enings, the more they multiply my joy. My 
wife and children are well provided for. My 
lands and houses and all my goods are safe. 
They have already torn to pieces my honour 
and my good name. All I have left is my 
wretched body ; — let them have it; — they will 
then shorten my life by a few hours. But as 
to my soul, — they shall not have that. He, 
who resolves to bear the word of Christ to 
the world, must expect death at every hour; 
— for our spouse is a bloody husband unto us" 

The Elector was then at Augsburg. Short- 
ly before he left that city and the Diet, he 
pledged himself to the Legate, that Luther 
should appear before him. Spalatin wrote to 
his friend, by direction of the Prince, that the 
Pope had named a commission to hear him in 
Germany ; — that the Elector would not suffer 
him to be carried to Rome; — and desired him 
to prepare to set out for Augsburg. Luther 
resolved to obey. The information he had 
received from Count Mansfeldt induced him 
to ask Frederic for a safe-conduct. The latter 
replied, that it was not needed, and sent him 
only letters of recommendation to several of 
the most distinguished counsellors of Augs- 
burg. He, at the same time, forwarded some 
money for his journey, and the Reformer, 
poor and unprotected, set forth on foot, to place 
himself in the power of his adversaries. 

With what feelings must he have quitted 

I Wittemberg, and directed his steps towards 
Augsburg, where the Pope's legate awaited 

: him ! The object of his journey was not like 



110 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that to Heidelberg, — a friendly meeting ; — he 
was about to appear without any safe-conduct, 
before the delegate of Rome; perhaps he was 
going to meet death. But his faith was not 
in word, it was in truth. Therefore it was 
that it gave him peace; and he advanced 
without fear, in the name of the Lord of Hosts, 
to bear his testimony to the Gospel. 

He reached Weimar on the 28th of Sep- 
tember, and took up his lodging in the con- 
vent of the Cordeliers. One of the monks 
/ could not take his eyes off him. This was 
/ Myconius. It was the first time he had seen 
Luther. He wished to approach him, and 
whisper that he owed to him the peace of his 
soul, and that all his desire was to labour with 
him. But Myconius was closely watched by 
his superiors, and was not permitted to speak 
to Luther. 

The Elector of Saxony then held his court 
at Weimar, and it is probable that, on that 
account, the Cordeliers received the Doctor. 
The day after his arrival was the festival of 
St. Michael : — Luther said mass, and was 
even invited to preacth in the Castle Chapel. 
It was a mark of favour that his Prince took 
pleasure in conferring upon him. He preach- 
ed from an overflowing heart, in the presence 
of the court, on the text of the day, which is 
in Matthew's Gospel, ch. xviii. verses 1 to 
11. He spoke strongly against hypocrites, 
and such as boast of their own righteousness. 
But he said not a word of the angels, though 
it was the invariable custom to do so on St. 
Michael's day. 

The courage of the Doctor, who was re- 
pairing quietly on foot to attend a summons, 
which, for so many before him, had been a 
summons to die, astonished those who beheld 
nim. Interest, wonder, and compassion suc- 
cessively took possession of their hearts. 
John Kestner, provisor of the Cordeliers, 
struck with apprehension at the thought of 
the dangers that awaited his guest, said : " My 
brother, you have to meet Italians at Augs- 
burg. They are shrewd people, subtle an- 
tagonists, and will give you enough to do. I 
fear you will not be able to defend your cause 
against them. They will cast you into the 
fire, and the flames will consume you." Lu- 
ther answered gravely : " My dear friend, 
pray to our Lord God, who is in heaven, and 
put up a paster noster for me and for his dear 
child Jesus, whose cause is mine, — that he 
may be favourable to him. If He maintains 
his cause, mine is safe; but if He will not 
maintain it, certainly it is not in me to main- 
tain it; and it is He who will bear the dis- 
honour." 

Luther continued his journey on foot, and 
arrived at Nuremberg. Being about to pre- 
sent himself before a prince of the church, he 
wished to make a suitable appearance. The 
dress he wore was old, and much the worse 
for his journey. He therefore borrowed a 
monk's frock of his faithful friend W T enceslas 
Link, the preacher at Nuremberg. 

Doubtless Luther did not call 'on Link 
alone, but visited his other friends at Nurem- 



berg, and among them Scheurl, the town- 
clerk, Albert Durer, the celebrated painter, 
(to whose memory that town is at this time 
erecting a statue,) and others. He was con- 
firmed in his resolution by his intercourse 
with these excellent ones of the earth, whilst 
many monks as well as laity caught the alarm 
at his journey, and besought him to turn back. 
The letters he wrote from this town breathe 
the spirit which then animated him : " I find," 
said he, "men of cowardly spirit, who wish 
to persuade me not to go to Augsburg; but I 
am determined to go on. May the Lord's 
will be done! Even at Augsburg, and in the 
midst of his enemies, Christ reigns. Let 
Christ be exalted, and the death of Luther or 
any other sinner is of little moment. As it 
is written: ' May the God of my salvation be 
exalted !' Farewell ! persevere, stand fast, 
for we must be rejected either by men or by 
God : but God is true, and man is a liar." 

Link and Leonard, an Augustine monk, 
could not bear to let Luther encounter alone 
the dangers that threatened him. They knew 
his disposition, and that, overflowing as he 
was with self-devotion and courage, he would 
probably be wanting in prudence. They 
therefore accompanied him. When they 
were within five leagues of Augsburg, Lu- 
ther, who was no doubt suffering from the 
fatigue of his journey, and the agitation of his 
mind, was seized with violent pains in the 
stomach. He thought he should die. His 
two friends, much alarmed, engaged a wagon. 
They arrived at Augsburg in the evening of 
Friday, the 7th of October, and alighted at the 
convent of the Augustines. Luther was much 
exhausted; but he rapidly recovered ; and 
doubtless his faith and the vivacity of his 
mind greatly conduced to his restoration to 
health. 

Immediately on his arrival, and before he 
had seen any one, Luther, desiring to show 
every mark of respect to the Legate, begged 
Wenceslas Link to go to his house, to an 
nounce that he was in Augsburg. Link did 
so, and respectfully intimated to the Cardinal, 
on behalf of the Doctor of Wittemberg, that 
the latter was ready to appear before him 
whenever he should require his attendance. 
De Vio was rejoiced at this intelligence. At 
length, then, he had the hot-headed heretic in 
his power; he inwardly resolved that he 
should not leave Augsburg as he had entered 
it. At the same time that Link waited upon 
the Legate, the monk Leonard went to an- 
nounce to Staupitz Luther's arrival at Augs- 
burg. The Vicar-general had previously 
written to the Doctor, to say he would cer 
tainly visit him as soon as he arrived. Lu 
ther lost no time in informing him of his pre 
sence. 

The Diet was over. The Emperor and the 
Electors had already left the place. The 
Emperor, it is true, had not finally taken his 
departure, but was hunting in the environs 
The representative of Rome alone remained 
at Augsburg. Had Luther arrived whilst 
the Diet was sitting;, he would have met 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Ill 



powerful friends ; but every thing now seem- 
ed likely to yield before the papal authority. 

The judge before whom Luther was to ap- 
pear was not of a character to calm his appre- 
hensions. Thomas de Vio, who was sur- 
named Cajetan from the town of Gaeta, in the 
kingdom of Naples, where he was born, 
(1469,) was one of whom great expectations 
had been entertained from his youth. At 
sixteen he had entered into the order of the 
Dominicans, contrary to the express wish of 
his parents. He had afterwards become 
general of his order, and cardinal of the 
church of Rome. But what boded ill to Lu- 
ther, the learned Doctor was one of the most 
zealous advocates of that scholastic theology 
which the Reformer had so severely handled. 
His learning, the austerity of his disposition, 
and the purity of his morals, insured to him 
an influence and authority in Germany, which 
other Roman courtiers would not easily have 
acquired. It was to his reputation for sanc- 
tity, no doubt, that he owed his appointment. 
Rome had calculated that this would admi- 
rably serve her purposes. Thus even the 
good qualities of Cajetan made him still more 
formidable. Besides, the affair intrusted to 
him was by no means a complicated one. 
Luther was already declared a heretic. If he 
would not retract, the Legate's duty must be 
to send him to prison; and, if he escaped, to 
visit with excommunication such as should 
dare to receive him. This was the course 
which the dignitary before whom Luther 
was cited was authorized to take on behalf of 
Rome. 

The Reformer had recruited his strength by 
a night's rest. On the morning of Saturday, 
the 8th of October, he began to reflect on his 
strange situation. He was resigned, and was 
patiently waiting till God's will should be 
manifested by the progress of events ; he did 
not wait long. A person, unknown to him, 
sent him word, as if entirely devoted to his 
service, that he was coming to visit him, ad- 
vising him to avoid appearing before the 
Legate till he had seen him. The message 
came from an Italian courtier, named Urban 
de Serra Long}, who had often vTsTteaT Ger- 
many as envoy from the Margrave of Mont- 
ferrat. He had known the Elector of Saxony, 
at whose court he had been accredited, and 
after the Margrave's death, had attached him- 
self to the Cardinal de Vio. 

The art and address of this courtier pre- 
sented the most striking contrast to the noble 
frankness and generous integrity of Luther. 
The Italian soon arrived at the monastery of 
the Augustines. The Cardinal had sent him 
to sound the Reformer, and to prepare him for 
the recantation expected from him. Serra 
Longa imagined that his long residence in 
Germany gave him an advantage over the 
other courtiers of the Legate's train ; he ex- 
pected to make short work with this German 
monk. He arrived, attended by two servants, 
and professed to have come of his own accord, 
from friendship for a favourite of the Elector 
of Saxony, and out of love to the Church. 
9 



After having saluted Luther with many pro- 
fessions, the diplomatist added, in a tone of 
affection : 

"I am come to offer you prudent and good 
advice. Make your peace with the church. 
Submit unreservedly to the Cardinal. Retract 
your calumnies. Recollect the abbot Joachim 
of Florence : he, as you know, had put fvirth 
heresies, and yet he was afterwards declared 
no heretic, because he retracted his errors." 

Luther intimated his intention of standing 
upon his defence. 

Serra Longa. — " Beware of that. Would 
you presume to enter the lists with the Legate 
of his Holiness V 

Luther. — " If they can prove to me that I 
have taught any thing contrary to the Romish 
Church, I will be my own judge, and imme- 
diately retract. But the main point is, to 
ascertain whether the Legate relies more on 
the authority of St. Thomas than the faith will 
sanction. If he does, I shall certainly not 
submit to him." 

Serra Longa. — " Oh, oh ! you intend, then, 
to offer him battle !" 

Upon this the Italian began to use language 
which Luther designates as horrible. He as- 
serted that one might maintain false proposi- 
tions, if they only brought in money and filled 
the strong box ; that all discussion in the univer- 
sities concerning the Pope's authority was tc 
be avoided ; but that, on the contrary, it was 
sound doctrine that the Pontiff might, by a 
nod, alter or suppress articles of faith ; -with 
much more in the same strain. But the crafty 
Italian soon perceived that he was forgetting 
himself; he resumed his former gentleness, 
and endeavoured to persuade Luther to sub- 
mit to the Legate in every thing, and to retract 
his doctrine, his theses, and the oaths he had 
taken. 

The Doctor, who at first had given some 
credit to the fair professions of the orator Ur- 
ban, (as he calls him in his narrative,) began 
to suspect that they were very hollow, and 
that he was much more in the interest, of the 
Legate than in his. He therefore spoke with 
rather more reserve, and contented himself 
with saying that he was quite ready to be 
humble and obedient, and to give satisfaction 
in any point in which he might be shown to 
be in error. At these words Serra Longa ex- 
claimed, exultingly: "I will go directly to 
the Legate, and you will follow me presently. 
Every thing will go well, and it will be soon 
settled." 

He took his leave, and the Saxon monk, 
who had more discernment than the Roman 
courtier, thought within himself: " This crafty 
Sinon has been poorly trained by his C reeks." 
Luther was divided between hope and fear. 
Yet hope prevailed. The visit of Serra Lonira, 
whom he afterwards calls a foolish meddler, 
and his strange assertions, aroused his courage. 

The different counsellors, and other respect- 
able inhabitants of Augsburg, to whom the. 
Elector recommended Luther, were all 2ager 
to visit a man whose name already resounded 
through all Germany. Peutinger, the Imp© 



112 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



rial counsellor, one of the most distinguished 
patricians in the city, and who often invited 
Luther to his tahle, the counsellor Langeman- 
tel, Doctor Auerbach of Leipzig, and the two 
brothers Adelmann, both canons, with several 
others repaired to the convent of the Augustines. 
With cordial friendship they accosted this ex- 
traordinary man who had taken a long journey 
to deliver himself up to the agents of Rome. 
"Have you a safe-conduct'?" asked they. 
" No," replied the intrepid monk. " What 
boldness!" they exclaimed. "This," said 
Luther, " was a civil phrase to express my 
fool-hardiness." All joined in entreating him 
not to go to the Legate without first obtaining 
a safe-conduct from the Emperor himself. It 
is probable that something had already trans- 
pired concerning the papal brief of which the 
Legate was the bearer. 

" But I came to Augsburg without a safe- 
conduct," replied Luther, " and I met with 
no harm." 

" The Elector," resumed Langemantel, 
with affectionate earnestness, " commended 
you to our care; you ought therefore to follow 
our directions." 

Doctor Auerbach added his entreaties to 
those of Langemantel. " We know," said 
he, " that the Cardinal is, in his heart, enraged 
against you to the greatest degree. We must 
not trust these Italians." 

The canon Adelmann spoke to the same 
effect : " They have sent you without pro- 
tection," said he, " and they have neglected 
to provide you with the very thing which you 
most need." 

His friends took upon themselves to obtain 
the necessary safe-conduct from the Emperor. 
They then proceeded to tell Luther how many 
persons of consequence were favourably dis- 
posed toward him. " The French minister 
himself, who left Augsburg a few days ago, 
spoke of you most honourably." This remark 
struck Luther, and he remembered it after- 
wards. Thus some of the most remarkable ci- 
tizens of one of the first cities in the empire 
were already gained over to the Reformation. 

Their conversation had reached this point, 
when Serra Longa returned : — " Come," said 
he to Luther, " the Cardinal is waiting for 
you. I will myself conduct you to him. But 
first let me tell you how you must appear in 
his presence. W T hen you enter the room 
where he is sitting, you must prostrate your- 
self with your face to the ground ; when he 
tells you to rise, you must kneel before him, 
and you must not stand erect till he orders you 
to do so. Remember that it is before a prince 
of the church you are about to appear. As to 
the rest, fear nothing ; all will soon be settled 
without any difficulty." 

Luther, who had before promised to accom- 
pany Serra Longa whenever he should sum- 
mon him, was embarrassed. 

However, he did not fail to repeat the ad- 
vice of his Augsburg friends, and said some- 
thing of a safe-conduct. 

" Beware of asking anything of the sort," 
replied Serra Longa quickly, "you have no 



need of it whatever. The Legate is well dis- 
posed towards you, and quite ready to end the 
affair amicably. If you ask for a safe-conduct, 
you will spoil all." 

" My gracious lord, the Elector of Saxony," 
replied Luther, "recommended me to several 
honourable men in this town. They advise 
me not to venture without a safe-conduct: ] 
ought to follow their advice. W 7 ere I to neglect 
it, and any thing should befall me, they would 
write to the Elector, my master, that I would 
not hearken to them." 

Luther persisted in his resolution ; and Serra 
Longa was obliged to return to his employer, 
and report to him the failure of his mission, 
at the very moment when he fancied it would 
be crowned with success. 

Thus ended that day's conference with the 
orator of xMontferrat. 

Luther received another invitation, proceed- 
ing from very different motives. John Frosch, 
prior of the Carmelites, was an old friend. 
Two years before, he had maintained some 
theses, as a licentiate in theology, under the 
superintendence of Luther. He called on him, 
and pressed him to come and stay with him. 
He laid claim to the honour of having the 
Doctor of all Germany as his guest. Already 
men did not fear to render him homage in the 
face of Rome; already the weak was become 
the stronger. Luther accepted the invitation, 
and accordingly removed from the convent of 
the Augustines to that of the Carmelites. 

The day did not close without his seriously 
reflecting on his position. The visit of Serra 
Longa, and the apprehensions of the counsel- 
lors, concurred to convince him of the difficult 
circumstances in which he stood. Neverthe- 
less, he had God in heaven for his protector, 
and in His keeping he could sleep in peace. 

The next day was Sunday; he obtained a 
little more rest. However, he was obliged to 
bear another kind of fatigue. Nothing was 
talked of in the city but Dr. Luther, and all 
desired to see (as he wrote to Melancthon) 
"the new Erostratus who had kindled so vast 
a conflagration." They crowded about him ; 
and the good Doctor, doubtless, smiled at this 
strange excitement. 

But he had also to support another sort of 
importunity. If there was a general wish to 
see him, there was a still greater desire to hear 
him. He was asked on all sides to preach. 
Luther had no greater joy than to proclaim the 
Gospel. He would have rejoiced to preach 
Christ in this great city, and in the solemn 
circumstances in which he was placed. But 
on this, as on many occasions, he manifested 
a most proper feeling of decorum, and much 
respect for his superiors. He declined to 
preach, in the fear that the Legate might think 
he did so to vex and to brave him. This mo- 
deration and prudence were assuredly as valu- 
able instructions as a sermon. 

However, the Cardinal's agents did not let, 
him rest, but returned to the charge. " The 
Cardinal," said they, "sends you assurances 
of his grace and favour : why are you afraid ?" 
And they endeavoured by every possible argu- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



113 



tnent to persuade him to wait upon the Legate. 
" He is so gracious, that he is like a father," 
Bafld one of these emissaries. But another, 
going close up to him, whispered, "Do not 
believe what they say. There is no depend- 
ence to be placed upon his words." Luther 
persisted in his resolution. 

On the morning of Monday, the 10th of 
October, Serra Longa again renewed his per- 
suasions. The courtier had made it a point 
of honour to succeed in his negotiations. The 
moment he entered, 

"Why," he asked in Latin, "why do you 
not go to the Cardinal 1 He is expecting you 
in the most indulgent frame of mind. With 
him the whole question is summed up in six 
letters, — Revoca, — retract. Come, then, with 
me ; you have nothing to fear." 

Luther thought within himself that those 
were six very important letters; but, without 
further discussion, he replied, 

"As "soon as I have received the safe-con- 
duct, I will appear." 

Serra Longa lost his temper at these words. 
He persisted — he brought forward additional 
reasons for compliance. But Luther was im- 
movable. The Italian courtier, still irritated, 
exclaimed, 

"You imagine, no doubt, that the Elector 
will take up arms in your favour, and risk, for 
your sake, the loss of the dominions he inherits 
from his ancestors." 

Luther.—" God forbid !" 
Serra Longa. — " When all forsake you, 
where will you take refuge'?" 

Luther, smiling and looking upwards with 
the eye of faith — " Under heaven !" 

For an instant Serra Longa was struck dumb 
by this sublime and unexpected reply ; — he 
then continued : 

"How would you act, if you had the Le- 
gate, the Pope, and all the Cardinals in your 
power, as they have you, at this moment, in 
theirs ?" 

Luther. — "I would pay them all respect 
and honour. But the word of God is, with 
me, above all." 

Serra Longa, laughing, and moving one of 
his fingers backward and forward, in a manner 
peculiar to the Italians. — " Ha, ha ! all proper 
honour ! I do not believe a word of it." 

He then left the house, leaped into his sad- 
dle, and disappeared. 

Serra Longa went no more to Luther; but 
he long remembered the resistance he had met 
w-ith from the Reformer, and that which his' 
master was doomed soon after to experience 
in person. We shall find him again, at a later 
period, loudly demanding the blood of Luther. 
Shortly after Serra Longa had left Luther, 
the latter received the safe-conduct. His 
friends had procured it from the Imperial 
counsellors. It is probable that they had con- 
sulted the Emperor on the subject, as he was 
not far from Augsburg. It would even seem, 
from what the Cardinal afterwards said, that, 
from a wish to avoid offending him, they had 
asked his consent to their application ; perhaps 
that may have been the reason why De Vio 



sounded Luther through Serra Longa ; for to 
oppose openly the giving him a safe-conduct 
would have discovered intentions that it was 
wished to conceal. It seemed a safer policy 
to persuade Luther himself to desist from the 
demand. But it soon became evident that the 
Saxon monk was not likely to yield. 

Luther was about to appear before the Le- 
gate. In requiring a safe-conduct, he did not 
lean upon an arm of flesh, for he well remem- 
bered that the Emperor's safe-conduct had not 
preserved John Huss from the flames. He 
only desired to do his duty, by following the 
advice of his master's friends. The Lord 
would decide his cause. If God required his 
life, he was ready joyfully to lay it down. 
At this solemn moment, he felt the need of 
once more communicating with his friends, 
and especially with Melancthon, already so 
endeared to him ; and he availed himself of 
an interval of leisure to write to him. 

" Show yourself a man," said he, "as you 
are ready to do. Instruct the youth of our 
beloved country in what is right and agreeable 
to the w ! ill of God. As for me, I am going to 
offer up myself for you and for them, if it be 
the Lord's will. I prefer death, yea, even 
what to me would be the greatest misfortune, 
the loss of your valued society, to retracting 
what it was my duty to teach, and perhaps 
ruining by my failure the noble cause to which 
we are devoted. 

" Italy is involved, as Egypt was formerly, 
in thick darkness, even darkness which may 
be felt. The whole nation knows nothing of 
Christ, nor of what pertains to him. And yet 
they are our lords and masters in the faith and 
in morals. Thus the wrath of God is fulfilled 
amongst us ; as the prophet says, 'I will give 
children to be their princes, and babes shall 
rule over them.' Do your duty to God, my 
dear Philip, and avert his wrath by fervent 
and holy prayer." 

The Legate, apprized that Luther would 
appear the next day before him, called together 
those in whom he had confidence, both Ita- 
lians and Germans, that he might concert with 
them how he ought to treat the German monk. 
Opinions were divided. One said, " We must 
compel him to retract. Another, " We .must 
arrest him and throw him into prison." A 
third was of opinion that it would be better to 
put him out of the way. A fourth, that it 
would be expedient rather to win him over by 
gentleness and mildness. The Cardinal seems 
to have resolved, in the first instance, to make 
trial of this last method. 

At length the day of conference arrive!. 
The Legate, knowing that Luther had declared 
himself willing to retract whatever should be 
proved contrary to the truth, was sanguine as 
to the result : he did not doubt that one of his 
rank and learning would, without much diffi- 
culty, reclaim the monk to obedience to the 
Church. 

Luther repaired to the house of the Legate, 
accompanied by the prior of the Carmelites, 
his friend and host, by two friars of the con- 
vent, by Doctor Link, and by an Augustinb, 



114 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



probably the same that, had accompanied him 
from Nuremberg. Scarcely had he entered 
ihe Legate's palace, when all the Italians, 
who composed the train of this Prince of the 
Church, flocked round him, desiring to see the 
famous Doctor, and pressed him so closely, 
that he could hardly proceed. On entering- 
the room where the Cardinal was waiting for 
him, Luther found him accompanied by the 
apostolical nuncio and Serra Longa. His re- 
ception was cool, but civil : and, according to 
Roman etiquette, Luther, following the in- 
structions of Serra Longa, prostrated himself 
before the Cardinal; when the latter told him 
to rise, he knelt; and when the command was 
repeated, he stood erect. Several of the most 
distinguished Italians of the Legate's house- 
hold entered the room, in order to be present 
at the interview, impatient to see the German 
monk humble himself before the Pope's repre- 
sentative. 

The Legate was silent. He expected, says 
a contemporary, that Luther would begin his 
recantation. But Luther waited reverently 
for the Roman Prince to address him. Find- 
ing, however, that he did not open his lips, he 
understood his silence as an invitation to open 
the business, and spoke as follows : — 

" Most worthy father, upon the summons 
of his Holiness the Pope, and at the desire of 
my gracious Lord, the Elector of Saxony, I 
appear before you, as a humble and obedient 
son of the Holy Christian Church; and I 
acknowledge that it was I who published the 
propositions and theses that are the subject of 
inquiry. I am ready to listen with all sub- 
mission to the charges brought against me, 
and, if I am in error, to be instructed in the 
truth." 

The Cardinal, who had determined to as- 
sume the tone of a kind and compassionate 
father towards an erring child, answered in 
the most friendly manner, commended Lu- 
ther's humility, and expressed the joy he felt 
on beholding it, saying: — "My dear son, 
you have filled all Germany with commotion 
by your dispute concerning indulgences. I 
hear that you are a doctor well skilled in the 
Scriptures, and that you have many followers. 
If, therefore, you wish to be a member of the 
Church, and to have in the Pope a most gra- 
cious lord, listen to me." 

After this exordium, the Legate did not 
hesitate to tell him all that he expected of 
him, so confident was he of his submission : 
" Here," said he, " are three articles which, 
acting under the direction of our most holy 
Father, Pope Leo the Tenth, I am to propose 
to you : — 

ki First, you must return to your duty; you 
must acknowledge your faults, and retract 
your errors, your propositions, and sermons. 
Secondly, you must promise to abstain for the 
future from propagating your opinions. And, 
thirdly, you must engage to be more discreet, 
and avoid every thing that may grieve or dis- 
turb the church." 

Luther. — " Most worthy father, I request 
to be permitted to see the Pope's brief, by 



virtue of which you have received full power 
to negociate this affair." 

Serra Longa and the rest of the Italians of 
the Cardinal's train were struck with asto- 
nishment at such a demand, and although the 
German monk had already appeared to them 
a strange phenomenon, they were completely 
disconcerted at so bold a speech. Christians 
familiar with the principles of justice desire 
to see them adhered to in proceedings against 
others or themselves; but those who are ac- 
customed to act according to their own will 
are much surprised when required to proceed 
regularly and agreeably to form and law. 

De Vio. — ''Your demand, my son, cannot 
be complied with. You have to acknow 
ledge your errors ; to be careful for the future 
what you teach ; not to return to your vomit ; 
so that you may rest without care and anxiety ; 
and then, acting by the command and on the 
authority of our most holy father the Pope, I 
will adjust the whole affair." 

Luther. — " Deign, then, to inform me 
wherein I have erred." 

At this request, the Italian courtiers, who 
had expected to see the poor German fail upon 
his knees and implore mercy, were still more 
astonished than before. Not one of them 
would have condescended to answer so im- 
pertinent a question. But De Vio, who 
thought it scarcely generous to crush this 
feeble monk by the weight of all his autho- 
rity, and trusted, moreover, to his own learn- 
ing for obtaining an easy victory, consented 
to tell Luther what he was accused of, and 
even to enter into discussion with him. "We 
must do justice to the general of the Domi- 
nicans. It must be acknowledged, that he 
showed more equity, a greater sense of pro- 
priety, and less irritation, than have subse- 
quently been exhibited in a majority of simi- 
lar cases. He assumed a tone of condescen- 
sion, and said : 

" My beloved son! there are two proposi- 
tions put forward by you, which you must, 
before ail, retract: — 1st. 'The treasure of 
indulgences does not consist of the merits and 
sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ; — *2dly. 
4 The man who receives the holy sacrament 
must have faith in the grace offered to him.' " 

Both these propositions did indeed strike a 
death-blow at the commerce of Rome. If the 
Pope had not power to dispose at will of the 
Saviour's merits, — if, on receiving the paper 
in which the brokers of the Church traded, 
men did not acquire a portion of that infinite 
righteousness, — this paper currency lost its 
value, and men would count it no better than 
a mere rag. And thus also with the sacra- 
ments. The indulgences were, in some sens^, 
an extraordinary branch of commerce with 
Rome; the sacraments made part of her ordi- 
nary traffic. The revenue they yielded was 
by no means small. But to assert that faith 
was necessary to make them productive of 
any real benefit to the soul of the Christian. 
was to rob them of their attraction in th* sight 
of the people. For faith is not in the Pope's 
gift; it is beyond his power, and can come 







LUTHER I5EK0RK CA.JETAH, AND niS ESCAPE. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



(15 



from God alone. To declare its necessity 
was, therefore, to snatch from the hands of 
Rome both the speculation and the profits at- 
tached to it. In assailing these two doctrines, 
Luther had followed the example of Christ 
himself. In the very beginning of his minis- 
try, he had overturned the tables of the mo- 
ney-changers, and driven the dealers out of 
the temple. " Make not my Father's house a 
house of merchandise." 

Cajetan continued : " I will not bring for- 
ward the authority of St. Thomas, and the 
other scholastic doctors, to confute these er- 
rors ; I will rest entirely on the holy Scrip- 
tures, and speak to you in perfect friendship." 

Nevertheless, when De Vio proceeded to 
bring forward his proofs, he departed from the 
rule he had laid down. He combated Lu- 
ther's first proposition by an Extravagance or 
Constitution* of Pope Clement ; and the se- 
cond, by all sorts of opinions from the scho- 
lastic divines. The discussion turned at its 
outset upon this constitution of the Pope in 
favour of indulgences. Luther, indignant at 
hearing what authority the Legate attributed 
to a decree of Rome, exclaimed : 

" I cannot receive such constitutions as 
sufficient proofs on subjects so important. 
For they wrest the holy Scriptures, and never 
quote them to the purpose." 

De Vio. — " The Pope has authority and 
power over all things." 

Luther, {warmly.') — "Save the Scrip- 
tures." 

De Vio, (in derision.') — " Save the Scrip- 
tures ! . . . Do not you know that the Pope 
is higher than the Councils, for he has re- 
cently condemned and punished the council 
of Bale." 

Luther. — " But the university of Paris has 
appealed against his decision." 

De Vio. — "Those gentlemen of Paris will 
receive their desert." 

The Cardinal and Luther then proceeded 
to discuss the second article, namely the faith 
that Luther declared to be necessary to render 
the sacraments efficacious. Luther pursuing 
his usual method, quoted, in favour of the 
opinion that he maintained, several passages 
of Scripture. But the Legate received them 
with derision. " It is of faith in general that 
you are speaking now," said he. " Not so," 
replied Luther. One of the Italians, the Le- 
gate's master of the ceremonies, provoked at 
Luther's resistance and answers, was burning 
with desire to speak. He often attempted to 
interrupt the conversation; but the Legate 
commanded silence. At last he was obliged 
to reprove him in so authoritative a tone, that 
the master of ceremonies left the room in con- 
fusion. 

" As to indulgences," said Luther to the 
Legate, " if you can prove to me that I am mis- 
taken, I am ready to receive instruction. We 
may leave that subject open, without com- 

* This name is given to certain Constitutions of 
the Popes, collected and appended to the Canon 
Law. 



promising our faith as Christians. But as to 
that other article concerning faith, if I yielded 
any thing there, I should be denying Christ. 1 
cannot, therefore, and I will not yield that 
point, and by God's help I will hold it to the 
end." 

De Vio, (beginning to lose temper.)-— 
" Whether you will or will not, you must this 
very day retract that article, or else for that 
article alone, I will proceed to reject and con- 
demn all your doctrine." 

Luther. — " I have no will but the Lord's. 
He will do with me what seemeth good in his 
sight. But had I a hundred heads, I would 
rather lose them all than retract the testimony 
I have borne to the holy Christian faith." 

De Vio. — " I am not come here to argue 
with you. Retract or prepare to endure the 
punishment you have deserved." 

Luther clearly perceived that it was impos- 
sible to end the affair by a conference. His 
adversary was seated before him as though he 
himself were Pope, and required an humble 
submission to all that he said to him, whilst 
he received Luther's answers, even when 
grounded on the holy Scriptures, with shrugs, 
and every kind of irony and contempt. He 
thought the most prudent plan would be to an- 
swer the Cardinal in writing. This means, 
thought he, offered at least one consolation to 
the oppressed. Others might then give their 
judgment of the affair; and the unjust adver- 
sary, who, by clamour, remained master of the 
field, might be overawed by the public voice. 

Having, therefore, shown a disposition to 
withdraw: "Do you wish," said the Legate 
to him, "that I should give you a safe-con- 
duct to repair to Rome 1 ?" 

Nothing would have pleased Catejan better 
than the acceptance of this offer. He would 
thus have got rid of an affair of which he began 
to perceive the difficulties, and Luther and his 
heresy would have fallen into the hands of 
those who would have known how to deal 
with them. But the Reformer, who was sen- 
sible of the dangers that surrounded him even 
at Augsburg, took care to refuse an offer that 
would have delivered him up, bound hand and 
foot, to the vengeance of his enemies. He re- 
jected the proposal as often as De Vio chose 
to repeat it: which he did several times. The 
Legate concealed the chagrin he felt at Lu- 
ther's refusal; he assumed an air of dignity, 
and dismissed the monk with a compassionate 
smile, under which he endeavoured to hide 
his disappointment, and, at the same time, 
with the politeness of one who hopes to have 
better success another time. 

Hardly had Luther reached the court-yard 
of the palace, when the loquacious Italian, the 
master of the ceremonies, whom the Cardi- 
nal's reprimands had obliged to leave the hall 
of audience, delighted at being able to speak to 
him out of the hearing of Cajetan, and eager 
to confound the abominable heretic by his 
overpowering arguments, ran after him, and, 
before he came up with him, began to deal 
out his sophisms. But Luther, disgusted with 
the man's folly, answered him with one of 



116 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



those sarcastic rebukes which he always had ; 
at command, and the master of the cererno- j 
nies, quite confounded, turned back and slunk j 
abashed to the Cardinal's palace. 

Luther had not been impressed with a very ; 
high opinion of his dignified adversary. He j 
had heard from him, as he afterwards wrote j 
to Spalatin, assertions which were quite con- j 
trary to sound theology, and which, in the j 
mouth of another, would have been considered l 
arch-heresies. And yet De Vio was looked | 
upon as the most learned of the Dominicans, j 
Next to him stood Prierias. " We may Judge 
from this," said Luther, " what those must 
he who fill the tenth or the hundreth rank." 

On the other hand, the noble firmness of 
the Doctor of Wittemberg had greatly sur- 
prised the Cardinal and all his courtiers. In- 
stead of a poor monk, sueing abjectly for par- 
don, they beheld a man of independent spirit, 
an undaunted Christian, an enlightened Doc- 
tor, who required them to bring proofs to sup- 
port their unjust accusations, and courageous- 
ly defended his own doctrine. The inmates 
of Cajetan's palace exclaimed with one voice 
against the pride, obstinacy, and effrontery of 
the heretic. Luther and De Vio had learned 
to know one another, and both were preparing 
themselves for a second interview. 

A joyful surprise awaited Luther on his re- 
turn to the convent of the Carmelites. The 
Vicar-general of the order of the Augustines, 
his friend, his father, Staupitz, had arrived 
there. Not having been able to prevent Lu- 
ther from going to Augsburg, Staupitz gave 
his friend a new and affecting proof of his at- 
tachment, by joining him in that city, with 
the hope of rendering him some service. This 
excellent man foresaw that the conference with 
the Legate would have momentous results. His 
fears and his friendship for Luther combined 
to disturb him. It was a balm to the Reformer's 
heart, after that trying conference, to embrace 
.so precious a friend. He related to him how 
he had found it impossible to obtain a satis- 
factory answer, and how he had been required 
to recant without even an attempt to convict 
him of error. "You must absolutely," said 
Staupitz, " answer the Legate in writing." 

After what he had heard of this first inter- 
view, Staupitz expected no good result from 
any succeeding one. He therefore determined 
upon a step which he thought the present cir- 
cumstances made necessary ; he decided to re- 
lease Luther from the obligation of obedience 
to his order. Staupitz proposed by this means 
to attain two objects ; if, as he could not but 
forbode, Luther should fail in his undertaking, 
this proceeding would prevent the disgrace of 
his condemnation from being reflected on his 
whole order; and if the Cardinal should en- 
join him to oblige Luther to silence or to a 
recantation, he would have an excuse for non- 
compliance. This ceremony was gone through 
in the usual forms. Luther clearly perceived 
all that it foreboded. His mind was deeply 
affected by the breaking of ties that he had 
formed in the enthusiasm of youth. The order 
he had chosen now rejected him. His natural 



protectors forsook him. Already he was be 
come a stranger to his brethren. But though 
his heart was oppressed with sorrow at the 
thought, he recovered his serenity by looking 
to the promises of a faithful God, who has 
said: "I will never leave thee; I will nevei 
forsake thee." 

The Imperial counsellors, having intimated 
to the Legate through the Bishop of Trent, 
that Luther was provided with the Emperor's 
safe-conduct, at the same time cautioning him 
against taking any steps against the Re- 
former's person, De Vio in a violent passion 
abruptly answered in the true Romish style, 
"Be it so; but I shall do what the Pope en- 
joins me." We know what the Pope's in- 
junctions were. 

The next day* both parties prepared for a 
second interview, which seemed likely to be 
decisive. Luther's friends, intending to ac- 
company him to the Legate's palace, repaired 
to the convent of the Carmelites. The Dean 
of Trent and Peutinger, both Imperial coun- 
sellors, and Staupitz, arrived one after the 
other. Resides these, Luther soon had the 
pleasure of welcoming the knight Philip von 
Feilitzsch, a*nd Doctor Ruhel, counsellors of 
the Elector, who had received orders from theii 
master to be present at the conferences, and 
to watch over Luther's personal safety. They 
had arrived at Augsburg on the previous even 
ing. They were commissioned to keep clo>e 
to him, says Mathesius, as the knight Chlutn 
stood by John Huss, at Constance. The 
Doctor also took a notary with him, and, ac- 
companied by all his friends, repaired to the 
Legate's palace. 

As they set out, Staupitz drew close to Lu- 
ther; he felt all that his friend would have 
to endure; he knew that if his eye were not 
directed towards the Lord, who is the deliver- 
er of his people, he must sink under his trial: 
"My dear brother," said he, solemnly, "ever 
bear in mind that you entered on these strug- 
gles in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, it 
was thus that God encompassed his humble 
servant with consolations and encouragement. 

Luther, on arriving at the Cardinal's, found 
ihere a new opponent: this was the prior of 
the Dominicans of Augsburg, who was seated 
beside his superior. Luther, in conformity 
with his resolution, had put his answer in 
writing. The customary salutations being 
gone through, he read, with a firm voice, the 
following declaration : 

"I declare that I honour the holy Roman 
Church, and, moreover, that I will continue to 
do so. I have sought after truth in my public 
disputations, and what I have taught, I, to 
this hour, regard as right, true, and Christian. 
Nevertheless I am but a man, and I may be 
mistaken. I am therefore willing to be in- 
structed and corrected wherever I may have 
erred. I declare myself ready to answer by 
word of mouth or in writing, all objections 
and all charges that the illustrious Legate 
may bring against me. I declare myself wi.l- 



Wednesday, 12th Oct. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



11? 



ing to submit my theses to the decision of the 
four universities of Bale, Fribourg in Brisgau, 
Louvain, and Paris, and to retract whatever 
they shall declare to be erroneous. In a word, 
I am ready to do all that can be required of 
a Christian man. But I solemnly protest 
against the method that has been pursued in 
this affair, and against that strange assump- 
tion which would oblige me to retract, with- 
out having convicted me of error." 

Undoubtedly nothing could be more conso- 
nant with reason than these proposals of Lu- 
ther, and they must have greatly embarrassed 
a judge who had been previously instructed 
what judgment he was to pronounce. The 
Legate, who was quite unprepared for this 
protest, endeavoured to hide his confusion, by 
affecting a laugh, and putting on the sem- 
blance of mildness. 

"This protest," he said to Luther with a 
smile, "is quite unnecessary; I will not dis- 
pute with you in public or in private, but my 
wish is to settle the whole affair with paternal 
tenderness." 

It was the policy of the Cardinal to lay 
aside the strict forms of justice, which afford 
protection to the accused, and* to treat the 
matter as an affair of administration between 
a superior and his inferior; — a convenient 
method, as it leaves the fullest scope to the 
exercise of arbitrary power. 

Continuing in the most affectionate tone : 
— " My dear friend," said De Vio, " I beseech 
you to abandon this useless design; but ra- 
ther return to a sense of duty, acknowledge 
the truth, and behold me ready to reconcile 
you to the Church, and to the supreme bishop. 
. . . Retract, my friend, retract; such is the 
Pope's will. Whether it be your will or not, 
matters little ; you would find it hard to kick 
against the pricks. . . ." 

Luther, who saw himself already treated as 
a rebellious child, rejected by the Church, ex- 
claimed : " I cannot retract ! but I offer to 
answer, and in writing. We had enough of 
contention — yesterday." 

De Vio was provoked at this expression, 
which reminded him that he had not acted 
with sufficient discretion ; but he recovered 
himself, and said, smiling: 

" Contention ! my dear son ; I did not con- 
tend with you. I am as little inclined as 
yourself to contention ; but to gratify his High- 
ness the Elector Frederic, I am ready to hear 
you and exhort you as a friend and a father." 

Luther did not understand why the Legate 
should have taken umbrage at the phrase he 
had made use of; for, thought he to himself, 
if I had not wished to be courteous, I should 
not have said "contend," but " dispute" and 
" quarrel," for that was what we really did 
yesterday. 

However, De Vio, who felt that, oefore the 
respectable witnesses present at the confer- 
ence, he must at least appear to convince 
Luther, and endeavour to crush him by argu- 
ment, reverted to the two propositions which 
he had pointed out as fundamental errors, fully 
resolved to allow the Reformer the fewest 



possible opportunities of reply Relying on 
Italian volubility, he overwhelmed him with 
objections, without waiting for an answer. 
Sometimes he sneered, sometimes he chided ; 
he declaimed with passionate energy : he 
jumbled together the most incongruous things; 
quoted St. Thomas and Aristotle ; exclaimed 
and raved against all who differed from them; 
and broke out in invective against Luther. 
Again and again the latter attempted to reply ; 
but the Legate instantly interrupted him and 
overwhelmed him with threats. "Recant! 
recant!" was the burden of his harangue; he 
stormed, enacted the dictator, and put down 
all. effort to reply Staupitz undertook to stop 
the Legate. " Deign to allow Doctor Martin 
time to answer," said he. But the Legate re- 
sumed his harangue: he quoted the extrava- 
gances and the opinions of St. Thomas : he 
had resolved to have all the talk to himself. 
LTnable to convince, and fearing to strike, he 
would at least stun by his violence. 

Luther and Staupitz clearly perceived that 
they must not only forego all hope of enlight- 
ening De Vio by discussion, but also of 
making any useful confession of the faith. 
Luther, therefore, renewed the request he had 
made at the beginning of the interview, and 
which the Cardinal had then eluded. And 
not being permitted to speak, he requested 
that he might be allowed at least to put his 
answer in writing and send it to the Legate. 
Staupitz seconded his request; several of the 
company present joined in his solicitations : 
and Cajetan, in spite of his dislike to written 
documents, — for he remembered that such do- 
cuments are lasting, — at length consented. 
They separated. The hope which had been 
conceived that, the affair might be terminated 
at this interview was thus adjourned, and it 
was necessary to await the result of the en- 
suing conference. 

The permission granted to Luther by the 
general of the Dominicans to take time for 
reflection, and to write his answer to the two 
distinct allegations brought against him re- 
lating to the indulgences — and to faith, — was 
undoubtedly no more than strict justice; and 
yet we must give De Vio credit for it, as a 
mark of moderation and impartiality. 

Luther left the Cardinal's palace rejoicing 
that his just request had been granted. In 
his way to and from the palace, he was the 
object of general attention. Enlightened men 
were interested in his cause, as if they them- 
selves were about to stand upon their trial. 
It was felt that it was the cause of the gospel, 
of justice, and of liberty, which was then to 
be pleaded at Augsburg. The lower orders 
alone sided with Cajetan, and they, doubtless, 
gave the Reformer significant proofs of their 
disposition, for he took notice of it. 

It daily become more evident that the Le- 
gate would hear nothing from him save the 
words, " 1 retract;" and those words Luther 
was determined not to utter. What issue 
could be looked for in so unequal a struggle! 
How could it for a moment be though; fhat 
the whole power of Rome, arrayed against 



118 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



one man, could fail in the end to crush him % Scripture, which teach us that the saint? have 
Luther saw all this: he felt the pressure of not merit enough, ought to he more regarded 
that heavy hand under which he had dared to than those words of men, which affirm that 
place himself; he despaired of ever returning they have merits in superabundance. For the 
to Wittemberg, of seeing his dear Philip Pope is not above, but under the authority ot 
again, and once more finding himself encir- the word of God." 

cled by those noble youths in whose hearts he | Luther did not stop there : he showed thai 
so delighted to sow the seeds of everlasting if the indulgences could not consist in the 
life. He saw the sentence of excommunica- ' merits of the saints, neither could they con- 
tion suspended over his head, and did not sist in the merits of Christ. He proved that 



doubt that it would shortly fall upon him, 
These forebodings distressed him, but did not 
cast him down. His trust in God was not 
shaken. God may, indeed, destroy the instru- 
ment he has hitherto made use of; but he 
will maintain the truth. Whatever may hap- 
pen, Luther must defend it to the last. With 



the indulgences were barren and unprofitable, 
since they had no other effect than to excuse 
men from good works, such as prayer, alms, 
&c. "No," he exclaimed, " the righteous- 
ness of Christ Jesus is not a treasure of in- 
dulgences, excusing us from good works, but 
a treasure of grace quickening us to -perform 



these feelings, therefore, he began to prepare | them. The righteousness of Christ is applied 
the protest he intended to present to the Le- I to the faithful, not by indulgences, not by the 
gate. It seems he devoted to that purpose a I keys, but by the Holy Ghost alone, and not 
part of the 13th of October. — I by the Pope. If any one holds an opinion 

On the following day, Luther returned to resting on better foundations than mine," 
the Cardinal's palace, attended by the coun- J added he, in concluding what referred to this 
sellors of the Elector. The Italians crowded { first point, "let him make it known, and then 
round him as usual, and a number of them J will I retract." 
were present at the conference. Luther step- 



ped forward and presented his protest to the 
Legate. The Cardinal's attendants gazed 
intently on his .writing, in their eyes so daring 
and presumptuous. The following is the 
declaration which the Doctor of Wittemberg 
handed to their master : — 

"You charge me upon two points. And 
first you bring against me the constitution of 
Pope Clement VI., in which it is asserted 
that the treasure of indulgences is the merit 
of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of the saints; 
an assertion which I deny in my theses. 

" Panormitanus," continues he, (applying 
that designation to Ives, Bishop of Chartres, 
toward the close of the eleventh century, and 
author of the famous collection of ecclesiasti- 
cal law called Panormia) — " Panormitanus 
in his first book declares, that, in what per- 
tains to our holy faith, not only a General 
Council, but even a private Christian, is above 
the Pope, if he can adduce clearer testimony 
from the Scriptures, and better reasons. The 
voice of our Lord Jesus Christ is far above 
the voice of all men, by whatever names they 
may be called. 

" What most disturbs me and excites m}^ 
most painful reflections is, that this constitu- 
tion contains in it many things altogether con- 
trary to the truth. First, it asserts that the 
merits of the saints form a treasury ; — whilst 
the whole volume of Scriptures testifies that 
God rewards us far more richly than we have 
deserved. The prophet exclaims: ' Enter not 
into judgment with thy servant, Lord, for 
in thy sight shall no man livingbejustified.' 
' Wo to man,' says St. Augustine, ' however 
honourable and praiseworthy his life may be, 
if God were to pronounce a judgment upon 
him from which mercy should be excluded.' 

" Thus, then, the saints are not saved by 
their merits, but solely by the mercy of God, 
as I have declared. I maintain this, and I 
take my stand upon it. The words of holy 



" I have affirmed," said he, adverting to 
the second charge, " that no man can be jus- 
tified before God except by Faith ; so that it 
is necessary that a man should believe with 
a perfect confidence that he has received par- 
don. To doubt of this grace' is to reject it. 
The faith of the just is his righteousness and 
his life." 

Luther supported his proposition by manv 
texts from Scripture. 

" Deign, then, to intercede in my behalf 
with our most holy lord the Pope Leo X., 
that he may not treat me with so much 
severity. My s*oul seeks the light of truth. 
I am not so proud, not so set upon vainglory, 
that I should be ashamed to retract, if I had 
taught what is not agreeable to the truth. 
My greatest joy will be to see the triumph of 
that doctrine w'hich is according to the mind 
of God. Only let me not be forced to do any 
thing that is against my conscience." 

The Legate took the declaration which Lu- 
ther presented, and, after looking it over, said 
coolly : " You have wasted many words, and 
written what is little to the purpose : you ha\e 
replied very foolishly to the two charges 
brought against you, and you have covered 
3 r our paper with numerous passages from the 
holy Scriptures that have no reference what- 
ever to the subject." De Yio then with a 
contemptuous gesture threw down Luther's 
protest, as if unworthy of his regard ; and, 
resuming the tone w T hich had in some degree 
been successful in the last interview, he re- 
newed the cry that Luther must retract. The 
latter was inflexible. " Brother ! brother !" 
cried De Vio in Italian, " when you were last 
here you were very docile, but to-day you are 
altogether intractable." Then the Cardinal 
began a long speech, borrowed from the writ- 
ings of St. Thomas ; he again extolled with 
all his might the constitution of Clement VI.; 
he persisted in maintaining that, in virtue of 
that constitution, the very merits of Chris 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



119 



are distributed to the faithful by means of the 
indulgences: he thought he had silenced Lu- 
ther. The latter at times attempted to speak ; 
but De Vio scolded and thundered on without 
intermission, and, as on the previous occasion, 
claimed the sole right to be heard. 

This manner of proceeding had on the first 
occasion been in some measure successful ; — 
but Luther was not a man to bear with it a 
second time. His indignation at length broke 
forth, and it was now his turn to astonish the 
bystanders, who thought him already conquer- 
ed by the prelate's volubility. He raised his 
sonorous voice : he took up the Cardinal's fa- 
vourite objection, and made him pay dearly for 
his temerity in entering the lists against him. 
" Retract ! retract !" repeated De Vio, showing 
him the constitution of the Pope. " Well !" 
said Luther, " only prove to me, by this con- 
stitution, that the treasure of indulgences is 
the very merit of Christ, and I consent to re- 
tract, according to the will and pleasure of 
your eminence. . ." 

The Italians, who had not expected this, 
exulted at his words, and could not repress 
their joy at seeing the adversary at length 
taken in the toils. As to the Cardinal, he was 
like one beside himself; he laughed aloud — 
but it was an indignant and angry laugh; he 
stepped forward, took up the volume contain- 
ing the famous constitution, turned over the 
leaves, found the passage, and elated, w T ith the 
advantage he thought he had secured, read it 
aloud with breathless eagerness. The Italians 
were now triumphant ; the counsellors of the 
Elector were anxious and embarrassed ; Lu- 
ther waited the right moment. At last, when 
the Cardinal came to these words, " The Lord 
Jesus Christ acquired this treasure by his 
sufferings," Luther interrupted him ; " Most 
worthy father," said he, "deign to consider 
this passage well, and to meditate upon it 
carefully: 'He has acquired.' Christ has 
acquired a treasure by his merits ,• the merits 
then are not the treasure ; for, to speak with 
philosophic precision, the cause is a different 
thing from that which flows from it. The 
merits of Christ have acquired for the Pope 
the power of giving such indulgences to the 
people ; but they are not the very merits of 
the Lord which the Pope distributes. Thus, 
then, my conclusion is true, and this constitu- 
tion, which you so loudly appeal to, testifies 
with me to the truth which I declare." 

De Vio still held the book in his hand ; his 
eyes still rested on the fatal passage : the in- 
ference was unanswerable. Behold him taken 
in the very not he had spread for another; and 
Luti.er, with a strong hand, held him fast, to 
the utter astonishment of the Italian courtiers 
who surrounded him. The Legate would have 
eluded the difficulty ; but all retreat was closed. 
From an early stage of the discussion he had 
.given up the testimony of the Scriptures, and 
that of the Fathers ; and had sheltered himself 
under this extravagance of Clement VI., and 
now- he was taken in his stronghold. Still he 
was too artful to betray his embarrassment. In 
order to conceal his confusion, the Cardinal 



abruptly changed the subject, and vehemently 
attacked Luther on other points of difference. 
Luther, who detected this skilful manoeuvre- 
drew tighter on every side the net in which he 
had taken his opponent, making it impossible 
for him to escape : " Most reverend father," 
said he, in a tone of irony, veiled under the 
semblance of respect, "your Eminence must 
not suppose that we Germans are altogether 
ignorant of grammar : to be a treasure, and to 
purchase a treasure, are two very different 
things." 

" Retract !" exclaimed De Vio, " retract ! or 
I will send you to Rome, there to appear be- 
fore the judges commissioned to take cogni- 
sance of .your cause. I will excommunicate 
you, and all your partisans, and all who shall 
at any time countenance you ; and will cast 
them out of the Church. Full power has been 
given to me for this purpose by the holy apos- 
tolic see. Think you, that your protectors 
will stop met Do you imagine that the Pope 
can fear Germany ] The Pope's little finger 
is stronger than all the princes of Germany 
put together." 

" Condescend," replied Luther, " to forward 
the written answer I have given you to Pope 
Leo X., with my most humble prayers." 

The Legate, at these words, glad to have a 
momentary respite, again assumed an air of 
dignity, and turning to Luther, said, in a 
haughty and angry tone : 

" Retract, or return no more!" 

The expression struck Luther. He must 
now answer in another manner than by words. 
He made an obeisance and withdrew. The 
counsellors of the Elector followed, and the 
Cardinal and his Italians, left alone, looked 
at each other, utterly confounded at such a re- 
sult of the discussion. 

Luther and De Vio never met again : but 
the Reformer had made a powerful impression 
on the Legate, which was never entirely ef- 
faced. What Luther had said concerning 
faith, what De Vio read in the subsequent 
writings of the Doctor of Wittemberg, consi- 
derably changed the Cardinal's sentiments. 
The theologians of Rome saw with surprise 
and dissatisfaction the opinions touching jus- 
tification w'hich he brought forward in his 
commentary upon the Epistle to the Romans. 
The Reformation did not recede, nor did the 
Reformer retract; but, his judge, who had so 
repeatedly commanded him to retract, changed 
his views, — and himself, indirectly, retracted 
his errors. Thus the unshaken fidelity of the 
Reformer was crowned with reward. 

Luther returned to the monastery where he 
had been a guest. He had stood firm : he had 
borne witness to the truth ; he had done what- 
it was his duty to do ; God would do the rest. 
His heart overflowed with joy and peace. 

However, the tidings that were brought him 
were not encouraging; a rumour prevailed 
throughout the city that, if he did not retract, 
he was to be seized and thrown into a dun- 
geon. The Vicar-general of the order, Stau- 
pitz himself, it was asserted, had given his 
consent to this. Luther could not believe 



no 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that his friend would act in this manner. No! 
Staupitz could not betray him ! As to the de- 
signs of the Cardinal, his own words had 
thrown sufficient light upon them. Yet Luther 
would not flee from the danger; his life, as 
well as the truth itself, was in powerful keep- 
ing, and, in spite of all these threatenings, he 
determined not to leave Augsburg. 

The Legate soon repented of his violence; 
he felt that he had forgotten the part it was 
his policy to play, and wished to resume it. 
Hardly had Staupitz dined, (for the interview 
had taken place in the morning, — and dinner 
was serverl at noon,) when he received a mes- 
sage from the Cardinal, inviting him to his 
house. Staupitz repaired thither, accompanied 
by Wenceslaus Link. TheVicar-general found 
the Legate alone with Serra Longa. De Vio 
immediately advanced towards Staupitz, and 
addressed him in the gentlest manner: — 
"Try now," said he, " to prevail upon your 
monk and induce him to retract. Really,! am 
pleased with him on the whole, and he has no 
better friend than myself." 

Staupitz. — " I have already done my en- 
deavours, and I will now again advise him 
humbly to submit to the church." 

De Vio. — "You must give him proper an- 
swers to the arguments that he adduces from 
the Scriptures." 

Staupitz. — "I must confess, my lord, that 
that is beyond my power ; for Doctor Martin is 
more than a match for me, both in acuteness 
and in knowledge of the Scriptures." 

The Cardinal smiled, we may imagine, at 
the Vicar-general's frank confession. His 
own experience, moreover, had taught him 
the difficulty of convicting Luther of error. 
He continued, addressing himself to Link as 
well as to Staupitz : 

" Are you aware that, as favourers of here- 
tical doctrine, you are yourselves exposed to 
the penalties of the church ?" 

Staupitz. — " Deign to resume the confer- 
ence with Luther, and open a public disputa- 
tion on the controverted points." 

De Vio, alarmed at the thought of such a 
measure, exclaimed, — "I will argue no more 
with the beast. Those eyes of his are too 
deeply set in his head, and his looks have too 
much meaning in them." 

Staupitz finally obtained the Cardinal's 
promise that he would state in writing what 
he required Luther to retract. 

The Vicar-general then returned to Luther. 
In some degree shaken by the representations 
of the Cardinal, he endeavoured to lead him 
to some concession. " Refute then," said Lu- 
ther, "the Scriptures I have brought forward." 
— "That is beyond my power," said Staupitz. 
— "Very well," replied Luther, "my con- 
science will not allow me to retract until those 
passages of Scripture can be shown to have 
another meaning. And so," continued he, 
"the Cardinal professes his willingness to set- 
tle the affair in this way, without subjecting 
me to disgrace or detriment. Ah! these are 
fine Italian words, but, in plain German, they 
mean nothing less than my everlasting shame 



J and ruin. What better can he look for who, 
| from fear of man and against his own con- 
science, denies the truth]" 

Staupitz desisted; he merely informed Lu- 
ther that the Cardinal had consented to send 
him in writing the points on which he required 
his recantation. He then, doubtless, acquaint- 
ed him with his intention of leaving Augs- 
burg, where he had now nothing more to do. 
Luther communicated to him a purpose he 
had formed for comforting and strengthening 
their souls. Staupitz promised to return, and 
they separated for a short time. 

Left alone in his cell, Luther's thoughts 
turned towards the friends most dear to his 
heart. His thoughts wandered to Weimar 
and to Wittemberg. He wished to tell the 
Elector what was passing, and thinking there 
might be impropriety in addressing the Prince 
in person, he wrote to Spalatin, and begged 
the chaplain to let his master know the state 
of his affairs. He related to him all that had 
passed, even to the promise the Legate had 
just made to send a statement of the contro- 
verted points in writing. He concluded by 
saying : " Thus the matter stands ; but I have 
neither hope nor confidence in the Legate. I 
am resolved not to retract a single syllable. I 
shall publish the answer that I have put into 
his hands, in order that, if he proceed to vio- 
lence, he may be covered with shame in the 
sight of all Christendom." 

The Doctor next availed himself of the few 
moments that were still remaining, to send 
tidings of himself to his friends at Wittem- 
berg. 

" Peace and happiness !" he wrote to Doc- 
tor Carlstadt. "Accept these few words in 
place of a long letter: for time and events 
are pressing. Another time I hope to write 
to you and others more fully. For three days 
my affair has been in hand, and things are at 
such a point that I have no longer a hope of 
seeing you again, and have nothing to expect 
but excommunication. The Legate will not 
allow me to defend myself, either publicly or 
j in private. His wish, he tells me, is to act the 
part of a father, not of a judge; and yet he 
will hear nothing from me but the words : 
' I retract, and acknowledge that I have been 
in error.' And those are words I will not 
utter ! The peril in which my cause is placed 
is so much the greater, because it is judged 
not only by implacable enemies, but even by 
men incapable of understanding its merits. 
However, the Lord God lives and reigns : to 
His keeping I commend myself; and I doubt 
not that in answer to the prayers of pious 
souls, He will send me deliverance : i" seem 
to feel that prayer is being made for me ! 

"Either I shall return to you unhurt; or 
else, under a sentence of excommunication, I 
must seek shelter elsewhere. 

" Whatever may happen to me, quit your- 
self manfully ; stand fast, and glorify Christ 
joyfully and without fear. . . . 

"The Cardinal always styles me 'his deai 
son.' I know how little that means. Still ] 
am persuaded I should be to him one of the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



12k 



dearest and most acceptable of men, if I would 
but pronounce the single word: ' Revoco.'' But 
Twill not become a heretic, by renouncing the 
faith that has made me a Christian. Better 
far would it be — to be cast out and accursed, 
and perish at the stake. 

"Farewell, my dear Doctor! show this let- 
ter to our theologians, — to Amsdorff, to Philip, 
to Otten, and to others, in order that you may 
pray for me, and also for yourselves ; for it is 
your cause also that is now trying. It is the 
cause of the faith of Jesus Christ, and of the 
grace of God." 

Sweet thought! which ever fills with con- 
solation and peace the hearts of those who 
have borne witness to Jesus Christ, to his di- 
vinity and grace, when the world rains upon 
them from all sides its censures, its inter- 
dicts, and its scorn ! " Our cause is the cause 
of faith in the Lord." And what sweetness 
also in the conviction expressed by the Re- 
former : " I seem to feel that I am prayed for.'''' 
The Reformation was a work of prayer and 
of piety toward God. The struggle between 
Luther and De Vio was, in truth, one of a re- 
ligious principle, then reappearing in full 
vigour, with the expiring strength of the dis- 
putatious dialectics of the middle age. 

Thus did Luther converse with his absent 
friends. Staupitz soon returned; Doctor 
Ruhel and the knight Feilitzsch, both of them 
sent by the Elector, also visited him after 
taking leave of the Cardinal. Some other 
friends of the Gospel joined them ; and Luther, 
seeing thus assembled together these noble- 
minded men, who were soon to be parted from 
each other, and from whom he himself was 
about, perhaps, to be forever separated, pro- 
posed that they should join in celebrating the 
Lord's Supper. The proposal was agreed to ; 
and this little assembly of the faithful partook 
of the body and blood of Christ. What must 
have been the feelings of the Reformer's 
friends at the moment, when, as they celebrated 
with him the Lord's Supper, they reflected 
that this was perhaps the last time that this 
privilege would be allowed him. What joy 
and love must have filled the heart of Luther 
in the consciousness of being so graciously 
accepted by his Master at the very moment 
when men were rejecting him. How solemn 
must have been that supper! How sacred 
that evening ! 

The next day, (Sunday, 15th October,) 
Luther expected to receive the instructions 
which the Legate was to send to him. 

But, not receiving any message from him, 
he requested his friend Doctor Wenceslaus 
Link to wait upon the Cardinal. De Vio re- 
ceived Link most affably, and assured him 
that he wished to take the most friendly 
course. «« I no longer consider Doctor Martin 
Luther a heretic," added he ; "I will not, at 
this time, excommunicate him, unless I re- 
ceive further instructions from Rome: fori 
have sent his answer to the Pope by an ex- 
press." Then, to give a proof of his good in- 
tentions towards him, he added : " If Doctor 
Luther would only retract on the subject of 



indulgences, the business would soon be con 
eluded ; for as to faith in the sacraments, that 
is an article that every one may interpret and 
understand in his own way." Spalatin, who 
relates this, adds this sarcastic but just obser- 
vation: "Whence it is evident, that Rome 
attaches more importance to money than to 
our holy faith and the salvation of souls." 

Link returned to Luther. He found Stau- 
pitz there, and gave an account of his visit. 
When he mentioned the unexpected conces- 
sion of the Legate: "It would have been 
well," said Staupitz, "if Doctor Wenceslaus 
had had a notary and witnesses with him, to 
have taken down that speech in writing; for, 
if such a proposal were made public, it would 
do no small prejudice to the cause of these 
Romans." 

However, the more the Roman prelate soft- 
ened his tone, the more confirmed the honest 
Germans were in their distrust of him. Se- 
veral of those trustworthy persons to whom 
Luther had been recommended held a council 
together. " The Legate," said they, " is pre- 
paring some mischief, through this courier he 
speaks of, and it is much to be feared that you 
will all be seized and cast into prison." 

Staupitz and Wenceslaus, therefore, deter- 
mined to leave the town ; they embraced Lu- 
ther, who persisted in remaining at Augsburg, 
and directed their course by two different roads 
to Nuremberg, not without many misgivings 
as to the fate of the magnanimous witness 
whom they were leaving behind them. 

Sunday passed very quietly. Luther waited 
in vain for a message from the Legate : the 
latter sent none. He then determined to write 
to him. Staupitz and Link, before they set 
out, had begged him to treat the Cardinal with 
all possible respect. Luther had not yet made 
trial of Rome and her envoys ; it was his first 
experience. If his humble deference did not 
succeed, he would know what to expect in 
future. But now, at least, he must make trial 
of it. As to his own share in the matter, not 
a day passed in which he did not condemn 
himself, and mourn over his proneness to use 
expressions stronger than the occasion re- 
quired ; why should he not confess to the Car- 
dinal what he every day confessed to God 1 
Besides, Luther's heart was easily affected 
by kindness, and he suspected no evil. He 
therefore look up his pen, and, with a feeling 
of respectful good will, wrote to the Cardinal 
as follows:* 

" My very worthy father in Gcd, 1 approach 
you once more, not personally, but by letter, 
entreating thy fatherly kindness graciously to 
listen to me. 

"The reverend Doctor Staupitz, my very 
dear father in Christ, has advised me to humble 
myself, to mistrust my own judgment, and to 
submit my opinion to the judgment of pious 
and impartial men. He also commended your 
fatherly kindness, and has fully convinced mo 
of your friendly disposition towards me. This 
intelligence has filled me with joy. 



This letter bears date the 17th October. 



122 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



" Now, therefore, most worthy father, I 
confess, as I have already done before, that as 
! have not shown (as they tell me) sufficient 
diffidence, gentleness, and respect for the name 
of the sovereign pontiff; and though my oppo- 
nents have given me great provocation, I now 
see that it would have been better to have con- 
ducted my cause more meekly, courteously, 
and reverently, and not to have answered a 
fool according to his folly, lest I should be 
like unto him. 

"This grieves me very much, and 1 ask 
pardon. I will publicly acknowledge it from 
the pulpit, as indeed I have often done before. 
I will endeavour, by the grace of God, to speak 
differently. I will do more: I am ready to 
promise, of my own accord, not again to say 
a single word on the subject of indulgences, 
if this business is arranged. But, then, let 
those also who led me to begin it be compel- 
led, on their part, to moderate their discourses, 
or to be silent. 

"So far as the truth of what I have taught 
is concerned, the authority of St. Thomas and 
of the other doctors cannot satisfy me. I must 
hear (if I am worthy to do so) the voice of the 
spouse, which is the Church. For it is certain 
she hears the voice of the bridegroom, Christ. 

"I, therefore, in all humility and submis- 
sion, entreat you to refer this matter, hitherto 
so unsettled, to our most holy lord, Leo X., 
in order that the Church may decide, pro- 
nounce, and ordain, and that those who shall 
be called on to retract, may do so with a good 
conscience, or believe in all sincerity." 

In reading this letter, another reflection 
occurs to us. We see that Luther did not act 
upon a preconceived plan, but solely in obe- 
dience to convictions successively impressed 
upon his mind and heart. Far removed from 
any settled scheme or preconcerted opposition, 
he was sometimes, without suspecting it, in 
contradiction with himself; earlier convictions 
were still standing in his mind, although their 
opposites had already found a place there. 
And yet it is in these characters of truth and 
sincerity that some have sought for objections 
to the Reformation ; it is because it followed 
that necessary law of progression, imposed in 
every thing on the human mind, that some 
have written the history of its variations ; it is 
in those very features that mark its sincerity, 
and make it honourable, that one of eminent 
genius has seen the most powerful objections 
against it. . Strange perverseness of the mind 
of man ! 

Luther received no answer to his letter. 
Cajetan, and all his courtiers, after being so 
violently agitated, had suddenly become mo- 
tionless. What could be the reason of this ] 
Might it not be that calm which precedes a 
storm ] Some viewed the delay in the light 
in which Pallavicini has represented it. " The 
Cardinal was waiting," says he, "till the 
proud monk, like an inflated bellows, should 
gradually lose the wind which filled him, and 
become humble." Those who thought they 
better understood the ways of Rome, felt sure 
that the Legate intended to arrest Luther, but 



that, not daring to proceed to such extremities 
on his own authority, on account of the Impe- 
rial safe-conduct, he was awaiting an answer 
from Rome to his message. Others could not 
believe that the Cardinal would wait so long. 
"The Emperor Maximilian," they said, (and 
in this they might speak the truin,) "will nc 
more scruple to give up Luther for trial by the 
Church, notwithstanding his safe-conduct, 
than Sigismund did to surrender Huss to the 
council of Constance. The Legate is perhaps 
now in communication with the Emperor. 
The sanction of Maximilian may every houi 
be expected. The more opposed he was before 
to the Pope, the more does he seem to seek 
to please him; and so it will be till the crowr. 
of the empire encircles his grandson's brows." 

Not a moment was to be lost.. " Draw up 
an appeal to the Pope," said the kind-hearted 
men who surrounded Luther; — "draw up an 
appeal to the Pope, and leave Augsburg with- 
out delay." 

Luther, whose presence in that city had foi 
the last four days been utterly useless, and 
who had sufficiently proved, by remaining 
after the departure of the Saxon counsellors 
sent by the Elector to watch over his safety 
that he feared nothing, and was ready to an- 
swer for himself, yielded at last to the wishes 
of his friends. But first he resolved to inform 
De Vio of his intention : he wrote to him on 
the Tuesday, the eve of his departure, This 
letter was in a bolder strain than the former. 
Seeing his advances were unavailing, Luther 
seems to erect himself in the consciousness 
of his right, and of the injustice of his ene- 
mies. 

" Most worthy father in God," he wrote to 
De Vio, "your paternal kindness has witness- 
ed, yea, witnessed and sufficiently acknow- 
ledged my obedience. I have undertaken a 
long journey, in the midst of dangers, in great 
weakness of body, and notwithstanding my 
extreme poverty, at the command of our most 
holy lord, Leo X. ; I have personally appeared 
before your eminence; and, lastly, I have 
thrown myself at the feet of his Holiness, and 
now wait his good pleasure, ready to submit 
to his judgment, whether he condemn or acquit 
me. I therefore feel that I have left nothing 
undone that becomes an obedient son of the 
Church. 

" It is my intention, therefore, not uselessly 
to prolong my stay here ; it is indeed impos- 
sible I should do so, as I want the means ; 
and you have positively forbidden my again 
appearing before you unless I would retract. 

" Thus I again set out in the name of the 
Lord, desiring, if possible, to find some place 
where I may live in peace. Several persons 
of more importance than myself have persuaded 
me to appeal from your paternal kindness, and 
even from our most holy lord, Leo X., ill-in- 
formed, to himself when he shall be better 
informed on the matter. Though I know that 
such an appeal will be more agreeable to his 
highness the Elector than a recantation, yeA % 
if it had been my duty only to consult my own 
feelings, I would not have made it. ... I have 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



123 



committed no crime ; — I ought therefore to ; 
have nothing to fear." 

Luther, having written this letter, (which ; 
reas not delivered to the Legate until after his \ 
departure,) prepared to leave Augsburg. God I 
had preserved him hitherto, and with all his j 
heart he praised the Lord for his protection. 
But it was bis duty not to tempt God. He 
embraced his friends, Peutinger, Langemantel, 
the Adelmanns, Auerbach, and the Prior of 
the Carmelites, who had afforded him such 
Christian hospitality. On Wednesday, before 
daybreak, he was up and ready to set out. 
His friends had advised him to take every 
possible precaution, fearing, that if his depart- 
ure were known, it might be opposed. He 
followed their advice as well as he could. A 
horse, that Staupitz had left at his disposal, 
was brought to the door of the convent. Once 
more he bids adieu to his brethren: he then 
mounts and sets out, without a bridle for his 
horse, without boots or spurs, and unarmed. 
The magistrate of the city had sent him as a 
guide a horseman, who was well acquainted 
with the roads. This man conducts him in 
the dark through the silent streets of Augs- 
Durg. They directed their course to a little 
gate in the wall of the city. One of the coun- 
sellors, Langemantel, had ordered that it 
should be opened to him. He is still in the 
Legate's power. The hand of Rome is still 
over him ; doubtless, if the Italians knew that 
their prey was escaping, the cry of pursuit 
would be raised : — who knows whether the 
intrepid adversary of Rome may not still be 
seized and thrown into prison ] . . . . At last 
Luther and his guide arrive at the little gate : 
— they pass through. They are out of Augs- 
burg; and putting their horses into a gallop, 
they soon leave the city far behind them. 

Luther, on leaving, had deposited his ap- 
peal to the Pope in the hands of the Prior of 
Pomesaw. His friends advised him not to 
send it to the Legate. The Prior was com- 
missioned to have it posted, two or three days 
after the Doctor's departure, on the door of a 
cathedral, in the presence of a notary and of 
witnesses. This was done. 

In this writing Luther declared that he ap- 
pealed from the most holy Father the Pope, 
ill-informed in this business, to the most holy 
Lord and Father in Christ, Leo X. by name, 
by the grace of God, when better informed, 
&c. &c. The appeal had been drawn up in 
the regular form, by the assistance of the Im- 
perial notary, Gall de Herbrachtigen, in the 
presence of two Augustine monks, Bartholo- 
mew Utzmair and Wengel Steinbies. It was 
dated the lfith of October. 

When the Cardinal heard of Luther's de- 
parture, he was struck with surprise, and, as 
he affirmed in a letter to the Elector, even 
with alarm and apprehension. He had, in- 
deed, some reason to be vexed. This depart- 
ure, which so abruptly terminated his nego- 
tiations, disconcerted all the hopes which his 
pride bad so long cherished. He had been 
ambitious of the honour of healing the wounds 
of the Church, and re-esiablishing the de- 



clining influence of the Pope in Germany ; 
and not only had the heretic escaped with 
impunity, but without his having so much as 
humbled him. The conference had served 
only to exhibit in a strong- light, on the one 
hand, the simplicity, uprightness, and firm- 
ness of Luther, and, on the other, the imperi- 
ous and unreasonable procedure of the Pope 
and his representative. Inasmuch as" Rome 
had gained nothing, she had lost ; — and her 
authority, not having been reinforced, had in 
reality sustained a fresh check. What will 
be said of all this at the Vatican] what will 
be the next despatches received from Rome 1 
The difficulties of the Legate's situation will 
be forgotten, the untoward issue of the affair 
will be ascribed to his want of skill. Serra 
Longa and the rest of the Italians were furi- 
ous on seeing themselves, dexterous as they 
were, outwitted by a German monk. DeVio 
could hardly conceal his vexation. Such an 
insult appeared to call for vengeance, and we 
shall soon see him give utterance to his anger 
in a letter to the Elector. 

Meanwhile Luther, accompanied by the 
horseman, continued his journey from Augs- 
burg. He urged his horse and kept the poor 
animal at full speed. He called to mind the 
real or supposed flight of John Huss, the 
manner in which he was overtaken, and the 
assertion of his adversaries, who affirmed that 
Huss having, by his flight, annulled the Empe- 
ror's safe-conduct, they had a right to condemn 
him to the flames. However, these uneasy 
feelings did not long occupy Luther's mind. 
Having got clear from the city where he had 
spent ten days under that terrible hand of 
Rome which had already crushed so many 
thousand witnesses for the truth, and shed so 
much blood, — at large, breathing the open 
air, traversing the villages and plains, and 
wonderfully delivered by the arm of the Lord, 
his whole soul overflowed with praise. He 
might well say : " Our soul is escaped as a 
bird out of the snare of the fowlers ; the snare 
is broken, and we are delivered. Our help is 
in the name of God, who made heaven and 
earth." Thus was the heart of Luther filled 
with joy. But his thoughts again reverted to 
De Vio: " The Cardinal," thought he, " would 
have been well pleased to get me into his 
power and send me to Rome. He is, no douht, 
mortified that I have escaped from him. He 
thought he had me in his clutches at Augs- 
burg. He thought he held me fast; but he 
was holding an eel by the tail. Shame that 
these people should set so high a price upon 
me ! They Would give many crowns to have 
me in their power, whilst our Saviour Christ 
was sold for thirty pieces of silver." 

Luther travelled fourteen leagues the first 
day. In the evening, when he arrived at the 
inn where he was to spend the night, he was 
so fatigued — (his horse, says one of his bio- 
graphers, had a very rough trot) — that, on 
alighting, he was unable to stand, and dropped 
motionless upon the' straw. He, however, 
enjoyed some rest. The next day he con 
tinued his journey. At Nuremberg he found 



124 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Staupitz, who was engaged in visiting the 
convents of his order. It was in this city that 
he first saw the brief that the Pope had sent 
to Oajetan concerning him. He was indig- 
nant at it, and had he read it before he left 
Wittemberg, it is very probable he would 
never have appeared before the Cardinal. " It 
is impossible to believe," said he, " that any 
thing so monstrous can have emanated from a 
Sovereign Pontiff." 

Everywhere on his journey Luther was an 
object of general interest. He was returning 
without having given up any thing. Such a 
victory gained by a mendicant friar over the 
representatives of Rome, filled every heart 
with astonishment. It seemed as if Germany 
had now its revenge for the Italian contempt 
of Ultramontanes. God's word had obtained 
more honour than the word of the Pope. That 
power, which for ages had borne rule, had 
just, received a formidable check. The jour- 
ney of Luther was a triumph. Men rejoiced 
at. the obstinacy of Rome, because it was like- 
ly to hasten her ruin. If she had not insisted 
on retaining her shameful gains, — if she had 
been prudent enough not to despise the Ger- 
mans, — if she had reformed flagrant abuses, — 
perhaps, according to human calculations, 
things would have returned to the death-like 
state from which Luther had awakened. But 
the Papacy would not yield ; and the Doctor 
was to be constrained to bring many other er- 
rors to light, and to advance in the knowledge 
and manifestation of the truth. On the 26th 
of October, Luther arrived at Graefenthal, at 
the extremity of the woods of Thuringia. He 
there met Count' Albert of Mansfeldt, the 
same person who had so strongly dissuaded 
him from going to Augsburg. The Count 
laughed heartily at his strange equipment. 
He compelled him to stop, and obliged him to 
become his guest: Luther soon afterwards 
continued his journey. 

He hastened on, desiring to be at Wittem- 
berg on the 31st of October, in the expecta- 
tion that the Elector would be there at the 
feast of All Saints, and that he might have an 
interview with him. The brief which he had 
read at Nuremberg had revealed to him all the 
danger of his situation. In fact, being already 
condemned at Rome, he could not hope either 
to continue at Wittemberg, or to find an asy- 
lum in a convent, or to dwell anywhere in 
peace and safety. The protection, of the 
Elector might, perhaps, avail him; but he 
was far from being sure of it. He had no- 
thing more to hope from the true friends he 
had hitherto possessed at this prince's court. 
Staupitz, having lost the favour he had long 
enjoyed, was then leaving Saxony. Spalatin, 
though beloved by Frederic, had not much 
influence over him. The Elector himself was 
not sufficiently instructed in the doctrine of 
the Gospel to expose himself for the sake of 
it to manifest dangers. However, Luther 
thought he could not do better than return 
to Wittemberg, and there wait to see what the 
eternal and merciful God would do with him. 
if, as some expected, he were unmolested, he 



resolved to devote himself entirely to the study 
and to the instruction of youth. 

Luther got back to Wittemberg on the 30th 
of October. His haste had been in vain. 
Neither the Elector nor Spalatin had come to 
the feast. His friends were delighted to see 
him again amongst them. He hastened to in- 
form Spalatin of his arrival. " I have arrived 
to-day at Wittemberg, safe and sound, through 
God's mercy,'"' said he ; " but how long I shall 
stay here I know not. ... I am filled with 
joy and peace; and find it hard to conceive 
how the trial I am enduring can appear so 
grievous to so many distinguished men." 

De Vio had not waited long, after the de- 
parture of Luther, to pour forth all his indig- 
nation to the Elector. His letter breathed 
vengeance. 

He gave Frederick an account of the con 
ference, with an air of self-satisfaction : — 
" Since brother Martin," said he in conclusion, 
" cannot be brought by paternal measures to ac- 
knowledge his error and to continue faithful to 
the Catholic Church, I request your Highness 
to send him to Rome, or to banish him from 
your territories. Be assured that this compli- 
cated, evil-intentioned, and mischievous affair 
cannot be long protracted ; for as soon as 1 
shall have informed our most holy lord of all 
this artifice and malice, he will bring it to a 
speedy end." In a postscript, written with his 
own hand, the Cardinal entreated the Elector 
not to tarnish with shame his own honour and 
that of his illustrious ancestors, for he cause 
of a contemptible monk. 

Never was the soul of Luthe> roused to 
higher indignation than when he read the copy 
of this letter which the Elector sent him. The 
sense of the sufferings he was destined to en- 
dure, the value of the truth for which he con- 
tended, contempt for the conduct of the Roman 
Legate, together swelled his heart. His an- 
swer, written at the moment when his whole 
soul was thus agitated, is distinguished by that 
courage, elevation, and faith, which he ever 
displayed in the most trying circumstances of 
his life. He gave, in his turn, an account of 
the conference at Augsburg. He described the 
deportment of the Cardinal : and thus pro- 
ceeded : 

" I would like to answer the Legate, put- 
ting myself in the place of the Elector. 

" ' Prove to me that you understand what 
you talk about,' I would say to him ; ' let the 
whole discussion be carried on in writing. 1 
will then send brother Martin to Rome, or 
else I will apprehend him and have him put 
to death. I will take care of my own con- 
science and honour, and I will "not allow my 
glory to be sullied. But as long as your ab~~ 
solute knowledge shuns the light, and only 
discovers itself by clamour, I cannot put faith 
in darkness.' 

" This, most excellent Prince, is the answer 
I would make him. 

" Let the reverend Legate, or the Pope him- 
self, specify my errors in writing: let them 
bring forward their reasons ; let them instruct 
me, who desire to be instructed, who ask tn 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



125 



be so, who intend what I say, and long for 
instruction, so that even a Turk would not 
refuse to satisfy me. If I do not retract and 
condemn myself, when they have proved to 
me that the passages of Scripture that I have 
quoted ought to be understood in a different 
sense from that in which I have understood 
them, — then, O most excellent Elector! let 
your Highness be the first to prosecute and 
expel me, let the university reject me and 
overwhelm me with indignation. I will go 
further, and I call heaven and earth to witness, 
let the Lord Christ Jesus himself reject and 
condemn me ! These are not words of vain 
presumption, but of firm conviction. Let the 
Lord deprive me of his grace, and every crea- 
ture of God refuse to countenance me, if, when 
I have been shown a better doctrine, I do not 
embrace it. 

" But if, on account of my low estate, and 
because I am but a poor mendicant brother, 
they despise me, and so refuse to instruct me 
in the way of truth, let your Highness beg the 
Legate to inform you in writing wherein I 
have erred ; and if they refuse this favour to 
your Highness yourself, let them write their 
own views, either to his Imperial Majesty, or 
to some German Archbishop. What ought 1 
to do — what can I do — more] 

" Let your Highness listen to the voice of 
your conscience and of your honour, and not 
send me to Rome. No man has the right to 
require this of you ; for it is impossible that 1 
should be safe in Rome. The Pope himself 
is not safe there. It would be enjoining you 
to betray Christian blood. They have there 
paper, pens, and ink ; they have also number- 
less notaries. It is easy for them to write 
wherein and wherefore I have erred. It will 
cost them less trouble to instruct me at a dis- 
tance by writing, than, having me among 
them, to put me to death by stratagem. 

" I resign myself to banishment. My ad- 
versaries lay snares for me on all sides ; so 
that I can nowhere live in safety. That no 
harm may happen to you on my account, I 
leave your territories, in God's name. I will 
go wherever the eternal and merciful God 
will have me. Let him do with me what 
seemeth him good. 

" Thus, then, most serene Elector, I reverent- 
ly bid you farewell. I commend you to Al- 
mighty God, and I give you endless thanks for 
all your kindness to me. Whatever be the peo- 
ple among whom I may hereafter live, wher- 
ever my future lot may be cast, 1 shall ever 
remember you, and shall gratefully pray, with- 
out ceasing, for the happiness of you and yours. 

" I am still, thanks to God, full of joy, and 
praise him that Christ, the Son of God, counts 
me worthy to suffer in so holy a cause. May 
He forever preserve your illustrious High- 
ness. Amen." 

This letter, so overflowing with the accents 
of truth and justice, made a deep impression 
on the Elector. "He was shaken by a very 
eloquent letter," says Maimbourg. Never 
could he have had the thought of giving up 
an innocent man to the power of Rome. Per- 



; haps he might have persuaded Luther to con 
j ceal himself for some time. But he resolved 
: not even in appearance to yield in any way to 
j the Legate's threats. He wrote to his coun- 
sellor, Pfeffinger, who was then at the court 
j of the Emperor, to represent to his Majesty 
the real state of affairs, and to beg him to 
write to Rome, so that the matter might be 
brought to a conclusion, or at least be deter- 
mined in Germany by impartial judges. 

Some days after, the Elector wrote to the 
Legate in reply : "Since Doctor Martin has 
appeared before you at Augsburg, you ought 
to be satisfied. We did not expect that, 
without convincing him of error, you would 
claim to oblige him to retract. Not one of 
the learned men in our states has intimated to 
us an opinion that Martin's doctrine is im- 
pious, anti-christian, or heretical." The 
Prince, in the latter part of his letter, declined 
sending Luther to Rome, or expelling him 
from his territories. 

This letter, which was communicated to 
Luther, rejoiced his heart. " Gracious God !" 
he wrote to Spalatin, " with what joy I read 
and re-read it; for I know what confidence I 
may repose in these words, at once so forcible 
and so discreet. I fear the Italians will not 
understand their full import. But they will 
at least comprehend that what they believed 
already finished is scarcely yet begun. Be 
pleased to present my grateful acknowledg- 
ments to the Prince. It is strange that he 
(De Vio) who, a little while ago, was a mendi- 
cant friar like myself, is not afraid to address 
the most powerful princes with disrespect, to 
call them to account, to threaten and command 
them, and treat them with such preposterous 
haughtiness. Let him learn that the tempo- 
ral power is ordained of God, and that none 
are permitted to trample its glory under foot." 

One thing that had undouotedly encouraged 
Frederic to answer the Legate in a tone which 
the latter did not expect, was a letter addressed 
to him by the university of Wittemberg. It 
was not without reason that they declared 
themselves in the Doctor's favour. The uni- 
versity was increasing in reputation, and sur- 
passed all the other schools. A crowd of 
students flocked thither from all parts of Ger- 
many, to listen to this extraordinary man, 
whose instructions seemed to open a new era 
to religion and learning. These young men, 
who arrived from the different provinces, would 
often stop when they discovered in the distance 
the steeples of Wittemberg ; and, raising then 
hands toward heaven, bless God for having 
caused the light of truth to shine forth from 
Wittemberg, as in former ages from Mount 
Sion, that it might penetrate to the most dis- 
tant lands. A life and activity, hitherto un- 
known, was infused into the university studies. 
" Our young men are as diligent here as ants 
upon an ant-hill," wrote Luther. 

Thinking that he might soon be driven out 
of Germany, Luther busied himself in pubhsn- 
ing a report of the conference at Augeh urg. 
He resolved that it should be preserved as a 
memorial of the struggle between Home and 



126 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



himself. He saw the storm readv to burst, 
but he did not fear it. He w««5 in daily ex- 
pectation of the maledictions of Rome. He 
arranged and regulated every thing, that he 
might be ready when they arrived. " Having 
tucked up my gown and girded my loins," said 
he, "I am ready to depart, like Abraham, not 
knowing whither I #o; or, rather, well know- 
ing whither, since God is everywhere." He 
intended to leave behind him a farewell letter. 
" Take courage, then," he wrote to Spalatin, 
" to read the letter of a man accursed and ex- 
communicated." 

His friends were full of fears and anxiety 
on his account. They entreated him to deliver 
himself up as a prisoner into the Elector's 
hands, that that prince might keep him some- 
where in safety. 

His enemies could not comprehend the 
grounds of his confidence. One day, at the 
court of the Bishop of Brandenburg, the con- 
versation turned on the Reformer, and it was 
asked on what support he could be depending. 
Some said, "It is on Erasmus and Capito and 
other learned men that he reckons for protec- 
tion." " No, no," replied the Bishop; "the 
Pope would care very little for those gentry. 
It is to the University of Wittemberg and the 
Duke of Saxony that he looks for support.". . . 
Thus both parties were ignorant of that strong 
tower in which the Reformer had sought 
refuge. 

Thoughts of taking his departure were pass- 
ing through Luther's mind. It was not the 
fear of danger that gave rise to them, but the 
presentiment of the incessantly renewed oppo- 
sition he should find in Germany to the open 
profession of the truth. " If I stay here," said 
he, "I shall be denied the liberty of speaking 
and writing many things. If I depart, I will 
pour forth freely the thoughts of my heart, and 
devote my life to Christ." 

France was the country where Luther hoped 
he might withouthinderance proclaim the truth. 
The liberty enjoyed by the doctors of the uni- 
versity of Paris appeared to him worthy of 
envy. Besides, he, on many points, agreed 
in the opinions that prevailed there. What 
might have ensued, if Luther had been re- 
moved from Wittemberg to France] Would 
the Reformation have established itself there 
as it did in Germany ] Would the power of 
Rome have been dethroned there; and France, 
which was destined to endure a long struggle 
between the hierarchical principles of Rome 
and -the ruinous principles of an irreligious 
philosophy, have become the great dispenser 
of evangelical light] It is useless to indulge 
in vain conjectures. But, certainly, Luther at 
Paris would have made a great difference in 
the fortunes of the Church and of France. 

The soul of Luther was deeply moved. He 
often preached in the church of the city, sup- 
plying the place of Simon Heyns Pontanus, 
the pastor of W T ittemberg, who was frequently 
indisposed. He thought it right, at all ha- 
zards, to take leave of the congregation to 
whom he had so often preached the doctrine 
i>f salvation "I am a very unstable preach- 



er," said he one day in the pulpit, "and very 
uncertain in rny position. How often have I 
left you suddenly without taking leave of you ! 
If this should happen again, and I should 
never return, receive my last farewell !" Then, 
having added a few words, he concluded by 
saying, with moderation and gentleness, "Fi- 
nally, I warn you not to be terrified, if the 
Papal censures should be discharged against 
me in all their fury. Do not blame the Pope, 
nor bear any ill-will to him, or to any man 
living, but leave the whole matter to God." 

At length, the moment of his departure 
seemed at hand. The Prince gave him to 
understand that he wished him to leave Wit- 
temberg. The wishes of the Elector were too 
sacred with Luther for him not to hasten to 
comply with them. The Reformer prepared 
to depart, without knowing well to what quar- 
ter to direct his steps. Resolving, however, 
once more to see his friends about him, he in- 
vited them to a farewell repast. Seated with 
them at table, he once more enjoyed their con- 
versation and their affectionate and anxious 
friendship. A letter was brought to him. It 
came from the court. He opened and read it. 
His heart sank within him. It enclosed an 
order for his departure. The Prince inquired, 
"Why he delayed so long?" His soul was 
overwhelmed with dejection. However, he 
resumed courage ; and, raising his head, said, 
firmly and joyfully, turning to those about 
him, " Father and mother forsake me, but the 
Lord will take me up." Depart then he must. 
His friends were much affected. What would 
become of him ] If Luther's protector rejects 
him, who will receive him? And this Gos- 
pel, this word of truth, and this admirable 
work he had taken in hand, will, doubtless, 
perish with the faithful witness. The fate of 
the Reformation seemed suspended by a single 
thread ; and would not the moment in which 
Luther left the walls of Wittemberg break 
that thread ] Luther and his friends said little. 
Sympathizing in his feelings, they gave vent 
to their tears. However, but a short time had 
elapsed, when a second messenger arrived. 
Luther opened this letter, expecting to find a 
reiterated order for his departure. But, lo ! 
the mighty power of the Lord ! for the present 
he is saved. Every thing is changed. "As 
the Pope's new envoy," said the letter, " hopes 
that every thing may be settled by a confer- 
ence, remain for the present." How important 
was this hour ! and what might have happened 
if Luther, ever anxious to obey the Prince's 
pleasure, had left Wittemberg immediately on 
the receipt of the first letter ! Never had Lu- 
ther and the cause of the Reformation been 
brought lower than at this moment. It might 
have been thought that their fate was decided : 
in an instant it was changed. Having reached 
the lowest step in his career, the Reformer 
rapidly arose, and from that time his influence 
continued to ascend. "At the word of the 
Lord," in the language of the prophet, "his 
servants go down to the depths, and mount 
up again to heaven." 

Spalatin, by Frederic's orders, sent for Lu 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



127 



ther to Lichtemberg, to have an interview with 
him. They had a long conversation on the 
state of affairs. " If the Pope's sentence of 
condemnation come, I certainly cannot remain 
at Wittemberg," said Luther. " Beware," 
replied Spalatin, " of being in too great a hurry 
to go to France." He left him, telling him 
to wait further tidings from him. " Only 
commend my soul to Christ," said Luther to 
his friends. "I see that my adversaries are 
more and more determined on my destruction. 
But Christ is meanwhile strengthening me in 
my determination not to give way." 

Luther at that time published his report of 
the conference at Augsburg. Spalatin had 
written to him from the Elector to abstain 
from doing so; but it was .too late. When 
the publication had taken place, the Prince 
gave his sanction. " Great God !" said Lu- 
ther in his preface, "what a new, what an 
amazing crime, to seek after light and truth, 
and above all in the Church, that is to say, in 
the kingdom of truth !" " I send you this 
document," said he, writing to Link: "it 
cuts too deep, no doubt, to please the Legate; 
but my pen is ready to give out much greater 
things. I myself know not whence these 
thoughts come to me. As far as I can see, 
the work is not yet begun ; so little reason is 
there for the great men of Rome hoping to see 
an end of it. I shall send you what I have 
written, in order that you may judge if I am 
right in believing that the Antichrist of whom 
St. Paul speaks, now reigns in the court of 
Rome. I think I can prove that now-a-days 
the power that presides there is worse than 
the Turks themselves." 

On all sides, sinister reports reached Lu- 
ther. One of his friends wrote him word that 
the new envoy from Rome had received orders 
to apprehend him and deliver him to the Pope. 
Another reported that, as he was travelling, 
he had met with a courtier, and that, the con- 
versation having turned upon the affairs which 
were then the general topic in Germany, the 
latter confided to him that he had undertaken 
to seize and deliver Luther into the hands of 
the Sovereign Pontiff. " But the more their 
fury and violence increase," wrote Luther, 
" the less do I fear them." 

Cajetan's ill success had occasioned much 
dissatisfaction at Rome. The vexation felt 
at the failure of the affair, fell in the first in- 
stance upon him. All the Roman courtiers 
thought they had cause to reproach him for 
having been deficient in the prudence and ad- 
dress which, in their account, were the most 
indispensable qualifications in a legate, and 
for not having relaxed the strictness of his 
scholastic theology on so important an occa- 
sion. " The failure is entirely owing to him," 
said they. " His awkward pedantry has 
spoiled all. Why did he provoke Luther by 
insults and threats, instead of alluring him by 
the promise of a bishopric, or even, if neces- 
sary, a cardinal's hat'?" These mercenaries 
judged of the Reformer by themselves. The 
failure, however, must he retrieved. On the 
one hand, it was requisite that Rome should 
10 



declare herself; on the other, she must not 
offend the Elector, who might be very ser- 
viceable to her in the anticipated event of the 
election of an Emperor. As it was impos- 
sible for Roman ecclesiastics to form a notion 
of the true source whence Luther derived his 
strength and courage, they imagined that the 
Elector was much more deeply implicated in 
the matter than he really was. The Pope re- 
solved, therefore, to pursue a different line of 
policy. He caused to be published in Ger- 
many, by his Legate, a bull, wherein he con- 
firmed the doctrine of indulgences precisely 
in those points which had been questioned, 
but making no mention either of the Elector 
or of Luther. As the Reformer had always 
declared, that he would submit to the decision 
of the Romish Church, he must now, as the 
Pope thought, either keep his word, or openly 
show himself to be a disturber of the peace 
of the Church, and a despiser of the apostolic 
see. In either case, the Pope, it was thought, 
must be a gainer. But nothing is ever gained 
by st) obstinate a resistance against the truth. 
In vain had the Pope threatened with excom- 
munication whosoever should teach otherwise 
than he ordained ; the light is not arrested by 
such orders. It would have been wiser to 
moderate, by certain restrictions, the preten- 
sions of the sellers of indulgences. Appa- 
rently, this decree of Rome was a further act 
of impolicy. By legalizing the most flagrant 
abuses, it irritated all sensible men, and ren- 
dered impossible the return of Luther to his 
allegiance to the Church. "It was commonly 
thought," says a Catholic historian, and a 
great enemy to the Reformation, (Maimbourg,) 
" that this bull had been framed only for the 
gain of the Pope and of the mendicant friars, 
who began to find that no one would give any 
thing for their indulgences." 

The Cardinal De Vio published this decree 
at Lintz, in Austria, on the 13th of December, 
1518 ; but Luther had already taken his stand 
in a position of security. On the 28th of 
November he had appealed, in the chapel of 
Corpus Christi at Wittemberg, from the Pope 
to a General Council of the Church. He 
foresaw the storm that was about to burst 
upon him, and he knew that God only could 
avert it. But there was something he him- 
self was called to do; — and he did it. He 
must, no doubt, leave Wittemberg, if it were 
only for the sake of the Elector, as soon as the 
maledictions of Rome should arrive there ; 
yet he resolved not to quit Saxony and Ger- 
many without a public protest. He, there- 
fore, drew up his appeal; " and that it might 
be ready to be distributed as soon as the furies 
of Rome should overtake him," as he says, 
he had it printed, under the express condition 
that the bookseller should deposit with him 
ail the copies. But this man, from desire of 
gain, sold almost the whole impression, whilst 
Luther was quietly expecting to receive them. 
He was much annoyed, hut the thing was 
done. This bold appeal was dispersed far 
and wide. In it Luther again protested that 
he had no intention of saying any thing against 



128 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the holy Church, or the authority of the apos- 
tolic see, and the Pope duly informed. " But," 
continued he, "seeing that the Pope, who is 
God's vicar upon earth, may, like any other 
man, fall into error, commit sin, and utter 
falsehood, and that the appeal to a General 
Council is the only safeguard against acts of 
injustice which it is impossible to resist, — on 
these grounds I find myself obliged to have 
recourse to it." 

Behold, then, the Reformation launched 
jpon a new career. It is no longer to depend 



upon the Pope and his decrees, but upon a 
General Council. Luther speaks to the 
Church at large, and the voice which pro- 
ceeds from the chapel of Corpus Christi is to 
make itself heard in all the gatherings of the 
Lord's flock. It is not in courage that the 

| Reformer is wanting. Behold him giving 
new proof of it. Will God be wanting to 
him ? The answer' will be read in the dif- 

I terent phases of the Reformation which are 

j still to pass before us. 



BOOK V. 



THE LEIPSIC DISCUSSION. 



1519. 

The Pope's Chamberlain — Luther in Danger — Favourable Circumstances — Tetzel's Fears — Mil 
titz's Caresses — Retractation — Luther proposes Silence — The Legate's Kiss — Tetzel rebuked — 
Luther's Letter — Opposed to Separation — De Vio and Miititzat Treves — The Reformed Opinions 
spread — Luther's Writings — Contest seems to flag — Eck — The Pope's Authority — Luther 
Answers — Alarm of Luther's Friends — Truth secure of Victory — The Bishop's Remonstrance — 
Mosellanus — Arrival of Eck — An ill Omen — Eck and Luther — The Pieissenburg — Judges 
proposed — The Procession — Luther — Carlstadt — Eck — Carlstadt's Books — Merit of Con- 
gruity — Scholastic Distinction — Grace gives Liberty — Melancthon — Eck claims Victory — 
Luther preaches — Quarrel of Students and Doctors — Eck and Luther — The Roman Primacy — 
Equality of Bishops — Christ the Foundation — Insinuation — The Hussites — Commotion in the 
Audience — Monkish Horror — The Indulgences — Attention of the Laity — Eck's Report — George 
of Anhalt — The Students of Leipsic — Results of the Disputation — More Liberty — Activity of 
Eck — Melancthon's Defence — Firmness of Luther — Staupitz's Coolness — Christ given for us — 
Infatuation of the Adversaries — The Lord's Supper — Is Faith necessary — God's Word a Sword- 
Luther's Calmness. 



The clouds were gathering over Luther and I 
the Reformation. The appeal to a General J 
Council was anew attack on Papal authority. 
A bull of Pius II. had pronounced the greater J 
excommunication against any one, even th ough 
he should be the Emperor himself, who should 
be guilty of such a rejection of the Holy 
Father's authority. Frederic of Saxony, 
scarcely yet well established in the evangelic 
doctrine, was on the point of banishing Lu- 
ther from his states. A second message from 
Leo X. would, in that case, have thrown the 
Reformer among strangers, who might fear to 
compromise their own security by harbouring 
a monk whom Rome had anathematized. And 
even if one of the German nobles had taken up 
arms in his defence, such poor knights, look- 
ed down upon with contempt by the powerful 
sovereigns of Germany, must ere long have 
sunk in their hazardous enterprise. 

But at the moment when all his courtiers 
were urging Leo to rigorous measures, when 
another blow would have laid his enemy at his 
feet, that Pope suddenly changed his course, 
and made overtures of conciliation. Doubtless 
it may be said, he mistook the disposition of 
the Elector, and thought him much more fa- 
vourable to Luther than he really was. We 
may allow that public opinion, and the spirit 
of the age — powers then comparatively new — 
might seem to Leo to surround the Reformer 
with an insurmountable rampart of defence. 



We may suppose, as one historian* has done, 
that Leo did but follow the impulse of his 
judgment and his heart, which inclined him to 
gentleness and moderation. But this method, 
so unlike Rome, at such a juncture, is so 
strange, that it is impossible not to acknow- 
ledge in it a more powerful intervention. 

A noble Saxon, chamberlain to the Pope, 
and canon of Mentz, of Treves, and of Meis- 
sen, was then at the court of Rome. He had 
worked his way into favour. He boasted of 
his connection, by family relationships, with 
the princes of Saxony — so that the Roman 
courtiers sometimes called him Duke of 
Saxony. In Italy he paraded his German no- 
bility. In Germany he affected awkwardly 
the manners and refinement of Italy. He was 
addicted to wine, and this vice had gained 
strength from his residence at Rome. Never- 
theless the Roman courtiers built great hopes 
on him. His German origin, his insinuating 
manner, and his skill in negotiation, altogether 
persuaded them that Charles Miltitz would, 
by his prudence, succeed in arresting the re- 
volution that threatened the world. 

It was important to hide the real object of 
the Roman chamberlain's mission — this was 
not difficult. Four years before, the pious Elec- 
tor had petitioned the Pope for the golden rose. 
This rose was deemed to represent the body of 






* Roscoe, vol. iv. p. 2. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1U9 



.f esus Christ. It was consecrated every year by 
the sovereign Pontiff, and presented to one of 
the leading princes of Europe. It was decided 
to present it this year to the Elector. Miltitz 
set out, with instructions to inquire into the 
state of affairs, and to gain over Spalatin and 
Pfeffinger, the Elector's counsellors. He was 
intrusted with private letters for them. By 
thus conciliating the co-operation of those who 
surrounded the Elector, Rome expected quickly 
to become the mistress of her now formidable 
adversary. 

The new Legate arrived in Germany, in 
December, 1518, and endeavoured in the course 
of his journey to sound the general opinion. 
To his extreme astonishment, he noticed, 
wherever he stopped, that the majority of the 
inhabitants were favourable to the Reforma- 
tion. Men spoke of Luther with enthusiasm. 
For one who declared himself on the Pope's 
side, he found three against him. Luther has 
preserved an incident that occurred. " What 
is your opinion of the See (sedia) of Rome V 
often inquired the Legate, of the mistresses 
and domestics of the inns. One day, one of 
these poor women answered with naivete : 
" What can we know of the sort of chairs 
{sedia) you have at Rome, whether of stone 
or wood?" 

The mere report of the arrival of the new 
Legate spread suspicion and distrust in the 
Elector's court, the university, the city of 
Wittemberg, and throughout Saxony. " Thank 
God, Martin is still alive !" wrote Melancthon 
in alarm. It was whispered that the Roman 
chamberlain had orders to get Luther into his 
power by stratagem or violence. On all sides 
the Doctor was advised to be on his guard 
against the snares of Miltitz. " He is sent," 
said they, "to seize and deliver you to the 
Pope. Persons deserving of credit have seen 
the brief with which he is furnished." — "I 
await the will of God," replied Luther. 

Miltitz had indeed arrived, bearing letters 
addressed to the Elector, his counsellors, the 
bishops, and the burgomaster of Wittemberg. 
He brought with him seventy apostolic briefs. 
If the flattery and favours of Rome were suc- 
cessful, and Frederic should deliver up Lu- 
ther, these briefs were to be used as passports. 
It was his plan to post up one of them in each 
of the towns on his route, and in this way to 
convey his prisoner to Rome, without opposi- 
tion. 

The Pope seemed to have taken all his 
measures. In the Elector's court they scarce 
knew what course to pursue. Violence they 
might have resisted, but what to oppose to the 
head of Christendom, uttering the language 
of mildness and reason? would it not be well- 
timed if Luther could lie concealed till the 
storm should have passed by 1 An unforeseen 
event came to the deliverance of Luther, the 
Elector and the Reformation from this per- 
plexing position. The aspect of the world 
was suddenly changed. 

On the 12th of January, 1519, died Maxi- 
milian, the Emperor of Germany. Frederic 
of Saxony, agreeably to the Germanic Con- 



stitution, became administrator of the Empire. 
From that moment the Elector was relieved 
from the fear of nuncios and their projects. 
New interests were set to work in the Roman 
Court, which compelled it to temporize in its 
negotiations with Frederic, and arrested the 
blow which it cannot be doubted Miltitz and 
De Vio had meditated. 

The Pope had an earnest desire to exclude 
from the imperial throne Charles of Austria, 
then the reigning king of Naples — a neighbour 
on a throne was in his judgment more to be 
feared than a monk of Germany. Desiring to 
secure the co-operation of the Elector — who in 
this matter might be of so great service, he 
resolved to afford some respite to the monk 
that he might the better counterwork the king. 
In spite of this policy, both made progress. It 
formed, however, the motive for the change in 
Leo X.'s proceedings. 

Another circumstance contributed to avert 
the storm that impended over the Reformation. 
Political troubles broke out immediately after 
the Emperor's demise. In the south the 
Suabian Confederation sought to avenge itself 
on Ulric of Wiirtemberg, who had broken his 
allegiance. In the north the Bishop of Hildes- 
heim invaded, with an armed force, the Bish- 
opric of Minden and the states of the Duke of 
Brunswick. Amidst these confusions, how 
could the great ones of the age attach import- 
ance to a dispute concerning the remission of 
sins ! But God made above all conducive to 
the progress of the Reformation the reputation 
of the Elector, now Vicar of the Empire, for 
prudence, and the protection he afforded to the 
new teachers. — "The tempest was hushed," 
says Luther, "the Papal excommunication 
began to be thought light of." Under shekel 
of the Elector, the Gospel spread itself abroad, 
and hence no small damage to the cause of 
the Papacy. 

We may add that during an interregnum 
the severest prohibitions naturally lost much 
of their authority. Communication became 
more open and easy. The ray of liberty that 
beamed upon those first beginnings of the Re- 
formation, helped materially to develope the 
yet tender plant ; and a thoughtful observer 
might even then have discerned how favourable 
political liberty would one day be to the pro- 
gress of evangelic Christianity. 

Miltitz, who had reached Saxony before the 
death of Maximilian, had lost no time in vi- 
siting his former friend Spalatin ; but scarcely 
did he begin to open his charges against Lu- 
ther — before the chaplain broke out in com- 
plaint against Tetzel. He acquainted the 
Nuncio with the falsehoods and blasphemies 
of the vender of indulgences, and declared 
that all Germany ascribed to the Dominican's 
proceedings the dissensions that distracted 
the Church. 

Miltitz was astonished. Instead of accuser, 
he found himself in the place of one accused. 
His wrath was instantly- turned against Tet- 
zel, and he summoned him to appear before 
him at Altenburg, and account for his con 
duct. 



130 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The Dominican, as cowardly as he was 
boastful, dreading the people whose indigna- 
tion had been roused by his impostures, had 
discontinued his progresses through the towns 
and provinces, and was then living in retire- 
ment in the college of St. Paul. He turned 
pale on the receipt of Miltitz's letter. Rome 
herself seemed to abandon him — to condemn 
him — and to tempt him to quit the only asylum 
in which he reckoned himself safe — as if to 
expose him to the anger of his enemies. Tet- 
zel refused to obey the Nuncio's summons. 
He wrote to Miltitz on the 31st December, 
1518 — "Certainly I would not shrink from 
the fatigue of the journey if I could leave 
Leipsk* without risking my life ; but Martin 
Luthei has so roused and excited powerful 
chiefs against me, that I am nowhere safe. 
A great number of his partisans have bound 
themselves by oath to put me to death ; there- 
fore I cannot come to you." A striking con- 
trast between the two men then dwelling, one 
in the college of St. Paul at Leipsic, and the 
other in the cloister of St. Augustine at Wit- 
temberg. The servant of God manifested an 
intrepid courage in the face of danger; — the 
servant of men betrayed a contemptible cow- 
ardice. 

Miltitz had been directed in the first in- 
stance to try the effect of persuasion ; and it 
was only on the failure of this, that he was to 
produce his seventy briefs, and play off the 
favours of Rome so as to induce the Elector 
to restrain Luther. He therefore expressed 
a wish for an interview with the Reformer. 
Spalatin, their common friend, offered his 
house for the purpose, and Luther left Wit- 
temberg for Altenburg on the 2d or 3d of 
January. 

In this interview Miltitz exhausted all the 
stratagems of a diplomatist and Roman cour- 
tier. At the instant of Luther's arrival, the 
Nuncio approached him with great show of 
friendship — " Oh," thought Luther, " how is 
his former violence changed to gentleness. 
The second Saul came to Germany the bearer 
of seventy briefs, authorizing him to drag me 
in chains to that homicide Rome, but the 
Lord has thrown him to the earth in the way " 
" Dear Martin," said the Pope's chamberlain, 
in a persuasive tone, " I thought you were an 
old theologian, who, quietly seated at his fire- 
side, had certain theological crotchets, but I 
see you are yet young and in the prime of life". 

44 Do you know," continued he, assuming a 
graver tone, "that you have drawn away all 
the world from the Pope ?" Miltitz well 
knew that it is by flattering the pride of men 
that they are most readily deluded; but he 
did not know the man he had to deal with. 

" Even if I were backed by an army of 
twenty-five thousand men," continued he, " I 
truly would not undertake to kidnap and carry 
you to Rome." Thus, notwithstanding her 
power, Rome felt weak when opposed to a 
poor monk, and the monk was conscious of 
strength in his opposition to Rome. " God 
arrests the billows on the shore," said Luther, 
14 and he does so with the sand !" 



The Nuncio, thinking he had by these flat- 
teries prepared the mind of Luther, thus con« 
tinned : " Be persuaded, and yourself stanch 
the wound you have inflicted on the Church, 
and which none but yourself can heal. Be- 
ware, I beseech you," he added, "of raising 
a storm in which the best interests of man- 
kind would be wrecked." And then he gra- 
dually proceeded to hint that a retractation 
was the only way of remedying the evil, but 
instantly softened the objectionable word by 
expressions of high esteem for Luther and 
indignation against Tetzel. The net was 
spread by a skilful hand, — what hope of escape 
from its meshes 1 

44 If the Archbishop of Mentz had acted 
thus with me from the first," said Luther, at 
a later period, " this matter had not made the 
noise it has done." 

Luther spoke out: enumerated, with calm- 
ness, yet with earnestness and energy, the 
just complaints of the Church; he gave free 
expression to his indignation against the 
Archbishop of Mentz, and boldly complained 
of the unworthy manner in which the Roman 
Court had treated him, notwithstanding the 
purity of his intentions. 

Miltitz, who had not expected so decided a 
tone, nevertheless suppressed his anger. " I 
offer," said Luther, " from this time forth to 
keep silence on these things, and to let the 
matter die away, provided my enemies are re- 
duced to silence ; but if they continue their 
attacks, we shall very soon see a partial dis- 
pute give rise to a serious struggle. My 
weapons are ready prepared." After a mo- 
ment's pause, he continued, "I will even go 
a step further. I will write to his Holiness, 
acknowledging that I have been a little too 
violent; and declare that it is as a faithful 
son of the Church that I have opposed a style 
of preaching which drew upon it the mock- 
eries and insults of the people. I even con- 
sent to put forth a writing, wherein I will 
desire all who shall read my works, not to see 
in them any attack on the Church of Rome, 
and to continue in submission to its authority. 
Yes, I am willing to do every thing and bear 
every thing : but as to a retractation, don't 
expect it from me." 

Miltitz saw by Luther's resolute manner 
that the wisest course was to seem satisfied 
with what the Reformer was willing to pro- 
mise. He merely proposed that they should 
name an Archbishop as arbitrator on some of 
the points they would have to discuss. ' 4 Be 
it so," said Luther — " but 1 much fear that 
the Pope will not accept of any judge; if so, 
I will not abide by the Pope's decision, and 
then the dispute will begin again. The Pope 
will give us the text, and I will make my own 
commentary on it." 

Thus ended the first interview of Luther 
with Miltitz. They met once again, and at 
this meeting the truce, or rather the peace, 
was signed. Luther immediately gave in- 
formation to the Elector of all that had passed. 
44 Most serene Prince and gracious Lord," 
wrote he, "I hasten humbly to inform you; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



13, 



Electoral Highness that Charles Miltitz and 
myself are at last agreed, and have terminated 
our differences by the following articles : — 

" 1. IWh sides are forbidden to write or 
act, henceforward, in the question that has 
been raised. 

" Miltitz will, without delay, communi- 
cate to his Holiness the state of affairs. His 
Holiness will commission an enlightened 
bishop to inquire into the affair, and to point 
out the erroneous articles which I am to retract. 
If proof is afforded me that I am in error, I 
will gladly retract, and never more do any 
thing that can lessen the honour or authority 
of the holy Roman Church." 

The agreement thus effected, Miltitz's joy 
broke forth. "For a century," said he, " no 
question has caused more anxiety to the Car- 
dinals and court of Rome. They would have 
given ten thousand ducats rather than see it 
prolonged." 

The Pope's chamberlain spared no marks 
of attention to the monk of Wittemberg; one 
moment he expressed his satisfaction, the 
next he shed tears. These demonstrations of 
sensibility but little moved the Reformer, yet 
he avoided betraying what he thought of them. 
"I feigned not to understand the meaning of 
those crocodile tears," said he.- — The croco- 
dile is said to weep when it is unable to seize 
on its prey. 

Miltitz invited Luther to supper. The 
doctor accepted the invitation. His host laid 
aside the dignity of his function, and Luther 
gave free vent to the cheerfulness of his natu- 
ral temper. The repast was joyous; and the 
moment of adieu arriving, the Legate opened 
his arms to the heretic doctor, and saluted 
him. "A Judas kiss," thought Luther. "I 
affected not to understand these Italian man- 
ners," wrote he to Staupitz. 

Would that salute indeed make reconcilia- 
tion between Rome and the dawning Reforma- 
tion ] Miltitz hoped it might, and rejoiced 
in the hope ; for he had a nearer view than 
the Roman Court could take of the terrible ef- 
fect the Reformation was likely to produce 
on the Papacy. If Luther and his oppo- 
nents are silenced, said he to himself, the 
dispute will be terminated; and Rome, by 
skilfully calling up new circumstances, will 
regain her former influence. To all appear- 
ance, therefore, the struggle was nearly pass- 
ed—Rome had opened her arms and the Re- 
former had cast himself into them. But this 
work was not of man, but of God. It was 
the mistake of Rome to see only a contro- 
versy with a monk, in what was in reality a 
revival of the Church. The kisses of a papal 
chamberlain could not arrest the renewal of 
Christianity. 

Miltitz, acting on the agreement that he 
had just concluded, repaired from Altenburg 
to Leipsic, where Tetzel was then residing. 
There was no need to enjoin silence on the 
Dominican, for he would gladly have sought, 
if possible, to hide himself in the bowels of 
the earth ; but the Nuncio resolved to vent his 
wrath upon him. On arriving at Leipsic, he 



cited him before him. He overwhelmed him 
with reproaches, accused him of being the 
cause of all the evil, and threatened him with 
the Pope's anger. He went further: the 
agent of the house of Fugger, who was then 
at Leipsic, was confronted with him. Miltitz 
exhibited to the Dominican the accounts of 
that house, papers that bore his own signature ! 
and demonstrated that he had squandered or 
appropriated to his own use considerable sums. 
The unhappy man, whom, in the day of his 
triumph, nothing could abash, was struck 
motionless by these well-founded charges. 
He shrunk despairingly — his health gave way 
— and he knew not where to hide his shame. 
Luther received intelligence of the miserable 
fate of his former adversary, and seems to 
have been the only person concerned for him. 
" I pity Tetzel," wrote he to Spalatin He 
did not stop there. It was not the man, but 
his actions, that he had hated. At the very 
time when Rome was pouring wrath upon him, 
Luther wrote to him a letter of consolation. 
But all was in vain ! Tetzel, haunted by the 
remorse of conscience, alarmed by the re- 
proaches of his dearest friends, and dreading 
the anger of the Pope, died miserably, shortly 
afterwards. It was commonly believed that 
grief had hastened his end. 

Luther, in fulfilment of the promises that 
he had made to Miltitz, wrote to the Pope, on 
the 3d of March as follows : — " Most holy 
Father, — May your Holiness condescend to 
incline your paternal ear, which is that of 
Christ himself, toward your poor sheep, and 
listen with kindness to his bleating. What 
shall I do, most holy Father ! I cannot stand 
against the torrent of your anger, and I know 
no way of escape. They require of me that I 
should retract. I would be prompt to do so, 
if that could lead to the result they desire. But 
the persecutions of my enemies have spread 
my writings far and wide, and they are too 
deeply engraven on the hearts of men to be by 
possibility erased. A retractation would only 
still more dishonour the Church of Rome, and 
call forth from all a cry of accusation against 
her. Most holy Father, I declare it in the 
presence of God, and of all the world, 1 never 
have sought, nor will I ever seek, to weaken, 
by force or artifice, the power of the Roman 
Church or of your Holiness. I confess that 
there is nothing in heaven or earth that should 
be preferred above that Church, save only 
Jesus Christ the Lord of all." 

These words might appear strange, and 
even reprehensible in Luther, if we failed to 
bear in mind that the light broke in upon him 
not suddeniy, but by slow and progressive 
degrees. They are evidence of the important 
truth, that the Reformation was not a mere oppo- 
sition to the Papacy. It was not a war waned 
against a certain form or condition of things, 
neither was it the result of any negative tend- 
ency. Opposition to the Pope was its second- 
ary sign. A new life, a positive doctrine, 
was its generating principle — "Jesus Christ 
the Lord of all, and who should be preferred 
before all," and above Rome herself, as Lu- 



132 



HiSTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ther intimates in the latter words of his letter. 
Such was essentially the cause of the Revo- 
lution of the sixteenth century. 

It is probable that a short time previous to 
the period we are recording, the Pope would 
not have passed over unnoticed a letter in 
which the monk of Wit tern berg flatly refused 
any retractation. But Maximilian was no 
more ; — it was a question who was to succeed 
him, and Luther's letter was disregarded in the 
midst of the political intrigues which then 
agitated the city of the pontiffs. 

The Reformer turned his time to better ac- 
count than his potent enemy. Whilst Leo the 
Tenth, absorbed in his interests as a temporal 
prince, was straining every nerve to exclude a 
formidable neighbour from the throne, Luther 
daily grew in knowledge and in faith. He 
studied the decretals of the Popes, and the dis- 
coveries he had made materially modified his 
ideas. He wrote to Spalatin — " I am read- 
ing the decretals of the Pontiffs, and, let me 
whisper it in your ear, I know not whether 
the Pope is Antichrist himself, or whether he 
is his apostle ; so misrepresented, and even 
crucified, does Christ appear in them." 

Yet he still esteemed the ancient Church 
of Rome, and entertained no thought of sepa- 
ration from it. "That the Roman Church," 
said he, "is more honoured by God than all 
others is not to be doubted. St. Peter, St. 
Paul, forty-six popes, some hundreds of thou- 
sands of martyrs, have laid down their lives 
in its communion, having overcome hell and 
the world, so that the eyes of God rest on the 
Roman Church with special favour. Though 
now-a-days every thing there is in a wretched 
state, it is no ground for separating from it. 
On the contrary, the worse things are going, 
the more should we hold close to it ; for it is 
not by separation from it that we can make 
it better. We must not separate from God 
on account of any work of the devil, nor cease 
to have fellowship with the child v en of God, 
who are still abiding in the pale of Rome, on 
account of the multitude of the ungodly. There 
is no sin, no amount of evil, which should be 
permitted to dissolve the bond of charity or 
break the unity of the body. For love can do 
all things, and nothing is difficult to those 
who are united." 

It was not Luther who separated himself 
from Rome, but Rome that separated herself 
from Luther; and in so doing put from her 
the ancient faith of that Catholic Church 
which she then represented. It was not Lu- 
ther who took from Rome her power, and 
obliged her bishop to descend from a throne 
that had been usurped : the doctrines he pro- 
claimed, the word of the apostles, which God 
again made known in the Church with power 
and clearness, were alone effectual to dethrone 
the tyranny that had for centuries enslaved 
the Church. 

These declarations of Luther, published to- 
wards the end of February, were not such as 
were altogether satisfactory to Miltitz and De 
Vio. These two vultures had both seen their 
i»rey escape them, and had retired within the 



walls of ancient Treves. There, under favoui 
of the Archbishop, they nourished the hope of 
accomplishing by their union the purpose each 
had separately failed to effect. The two 
Nuncios saw plainly that nothing was to be 
expected from Frederic, now invested with 
supreme power. They saw that Luther per- 
sisted in his refusal to retract. The only 
chance of success consisted in depriving the 
heretical monk of the Elector's countenance, 
and then inveigling him within their reach. 
Once at Treves, in a state subject to a Prince 
of the Church, and no cunning will deliver him 
till he shall have fully satisfied the require- 
ments of the Pontiff. They went to work 
without delay. " Luther," said Miltitz to the 
Elector Archbishop of Treves, " has accepted 
the arbitration of your Grace : we request you, 
therefore, to summon him before you." The 
Elector of Treves accordingly wrote on the 3d 
of May to the Elector of Saxony, requesting 
him to send Luther to him. De Vio, and, 
shortly after, Miltitz himself, repaired to Fre- 
deric, to announce to him that the Golden 
Rose had arrived at Augsburg, consigned to 
the care of the Fuggers. The moment, they 
thought, had arrived for striking a decisive 
blow. 

But affairs were changed : neither Frederic 
nor Luther was moved from his confidence. 
The Elector comprehended his new position, 
and no longer feared the Pope, much less hv=: 
agents. The Reformer, seeing Miltitz and 
De Vio united, foresaw the fate that awaited 
him, if he complied with their summons. 
"On all sides," said he, "my life is waylaid." 
Besides, he had appealed to the Pope, and the 
Pope, busy in intrigues with crowned heads, 
had not answered his appeal. Luther wrote 
to Miltitz, " How can I set out without an 
order from Rome in these troublous times 1 
How can I expose myself to so many dangers, 
and such heavy expense, poor as I am ?" 

The Elector of Treves, a prudent and mo- 
derate man, and connected by relations of 
friendship with Frederic, resolved to consult 
the interests of the latter. He had ho wish to 
interfere, unless positively required to do so. 
He, therefore, came to an agreement with the 
Elector of Saxony, to adjourn the examination 
to the ensuing Diet, — and it was not until two 
years after that the Diet assembled. 

Whilst the dangers that threatened Luther 
were thus warded off by a providential hand, 
he himself was boldly advancing to a result 
he did not discern. His reputation was in- 
creased, the cause of truth gained strength, 
the number of students at Wittemberg in- 
creased, and among them were found the most 
distinguished youth of Germany. " Our city.*' 
wrote Luther, "can scarce hold the numbers 
who are arriving;" and on another occasion 
he observes, "The students increase upon us 
like an overflowing tide." 

But already the Reformer's voice was heard 
beyond the confines of Germany. Passing 
the frontiers of the Empire, it had begun to 
shake the foundations of the Roman power 
amongf the several nations of Christendom 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



133 



Frobenius, the celebrated printer of Basle, had 
put forth a collection of Luther's writings. 
They circulated rapidly. At Basle, the bishop 
himself commended Luther. The Cardinal 
of Sion, after reading his works, exclaimed, 
with an ironical play on his name, " O Luther, 
thou art a true Luther !" (a purifier, lauterer.) 

Erasmus was at Louvain when the writings 
of Luther were received in the Low Countries. 
The Prior of the Augustines at Antwerp, who 
had studied at Wittemberg, and acquired, ac- 
cording to the testimony of Erasmus, a know- 
ledge of primitive Christianity, read them 
with eagerness, as did other Belgians. But 
those who were intent only on their own self- 
ish interest, remarks Erasmus, men who fed 
the people with old wives' tales, broke out in 
angry fanaticism. " I cannot tell you," wrote 
Erasmus to Luther, " the emotion and truly tra- 
gic agitation your writings have occasioned." 

Frobenius sent 600 copies of these writings 
to France and Spain. They were publicly 
sold in Paris : the Sorbonne doctors read them 
with approbation, as it would appear. It was 
high time, said some of them, that those who 
devoted themselves to biblical studies should 
speak out freely. In England these books 
were received with still greater eagerness. 
Some Spanish merchants translated them into 
Spanish, and forwarded them from Antwerp 
to their own country. "Assuredly," says 
Pallavicini, "these merchants must have been 
of Moorish blood." 

Calvi, a learned bookseller of Pavia, took 
a large quantity of copies to Italy, and distri- 
buted them in the transalpine cities. It was 
no desire of gain that inspired this man of 
letters, but a wish to contribute to the revival 
of the love of God. The power with which 
Luther maintained the cause of Christ, filled 
him with joy. " All the learned men of Italy," 
wrote he, " will unite with me, and will send 
you tributary verses from our most distin- 
guished writers." 

Frobenius, in transmitting to Luther a copy 
of his publication, related these joyful tidings, 
and thus continued: — "I have sold all the 
impressions except ten copies, and no specu- 
lation ever answered my purpose so well as 
this." Other letters informed Luther of the 
joy his writings diffused. "I am delighted," 
said he, " that the truth is found so pleasing, 
although she speaks with little learning and 
in stammering accents." 

Such was the commencement of the awaken- 
ing in the several countries of Europe. If we 
except Switzerland, where the preaching of 
the Gospel had been already heard, the arrival 
of the Doctor of Wittemberg's writings every- 
where forms the first page in the history of 
the Reformation. A printer of Basle scattered 
the first germs of truth. At the moment when 
the Roman pontiff thought to stifle the work 
in Germany, it began to manifest itself in 
Fiance, the Low Countries, Italy, Spain, 
England, and Switzerland. Even though the 
power of Rome should fell the parent stem . . . 
the seeds are henceforth spread abroad in all 
ands. 



! Whilst the conflict was beginning beyond 
the limits of the Empire, it seemed to be sus- 
pended within. The most turbulent allies of 
I Rome, the Franciscan monks of Juterbok, 
; who had imprudently attacked Luther, had 
! retired in silence after a vigorous reply from 
J the Reformer. The Pope's partisans were no 
longer heard — Tetzel was incapable of any 
movement. The friends of Luther entreated 
him to give over further contest, and he had 
promised to do so. The theses were begin- 
ning to be forgotten. This hollow peace 
struck powerless the eloquence of the Reform- 
er. The Reformation appeared arrested in its 
progress. " But," observed Luther, speaking 
subsequently of this period, " men were form- 
ing vain schemes, for the Lord had arisen to 
judge anions the nations." Elsewhere we 
find him exclaiming, " God does not conduct, 
but drives me, and carries me forward. I am 
not master of my own actions. I would 
gladly live in peace, but I am cast into the 
midst of tumult and changes.' 

The scholastic Eck, author of the Obelisks, 
and Luther's early friend, was the first to 
recommence the combat. He was sincerely 
attached to the Papacy ; but he appears to 
have been a stranger to the religion of the 
heart, and to have been of that class, too nu- 
merous in every age, who look upon science, 
and even upon theology and religion, as means 
of advancement in the world. Vainglory 
dwells under the cassock of the pastor as well 
as under the armour of the warrior. Eck had 
applied himself to the logic of the schools, and 
was acknowledged an adept in this kind of 
controversy. Whilst the knights of the mid- 
dle ages, and the warriors of the age of the 
Reformation, sought glory in tournaments, the 
scholastic pedants contended for distinction in 
those syllogistic discussions for which the 
academies often afforded a stage. Eck, full 
of confidence in himself, and proud of the 
popularity of his cause, and of the prizes he 
had* won in eight universities of Hungary, 
Lombardy, and Germany, ardently desired an 
opportunity of displaying his ability and ad- 
dress. The " obscure monk," who had so 
suddenly grown into a giant — this Luther, 
whom no one had hitherto humbled — offended 
his pride and aroused his jealousy. It may 
have occurred to him, that in seeking his own 
glory he might ruin the cause of Rome. . . . 
But scholastic pride was not to be checked by 
such a thought. Divines, as well as princes, 
have at times sacrificed the general weal to 
their own personal glory. We shall see what 
particular circumstance afforded the Doctor of 
Ingolstadt the desired opportunity of enter- 
ing the lists with his rival. 

The zealous but too ardent Carlstadt was 
still in communication with Luther ; they 
were also specially united by their attachment 
to the doctrine of grace, and by their admira- 
tion for St. Augustine. Of enthusiastic cha- 
racter and small discretion, Carlstadt was not 
a man to be restrained by the skill and policy 
of a Miltitz. He had published against Eck's 
obelisks some theses, wherein he espoused the 



134 



HISTORY OF THE REFO RM ATION. 



opinions of Luther and their common faith. 
Eck had put forth a reply, and Carlstadt had 
not left hirn the advantage of the last word. 
The discussion grew warm. Eck desiring to 
profit by the opportunity, had thrown down 
the gauntlet, and the impetuous Carlstadt had 
taken it up. God used the passions of these 
two men to bring about his purposes. Luther 
had taken no part in these discussions, and yet 
he was destined to be the hero of the struggle. 
There are some men who by the necessity of 
the case are continually brought forward on 
the stage. It was settled that Leipsic should 
be the scene of the discussion. This was the 
origin of the Leipsic dispute, afterwards so 
famous. 

Eck thought it a small thing to contest the 
question with Carlstadt. It was his object to 
humble Luther. He therefore sought by every 
means to tempt him into the field, and for this 
end put forth thirteen theses, which he so 
framed as to bear directly on the principal 
doctrines of the Reformer. The thirteenth 
was in these words, — " We deny that the 
authority of the Roman Church did not rise 
above that of other churches before the time 
of Pope Sylvester : and we acknowledge in 
every age as successor of St. Peter and Vicar 
of Jesus Christ him who was seated in the 
chair and held the faith of St. Peter." Sylves- 
ter lived in the time of Constantine the Great; 
Eck, therefore, in this thesis, denied that the 
primacy possessed by Rome was given to it 
by that emperor. 

Luther, who had consented, not without re- 
luctance, to remain silent, was deeply moved 
as he read these propositions. He saw that 
they were directed against him, and felt that 
he could not decline the challenge without 
disgrace. " That man," said he, " declares 
Carlstadt to be his antagonist, and at the same 
moment attacks me. But God reigns. He 
Knows what it is that He will bring out of 
this tragedy. It matters little how it affects 
Doctor Eck or me. The purpose of God must 
be fulfilled. Thanks to Eck, this, which has 
hitherto been but a trifle, will in the end be- 
come a serious matter, and strike a fatal blow 
against the tyranny of Rome and her Pon- 
tiff." 

The truce had been broken by Rome her- 
self. Nay, more, in again giving the signal 
of battle, the contest had been transferred to a 
quarter which Luther had not yet directly at- 
tacked. Eck had called the attention of his 
adversaries to the primacy of Rome. He thus 
followed the dangerous example of Tetzel. 
Rome invited the stroke ; — and if in the re- 
sult she left on the arena proofs of her defeat, 
it is certain that she herself had provoked the 
formidable blow. 

The Pontiff's supremacy once overturned, 
all the superstructure of Rome must needs 
crumble into dust. Hence the Papacy was 
in danger, and yet neither Miltitz nor Cajetan 
took any step to prevent this new contest. 
Could they imagine the Reformation subdued 
— or were they smitten with the blindness 
which deludes the powerful to their ruin % 



Luther, who had set a rare example of 
moderation in keeping silence so long, boldly 
accepted the challenge of his new antagonist 
He put forth fresh theses in reply r to those of 
Eck. The concluding one was thus express- 
ed — "It is by contemptible decretals of Ro- 
man Pontiffs, composed hardly four centuries 
ago, that it is attempted to prove the primacy 
of the Roman Church; — but arrayed against 
this claim are eleven centuries of credible 
history, the express declarations of Scripture, 
and the conclusions of the Council of Nice, 
the most venerable of all the councils." 

" God knows," wrote Luther, at the same 
time, to the Elector, "that it was my fixed 
purpose to keep silence, and that I was re- 
joiced to see the struggle brought to a close. 
I was so scrupulous in my adherence to the 
treaty concluded with the Pope's commissary, 
that I did not answer Sylvester Prierias, not- 
withstanding the taunts of my adversaries, and 
the advice of my friends. But now Dr. Eck 
attacks me; and not me only, but the whole 
university of Wittemberg. I cannot allow 
truth to be thus loaded with opprobrium." 

Luther wrote at the same time to Carlstadt: 
"Worthy Andrew, I am not willing that you 
should enter on this dispute, since the attack is 
in reality directed against me. I gladly lay 
aside my serious studies to turn my strength 
against these parasites of the Pontiff." Then 
turning to his adversary, and disdainfully call 
ing from Wittemberg to Ingolstadt, he ex- 
claims, " Now then, dear Eck, take courage, 
— gird on thy sword. If I could not please 
thee when thou earnest as a go-between, per- 
haps I may better satisfy thee as an antago- 
nist. Not that I, of course, can expect to over- 
come thee, — but that after all thy triumphs in 
Hungary, Lombardy, Bavaria, (if we are to 
believe thy own report,) I shall be giving thee 
the opportunity of earning the name of con- 
queror of Saxony and Misnia ! — so that thou 
shalt ever after be hailed with the glorious 
epithet of August." 

All Luther's friends did not share in his 
courage, — for no one had hitherto been able 
to resist the sophisms of Eck. But their 
great cause of alarm was the subject-matter 
of the dispute. . . . the Pope's primacy ! How 
can the poor monk of Wittemberg dare to 
stand up against the giant who for ages has 
crushed all his enemies ] The courtiers of 
the Elector were alarmed. Spalatin, the 
prince's confidant, and the intimate friend of 
Luther, was filled with apprehensions. Fre- 
deric himself was not at ease. Even the 
sword of the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, 
with which he had been invested at Jerusa- 
lem, would not avail him in this struggle. 
Luther alone was unmoved. "The Lord," 
thought he, "will deliver him into my hand." 
His own faith furnished him with encourage- 
ment for his friends. "I beseech you, my 
dear Spalatin," said he, "do not give way to 
fear. You well know that if Christ had not 
been on our side, what 1 have already done 
must have been my ruin. Even lately did 
not news come from Rome to the Duke of 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



135 



Pomerania's chancellor, that I had destroyed I 
all respect for Rome, and that no way appear- ' 
ed of quieting the general feeling; so that it 
was intended to deal with me, not judicially, 
but by Roman stratagem; such were the 
words used — 1 suppose meaning poison, am- 
bush, or assassination ! 

" I restraiu myself, and out of regard to the 
Elector and the University, I keep back many 
things which I would employ against Baby- 
lon, if I were elsewhere. O, my dear Spa- 
latin, it is not possible to speak truth con- 
cerning Scripture and the Church, without 
rousing the beast. Don't expect to see me at 
peace unless I renounce the study of divine 
things. If this matter be of God, it will not 
end till all my friends have forsaken me, as 
all the disciples of Christ forsook him. Truth 
will stand unaided, and will prevail by his 
right hand, not mine or yours, or by any other 
man's. If I perish, the world will not perish 
with me. But wretch that I am, I fear I am 
not worthy to die in such a cause." " Rome," 
wrote he again about this time, " Rome eager- 
ly longs for my destruction, and I grow weary 
of defying her. I am credibly informed that 
a paper effigy of Martin Luther has been pub- 
licly burnt in the Campus Floralis at Rome, 
after being loaded with execrations. I await 
their onset." " The whole world," he con- 
tinued, "is in motion and shaking. What 
will be the consequence, God alone knows. 
For my part I foresee wars and calamities. 
God have mercy on us." 

Luther wrote letter after letter to Duke 
George, to ask permission of that prince, m 
whose states Leipsic was situated, to repair 
thither, and take part in the discussion : still 
he received no answer The grandson of the 
Bohemian king Podiebrad, alarmed by Lu- 
ther's proposition touching the Pope's autho- 
rity, and fearing, lest Saxony should become 
the theatre of struggles similar to those which 
had long ravaged Bohemia, resolved not to 
consent to Luther's request. The latter here- 
upon decided to publish some explanations of 
his thirteenth thesis. But this tract, so far 
from persuading Duke George, strengthened 
him in his resolution ; and he decidedly re- 
fused the Reformer his permission to take 
part in the discussion, allowing him only to 
be present as a spectator. Luther was great- 
ly mortified ; nevertheless it was his desire 
simply to follow God's leadings, and he re- 
solved to repair thither, to witness what took 
place, and wait any opening that might offer. 

At the same time, the prince promoted by 
all his influence the discussion between Eck 
and Carlstadt. George was devotedly attach- 
ed to the established doctrine — but he was 
upright, sincere, a friend to free inquiry, and 
far from deeming all exercise of individual 
judgment in such things justly open to the 
charge of heresy, merely because it might 
give offence to Rome. Add to this, the Elec- 
tor united his influence with his cousin, and 
George, emboldened by the language of Fre- 
deric, ordered that the dispute should take 
place. 



Bishop Adolphus of Merseburg, in whose 
diocess Leipsic was situate, saw more clearly 
| than Miltitz and Cajetan, the danger of sub- 
jecting questions of such high importance to 
the uncertain issue of a single combat. Rome 
could not well expose to such hazard the ac- 
quisition of several centuries. All the divines 
of Leipsic, sharing in the alarm, entreated their 
bishop to interfere and prevent the discussion. 
Adolphus, therefore earnestly dissuaded Duke 
George, but the latter answered with much 
good sense : "lam surprised to find a bishop 
holding in abhorrence the ancient and lauda- 
ble custom of our fathers, to inquire into 
doubtful questions in matters of faith. If 
your theologians object to defend their doc- 
trines, the money given them would be better 
bestowed in maintaining old women and 
children, who, at least, mightsew and sing." 

This letter produced little effect on the 
bishop and his divines. Error has a hidden 
conscience which makes its supporters fear 
discussion, even while they talk most largely 
of free inquiry. Advancing without circum- 
spection, it draws back with cowardice. 
Truth provokes not, but holds firm. Error 
provokes inquiry and then retires. The pros- 
perity of the university of Wittemberg was 
an object of jealousy at Leipsic. The monks 
and the priests from their pulpits besought the 
people to avoid the new heretics. They re- 
viled Luther, depicting him and his friends in 
the darkest colours, to rouse the fanaticism 
of the lowest classes against the doctors of 
the Reformation. Tetzel himself, who was 
still living, exclaimed from his retreat, " It is 
the devil himself who is urging on this con- 
test." 

Still not all the Leipsic professors were 
of this opinion. Some belonged to the class 
of indifferent spectators, ever ready to find 
amusement in the faults of both sides. Of 
this number was Peter Mosellanus. He 
cared little for Jchn Eck, or Carlstadt, or 
Martin Luther, but he promised himself much 
amusement from their contest. " John Eck, 
the most illustrious of gladiators of the pen 
and rhodomontadists," said he, writing to his 
friend Erasmus, "John Eck, who, like the 
Socrates of Aristophanes, looks down upon 
the gods themselves, is about to come to blows 
with Andrew Carlstadt. The battle will end 
in smoke. There will be matter for mirth foi 
ten Democrituses." 

On the other hand, the timid Erasmus was 
alarmed at the idea of a dispute; and his 
prudence tried to prevent the discussion. 
" If you would trust Erasmus," wrote he to 
Melancthon, " you would apply yourself 
rather to the cultivation of literature, than to~ 
disputes, with its enemies. In that way I 
think we should get on better. Above all, 
let us remember in the contest that we must 
not conquer by force of words only, but also 
by modesty and gentleness." Neither the 
fears of the priests, nor the prudence of paci- 
ficators, could now prevent the contest. Each 
party prepared himself. 

Eck was the first to arrive at the place of 



136 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



endezvous. On the 21st of June he entered 
Leipsic, accompanied by Poliander, a young 
man whom he had brought from Ingolstadt to 
take notes of the discussion. He was re- 
ceived with great honours. Attired in priestly 
garments, at the head of a numerous proces- i 
sion, he passed through the streets of the city I 
on Corpus Christi day. All crowded to see 
him. " The whole population was in my J 
favour," said he, in speaking of it; " never- 
theless," he continues, "a rumour was spread 
abroad in the city that I should be defeated 
in the encounter." 

The day after the festival, Friday, the 24th 
of June, and St. John's day, the party from 
Wittemberg arrived in Leipsic. Carlstadt, 
who was to conduct the controversy against 
Eck, was alone in his travelling car, in ad- 
vance of the rest. Duke Barnim of Pome- 
*ania, who was at that time studying at "Wit- 
temberg, and had been chosen Rector of the 
Jniversity, followed in an open carriage. 
Seated beside him were the two celebrated 
divines — the fathers of the Reformation — Me- 
lancthon and Luther. Melancthon had refused 
to be separated from his friend. " Martin, 
that soldier of Jesus Christ," were his words 
to Spalatin, " has stirred up all this filthy 
bog. My soul is moved with indignation 
when I think of the shameful conduct of the 
Pope's doctors. Stand firm and constant 
with us." Luther himself had requested his 
Achates, as he has been termed, to bear him 
company. 

John Lange, vicar of the Augustines, se- 
veral doctors of law, a few masters of arts, 
two licentiates in theology, and other eccle- 
siastics, among whom was noticed Nicholas 
AmsdorfT, closed the procession. AmsdorfT, 
descended from a noble family of Saxony, far 
from being fascinated by the brilliant career 
to which his birth seemed to call him, had 
devoted himself to theology. The theses on 
indulgences had led him to the knowledge of 
the truth. Instantly he had made a courage- 
ous profession of faith. Of energetic mind 
and vehement character, AmsdorfT was accus- 
tomed to urge on Luther, already by nature 
nrompt, to actions of questionable prudence. 
Born to elevated station, he was not awed by 
rank, and in addressing the great he spoke at 
times with a freedom bordering upon rude- 
ness. " The gospel of Jesus Christ," said 
he in presence of a noble assembly, " belongs 
to the poor and afflicted, and not to princes, 
lords, and courtiers, such as you, who live in 
a round of pleasures and enjoyments." 

But this was not all the array of Wittem- 
berg. A large body of students accompanied 
their teachers. Eck affirms that there were 
as many as two hundred. Armed with pikes 
and halberds, they attended the doctors in 
their route, resolved to defend them, and 
proud of their cause. 

In this order the procession of the Refor- 
mers arrived at Leipsic. Just as it had passed 
the Grimma gate, and had reached the ceme- 
tery of St. Paul, a wheel of Carlstadt's tra- 
velling car broke down. The archdeacon, 



whose vanity was pleasing itself with so 
solemn an entry, was precipitated into the 
mud. He was not hurt, but was compelled 
to proceed on foot to the place assigned for 
his abode. Luther's chariot, which was fol- 
lowing that of Carlstadt, got before him, and 
bore the Reformer safe and sound to his desti- 
nation. The people of Leipsic, who had 
assembled to witness the entry of the cham- 
pions of Wittemberg, interpreted this acci- 
dent as an ill omen for Carlstadt; and it was 
soon a prevalent impression that he would 
break down in the conflict, but that Luther 
would remain master of the field. 

Adolphus of Merseburg was not idle. As 
soon as he learned the approach of Luthei 
and Carlstadt, and even before they had 
alighted, he caused to be affixed on the doors 
of the churches a notice prohibiting the open- 
ing of the discussion under pain of excommu- 
nication. Duke George, astounded at this 
audacity, directed the city council to tear 
down the bishop's placard, and committed to 
prison the daring meddler who had ventured 
to be the agent of his orders. George had 
himself arrived at Leipsic. He was accom- 
panied by all his court; among the rest by 
Jerome Emser, with whom Luther hadaspent 
a memorable evening at Dresden. George 
made the customary presents to the two dis- 
putants. "The Duke," said Eck boastfully, 
"presented me with a fine stag, and to Carl- 
stadt he gave only a roebuck." 

The moment Eck heard that Luther had 
arrived, he repaired to the doctor's lodging: 
— " What is this ?" said he, "I am told you 
object to dispute with me." — Luther. " How 
can I dispute, since the Duke forbids me to do 
so." — Eck. " If I am not allowed to dispute 
with you, I shall take very little interest in 
discussing with Carlstadt. It is on your ac- 
count I am here." Then, after a moment's 
silence, he continued, " If I obtain the Duke's 
permission, will you take the field V — Lu- 
ther, (overjoyed.) " Only obtain permission, 
and we will meet." 

Eck instantly waited on the Duke; bela- 
boured to dissipate his fears ; he assured him 
that he was certain of victory, and that the 
Pope's authority, far from suffering by the dis- 
pute, would come out of it the more glorious. 
"It was fit," he said, "that the argument 
should bear against the principal party. — If 
Luther be unhumbled, every thing is still to 
be done; if he is overcome, all is at an end." 
George granted the desired permission. 

The Duke had had a large apartment pre- 
pared in his palace, named Pleissenburg. Two 
elevated pulpits had been erected opposite 
each other, — tables had been placed for the 
notaries engaged to take notes of the discus- 
sion, and benches were ranged around for the 
audience. The pulpits and benches were hung 
with rich tapestry. In front of that intended 
for the doctor of Wittemberg, was suspended 
the portrait of St. Martin ; — on that of Eck 
was the figure of St. George. — " We shall 
see," said the haughty Eck, as he contem- 
plated this emblem — " if I do not trample my 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



137 



antagonists under my feet." Every thing an- 
nounced the high importance attached to the 
dispute. 

On the 25th of June, a meeting was held in 
the Castle to settle the order that should be 
followed. Eck, who placed even more de- 
pendence on his declamation and action than 
on his arguments, exclaimed, " We will dis- 
pute freely and extempore, and the notaries 
need not take down our words." 

Carlstadt. — "It was understood that the 
discussion should be written, printed, and 
submitted to the judgment of the public." 

Eck. — " Writing down all that is said 
wearies the minds of the disputants, and pro- 
tracts the contest. There is an end at once of 
the spirit necessary to give animation to the 
discussion. Do not delay the flow of elo- 
quence." 

The friends of Eck supported his proposal ; 
— but Carlstadt persisted in his objections, and 
the champion of Rome was obliged to give 
way. 

Eck.- -" Well, be it so ; let it be in writing : 
but at least the discussion taken down by the 
notaries must not be made public before it has 
been submitted to the inspection of chosen 
judges." 

Luther. — " Then does the truth that Doc- 
tor Eck and his followers hold dread the 
light?" 

Eck. — " There must be judges." 

Luther. — " What judges ?" 

Eck. — " W T hen the discussion is closed, we 
will settle who they shall be." 

The object of the Romanists was apparent. 
If the Wittemberg divines accepted judges 
they were lost : for their adversaries were pre- 
viously secure of the favour of those who 
would be applied to. If they refused to abide 
their decision, their enemies would cover them 
with shame, by circulating the report that 
they feared to submit themselves to impartial 
award. 

The Reformers demanded for judges — not 
this and that individual, whose opinion had 
been previously formed, but the general body 
of Christians. It was to this universal suf- 
frage they appealed. Besides, sentence of 
condemnation given against them would, in 
their judgment, matter little, if, in defending 
their cause before the Christian world, they 
should lead souls to the discovery of the light. 
" Luther," says a Roman historian, "required 
the whole body of believers for his judges, — 
in other words, a tribunal so extensive that no 
urn would be found to receive the suffrages." 
The parties separated. — " Observe their 
artifices," remarked Luther and his friends to 
each other. — " They do no doubt mean to 
require that the Pope or the Universities 
should be the judges of the result." 

In fact, on the following morning the Ro- 
mish party sent one of their number to Luther, 
with instructions to propose to him .... the 

Pope as judge— the Pope ! " The Pope !" 

said Luther, " how can I accede to such a pro- 
posal ?" 

" Beware," said all his friends, " of ac- 



cepting such unjust conditions." — Eck and his 
advisers held another council. They gave up 
the Pope, and proposed certain Universities. 
" Do not retract the liberty you have before 
conceded to us," said Luther. — " We cannot 
yield this point," replied they. — "Then," ex- 
claimed Luther, " 1 will take no part in the 
discussion." 

Again the parties separated, and throughout 
the city the affair was a subject of conversa- 
tion. — "Luther will not accept the challenge," 
said the Romanists . ..." He will not ac- 
knowledge any judge!" His words are com- 
mented on and misconstrued, and endeavours 
are made to represent them in the most unfa- 
vourable colours. — " What, is it true that he 
declines the discussion?" said the warmest 
friends of the Reformer. They flock around 
him and give expression to their misgivings : 
— " You decline the discussion !" said they, 
"your refusal will bring lasting shame on 
your University, and on the cause you have 
taken in hand." 

It was assailing him on his weak side. 
" Well then," said he, indignantly, " I accept 
the conditions proposed ; — but I reserve tc 
myself the right to appeal, and decline the 
jurisdiction of Rome." 

The 27th of June was the day fixed for th 
opening of the discussion. Early in the morn- 
ing a meeting took place in the great college 
of the University, and from thence the train 
walked in procession to the church of St. 
Thomas, where a solemn mass was performed, 
by order and at the expense of the Duke. 
After the service the parties present repaired 
in procession to the ducal castle. In front, 
4 walked Duke George and the Duke of Pome- 
rania; then came counts, barons, knights, and 
other persons of rank, and lastly, the doctors, 
of both sides. A guard consisting of seventy- 
three citizens, armed with halberds, accompa- 
nied their march, with banners flying, and 
martial music, halting at the castle-gates. 

The procession having reached the palace, 
each took his seat in the hall, where the dis- 
cussion was to take place. Duke George, the 
hereditary Prince John, Prince George of An- 
halt, then twelve years of age, and the Duke 
of Pomerania, occupied the seats assigned 
them. 

Mosellanus ascended the pulpit, vo remind 
the theologians, by the Duke's order, ill what 
manner they were to dispute. "If you fall to 
quarrelling," said the speaker, " what differ- 
ence will remain between a theologian in dis- 
cussion and a shameless duellist 1 ? In this 
question, what is victory but the recovery of 
a brother from error] It seems as if each of 
you should be more desirous to be so conquer- 
ed than to conquer!" 

This address terminated, sacred music re- 
sounded in the halls of Pleissenburg; the 
whole assembly fell upon their knees, and the 
ancient hymn of invocation to the Holy Spirit, 
Veni, Sancte Spiritus, was chanted. Solemn 
moments in the history of the Reformation ! 
Thrice was the invocation repeated, and whilst 
this impressive voice was heard around the 



138 



FTSTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



defenders of the ancient doctrine, and the 
champions of this new teaching, the church- 
men of the middle ages, and those who sought 
to restore the church of the apostles, humbly 
bowed their foreheads to the earth. The time- 
honoured bond of one communion still bound 
together all these different minds ; the same 
prayer still proceeded from all these lips, as 
if one heart pronounced it. 

These were the last moments of outward 
and lifeless unity : a new Oneness of the 
spirit and of life was commencing. The Holy 
Spirit was invoked upon the church, and was 
preparing to answer in the revival of Christi- 
anity. 

The chanting and prayer being concluded, 
all rose from their knees. The discussion 
was about to commence, but it being twelve 
o'clock, it was postponed till two in the after- 
noon. 

The Duke assembled at his table the prin- 
cipal persons who intended to be present at 
the discussion. After the repast, they returned 
to the castle. The hall was niled with spec- 
tators. Discussions of this kind were the 
public meetings of that age. It was in such 
meetings that the men who represented the 
generation in which they lived agitated the 
questions which occupied the general mind. 
Soon the speakers took their places. That 
their appearance may be better conceived, we 
will give their portraits as traced by one of 
the most impartial witnesses of the encounter. 

" Martin Luther is of middle size, and so 
thin, by reason of his continual studies, that 
one can almost count his bones. He is in the 
prime of life, and his voice is clear and sono- 
rous. His knowledge and understanding of 
the Holy Scriptures are incomparable: the 
whole word of God is at his fingers' ends. 

" Added to this, he has vast resources of 
argument and ideas. One might perhaps de- 
sire somewhat more judgment to arrange every 
thing in its right order. In conversation he is 
agreeable and obliging ; in no respect stoical 
or proud; he accommodates himself to every 
one; his manner of speaking is pleasing, and 
full of jovialty ; he evinces much firmness, and 
has ever a contented expression of counte- 
nance, whatever may be the threats of his ad- 
versaries. So that one is constrained to be- 
lieve that it is not without divine assistance 
that he does such great things. He is blamed, 
however, for being more severe in his reproofs 
than is becoming a divine, especially when 
advancing novelties in religion." 

" Carlstadt is smaller in stature; he has a 
dark and sunburnt complexion; his voice is 
harsh; his memory less tenacious than that of 
Luther, and he is yet more warm in temper. 
Yet he possesses, though in a lower degree, 
the same qualities for which his friend is re- 
markable." 

" Eck is tall and broad shouldered ; his 
voice is strong and truly German. He has 
good lungs, so that he would be well heard in 
a theatre, and would even make a capital 
town-crier. His articulation is rather thick 
than clear. He has none of the grace so much 



commended by Fabius and Cicero. His 
mouth, eyes, and whole countenance give you 
the idea rather of a soldier, or a butcher, than 
of a divine. His memory is wonderful, and 
if his understanding were equal to it, he would 
be a truly perfect man. But his comprehen- 
sion is slow, and he wants that judgment 
without which all other gifts are useless 
Hence, in disputing, he produces a mass of 
passages from the Bible, citations from the 
Fathers, and different kinds of proof, without 
careful selection or discernment. Add to 
this, his effrontery is almost inconceivable. If 
he is embarrassed he breaks off from the sub- 
ject in hand, plunges into another, sometimes 
even takes up the opinion of his antagonists 
under a different form of expression, and with 
wonderful address attributes to his opponent 
the very absurdity he himself was defending." 

Such is the description given by Mosellanus 
of the men who then engaged the attention of 
the multitude who thronged the great hall of 
the Pleissenburg. 

The discussion was opened by Eck and 
Carlstadt. 

Eck's eyes rested for an instant on some ar- 
ticles that lay on the desk of his adversary's 
pulpit, and which seemed to offend his eye. 
These were the Bible and the Fathers. " I 
object to entering upon the discussion," ex- 
claimed he on a sudden, "if you are permitted 
to bring your books with you." Strange that 
a theologian should have recourse to books in 
order to dispute. Eck's surprise ought to 
have been yet more surprising. " All this is 
but a fig-leaf by which this Adam seeks to 
hide his shame," said Luther. " Did not 
Augustine consult books when he contended 
against the Manicheans ?'- It mattered not! 
the partisans of Eck were loud in their clam- 
ours. Mutual imputations were thrown out. 
" The man has no memory," said Eck. Fi- 
nally, it was arranged, according to the wish 
of the Chancellor of Ingolstadt, that each 
party should be restricted to the use of his 
memory and of his tongue. "Thus, then," 
said many, " in this disputation the point at 
issue will not be the inquiry after truth, but 
what praise is to be assigned to the speech 
and memory of the disputants." 

It being impossible to relate, at length, the 
course of a discussion which lasted seventeen 
days, we must, to borrow the expression of an 
historian, imitate painters, who, in represent- 
ing a battle, give prominence to the more me- 
morable actions, leaving the rest in the back 
ground. 

The subject in dispute, between Eck and - 
Carlstadt, was an important one. " Man's 
will, previous to his conversion," said Carl- 
stadt, " can do no good work. Every good 
work, proceeds entirely and exclusively from 
God, who gives to man first the will and af- 
terwards the power to perform it." This 
truth has been proclaimed by Holy Scripture, 
in the words -It is God that worketh in you. 
both to will and to do of his good pleasure, ami 
by Saint Augustine, who, in disputing wit! 
the Pelagians, had expressed it almost in the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



139 



3arae words. Every action which is wanting 
in love to God, and obedience to Him, is in 
His sight destitute of that which can alone 
render it good ; even though in other respects 
flowing from the noblest of human motives. 
But there is in man a natural opposition to the 
will of God. He has not in himself the 
strength to overcome this. He has neither 
the power nor the will to do so. This then 
must be the work of divine power. 

This is the doctrine so cried down by the 
world, and which is yet so simple ; the doc- 
trine of Free-will. But the scholastic divines 
had expounded it so as scarcely to be recog- 
nised. Doubtless, said they, the will of man 
in a state of nature can do nothing truly accept- 
able to God ; but it can do much to render him 
more capable of receiving the grace of God, 
and more meet to obtain it. They called these 
preparations a merit of congruity ; " because 
it was congruous," says Thomas Aquinas, 
" that God should treat with special favour 
the man who makes a right use of his own 
will." And as to the conversion which must 
be wrought in man, doubtless it was the grace 
of God, which, as the scholastic divines taught, 
must effect it; but without excluding natural 
powers. These powers, said they, have not 
been destroyed by sin: — sin but interposes an 
obstacle to their development; but when this 
impediment is removed, and that, said they, it 
is the office of the Spirit of God to accomplish, 
the action of these powers is restored. To 
make use of their favourite illustration, the 
bird that has been long confined, has, in this 
condition, neither lost its strength nor forgot- 
ten how to fly ; but a friendly hand is needed 
to loose its fetters before it can again rise on the 
wing. Such, said they, is the condition of man. 
This was the subject of dispute between 
Eck and Carlstadt. Eck had at first seemed 
entirely opposed to Carlstadt's propositions on 
this subject; but finding it difficult to main- 
tain the position he had chosen, he said, "I 
grant that our will has not power to do a good 
act, and that it receives power from God." 
" Do you then acknowledge," asked Carl- 
stadt, overjoyed at having won such a con- 
cession, " that a good work comes entirely 
of God." "The whole good work comes truly 
from God," replied the subtle Eck, " but not 
entirely.'''' " That is a discovery most worthy 
of theological learning," cried Melancthon. 
" An entire apple," pursued Eck, " is produced 
by the sun, but not by one effect, and without 
the co-operation of the plant." Doubtless no 
one ever maintained that an apple was al- 
together the product of the sun. 

Well, then, said the opposing parties, going 
deeper into this question, at once so delicate 
and so important in philosophy and religion, 
let us then inquire how God acts on man, 
and how man concurs with this action. " I 
acknowledge," said Eck, "that the first 
tnought leading to the conversion of a man 
comes from God, and that man's will is in 
this entirely passive." So far the two antago- 
nists were agreed. "I acknowledge," said 
Carlstadt, " on my side, that after this first 



act, which proceeds from God, something is 
requisite on the part of man, which St. Paul 
calls will, and which the Fathers term con- 
sent.'''' Here again both agreed ; but from this 
point they diverged. "This consent on the 
part of man," said Eck, "comes partly from 
our natural will, partly from God's grace to 
us." " No," said Carlstadt, "it is requisite 
that God should entirely create this will in 
man." Hereupon Eck began to manifest sur- 
prise and anger at words so well adapted to 
make man sensible of his own nothingness. 
" Your doctrine," said he, " regards man as a 
stone, a log, incapable of reciprocal action." 
" What !" answered the Reformers, " does not 
the capacity for receiving the strength that 
God produces in him, — a capacity which, 
according to us, man possesses, — sufficiently 
distinguish him from a stone, or a log of 
wood V "But," replied their antagonist, "you 
take a position, that directly contradicts expe- 
rience, when you refuse to acknowledge any 
natural ability in man." " We do not deny," 
replied the others, " that man possesses cer- 
tain powers and ability to reflect, meditate, 
and choose; only we count such powers as 
mere instruments which can do no good thing 
until the hand of God has moved them ; they 
are like to a saw that a man holds in his hands." 

The great question of Free-will was here 
discussed; and it was easy to demonstrate 
that the doctrine of the Reformers did not take 
away from a man the liberty of a moral agent, 
and reduce him to a passive machine. The 
liberty of a moral agent consists in the power 
of acting conformably to his choice. Every 
action performed without external constraint, 
and in pursuance of the determination of the 
soul itself, is a free action. The soul is deter- 
mined by motives; but we constantly see the 
same motives acting diversely on different 
minds. Many do not act conformably to the 
motives of which they yet acknowledge all 
the force. This failure of the motive proceeds 
from obstacles opposed by the corruption of 
the heart and understanding. But God, in 
giving " a new heart and a new spirit," takes 
away these obstacles; and in removing them, 
far from depriving men of liberty, he removes 
that which hindered him from acting freely, 
and from following the light of his conscience ; 
and thus, as the Gospel expresses it, makes 
him free. (John viii. 36.) 

A trivial incident interrupted the discussion. 
Carlstadt, as Eck relates, had prepared certain 
arguments, and, like many preachers of oui 
own day, he was reading whathe bad written. 
Eck saw in this mere college tactics; he ob- 
jected to it. Carlstadt, embarrassed, and fear- 
ing he should not get on well without his 
paper, persisted. "Ah!" exclaimed the doc- 
tor of the schools, proud of the advantage he 
thought he had obtained, "he has not quite so 
good a memory as I have." The point was 
referred to arbitrators, who permitted the read- 
ing of passages of the Fathers, but came to 
the resolution that, with that exception, the 
discussion should be extempore. 

This first stage of the dispute was often in- 



140 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



terrupted by the spectators. Much agitation I 
and even audible expressions of feeling broke | 
forth. Any proposition that did not find favour 
with the majority excited instant clamours, 
and then it was necessary to enjoin silence. 
The disputants themselves were sometimes 
carried away by the eagerness of the dispute. 

Close to Luther stood Melancthon, who 
was almost in an equal degree an object of 
curiosity. He was of small stature, and would 
have passed as not above eighteen years of 
age. Luther, who was a head taller, seemed 
connected with him in the closest friendship ; 
tney came in and went out together. " To 
look at Melancthon," said a Swiss divine* 
who studied at Wittemberg, "one would say 
he was but a youth ; but in understanding, 
learning, and talent, he is a giant; and one 
wonders how such heights of wisdom and 
genius can be contained within so slight a 
frame." Between the sittings, Melancthon 
conversed with Carlstadt and Luther. He 
aided them in their preparation for the discus- 
sion, and suggested the arguments that his 
vast learning enabled, him to contribute ; but 
while the discussion was going on, he remain- 
ed quietly seated among the spectators, listen- 
ing with attention to the words of the speakers. 
At times, however, he came to the assistance 
of Carlstadt. Whenever the latter was near 
giving way under the declamation of the Chan- 
cellor of Ingolstadt, the young professor would 
whisper a word, or hand him a slip of paper 
whereon he had noted down a reply. Eck 
having on one occasion perceived this, and 
indignant that the grammarian, as he termed 
him, should dare to meddle in the discussion, 
turned round and said insolently, " Be silent, 
Philip ! mind your studies, and do not stand 
in my way." Eck may perhaps have even 
then foreseen how formidable an opponent he 
would one day find in this youth. Luther was 
roused by this rude insult directed against his 
friend. "The judgment of Philip," said he, 
" has greater weight with me than a thousand 
Dr. Ecks." 

The calm Melancthon easily detected the 
weak points of the discussion. " One cannot 
nelp feeling astonished," said he, with that 
prudence and gracious spirit which we recog- 
nise in all his words, "when we think on the 
violence with which these subjects were treat- 
ed. How could any expect to derive instruc- 
tion from hi The Spirit of God loves retire- 
ment and silence; it is there he penetrates 
into our hearts. The bride of Christ does not 
take her stand in the streets and cross-ways, 
but she leads her spouse into the house of her 
mother." 

Each party claimed the victory. Eck re- 
sorted to every artifice to appear victorious. 
As the lines of divergence ran closely together, 
it often happened that he exclaimed that he 
had reduced his adversary to his opinion; or 
else, like another Proteus, said Luther, he 
turned suddenly round, put forth Carlstadt's 
opinion differently expressed, and tiiumphant- 

* John Kessler, afterwards Reformei at St. Gall. 



ly demanded if he could refuse to acknowledge 
it. And the uninitiated, who had not watched 
the manoeuvre of the sophist, began to applaud 
and exult with him. Nevertheless, Eck, 
without perceiving it, in reality gave up in the 
course of the discussion much more than he 
had intended. His partisans laughed immo- 
derately at his successive devices; "but," 
said Luther, " I am much inclined to think 
that their laughter was affected, and that they 
were actually on thorns, when they saw their 
chief, who had commenced the battle with 
bravados, abandon his standard, leave his 
own ranks, and act the part of a shameless 
deserter." 

Three or four days after the opening of the 
conference, it had been interrupted on account 
of the festival of the apostles St. Peter and 
St. Paul. 

The Duke of Pomerania requested Luther 
to preach on the occasion in his chapel. Lu- 
ther gladly consented. But the chapel was 
early thronged, and the crowds of hearers in- 
creasing, the assembly adjourned to the great 
hall of the castle, where the conference had 
been carried on. Luther took his text from 
the gospel, of the day, and preached on the 
grace of God and the authority of St. Peter. 
What he was accustomed to maintain before 
a learned auditory, he then declared to the 
people ; — Christianity brings the light of truth 
to the humblest as well as the most intelligent 
minds. It is this which distinguishes it from 
all other religions, and all systems of philoso- 
phy. The Leipsic divines, who had heard 
Luther's sermon, hastened to report to Eck 
the offensive expressions with which they had 
been scandalized. " You must answer him," 
cried they ; " these specious errors must be 
publicly refuted. Eck desired nothing better. 
All the churches were at his service, and on 
four successive occasions he ascended the 
pulpit and inveighed against Luther and his 
sermon. Luther's friends were indignant. 
They demanded that the theologian of Wit- 
temberg should in his turn be heard. But 
their demand was disregarded. The pulpits 
were open to the enemies of the gospel, and 
shut to those who proclaimed it. "I was 
silent," said Luther, " and was obliged to 
suffer myself to be attacked, insulted, and ca- 
lumniated, without even the power to excuse 
or defend myself." 

It was not only the clergy who opposed 
the teachers of the evangelical doctrine; the 
burghers of Leipsic were in that of one mind 
with the clergy. A blind fanaticism rendered 
them the ready dupes of the falsehood and 
prejudice which were circulated abroad. The 
principal inhabitants abstained from visiting 
Luther or Carlstadt; and if they accidentally 
met in the street, they passed them without 
salutation. They misrepresented them to the 
Duke. On the other hand, they were in daily 
communication and interchange of visits with 
the Doctor of Ingolstadt. To Luther they 
offered the disputant's customary present of 
wine. Beyond this, any who were favour- 
ably disposed toward him concealed their pre 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



141 



dilection from others : several, following the 
example of Nicodemus, came to him in the 
night or by stealth. Two individuals alone 
stood forward to their own honour, and pub- 
licly declared themselves his friends : — Doc- 
tor Auerbach, whom we have already seen at 
Augsburg, and Doctor Pistor the younger. 

The greatest agitation prevailed in the city. 
The two parties resembled two hostile camps, 
and sometimes came to blows. Frequent 
quarrels took place in the inns between the 
Leipsic students and those of Wittemberg. 
It was currently asserted, even in the meet- 
ings of the clergy, that Luther carried about 
with him a devil enclosed in a small box. 
" I know not," said Eck spitefully, "whether 
the devil is in the box or under his frock — 
but sure I am he is in one or the other." 

Several doctors of the opposing parties 
were lodged, during the progress of the dis- 
putation, in the house of the printer Herbi- 
pqlis. Their contentions ran so high, that 
their host was obliged to place a police ser- 
geant, armed with a halberd, at the head of 
the table, with instructions to preserve the 
peace. One day Baumgarten, a vender of 
indulgences, came to blows with a gentleman 
attached to Luther, and in the violence of his 
fit of passion, burst a blood-vessel and ex- 
pired. " I myself," says Froschel, who re- 
lates the fact, " was one of those who carried 
him to the grave." In such results the gene- 
ral ferment in men's minds manifested itself. 
Then, as in our days, the speeches in the as- 
semblies found an echo in the dinner-room 
and public streets. 

Duke George, though strongly biassed in 
favour of Eck, did not evince so much zeal in 
his cause as his subjects. He invited all 
three, Eck, Luther, and Carlstadt to dinner. 
He even requested Luther to visit him in pri- 
vate; but soon manifested the prejudices that 
had been artfully inculcated. " Your tract 
on the Lord's Prayer," said the Duke, " has 
misled the consciences of many. There are 
some who complain that for four days to- 
gether they have not been able to say one 
pater.' 1 '' 

It was on the 4th of July that the contest 
commenced between Eck and Luther. Every 
thing announced that it would be more vio- 
lent and decisive than that which had just 
terminated. The two disputants were ad- 
vancing to the arena, firmly resolved not to 
lay down their arms till victory should have 
declared in favour of one or the other. General 
attention was alive, for the subject of dispute 
was the Pope's primacy. Two prominent 
hinderances obstruct the progress of the Gos- 
pel, the hierarchy and rationalism, as applied 
to the doctrine of man's moral powers, had 
been the object of attack in the early part of I 
the discussion. The hierarchy, viewed in | 
what was at once its basis as well as climax 
— the doctrine of the Pope's authority — was 
now to be impugned. On the one side ap- . 
peared Eck, the defender of the established 
teaching, and, like some boastful soldier, j 
strong in confidence derived from previous 



triumphs. On the other side came Luther, 
to whom the contest seemed to promise no- 
thing but persecutions and ignominy, but who 
presented himself with a clear conscience, a 
firm determination to sacrifice every thing to 
the cause of truth, and a hope full of faith in 
God's power to deliver him. 

At seven in the morning the two disputants 
had taken their places, encompassed by an 
attentive and numerous auditory. 

Luther stood up, and adopting a necessary 
precaution, said, with humility : 

" In the name of the Lord— Amen. I de- 
clare that the respect I have for the Sovereign 
Pontiff would have prevented my sustaining 
the part I am taking in this discussion, had 
not the worthy Doctor Eck persuaded me 
thereto." 

Eck. — " In thy name, blessed Jesus ! Be- 
fore I enter on this discussion, I protest in 
your presence, noble chiefs, that all I shall 
say is subject to the judgment of the first of 
all episcopal chairs, and to the master who 
fills it." 

After a moment's silence, Eck continued : 

"There is in God's Church a primacy de- 
rived from Christ himself. The Church 
militant has been set up in the likeness of 
the Church triumphant. But this latter is a 
monarchy, wherein every thing ascends hier- 
archically to its sole head — God himself. 
Therefore it is that Christ has established a 
similar order upon earth. How monstrous 
would the Church be without a head." 

Luther, turning to the "assembly, 

" When the doctor declares that it is most 
needful that the Church universal have a 
Head, he says well. If there be any one 
among us who affirms the contrary, let him 
stand forth. I hold no such thing." 

Eck. — "If the Church militant has never 
been without its one Head, I would beg to 
ask who he can be, but the Roman Pontiff?" 

Luther, raising his eyes to heaven, 
" The Head of the Church militant is 
Christ himself, and not a mortal man. I be- 
lieve this, on the authority of God's testi- 
mony, whose word says, He must reign until 
his enemies be put under his feet. Let us 
then no longer give ear to those who put away 
Christ to the Church triumphant in heaven. 
His kingdom is a kingdom of faith. We see 
not. our Head, and yet we are joined to him." 

Eck, not discomfited, and turning to other 
arguments, resumed: 

" It is from Rome as St. Cyprian tells us, 
that sacerdotal unity proceeded.' 

Luther.— "As regards the Western Church, 
agreed. But is not this Roman Church her- 
self derived from that of Jerusalem 1 And to 
speak correctly, the church of Jerusalem was 
mother and nurse of all the churches." 

Eck. — "St. Jerome affirms, that if autho- 
rity above that of all other churches is not 
lodged with the Pope, there will be in the 
Church as many schisms as there are bibl.oj s". 

Luther. — " I admit it, that is to say, that 
if all the faithful were consenting, this autho- 
rity might, agreeably to the principles of 



142 



HISTORY OF THE REF (jRM ATI ON. 



human legislation, be rightfully ascribed to 
the chief Pontiff. Neither would I deny that 
if the whole body of believers should consent 
to acknowledge as first and chief bishop — the 
bishop of Rome, or of Paris, or of Magdeburg, 
it would be our duty to acknowledge him as 
such, — from respect to this general consent of 
the whole church : but that is what the world 
has never seen nor ever will see. Even in 
our own day, does not the Greek church with- 
hold her consent to Rome?" 

Luther was at this time quite prepared to 
acknowledge the Pope as chief magistrate of 
the Church, — freely chosen by it ; but he de- 
nied his divine right. It was not until a later 
period that he denied that any submission was 
due to him. That was an advance to which 
the Leipsic controversy mainly contributed. 
But Eck was on ground which Luther knew 
better than he. As Eck appealed to the au- 
thority of the Fathers, Luther resolved to de- 
feat him by the Fathers themselves. 

"That my construction of the words," said 
he, "is truly what St. Jerome intended, I will 
prove by his own epistle to Evagrius. Every 
bishop, says he, whether of Rome or of Eugu- 
bium, whether of Constance or of Regium, 
whether of Alexandria or of Thanis, has the 
same honour and the same priestly rank. The 
influence of wealth, or the humility of poverty 
alone makes their difference of standing." 

From the Fathers, Luther passed to the de- 
crees of the Councils, which recognise in the 
bishop of Rome onlythefirstamonghispeers. 
"We read," said he, "in the decree of the 
Council of Africa, 'Let not the bishop of the 
chief see, be called Prince of the Pontiffs, or 
Sovereign Pontiff, or any other name of that 
sort, but simply bishop of the first see.' If 
the monarchy of the bishop of Rome were of 
divine right," continued Luther, " would not 
this decision be heretical ]" 

Eck met this by one of the subtle distinc- 
tions to which he was so accustomed to have 
recourse. 

"The bishop of Rome, if you please, is not 
universal bishop, but bishop of the church 
universal." 

Luther. — "I will not say one word on that 
answer. Let our hearers themselves judge 
concerning it." 

" Certainly," he afterwards observed, " that 
was a gloss worthy of a theologian, and just 
of a kind to content a disputant eager for tri- 
umph. I have not remained at Leipsic, at 
considerable cost to no purpose, since I have 
learned that the Pope of a truth is not uni- 
versal bishop, but bishop of the church uni- 
versal !" 

Eck. — " Well, to come to the point. The 
venerable doctor requires from me a proof that 
the primacy of the church of Rome is of divine 
right; I find that proof in the words of Christ 
— ' Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will 
build my church.'' St. Augustine, in one of 
fiis epistles, has thus explained the meaning 
of the passage — 'Thou art Peter, and on this 
rock, that is to say, on Peter, I will build my 
church.' It is true, that Augustine has else- 



where said, that by this rock we must under* 
stand Christ himself, but he has not retracted 
his first explanation." 

Luther. — " If the reverend doctor brings 
against me these words of St. Augustine, let 
him himself first reconcile such opposite asser- 
tions. For certain it is, that St. Augustine 
has repeatedly said, that the rock was Christ, 
and hardly once that it was Peter himself. 
But even though St. Augustine and all the 
Fathers should say that the Apostle is the 
rock of which Christ spake, I would, if I 
should stand alone, deny the assertion — sup- 
ported by the authority of the Holy Scripture 
— in other words by divine right -for it is 
written, ' Other foundation can no man lay than 
that is laid, even Christ Jesus.' Peter himself 
calls Christ the chief corner-stone, and living 
rock, on which we are built up, a spiritual 
house."" 

Eck. — " I am astonished at the humility and 
diffidence with which the reverend doctor un- 
dertakes to stand alone against so many illus- 
trious Fathers, thus affirming that he knows 
more of these things than the Sovereign Pon- 
tiff, the Councils, divines, and universities! 
. . .It would no doubt be very wonderful 
if God had hidden the truth from so many 
saints and martyrs till the advent of the reve- 
rend father." 

Luther. — "The Fathers are not opposed 
to me. — St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, and the 
most eminent divines say as I do. On that 
confession of faith the church is built, says St. 
Ambrose, explaining what is to be understood 
by the stone on which the church rests. Let 
my antagonist then restrain his speech. Such 
expressions as he has just used, do but stir up 
animosity, instead of helping in learned dis- 
cussion." 

Eck had not expected so much learning in 
his adversary, and managed to extricate him- 
self from the labyrinth in which he had en- 
deavoured to entangle hi rn. "The reverend 
father," said he, "has entered on this discus- 
sion after well preparing his subject. Your 
excellencies will excuse me if I should not 
produce so much exact research. I came 
hither to discuss, and not to make a book " 
Eck was in some sort taken by surprise, but 
not defeated. Having no other argument at 
hand, he had recourse to an odious and con- 
temptible artifice, which if it did not bear 
down, must at least greatly embarrass his ad- 
versary. If the suspicion of being a Bohe- 
mian, a heretic, a Hussite, do but hang over 
Luther, he is vanquished ; for the Bohemians 
were detested in the church. The doctor of 
Ingolstadt adopted this stratagem. "From 
primitive times," said he, " it has been ever 
acknowledged, that the Church of Rome de- 
rives her primacy from Christ himself, and 
not from human law. I must admit, how- 
ever, that the Bohemians in their obstinate 
defence of their errors have attacked this doc 
trine. I ask the reverend father's pardon if I 
am opposed to the Bohemians on account ol 
their opposition to the Church; and if the 
present discussion has recalled those heretics 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



143 



to ray recollection ; for ... . according to my 
humble judgment .... the inferences the doc- 
tor has drawn are entirely favourable to their 
errors; and, it is said, they boast of this." 

Eck had rightly calculated the effect. All 
his partisans loudly applauded the artful in- 
sinuation, and an exultation was manifest in 
the auditory. "These insults," said the Re- 
former at a subsequent period, "pleased their 
fancy much more than the progress of the dis- 
cussion." 

Luther. — "I neither love, nor ever shall 
love, a schism. Since on their own authority 
the Bohemians have separated from unity with 
us, they are in the wrong : even though di- 
vine right should be in favour of the doctrine: 
for the highest divine right is love and the 
unity of the Spirit." 

It was on the fifth of July, in the morning 
sitting, that Luther uttered these words. The 
meeting shortly after broke up, the dinner 
hour having arrived. It is likely that some 
one of the friends, or perhaps of the enemies 
of the doctor, drew his thoughts to the fact 
that he had gone very far in thus condemn- 
ing the Christians of Bohemia. Had they 
not in reality stood for those doctrines that 
Luther was then maintaining 1 Hence it was, 
when the assembly were again together at 
two in the afternoon, Luther broke silence, 
and said courageously : — " Among the articles 
of John Huss and the Bohemians, there are 
some that are most agreeable to Christ. This 
is certain ; and of this sort is that article : 
'There is only One church universal;' and 
again: 'That it is not necessary to salvation 
that we should believe the Roman church 
superior to others.' — It matters little to me 
whether Wiclif or Huss said it. It is Truth." 

This declaration of Luther produced an im- 
mense sensation on the auditory. Huss, 
Wiclif, names held in abhorrence, pronounced 
with respect by a monk, in the midst of a 
Catholic assembly! .... An almost general 
murmur ran round the hall. Duke George 
himself was alarmed. He foresaw for Saxo- 
ny the unfurling of the standard of that civil 
discord which had ravaged the states of his 
maternal ancestors. Not able to suppress his 
feelings, he broke forth in a loud exclamation, 
in the hearing of all the assembly : " He is 
mad." Then, shaking his head, he rested 
his hands on his sides. The whole assem- 
bly was in high excitement. Those who 
were seated rose from their seats, conversing 
in groups. The drowsy were aroused : the 
enemies of Luther exulted ; and his friends 
were greatly perplexed. Several who till 
then had listened to him with satisfaction, be- 
gan to doubt his orthodoxy. The effect of 
this speech was never effaced from the mind 
of Duke George: from that hour he looked 
with an evil eye on the Reformer and became 
his enemy. 

As to Luther, he did not give way to this 
burst of murmurs. " Gregory Nazianzen," 
continued he, with noble calmness, " Basil the 
GTe<n. Epiphanius, Chrysostom, and a great 
many other Greek bishops, are saved ; and 
11 



yet they never believed that the Church of 
Rome was superior to other churches. It does 
not belong to the Roman pontiffs to add new 
articles of faith. There is no authority for the 
believing Christian but the Holy Scripture. 
It, alone, is of divine right. I beg the worthy 
Doctor Eck to grant me that the Roman pon- 
tiffs have been men, and not to speak of them 
as if they were Gods." 

Eck here resorted to one of those pleasant- 
ries which give an easy advantage, in appear- 
ance, to him who uses them. 

"The reverend father, who is not skilful in 
his cookery," said he, "has just made a very 
bad hash of heretics and Greek saints, so that 
the odour of sanctity of the one hides the taste 
of poison in the others." 

Luther, interrupting 'Eck with spirit — 
"The worthy doctor speaks with effrontery. 
In my judgment, Christ can have no concord 
with Belial." 

Such were the discussions which gave em- 
ployment t© the two doctors. The assembly 
. were attentive. The interest at times flagged, 
however, and the hearers were not displeased 
when any incident occurred to enliven them 
by some distraction. It often happens, that 
events of the greatest importance are in this 
way broken in- upon by comic accidents. 
Something of this sort took place at Leipsic. 

Duke George, following the custom of the 
age, kept a court fool. Some wags said to 
him, "Luther is contending that a court fool 
may get married: Eck maintains the contrary 
opinion." Hereupon the fool conceived great 
aversion for Eck ; and every time he came to 
the hall in the Duke's suite, he eyed the theo- 
logian with threatening looks. One day, the 
Chancellor of Ingolstadt, descending to buf- 
foonery, shut one eye, (the fool was blind of 
one eye,) and with the other looked askance 
at the dwarf. The latter, no longer able to 
control himself, poured forth a torrent of abuse 
on the learned doctor. The whole assembly, 
says Peifer, gave way to laughter, and this 
incident lessened in some degree the extreme 
tension of their minds. 

During this time the city was the scene of 
events which showed the horror with which 
the bold assertions of Luther inspired the par- 
tisans of Rome. The loudest clamours pro- 
ceeded from the convents in the Pope's inte- 
rest. One Sunday the doctor of Wittemberg 
entered the church of the Dominicans just 
before high mass. There were present only 
a few monks, who were going through the 
earlier masses at the lower altars. As soon 
as it was known in the cloister that the heretic 
Luther was in the church, the monks ran to- 
gether in haste, caught up the remonstrance, 
and, taking it to its receptacle, carefully shut 
it up, lest the holy sacrament should be pro- 
faned by the impure eyes of the Augustine of 
Wittemberg. While this was doing, they 
who were reading mass collected together the 
sacred furniture, quitted the altar, crossed the 
church, and sought refuge in the sacristy, as 
if, says a historian, the devil himself had been 
behind them. 



Hi 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Everywhere the discussions furnished sub- 
ject of conversation. In the lodging-houses, 
at the university, at the court, each one gave 
his opinion. Duke George, with all his irri- 
tation, did not pertinaciously refuse to allow 
himself to be convinced. One day, when Eck 
and Luther were dining with him, he inter- 
rupted their conversation by the remark, 
" Whether the Pope be by divine right or hu- 
man right, it is at any rate a faet that he is 
Pope." Luther was quite pleased with these 
words. " The prince," said he, " would never 
have given utterance to them, if my arguments 
had not impressed him." 

The dispute on the Pope's primacy had 
lasted five days. On the 8th of July they 
came to the subject of Purgatory. The dis- 
cussion lasted rather more than two days. 
Luther at this time admitted the existence of 
purgatory ; but he denied that this doctrine 
was taught in Scripture and by the Fathers, 
in the way the scholastic divines and his ad- 
versary asserted. " Our Doctor Eck," said 
he, alluding to the superficial character of his 
opponent, " has to-day run over Scripture al- 
most without touching it, as a spider runs 
upon the water." 

On the 11th of July the disputants arrived 
at the Indulgences. " It was no better than 
play — a mere joke," said Luther. "The in- 
dulgences fell with scarce the shadow of de- 
fence. Eck agreed with me in almost every 
thing." Eck himself observed, " If I had not 
met Doctor Martin on the question of the 
Pope's primacy, I could almost come to agree- 
ment with him." 

The discussion afterwards turned on Re- 
pentance, the Priest's absolution, and Satis- 
factions. Eck, as his practice was, quoted 
the scholastic divines, the Dominicans, and 
the Pope's canons. Luther closed the discus- 
sion by these words: — 

"The reverend doctor avoids the Holy 
Scriptures, as the devil flees from before the 
cross. For my part, saving the respect due 
to the Fathers, I prefer the authority of the 
word of God ; and it is that which I would 
press upon our judges." 

Thus ended the dispute between Eck and 
Luther. Carlstadt and the doctor of Ingol- 
stadt continued for two days to discuss the 
merits of man in good works. On the 16th 
of July the affair was terminated, after having 
lasted twenty days, by a sermon from the 
Superior of Leipsic. As soon as this was 
over, a band of music was heard, and the so- 
lemnity was closed by the Te Deum. 

But, during this solemn chant, men's minds 
were no longer as they were when the hymn 
Veni Spiritus had been sung. Already the 
presentiments of some appeared realized. The 
arguments of the two opposing champions had 
inflicted an open wound on the Papacy. 

These theological discussions, which in our 
days would excite little attention, had been 
followed and listened to with interest for 
twenty days, by laymen, knights, and princes. 
Duke Barnim of Pomerania and Duke George 
vere constant in attendance. "But, on the 



other hand,'"' says an eye-witness, "some 
Leipsic divines, friends of Eck, slept soundly 
much of the time ; and it was even necessary 
to wake them at the close of the discussion, 
lest they should lose their dinner." 

Luther was the first who quitted Leipsic. 
Carlstadt set out soon after. Eck remained a 
few days after their departure. 

No decision was made known on the mat- 
ters discussed. Each one commented on them 
as he pleased. "There has been at Leipsic," 
said Luther, "loss of time, not search after 
truth. For these two years past that we have 
been examining the doctrines of the adversa- 
ries, we have counted all their bones. Eck, 
on the contrary, has hardly grazed the sur- 
face, yet he has made more outcry in one houi 
than we have in two long years." 

Eck, in private letters to his friends, acknow- 
ledged his having been defeated on many 
points; but he was at no loss for reasons tc 
account for it. " The Wittemberg divines," 
said he, in a letter to Hochstraten, dated the 
24th July, "have had the best of the argu- 
ment on certain points ; first, because they 
brought with them their books; secondly, 
because their friends took notes of the dis- 
cussion, which they could examine at home at 
leisure; thirdly, because Jhey were several in 
number :— two doctors (Carlstadt and Luther,) 
Lange, vicar of the Augustines, two licen- 
tiates, AmsdorfF, and a most arrogant nephew 
of Reuchlin, (Melancthon,) three doctors of 
law, and several masters of arts, all were as- 
sisting in the discussion, either publicly or in 
secret. As for myself, I came forward alone, 
having only right on my side." — Eck forgot 
Emser, the bishop, and all the doctors of 
Leipsic. 

If such admissions were made by Eck in 
his confidential correspondence, it was quite 
otherwise in public. The doctor of Ingolstadt 
and the theologians of Leipsic, loudly boasted 
of "their victory." They spread everywhere 
false reports. Them' uth-pieces of their party 
repeated their self-gratulations. " Eck," wrote 
Luther, " boasts in all companies of his victo- 
ry." But the laurels were an object of con- 
tention in the camp of Rome. " If we had not 
come in aid of Eck," said his Leipsic allies, 
" the illustrious doctor would have been over- 
thrown." " The divines of Leipsic are well- 
meaning people," said the doctor of Ingol- 
stadt, " but I had formed too high expectations 
from them — I did all myself." " You see," 
said Luther to Spalatin, " that they are sing 
ing another Iliad and iEneid. They are so kind 
as to make me play the part of Hector or 
Turnus, whilst Eck is their Achilles or ^Eneas. 
Their only doubt is, whether the victory was 
gained by the forces of Eck or of Leipsic. All 
I can say, to throw light on the question, is, 
that doctor Eck clamoured continually, and 
the men of Leipsic keep continual silence." 

" Eck has obtained the victory, in the opi- 
nion of those who do not understand the ques- 
tion, and who have grown gray in scholastic 
studies," observed the elegant, witty, and ju- 
dicious Mosellanus ; " but Luther and Carl- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



145 
i 



stadt remain masters of the field, in the judg- 
ment of those who have learning, intelligence, 
and modesty." 

The dispute was, however, destined not to 
vanish in mere smoke. Every work done in 
faith bears fruit. The words of Luther had 
found their way, with irresistible power, to the 
minds of his hearers. Several, who had re- 
gularly attended in the hall of the castle, were 
brought under the truth. It was especially 
in the very midst of its most active enemies, 
that its conquests were achieved. Poliander, 
secretary to Eck, and his intimate friend and 
disciple, was gained to the cause of the Re- 
formation ; and as early as the year 1522, he 
preached the gospel publicly at Leipsic. John 
Cellarius, professor of Hebrew, one of the 
warmest opponents of the Reformation, struck 
by the words of the mighty doctor, began to 
search, the Scriptures more deeply. Shortly 
after, he gave up his place; and, full of hu- 
mility, came to YYittemberg, to study at the 
feet of Luther. He was subsequently pastor 
at Frankfort and at Dresden. 

Among those who sat on the benches re- 
served for the court, and who surrounded Duke 
George, was George of Anhalt, a young prince 
of twelve years, descended from a family ce- 
lebrated for their bravery against the Saracens. 
He was then prosecuting his studies under a 
private tutor. This illustrious youth was 
early distinguished for his eager desire of 
knowledge and love of truth. Often he was 
heard to repeat the proverb of Solomon, 
" Lying lips do not become a prince." The 
discussion at Leipsic awakened in this child 
serious reflections, and a decided partiality for 
Luther. Shortly after he was offered a bishop- 
ric. His brothers and all his relations urged 
him to accept it; desiring to see him rise to 
the higher dignities of the church. He was 
immovable in his refusal. On the death of 
his pious mother, he found himself in posses- 
sion of all the Reformer's writings. He put 
up constant and fervent prayers to God, be- 
seeching him to bring his heart under the 
power of the truth; and often in the privacy 
of his cabinet, he exclaimed with tears, " Deal 
with thy servant according to thy mercy and 
teach me thy statutes." His prayers were 
answered. Under strong conviction, and con- 
strained to action on it, he fearlessly ranged 
himself on the side of the gospel. In vain his tu- 
tors, and foremost among them Duke George, 
oesieged him with entreaties and remon- 
strances. He continued inflexible; and George, 
half brought over by the answers of his pupil, 
exclaimed, " I am not able to answer him : 
but I will, nevertheless, continue in my 
church, for it is not possible to break an old 
dog." We shall again meet with this amiable 
prince; who was, indeed, one of the noble 
characters of the Reformation ; who himself 
preached the word of life to his subjects: and 
to whom has been applied the saying of Dion 
Cassius on the emperor Marcus Antoninus, 
" In his whole life, he was consistent with 
himself; a good man without any guile." 
It was especially among the students that 



the words of Luther were received with en- 
thusiasm. They felt the difference between 
the spirit and power of the Wittemberg doctor, 
and Ihe sophistical distinctions and vain spe- 
culations of the chancellor of Ingolstadt. 
They saw Luther relying on the word of God. 
They saw doctor Eck taking his stand only 
on the traditions of men. The effect was in- 
stantaneous. The lecturing halls of the uni- 
versity of Leipsic were almost deserted after 
the disputation. A circumstance of the time 
contributed to this : the plague showed itself. 
But there were several other universities, as 
Erfurth or Ingolstadt, to which the students 
might have retired. The force of truth attract* 
ed them to Wittemberg. . There the number 
of students was doubled. 

Among those who removed from the one uni- 
versity to the other, there was a young man of 
sixteen, of melancholy character, silent, and 
often lost in abstraction in the very midst of 
the conversation and amusements of his fel- 
low-students. His parents had thought him 
of weak intellect, but ere long they found him 
so quick in his learning, and so continually 
occupied in his studies, that they conceived 
great expectations of him. His uprightness, 
candour, diffidence, and piety, made him an 
object of general affection, and Mosellanus 
pointed to him as a pattern to the whole uni- 
versity. His name was Gaspard Cruciger, 
and he was a native of Leipsic. The young 
student of Wittemberg w 7 as at a later period 
the friend of Melancthon, and a fellow-labour- 
er with Luther in the translation of the Bible. 

The disputation at Leipsic had yet nobler 
results. It was there that the theologian of 
the Reformation received his call to the w T ork. 
Modest and silent, Melancthon had been pre- 
sent at the discussion, taking scarcely any 
part in it. Hitherto he had applied himself 
only to literature. The conference communi- 
cated to him a new impulse, and launched the 
eloquent professor into theology. From that 
hour he bowed the heights of his learning be- 
fore the word of God. He received the evan- 
gelical doctrine with the simplicity of a child. 
His auditors heard him explain the way of 
salvation with a grace and clearness which 
delighted every one. He advanced boldly in 
this path so new to him, — for, said he, " Christ 
will not be wanting to those whoare his." 
From this period, the two friends went for- 
ward together, contending for liberty and truth, 
the one with the energy of Paul, the other with 
the gentleness of John. Luther has well ex- 
pressed the. difference in their vocations. " I," 
says he, " was born for struggling on the field 
of battle with parties and devils. Thus it is 
that my writings breathe war and tempest. I 
must root up stock and stem, clear away 
thorns and brambles, and fill up swamps and 
sloughs. I am like the sturdy wood-cutter, 
who must clear and level the road. But our 
master of arts, Philip, goes forward quietly 
and gently, cultivating and planting, sowing 
and watering joyfully, according as God has 
dealt to him so liberally of his gifts." 

If Melancthon, the tranquil sower, waa 



146 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



called to his work by the Leipsic discussion, 
Luther, the sturdy wood-cutter, felt that it 
added strength to his arm, and his courage 
was proportionately exalted. The mightiest 
result of the discussion was indeed that which 
was wrought in Luther himself — " The scho- 
lastic theology," said he, " then crumbled into 
dust before me, under the boasted presidence 
of Doctor Eck." The covering, which the 
schools and the church had spread before the 
sanctuary, was rent from top to bottom. 
Driven to further investigation, he attained 
unexpected discoveries. With equal surprise 
and indignation, he beheld the evil in all its 
magnitude. Searching into the annals of the 
Church, he discovered that the supremacy of 
Rome had its origin in the ambition of one 
party and the credulous ignorance of another. 
Silence, as to these melancholy discoveries, 
was not permitted to him. The pride of his 
adversaries, — the victory they pretended to 
have gained, — their endeavours to put out the 
ligtit, decided his purpose. He went forward 
in the way wherein God led him, without 
disquieting himself as to the result to which 
it might lead him. Luther has marked this 
as the epoch of his enfranchisement from the 
papal yoke. " Learn of me," says he, " how 
hard it is to unlearn the errors which the 
whole world confirms by its example, and 
which, by long use, have become to us as a 
second nature. I had for seven years read 
and hourly expounded the Scriptures with 
much zeal, so that I knew them almost all by 
heart. I had also all the first-fruits of the 
knowledge and faith of my Lord Jesus Christ; 
that is, I knew that we are justified and saved, 
not by our works, but by faith in Christ; and 
I even openly maintained that it is not by di- 
vine right that the Pope is chief of the Chris- 
tian church. And yet . . I could not see the 
conclusion from all this; namely, — that of 
necessity and beyond doubt, the Pope is of 
the devil. For what is not of God, must 
needs be of the devil." Luther adds, further 
on — " I do not now give free utterance to my 
indignation against those who still adhere to 
the Pope, since 1, who had for so many years 
read the Holy Scriptures with so much care, 
yet held to the Papacy with so much obsti- 
nacy." 

Such were the real results of the Leipsic 
discussion, and they were much more im- 
portant than the discussion itself. They 
were like the first successes which discipline 
and inspirit an army. 

Eck gave himself up to all the intoxication 
of what he had tried to represent as a victory. 
He circulated slanders against Luther. He 
heaped one imputation upon another. He 
wrote to Frederic. He sought, like a skilful 
general, to profit by the confusion which ever 
follows a conflict, in order to obtain from the 
Prince some important concessions. Before 
taking measures against his adversary in per- 
son, he invoked the flames to consume his 
writings — even those which he had not read. 
He entreated the Elector to convoke the pro- 
vincial council — " Let us," said the foul- 



I mouthed Doctor, " exterminate all these ver« 
| min before they have multiplied beyond 
j bounds." 

It was not against Luther alone that he 
I poured out his wrath. His rashness called 
Melancthon into the lists. The latter, con- 
nected by the tenderest friendship with the 
worthy GEcolampadius, sent him an account 
of the discussion, speaking in terms of com- 
mendation of Doctor Eck. Nevertheless, the 
pride of the Chancellor of Ingolstadt was 
wounded. He instantly took pen in hand 
against "that grammarian of Wittemberg, 
who, to say the truth, is not unacquainted 
with Greek and Latin, but had dared to cir- 
culate a letter, wherein he had insulted him, 
Dr. Eck." 

Melancthon answered. This was his first 
theological writing. It is marked by the 
exquisite urbanity which distinguished this 
excellent man. After laying down the prin- 
ciples of hermeneutical science, he shows 
that we ought not to explain the Holy Scrip- 
ture by the Fathers, but the Fathers by the 
Holy Scripture. " How often," says he, 
" has not Jerome been mistaken ! — how often 
Augustine ! — how often Ambrose ! How often 
do we not find them differing in judgment — 
how often do we not hear them retracting 
their errors! There is but one Scripture 
divinely inspired and without mixture of 
error." 

" Luther does not adhere to certain dubious 
expositions of the ancients, say his adver- 
saries: and why should he adhere to them ? 
In his explanation of the passage of St. Mat- 
thew, Thou art Peter, and on this rock will 1 
build my church, he says the very same thing 
as Origen, who in his account is a host, yea, 
the very thing that Augustine writes in his 
homily, and Ambrose in his sixth book on 
St. Luke, not to mention others. What then, 
you will say, can the Fathers contradict each 
other ! And what is there so surprising in 
that] I reverence the Fathers, because I 
believe the Holy Scripture. The sense of 
Scripture is one and simple, as heavenly truth 
itself. We enter into it by comparing Scrip- 
ture with Scripture, and deduce it from the 
thread and connection of the whole. There 
is a philosophy enjoined us with respect to 
the Scriptures given by God ; it is to bring 
to them all the thoughts and maxims of men, 
as to the touchstone by which these are to be 
tried." 

For a long time no one had so elegantly 
set forth such powerful truths. The word of 
God was reinstated in its proper place, and 
the Fathers in theirs. The course by which 
the true sense of Scripture is obtained was 
plainly indicated. The preaching of the Gos- 
pel rose above the difficulties and glosses of 
the schools. Melancthon furnished a means, 
available for all times, of answering those, 
who, like Dr. Eck, would involve this sub- 
ject in perplexities. The weak "gram- 
marian" had arisen, and the broad and robust 
shoulders of the scholastic gladiator had yield- 
ed under the first movement of his arm. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



147 



The more Eck felt his weakness, the louder 
were his clamours. He thought by rhodo- 
montade and accusations to secure the victory I 
which his argument had failed to achieve, j 
The monks and all the partisans of Rome re- j 
echoed these clamours. From all parts of I 
Germany reproaches were showered upon 
Luther; but he remained unmoved by them. 
"The more reproach is heaped upon me," 
said he, at the conclusion of some explana- 
tions which he published of the propositions 
of Leipsic, " the more do I glory in it. Truth, 
that is to say Christ, must increase, while I 
must decrease. The voice of the bridegroom 
and of the bride gives me a joy that is far 
above the fears their clamours cause me. It 
is not men that are opposing me, and I have 
no enmity against them ; it is Satan, the prince 
of evil, who is labouring to intimidate me. 
But he who is in us is greater than he who 
is in the world. The opinion of this age is 
against us,— that of posterity will be more 
favourable." 

If the discussion of Leipsic multiplied the 
enemies of Luther in Germany, it augmented 
the number of his friends in distant parts. 
"That which Huss was formerly in Bohe- 
mia," wrote the Brethren to him from that 
country, "you, Martin, are now in Saxony; 
therefore, continue in prayer, and be strong in 
the Lord." 

About this time a rupture took place between 
Luther and Emser, then professor at Leipsic. 
The latter wrote to Dr. Zack, a zealous Roman 
Catholic of Prague, a letter, apparently in- 
tended to remove from the Hussites the im- 
pression that Luther partook of their views. 
Luther could not doubt that the design of the 
Leipsic professor was, under the semblance 
of justifying him, to cause the suspicion to 
nang over him of adhering to the Bohemian 
heresy, and he resolved at once to rend asun- 
der the veil with which his former guest at 
Dresden sought to cover his enmity. With 
this view he published a letter addressed " to 
the he-goat Emser." (The armorial bearing 
of Emser was a he-goat.) He concluded this 
writing with words which well express the 
writer's character — " Love Tor all men, but 
fear of none !" 

While new friends and new enemies came 
forth, some earlier friends began to show signs 
of estrangement from Luther. Staupitz, by 
whose means the Reformer had emerged from 
the obscurity of the cloister of Erfurth, began 
to evince some coldness towards him. Luther 
rose to an elevation of views whither Staupitz 
was not able to follow him. " You abandon 
me," wrote Luther to him; "I have been all 
this day grieving like a weaned child. I 
dreamed of you last night," continues the Re- 
former. "I thought you were taking leave 
of me, and I was weeping and sobbing bitter- 
ly; but I thought you put out your hand to 
me and bade me be tranquil, for. you would 
return to me again." 

The peacemaker, Miltitz, resolved to make 
another effort to calm the minds of the dispu- 
tants. But what influence could be had over 



men still agitated by the fueling of conflict'? 
His endeavours were unavailing. He pre- 
sented the famous Golden Rose to the Elector, 
and the prince did not give himself the trouble 
even to receive it in person. Frederic well 
knew the artifices of Rome; it was useless, 
therefore, to think any longer ofdeceiviig him. 

Far from giving ground, Luther continued 
to advance. It was at this time that he struck 
one of his heaviest blows against prevailing 
error, by publishing his first Commentary on 
the Epistle to the Galatians.* The second 
commentary undoubtedly surpassed the first: 
but even in this he set forth with great power 
the doctrine of justification by faith. Every 
word of the new apostle was full of life, and 
God made use of him as an instrument to in- 
troduce the knowledge of himself into the 
hearts of the people. " Christ has given Him- 
self for our sins," said Luther to his contem- 
poraries: "it is not silver or gold that he has 
given for us; it is not a man; it is not the 
host of angels; it is Himself, without whom 
nothing is great, that he has given. And this 
incomparable treasure he has given for our 
sins! Where now are those who proudly 
boast the power of our will 1 — where are the 
precepts of moral philosophy 1 — where the 
power and the obligation of the law 1 Since 
our sins are so great that nothing less than a 
ransom so stupendous could remove them, 
shall we still seek to attain unto righteousness 
by the strength of our will, by the force of 
law, by the doctrines of men ? What use can 
we have of all these subtleties and delusions'? 
Alas! they could but cover our iniquities with 
a cloak of lies, and make us hypocrites beyond 
the reach of salvation." 

But while Luther proved that there is no 
salvation for man but in Christ, he showed, 
also, that this salvation changes the heart of 
man, and makes him abound in good works. 
" He who has truly heard the word of Christ 
and keeps it, is thenceforward clothed with the 
spirit of charity. If thou lovest him who hath 
made thee a present of twenty florins, or ren- 
dered thee any service, or testified in any other 
way his affection towards you, how much 
more shouldest thou love Him who hath given 
for thee, not gold or silver, but himself ,• who 
hath received for thee so many wounds; who 
hath undergone for thy sake an agony and 
sweat of blood; who in thy stead hath suf- 
fered death ; in a word, who, in discharge of 
thy sins, hath swallowed up death, and ac- 
quired for thee a Father in heaven, full of love ! 
If thou dost not love him, thy heart hath not 
entered into or understood the things which 
he hath done; thou hast not believed them; 
for faith worketh by love." — "This epistle is 
my epistle," said Luther, speaking of the 
Epistle to the Galatians; "1 have espoused it." 

His adversaries did but hast< n his progress 
Without them it would have been more trra- 
dual. Eck provoked against him at this period 
a new attack on the part of the Franciscans 
of Juterbok. Luther, in his answer, not s-tis- 



* September, 1519. 



148 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fied with repeating what he had already taught, 
attacked some errors which he had recently 
discovered. "I should be glad to be inform- 
ed," said he, " where, in the Scripture, the 
power of canonizing saints has been given to 
the Popes ; and also what necessity, what use 
there can be in canonizing them." " For 
aught it matters," he added, ironically, "let 
them go on canonizing to their heart's con- 
tent." 

These new attacks of Luther remained un- 
answered. The infatuation of his enemies 
favoured him as much as his own courage. 
They contended, with much warmth and pas- 
sion, for things that were at most but second- 
ary and subordinate opinions; and when 
Luther assailed the very foundations of the 
Romish doctrine, they saw them struck with- 
out uttering a word. They exerted themselves 
to defend some advanced outworks at the very 
time that their intrepid adversary was pene- 
trating into the citadel, and planting there the 
standard of the truth. Hence they were after- 
wards much astonished to see the fortress, 
of which they had constituted themselves the 
defenders, undermined, on fire, and sinking in 
the midst of the flames, while they thought it 
impregnable, and were braving the besiegers. 
It is the ordinary course in such catastrophes. 

The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper began 
now to occupy the thoughts of Luther. He 
sought in vain to find this holy Supper in the 
Mass. One day (it was a short time after his 
return from Leipsic) he ascended the pulpit. 
Let us pay attention to his words, for they are 
the first he uttered on a subject which has 
since divided the Reformed Church into two 
parties. " There are three things," said he, 
" necessary to be understood in the holy sacra- 
ment of the altar: the sign, which must be 
external, visible, and under a corporeal form: 
the thing signified, which is internal, spiritual, 
and within the soul of man; and Faith, which 
uses both." If definitions had been carried 
no further, the unity of the Church would not 
have been destroyed. Luther continued : 

" It would be well if the Church, in a gene- 
ral council, would order the sacrament to be 
administered in 'both kinds' to all believers; 
not, however, that one kind would not be suf- 
ficient, for Faith of itself would suffice." 

These bold words pleased his hearers. Some, 
however, were surprised and angry. "It is 
false," said they; "it is a scandal." The 
preacher continued : 

" There is no union more intimate, more 
deep, more indivisible, than that which takes 
place between the food and the body which 
the food nourishes. Christ unites himself to 
us in the sacrament in such a manner, that he 
acts as if he were identical with us. Our sins 
assail him .• his righteousness defends us. 11 

But Luther was not satisfied with declar- 
ing the truth : he attacked one of the funda- 
mental errors of Rome. The Romish Church 
pretends that the sacrament operates by itself, 
independently of the person who receives it. 
Nothing can be more convenient than such an 
opinion. Hence the ardour with which the 



sacrament is sought for, and hence come tho 
profits of the Romish clergy. Luther at- 
tacked this doctrine,* and met it with its 
opposite,! which requires faith and consent 
of heart in him who receives it. 

This energetic protest was calculated to 
overthrow the long-established superstitions. 
But, strange to say, no attention was paid to 
it. Rome passed unnoticed what one would 
have thought would have called forth a shriek, 
while she bore down haughtily on a remark 
Luther had let fall at the commencement of 
his discourse, on " communion in both kinds." 

This discourse having been published in 
the month of December, a cry of heresy arose 
on all sides. " It is the doctrine of Prague 
to all intents and purposes !" was the excla- 
mation at the court of Dresden, where the 
sermon arrived during the festival of Christ- 
mas : "besides the work is written in Ger- 
man, in order that the common people may 
understand it." The devotion of the prince 
was disturbed, and on the third day of the 
festival he wrote to his cousin Frederic : 
" Since the publication of this discourse the 
number of the Bohemians who receive the 
Lord's Supper in both kinds has increased 
six thousand. Your Luther, instead of a 
simple Wittemberg professor, will, ere long, 
be Bishop of Prague, and an arch-heretic."— 
" He is a Bohemian by birth," said some, 
" and of Bohemian parents ! He was brought 
up at Prague, and instructed from the writings 
of Wiclif !" 

Luther thought fit to contradict these re- 
ports in a tract, wherein he formally gave an 
account of his origin. " I was born at Eisle- 
ben," he said, "and was baptized in the 
Church of St. Peter. I never in my life was 
nearer to Bohemia than Dresden." 

The letter of Duke George did not estrange 
the Elector from Luther. A few days after- 
wards, this prince invited the doctor to a 
splendid banquet, which he gave to the 
Spanish Ambassador, and Luther on this oc- 
casion boldly disputed with the minister of 
Charles. The Elector, through the medium 
of his chaplain, had begged him to defend his 
cause with moderation. " Too much impru- 
dence displeases men," answered Luther to 
Spalatin, " but too mu«h prudence is displeas- 
ing to God. It is impossible to make a stand 
for the Gospel without creating some disturb 
ance and offence. The word of God is a 
sword, waging war, overthrowing and de- 
stroying ; it is a casting down, a disturbance, 
and comes, as the prophet Amos says, as a 
bear in the way, and as a lion in the forest. 
I want nothing from them. I ask nothing. 
There is One above who seeks and requires. 
Whether his requirements be disregarded or 
obeyed, affects not me." 

Every thing announced that Luther would 
soon have more need than ever of faith and 
courage. Eck was forming plans of ven- 
geance. Instead of gathering the laurels 



* Known by the name of opus operatum. 
t That of opus operantis. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



149 



which he had reckoned upon, the gladiator of [ 
Leipsic had become the laughing-stock of all j 
the men of sense of his country. Keen sa- 
tires were published against him. One 
appeared as a " letter from some unlearned 
Canons." It was written by (Ecolampadius, 
and stung Eck to the quick. Another was a 
complaint against Eck, probably written by 
the excellent Pirckheimer, of Nuremberg, 
abounding in a pungency, and at the same j 
time a dignity of which nothing but the | 
Provincial Letters of Pascal can convey any 
idea. 

Luther expressed his displeasure at some 
of these writings. " It is better," said he, 
; ' to attack openly, than to wound from behind 
a hedge." 

How was the Chancellor of Ingolstadt 
deceived in his calculations! His country- 
men abandoned him. # He prepared to cross 
the Alps, to invoke foreign assistance. Wher- 
ever he went, he breathed threats against Lu- 
ther, Melancthon, Carlstadt, and even the 
Elector himself. " Judging by the haughti- 
ness of his words, says the Doctor of Wit- 
temberg, "one would say that he imagines 
himself to be the Almighty." Inflamed with 



anger and tfn thirst for vengeance, Eck took 
his departure for Italy, there to receive the 
reward of his asserted triumphs, and to forge 
in the capitol at Rome mightier bolts than 
those weapons of scholastic controversy which 
had been broken in his hands. 

Luther well knew the dangers which this 
journey of his antagonist was likely to draw 
down on him, but he did not quail. Spalatin, 
in alarm, urged him to make advances to an 
accommodation. " No," replied Luther, " so 
long as he challenges, I dare not withdraw 
from the contest. I commit every thing to 
God, and give up my bark to winds and 
waves. The battle is the Lord's. Why 
will you fancy that it is by peace, that Christ 
will advance his cause? Has not he him- 
self, — have not all the martyrs after him, 
poured forth their blood in the conflict ?" 

Such, at the commencement of the year 
1520, was the position of the two combatants 
of Leipsic. The one engaged in rousing the 
power of the Papacy to crush his rival. The 
other awaiting the contest with all the calm- 
ness of one who seems to reckon upon peace. 
The year then- opening was destined to wit- 
ness the bursting of the storm. 



BOOK VI. 

THE ROMAN BULL. 
1520. 

Candidates for the Empire — Charles — Francis T. — The Crown offered to Frederic — Charles elec- 
ed — Dangers — Frederic to the Roman Court — Luther's Feelings — Melancthon's Alarm - 
Schaumburg — Sickingen — Hiitten — Luther's Confidence — Faith, the Spring of Works — The 
Author of Faith — Attack on the Papacy-^The Three -Barriers — All Christians Priests — Corrup- 
tions of Rome — Germany in Danger — Call for Reform — Marriage of Priests — The Empire — Con- 
clusion — Success of the Appeal — Rome — Policy of Rome — Separation— The Swiss Priest — The 
Roman Consistory — Condemnation — Melancthon — Melancthon's Hearth — His Studies — Melanc 
thon's Mother — The Gospel in Italy — Luther on the Mass — " Babylonian Captivity" of the 
Church — Baptism — No other Vows — Miltitz at Eisleben — Deputation to Luther — Conference at 
Lichtenberg — Luther's Letter to the Pope — Union of Christ and the Believer — Arrival of the Bull 
in Germany — The Students of Leipsic — Eck at Erfurth — Luther's Feelings — The Pirckheimer 
Family — Luther — Ulric Zwingle — Luther's Answer — Fresh Movements — The Bonfire of Lou 
vain — Luther's Tranquillity — Appeal to a Council — Struggle — Burning of the Pope's Bull — Lu 
ther and the Academy — Luther and the Pope — Melancthon to the States — Luther encourages 
his Friends — Melancthon to the Fearful — Luther's Vocation — the Bible and the Dociors — Retrac- 
tation — Aleander the Nuncio — The Nuncio and the Emperor — The Nuncio and the Elector — 
Duke John's Son intercedes — The Elector protects Luther — The Nuncio's Answer — Erasmus 
in Cologne — Erasmus and the Elector — Erasmus's Declaration — Erasmus's Advice — The Con- 
fessional — Luther on Confession — Antichrist — Luther's Cause gains Strength — Satires — Ulric 
Von Hiitten — Carnival at Wittemberg — Staupitz alarmed — Luther's Labours — Progress of the 
Reformation. - 



A new actor was about to appear on the 
stage. It was the will of God that the monk 
of Wittemberg should be brought face to face 
with the most powerful monarch who had 
appeared in Christendom since the days of 
Charlemagne. He made choice of a prince 
in the vigour of youth, to whom every thing 
promised a reign of long duration, a prince 
whose sceptre bore sway over a considerable 
part of the old, and also over a New World, 
so that, according to a celebrated saying, the 
sun never set upon his vast domains ; and 



with this prince he confronted the humble 
Reformation, that had had its beginning in 
the secret cell of a convent at Erfurth in the 
anguish and groans of a poor monk. The 
history of this monarch, and of his reign, was 
destined, apparently, to read an important 
j lesson to the world. It was to show the no* 
i thingness of all "the strength of man," when 
it presumes to strive against " the weakness 
of God." Had a prince, friendly to Luther, 
been called to the empire, the success of the 
Reformation might have been attributed to his 



150 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



protection. Had an emperor of feeble cha- 
racter filled the throne — even though he should 
have been opposed to the new doctrine, the 
success that attended it might have admitted 
of explanation by the weakness of the reign- 
ing sovereign. But it was the haughty con- 
queror of Pavia whose pride was to be hum- 
bled before the power of the divine Word ; 
and the whole world was called to witness 
that he to whom power was given to lead 
Francis I. to the dungeons of Madrid was 
compelled to lay down the sword before the 
son of a poor miner. 

The Emperor Maximilian was no more. 
The electors were assembled at Frankfort to 
choose his successor. This was a decision of 
high importance to all Europe under present 
circumstances. All Christendom was occu- 
pied with the election. Maximilian had not 
been what is called a great prince; but his 
memory was dear to the people. They were 
fond of calling to mind his ready wit, and 
good-nature. Luther often mentioned him in 
conversation with his friends, and one day re- 
lated the following sally of the monarch : 

A mendicant was following him closely, 
asking alms, and calling him brother; "for," 
said he, " we are both descended from the same 
father, Adam. I am poor," he continued, 
" but you are rich, and therefore ought to as- 
sist me." The emperor turned round at these 
words, and said : " Here, take this penny, go 
to your other brethren, and if every one of 
them gives you as much, you will soon be 
richer than I am." 

The crisis required, for the Imperial crown, 
a prince of more energy than the good-natured 
Maximilian. The times were about to change; 
ambitious potentates were to contest the throne 
of the Emperors of the West; a powerful hand 
must seize the reins of the Empire, and long 
and bloody wars must succeed to a profound 
peace. 

Three kings contended at the diet of Frank- 
fort for the crown of the Cassars. A young 
prince, grandson of the late Emperor, born in 
the first year of the century, and consequently 
nineteen years of age, was the first who pre- 
sented himself. He was named Charles, and 
was born at Ghent. His grandmother, on the 
father's side, Mary, daughter of Charles the 
Bold, had bequeathed to him Flanders, and 
the rich territories of Burgundy. His mother, 
Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand of Arragon and 
Isabella of Castile, and wife of Philip, son of 
the Emperor Maximilian, had transmitted to 
him the united crowns of Spain, Naples, and 
Sicily : to which Christopher Columbus had 
added a New World. The death of his grand- 
father placed him at this moment in possession 
of the hereditary dominions of Austria. This 
young prince, endowed with much intelli- 
gence, and amiable when it pleased him to be 
so, combined with the taste for military exer- 
cises, in which the illustrious Dukes of Bur- 
gundy had so long distinguished themselves, 
the subtlety and penetration of the Italians, 
the reverence for existing institutions which 
RftjJl characterizes the house of Austria, and I 



which promised a firm and zealous defendei 
to the Papacy, and a great knowledge of pub- 
lic affairs, acquired under the tutorship of 
Chievres. From the age of fifteen he had at- 
tended at all the deliberations of his council. 
These various qualities were in some degree 
concealed and veiled by the reserve and taci- 
turnity peculiar to the Spanish nation. There 
was something melancholy in his long thin 
visage. " He is pious and silent," said Lu- 
ther; "I venture to say that he does not 
speak so much in a year as I do in a day." If 
the character of Charles had been developed 
under the influence of liberal and Christian 
principles, he would perhaps have been one 
of the most admirable princes recorded in his- 
tory ; but political considerations absorbed his 
thoughts, and tarnished his better qualities. 

Not contented with the many sceptres 
gathered together in his hand, the young 
Charles aspired to the imperial dignity. " It 
is a sunbeam which sheds splendour on the 
house it lights upon," remarked some; "but 
when any one puts forth the hand to lay hold 
on it, he grasps nothing." Charles, on the 
contrary, saw in it the summit of all earthly 
greatness, and a means of obtaining a sort of 
magic influence over the minds of the peo- 
ple. 

Francis I. of France, was the second of the 
competitors. The young paladins of the court 
of this king, incessantly urged on him, that 
he ought, like Charlemagne, to be Emperor 
of all the West; and, following the example 
of the knights of old, lead them against the 
Crescent, which menaced the Empire, strike 
the power of the infidels to the dust, and re- 
cover the holy sepulchre. "It is necessary," 
said the ambassadors of Francis to the Elec- 
tors, "to prove to the dukes of Austria, that 
the imperial crown is not hereditary. Ger- 
many has need, under existing circumstances, 
not of a young man of nineteen, but of a prince 
who unites, with experienced judgment, ta- 
lents already acknowledged. Francis will 
combine the forces of France and Lombardy, 
with those of Germany, to make war upon 
the Mussulmans. Besides this, as he is so- 
vereign of the duchy of Milan, he is already 
a member of the Empire." The French am- 
bassadors supported these arguments with 
400,000 crowns, expended in purchasing suf- 
frages, and with entertainments, at which the 
guests were to be gained over to their party. 

Lastly, Henry VIII., king of England, jeal- 
ous of the power which the choice of the Elec- 
tors would give, either to Francis or to Charles, 
also entered the lists : but he soon left these 
two powerful rivals to dispute the crown be- 
tween them. 

The Electors were disinclined to the cause 
of the latter candidates. The people of Ger- 
many, they thought, would see in the king 
of France a foreign master, and this master 
might very likely deprive themselves of that 
independence of which the nobility of his own 
dominions had lately seen themselves stripped. 
As for Charles, it was an established maxim 
with the Electors not to choose a prince al 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



151 



ready playing an important part in the Empire. 
The Pope partook of their apprehensions from 
such a choice. He was for rejecting the king of 
Naples, his neighbour, and the king of France, 
whose enterprisingspirithe dreaded. "Choose 
rather one from amongst yourselves ;" was the 
advice he caused to be conveyed to the Elec- 
tors. The Elector of Treves proposed the 
nomination of Frederic of Saxony. The Im- 
perial crown was laid at the feet of this friend 
of Luther. 

Such a choice would have obtained the ap- 
probation of all Germany. The prudence of 
Frederic and his love for the people were well 
known. At the time of the revolt of Erfurth, 
he had been urged to take that town by assault. 
He refused, that he might spare the effusion 
of blood. And when it was urged that the as- 
sault would not cost the lives of five men: his 
answer had been, " A single life would be too 
much." It seemed as if the election of the 
protector of the Reformation was on the point 
of securing its triumph. Ought not Frederic 
to have regarded the wish of the Electors as a 
call from God himself? Who was better able 
to preside over the destinies of the Empire, 
than so prudent a prince? Who more likely 
to withstand the Turks than an Emperor 
abounding in faith 1 It may be that the Elec- 
tor of Saxony's refusal, so much lauded by 
historians, was a fault on the part of this 
prince. It may be that the struggles by which 
Germany was afterwards torn, are to be partly 
attributed to this refusal. But it is hard to 
say, whether Frederic deserves censure for 
want of faith, or honour for his humility. He 
judged that the safety of the Empire required 
that he should refuse the crown. 5 " There is 
need of an Emperor more powerful than my- 
self to save Germany ;" said this modest and 
disinterested prince : " the Turk is at our 
gates. The king of Spain, whose hereditary 
possessions (in Austria) border on the me- 
naced frontier, is its natural defender." 

The Legate of Rome, seeing that Charles 
was about to be chosen, declared that the Pope 
withdrew his objections; and on the 28th of 
June the grandson of Maximilian was elected. 
" God," said Frederic at a subsequent period, 
" has given him to us in mercy and in dis- 
pleasure." The Spanish envoys offered 30,000 
gold florins to the Elector of Saxony, as a mark 
of their master's gratitude; but this prince re- 
fused the gift, and prohibited his ministers 
from accepting any present. At the same time, 
he contributed to the security of the liberties 
of Germany, by a treaty to which the envoys 
of Charles swore- in his name. The circum- 
stances under which the latter assumed the 
Imperial crown seemed to give a stronger 
pledge than these oaths in favour of German 
liberty and of the continued progress of the 
Reformation. The young prince felt himself 
cast into shade by the laurels which his rival, 
Francis I., had gathered at Marignan. Their 
rivalry was to be continued in Italy, and the 
time it would occupy would, doubtless, be 
sufficient to strengthen and confirm the Re- 
formation. Charles quitted Spain in May, 



1520, and was crowned on the 22d of Octobei 
at Aix-la-Chappelle. 

Luther had foreseen that the cause of the 
Reformation would, ere long, have to be plead- 
ed before the Emperor. He wrote to Charles, 
while this prince was still at Madrid. "If 
the cause which I defend," said he to him, " is 
worthy of appearing before the throne of the 
Majesty of heaven, it is surely not unworthy 
of engaging the attention of a prince of this 
world. O Charles! thou prince among the 
kings of the earth ! I throw myself as a sup- 
pliant at the feet of your Most Serene Majesty, 
and conjure you to deign to receive under the 
shadow of your wings, not me, but the very 
cause of that eternal truth, for the defence of 
which God has intrusted you with the sword." 
The young king of Spain treated this strange 
letter from a German monk with neglect, and 
gave no answer. 

While Luther was in vain turning his efes 
towards Madrid the storm seemed to increase 
around him. The flame of fanaticism was 
kindled in Germany. Hochstraten, sever 
weary in attempts at persecution, had extract- 
ed certain theses from the writings of Luther. 
The universities of Cologne and of Louvain 
had, at his solicitation, condemned these 
works. That of Erfurth, still retaining an 
angry recollection of Luther's preference ot 
Wittemberg, was about to follow their ex- 
ample; but Luther, on learning their inten- 
tion, wrote to Lange in such strong terms, 
that the theologians of Erfurth were alarmed 
and kept silence. The condemnation, pro- 
nounced at Cologne and Louvain, was suffi- 
cient, however, to produce great excitement. 
Add to this that the priests of Meissen, who 
had taken part with Emser in his quarrel, 
openly declared (according to the statement 
of Melancthon) that whosoever should kill 
Luther would be without sin. "The time is 
come," says Luther, "in which men will 
think they do service to Jesus Christ in put- 
ting us to death." These murderous sugges- 
tions, as might have been expected, produced 
their natural results. 

While Luther was walking one day before 
the monastery of the Augustines, says one of 
his biographers, a stranger, having a pistol 
concealed in his sleeve, approached, and said 
to him: why do you go thus alone 1 ?" "1 
am in the hands of" God," answered Luther; 
"he is my strength and shield. W T hat can 
man do unto me !" Hereupon, adds the histo- 
rian, the stranger turned pale, and fled trem 
bling. Serra Longa, the orator of the con- 
ference of Augsburg, wrote about the same 
time to the Elector: "Let not Luther find an 
asylum in your Highness's territories ; let him 
be everywhere driven and stoned in open day : 
that will rejoice me more than if you were to 
give me 10,000 crowns." 

It was, however, on the side of Rome that 
the storm was chiefly gathering. A nobleman 
of Thuringia, Valentine Teutleben, vicar of 
the Archbishop of Mentz, and a zealous parti- 
san of the Papacy, was the representative of 
the Elector of Saxony at Rome. Teutleben, 



152 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



scandalized at the protection which his master 
granted to the heretical monk, saw with vexa- 
tion and impatience his mission paralyzed by 
this, as he thought, imprudent conduct. He 
imagined that by alarming the elector he 
should induce him to abandon the rebellious 
theologian. "I can get no hearing," wrote 
he, " on account of the protection which you 
grant to Luther." But the Romanists were 
deceived, if they thought to intimidate the 
prudent Frederic. This prince knew that the 
will of God and the voice of the people were 
more irresistible than decrees of the papal 
court. He directed his ambassador to inti- 
mate to the Pope, that far from defending 
Luther, he had always left him to defend 
himself; that he had already requested hirn 
to quit the university, and even Saxony; 
that the doctor had declared himself ready to 
obey, and would not have been then in the 
electoral states, had not the Legate himself, 
Charles Miltitz, begged the prince to keep 
him near his own person, lest, repairing to 
other countries, Luther should act with more 
liberty than in Saxony itself. Frederic did 
still more : he wished to open the eyes of 
Rome. " Germany," continued he, in his 
letter, "possesses a great number of learned 
men, well acquainted with languages and 
sciences; the laity themselves are beginning 
to be enlightened, and to be fond of the sacred 
writings; and if the reasonable terms of Dr. 
Luther are refused it is much to be feared that 
peace will never be re-established. The doc- 
trine of Luther has taken deep root in many 
hearts. If, instead of refuting it by the testi- 
mony of the Bible, attempts are made to crush 
it by the thunders of the Church, great of- 
fence will be occasioned, and terrible and 
dangerous rebellions will be excited." 

The elector, placing confidence in Luther, 
caused the letter of Teutleben, as well as an- 
other which he had received from the Cardinal 
St. George, to be communicated to him. The 
Reformer was much moved on reading them. 
He saw at once all the dangers that surround- 
ed him, and his mind was for an instant over- 
whelmed. But. it was at such moments that 
his faith broke forth, and manifested itself in 
all its strength. Often weak and ready to 
fall into despondency, he was seen to rise and 
appear greater in the midst of the storm. He 
would gladly have been delivered from so 
many trials, but he knew well at what price 
peace was offered to him, and he indignantly 
rejected it. " Hold my peace !" said he; " I 
am willing to do so, if they will permit me, 
that is to say, if they will silence others. If any 
one envies me my appointments, let him take 
them ; if any one desires the destruction of 
my writings, let him burn them. I am ready 
to keep silence, provided it be not required 
that evangelical truth should stand still. I 
ask for no cardinal's hat, nor gold, nor any 
thing else that Rome values. I will make 
any sacrifices; so that the way of salvation 
is left open to Christians. All their threats 
do not terrify me, all their promises cannot 
seduce me." 



Warmed by these feelings, Luther soon 
I recovered his disposition for action, and chose 
| the Christian's conflict rather than the calm 
of the recluse, One night sufficed to repro- 
duce in his mind the desire to overthrow the 
power of Rome. " My resolution is taken," 
he wrote next morning: " I despise alike the 
rage and the favour of Rome. Away with re- 
conciliation ! I desire never more to have any 
communication with her. Let her condemn 
— let her burn my writings! In my turn, I 
will condemn and publicly burn the canon 
law, that nest of all heresies. My modera- 
tion hitherto has been useless; and I re- 
nounce it." 

His friends were very far from being so 
confident. The consternation was great at 
Wittemberg. "Our expectation is on the 
stretch," said Melancthon. "I would rather 
die than be separated from Luther. If God 
does not send us help we perish." " Our 
Luther is still alive," wrote he a month after- 
wards in his anxiety ; " God grant that he 
may yet live long ! for the Romish sycophants 
leave no stone unturned for his destruction. 
Pray for the preservation of the intrepid vindi- 
cator of sacred learning." 

These prayers were heard. The warnings 
which the Elector had addressed to Rome 
through the medium of his representative 
were not without foundation. The preaching 
of Luther had resounded far and wide ; in cot- 
tages, in convents, in the houses of the citi- 
zens, in the castles of the nobles, in the acade- 
mies, and in the palaces of kings. " Let my 
life," he had said to Duke John of Saxony, "be 
found to bear fruit only in the conversion of 
one man, and I shall willingly consent that 
all my books should perish." It was not a 
single individual, it was a great multitude, 
that had discovered light in the writings of 
the humble doctor. Accordingly, everywhere 
men were found ready to protect him. The 
sword, intended for his destruction, was being 
forged in the Vatican ; but heroes were arising 
in Germany who would defend him at hazard 
of their own lives. At the moment when the 
bishops were chafing with anger, when the 
princes kept silence, when the people were in 
expectation, and the thunders were already 
rolling above the seven hills, God stirred up 
the German nobility to form a bulwark for 
his servant. 

Sylvester of Schaumburg, one of the most 
powerful knights of Franconia, at this junc- 
ture sent his son to Wittemberg with a letter 
for the Reformer. " Your life is in danger," 
wrote Schaumburg. "If the assistance of 
the electors, of the princes, or of the magis- 
trates should fail you, beware, I entreat you, of 
seeking refuge in Bohemia, where learned men 
have formerly had so much to endure; come 
rather to me. I shall soon, God willing, have 
collected above a hundred gentlemen, and with 
their help I shall be able to preserve you from 
all peril." 

Francis of Sickingen, that hero of his age, 
whose intrepid courage we have already seenj 
loved the Reformer, both because he thought 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



153 



him worthy to he loved, and also because he 
was hated by the monks. " My services, my 
possessions, and my person, in short every 
thing which 1 have," he wrote, " is at your dis- 
posal. You are resolved to stand up for the 
truth of the Gospel. I am ready to lend my 
aid in that work." Harmuth of Cronberg 
held the same language. Lastly, Ulric of 
Hutten, the poet and valiant knight of the six- 
teenth century, took every occasion to speak 
out in favour of Luther. But what a contrast 
between these two men! Hutten wrote to 
the Reformer: "We want swords, bows, ja- 
velins, and bombs, in order to repel the fury 
of the devil." Luther on receiving these let- 
ters exclaimed, " I will not resort to arms and 
bloodshed for the defence of the Gospel. It is 
by the preaching of the Word that the world 
has been conquered ; by the W T ord the Church 
has been saved ; by the Word, also, it will be 
restored." "I do not despise his offer," said 
he again on receiving the letter of Schaumburg 
which we have mentioned, " but I will de- 
pend on none but Christ alone." Not thus 
had Roman Pontiffs spoken when they waded 
in the blood of the Waldenses and Albigenses. 
Hutten was conscious of the difference be- 
tween Luther's object and his own; and ac- 
cordingly wrote thus nobly to him on the sub- 
ject: " My thoughts are running on earthly 
aims, while you, contemning such things, are 
devoted to the things of God alone ;" and 
forthwith he set out to endeavour, if possible, 
to gain over to the cause of truth Ferdinand 
and Charles V. 

Thus at one moment the enemies of Lu- 
ther overwhelmed him, and at another his 
friends arise in his defence. " My bark," says 
he, "is driven at the mercy of the winds, — 
fear and hope alternately prevail ; but what 
does it signify]" Nevertheless the testimo- 
nies of sympathy which he received were not 
without their effect upon his mind. "The Lord 
reigns," he said; " I see His hand palpably 
present." Luther felt that he no longer stood 
alone; his w T ords had borne fruit,— and this 
thought inspired him with fresh courage. The 
fear of compromising the interest of the Elec- 
tor could no longer keep him in check, now 
that he felt that he had other defenders pre- 
pared to brave the anger of Rome. He became 
consequently more free, and, if possible, more 
resolute. This is an important epoch in the 
development of Luther's character. "It is 
right that Rome should understand," wrote 
he at this time to the chaplain of the Elector, 
"that although she should succeed in obtain- 
ing by her threats my expulsion from Wittern- 
berg, she would only injure her own cause. 
Not in Bohemia, but in the heart of Germany, 
are those who are ready to defend me against 
the thunders of Papacy. If I have not yet 
brought to bear upon my adversaries all that 
I am preparing for them, it is neither to my 
moderation nor to the weight of their tyranny 
that they are to attribute my forbearance, but 
to the name of the Elector and to the interests 
of the university of Wittemberg, which I 
feared to compromise; now that such fears 



are dissipated I am about to re-double my ef- 
forts against Rome and her courtiers. 

Yet it was not so much on the great the Re- 
former relied. He had often been urged to dedi- 
cate one of his books to Duke John, brother 
of the Elector, but had abstained from doing 
so. "I fear," he said, " lest this suggestion 
may proceed from himself. The Holy Scrip- 
tures ought not to minister to the glory of any 
other name but that of God." Luther now 
shook off these fears, and dedicated to Duke 
John his discourse on Good Works. Of all 
his writings, this is the one in which the Re- 
former most powerfully opens the doctrine of 
justification by faith, that great truth, whose 
power he estimates far above the sword of 
Hutten, the armed bands of Sickingen, or the 
favour of dukes or electors. 

"The first, the noblest, and the greatest of 
all works," says he, " is failhin Jesus Christ. 
From this work all others must flow. They 
are all but the vassals of faith, and receive 
from it alone all their efficacy." 

" If a man but feel in his heart the assu- 
rance that what he does is acceptable to God, 
his action is good, though he should but raise 
a straw from the earth ; but if he has not this 
confidence, his action is not a good work, 
even though he should raise the dead to life. 
A Heathen, a Jew, a Turk, a sinner, may do 
all other works; but to put one's trust in God, 
and have assurance that we are accepted by 
him, is what none but the Christian standing 
in grace is capable of doing." 

" A Christian who has faith in God does 
all with liberty and joy : while that man who 
is not at one with God, is full of cares and 
under bondage; he inquires anxiously what 
amount of good works is required of him; he 
turns to ask of this man or another, finding no 
rest for his soul, and doing every thing with 
fear and dissatisfaction." 

" Therefore it is that I have ever held up 
the necessity of Faith. But in the world 
around me it is otherwise. There the essen- 
tial thing is represented to be the having many 
works, works of high fame and of all degrees, 
without regarding whether they are done in 
faith. Thus they build up their peace, not on 
the good pleasure of God, but on their own 
merits, or in other words on the sand." (Matt. 
vii. 26.) 

"It is said that to preach faith, is to dis- 
courage good works ; but though a man should 
have in himself the combined strength of all 
his race, or even of all created beings, this one 
duty of the life of faith would be a task too 
great to be ever performed. If I say to a sick 
man: 'resume your health, and you will have 
the use of your limbs,' can it be said mat I 
forbid him to use his limbs 1 Must not health 
precede labour ? It is the same when we preach 
faith : faith must go before works, in order to 
good works." 

" Where then, you will say, is this faith to 
be found, and how is it to be received ] Truly, 
this is what most ooncerns us to know. Faith 
comes from Jesus Christ alone, promised and 
given freely." 



154 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



" O man ! consider Christ, and see in him 
how God displays his mercy towards thee 
without any worthiness of thine going before. 
Draw from this discovery of His grace the be- 
lief and assurance that ail thy sins are forgiven 
thee. Works never could produce this faith. 
It flows in the blood, — from the wounds and 
death of Christ. It springs up, from that 
source, to rejoice our hearts. Christ is the 
rock whence flow our milk and honey." (Deut. 
xxxii.) 

Not being able to notice all the works of 
Luther, we here quote some short extracts 
from this discourse on Good Works, on ac- 
count of the Reformer's own opinion of it. 
" In my opinion," said he, " it is the best of 
my published writings," and he immediately 
adds this deep reflection: " But I know that 
when I please myself with what I write, the 
infection of that bad leaven hinders it from 
pleasing others." Melancthon, in transmit- 
ting this discourse to a friend, accompanied 
it with these words : " No one among all the 
Greek and Latin writers has come nearer to 
the spirit of St. Paul than Luther." 

But besides the substitution of a scheme of 
merits in place of the grand truth of grace 
and amnesty, another evil had grown up in 
the Church. A haughty power had arisen in 
the midst of the humble shepherds of Christ's 
flock. Luther resolved to attack this usurped 
authority. In the midst of all his troubles, 
he had privately studied the rise, progress, 
and usurpations of the Papacy. The dis- 
coveries he had made had filled him with 
amazement. He no longer hesitated to make 
them known, and to strike the blow which, 
like the rod of Moses in old time, was to 
awaken a people that had long slumbered in 
bondage. Even before Rome could find time 
to publish her formidable bull, he himself 
hurled against her a declaration of war. " The 
'time to be silent' is past," he exclaims; 
"the 'time to speak' is arrived." On the 
23d of June, 1520, he published the celebrated 
Appeal to his Imperial Majesty and the Chris- 
tian nobility of the German nation, concerning 
the Reformation of Christianity. 

" It is not rashly and without consideration," 
said he, in the commencement of this appeal, 
"that I, a man of the common people, take 
upon himself to address your highnesses. 
The misery and oppression which at this hour 
weigh down all Christian states, and more 
especially Germany, wring from me a cry of 
distress. r I find myself compelled to call for 
help; I must see if God will not give his 
Spirit to some one or other of our country- 
men, and thu<s stretch forth his hand to save 
our wretched nation. God has placed over 
us a young and generous prince (the Empe- 
ror Charles V.,) and has thus filled our 
hearts with high hopes. But we ourselves 
must, on oui parts, do all that is possible for 
us to do. 

" Now, it is of the very first necessity, that 
we do not at all rely upon our own strength, 
or our own wisdom. If we begin even a 
ffood work with confidence in ourselves, God 



overturns and destroys it. Frederic I., Fre- 
deric II., and many other emperors besides, 
before whom the world stood in awe, have 
been trampled under foot by the Popes, be- 
cause they trusted in their own strength rather 
than in God. Therefore they could not suc- 
ceed. It is against the power of hell that we 
have to contend in 'this struggle. We must 
set about the work, hoping nothing from the 
strength of our own arms, and depending 
humbly on the Lord ; looking to the present 
distress of Christians, instead of dwelling on 
the acts of evil doers. Take but another 
course, and though the work may seem to 
prosper for a while, all of a sudden, in the 
very height of the struggle, confusion '"ill 
come in, evil men will cause boundless dis- 
asters, and the world will be deluged with 
blood. The greater our power, the greater 
our danger if we walk not in the fear of the 
Lord." 

After this exordium, Luther continued as 
follows : 

" The Romanists have raised three barriers 
against all reformation. When the temporal 
power has attacked them, they have denied 
its authority, and asserted that the spiritual 
power was superior to it. When any one 
rebuked them out of the Scripture, they have 
answered, that no one but the Pope was able 
to interpret Scripture. When they have been 
threatened with a council, the reply has been, 
no one but the Sovereign Pontiff has autho- 
rity to convoke a council." 

"They have thus wrested from our hands 
the three rods destined to correct them, and 
have given the rein to all evil. But now, 
God help us, and give us one of those trum- 
pets which overthrew the walls of Jericho ! 
With the breath of our lips, let us throw 
down the paper walls, which the Romanists 
have built around them, and lift up the 
scourges which punish the wicked, by ex- 
posing the wiles and stratagems of the devil." 

Luther then begins the assault. He shakes 
to its very foundation that papal monarchy 
which had for centuries past banded together 
the nations of the West under the sceptre of 
the Roman bishop. That there is no such 
thing as a priestly caste, is the truth, hidden 
from the church even from its first ages, 
which he powerfully sets forth at :he outset: 

" It has been said, that the Pope, the hish- 
ops, the priests, and those who dwell in the 
convents, form the spiritual or ecclesiastical 
state; and that the princes, nobles, citizens, 
and peasants, form the secular state or laity. 
This is a fine story, truly. Let no one, how- 
ever, be alarmed by it. Ml Christians belong 
to the spiritual state ; and there is no other dif- 
ference between them than that of the functions 
which they discharge. W T e have all one 
baptism, one faith, and it is this which consti- 
tutes the spiritual man. The unction, the 
tonsure, ordination, consecration by the bishop 
or the pope, may make a hypocrite, but never 
a spiritual man. We are all alike consecrated 
priests by baptism, as St. Peter says: 'Ye 
are priests and kings;' although it does not 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



155 



belong to all to exercise such offices, for none 
can take to himself that which is common to 
all, without the consent of the community. 
But if we were without this consecration 
from God, the Pope's unction could never 
constitute a priest. If a king - had ten sons of 
equal claim to the inheritance, and they should 
choose one of their number to act for them, 
they would all be kings, though only one of 
them would administer their common power. 
The case is the same with the Church. If 
any pious laymen were banished to a desert, 
and, having no regularly consecrated priest 
among them, were to agree to choose for that 
office one of their number, married or unmar- 
ried, this man would be as truly a priest as 
if he had been consecrated by all the bishops 
in the world. Augustine, Ambrose, and Cy- 
prian were chosen in this manner. 

" Hence it follows that laity and priests, 
princes and bishops, or, as they say, the clergy 
and the laity, have in reality nothing to dis- 
tinguish them, but their functions. They all 
belong to the same estate; but all have not 
the same work to perform. 

"If this be true, why should not the magis- 
trate chastise the clergy? the secular power 
has been ordained by God for the punishment 
of evil-doers, and the praise of those who do 
well. And free scope should be allowed for 
it to act throughout Christendom ; let it touch 
whom it may, pope, bishops, priests, monks, 
nuns, or any others. St. Paul says to all 
Christians : Let every soul (consequently the 
Pope also,) be subject to the higher powers, for 
they bear not the sword in vain." 

Having in like manner overturned " the 
other barriers," Luther passed in review the 
corruptions of Rome. He displayed in a 
popular style of eloquence, the evils that had 
been felt and acknowledged for centuries. 
Never had a more noble protest been heard. 
The great assembly before whom Luther 
spoke was the Church; the power whose 
corruptions he attacked was that papal power 
which had for ages weighed heavily upon all 
nations; and the reformation he so loudly 
called for was destined to exert its powerful 
influence over all Christian nations through- 
out the world, and to last as long as man 
shall exist upon the earth. 

He commenced with the Pope. " It is 
monstrous," he says, " to see him who is 
called the vicar of Christ, displaying a mag- 
nificence unrivalled by that of any Emperor. 
Is this to resemble the poor and lowly Jesus, 
or the humble St. Peter 1 The Pope, say they, 
is the lord of the world ! But Christ, whose 
vicar he boasts himself to be, said : My king- 
dom is not of this world. Ought the power of 
the vicar to go beyond that of his Lord !" 

Luther next proceeded to describe the effects 
of papal sway. " Do you know what end the 
Cardinals serve 1 I will tell you. Italy and 
Germany have many convents, religious foun- 
dations, and benefices, richly endowed. By \ 
what machinery can this wealth be drawn to i 
Rome 1 ? Cardinals have been created; to 
them these cloisters and prelacies have been i 



given; and at this moment — Italy is almost 
deserted, the convents are destroyed, the bish- 
oprics devoured, the towns falling to decay, 
the inhabitants demoralized, religious worship 
expiring, and preaching abolished ! And why 
is all this] Because, forsooth, all the wealth 
of the churches must go to Rome. The Turk 
himself would never have so ruined Italy." 

Luther then turned to his native country. 

"And now that they have sucked the blood 
of their own nation, they come to Germany ; 
they begin softly ; but let us be on our guard, 
or Germany will soon be like Italy. We have 
already some Cardinals here and there. Be- 
fore the dull-minded Germans comprehend our 
design, think they, they will have neither bish- 
opric, convent, benefice, nor so much as one 
penny left. Antichrist must possess the trea- 
sure of the earth. Thirty or forty Cardinals 
will be created in a day; to one will be given 
Bamberg, to another the bishopric of Wurz- 
burg; to these will be attached rich benefices, 
until the churches and the cities are left deso- 
late. And then the Pope will say, I am the 
vicar of Christ, and shepherd of his flocks. 
Let the Germans submit to my authority !" 

The indignation of Luther kindled as he 
proceeded : 

"What! shall we Germans endure these 
robberies and extortions of the Pope] If the 
kingdom of France has been able to defend 
itself from them, why should we suffer our- 
selves to be thus ridiculed and laughed at ] 
And, 0! would that they robbed us only of our 
goods! but they also lay waste the churches; 
they fleece the sheep of Christ; abolish the 
worship, and silence the word of God." 

Luther exposed the "Romish practice" of 
gradually abstracting the ~ r ealth and the reve 
nues of Germany. Annats, palls, commen- 
dams, administrations, expective graces, rever- 
sions, incorporations, reserves, &c, all pass 
before him : " let us," says he, " endeavour 
to put a stop to so much wretchedness and 
desolation. If we want to march against the 
Turks, let us begin with those Turks who are 
the worst of all. If we hang thieves, and cut 
off the heads of brigands, let us not suffer the 
avarice of Rome to escape, which is the great- 
est of all robbers and thieves ; and that, too, 
in the name of St. Peter and of Jesus Christ ! 
Who can tolerate this] Who can keep si- 
lence] Has not all that the Pope possesses 
been obtained by robbery ] — for he has neither 
purchased it, nor inherited it from St. Peter, 
nor gained it by his labours. Whence, then, 
does it all come] — " 

The Reformer proposes remedies for all 
these evils. He calls energetically upon the 
German nobility to put an end to these depre- 
dations on the part of Rome. Coming then 
to the Pope himself. "Is it not ridiculous," 
he exclaimed, "that the Pope should pretend 
to be the lawful heir of the Empire] Who 
gave it to him ] Was it Christ, when he said, 
"The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship ever 
them ; but it shall not be so with ymi >""' (Luk« 
xxii. i?5, 26.) How is it possible to govern 
an empire, and at the same time tc preach, 



156 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pray, study, and have care for the poor? 
Christ forbade the twelve to carry with them 
either gold or two coats, because the duties of 
the ministry cannot be discharged, unless there 
is a freedom from all other care ; and the Pope 
would at the same time govern the Empire, 
and remain Pope!" 

Luther went on to strip the Pontiff of his 
spoils : " Let the Pope renounce all pretensions 
to the kingdom of Naples and Sicily. He 
has no more right to it than I have. It is 
without any just claim, and inconsistent with 
the directions of Christ, that he holds posses- 
sion of Bologna, Imola, Ravenna, Romagna, 
the Marches of Ancona, &c. ' No man that 
warreth? says St. Paul, ' entanghtk himself 
with the affairs of this life.'' (2 Tim. ii. 4.) 
And the Pope, who claims to be chief of the 
Church militant, entangles himself more with 
the things of this life than any emperor or 
king. We must relieve him from all this 
burden. Let the Emperor put into the hands 
of the Pope the Bible and mass-book, in order 
that his holiness may leave government for 
kings, and keep to preaching and praying." 

He was quite as earnest against the Pope's 
ecclesiastical authority in Germany, as against 
his temporal power in Italy. " As a first 
step," says he, " it behoves us to expel from 
all the German States the Pope's legates, and 
the pretended benefits which they sell us at 
their weight in gold, and which are mere im- 
postures. They take our money, and for 
what 1 ?— for legalizing ill-gotten gains; for 
dissolving the sacredness of oaths ; for teach- 
ing us to break faith ; for instructing us in 
sin, and leading us directly to hell. Hear 
this, O Pope ! not ' most holy,' but most sin- 
ning! May God, from his throne on high, 
hurl thy throne ere long to the bottomless pit !" 

The Christian tribune proceeded. Having 
summoned the Pope to his bar, he cited before 
him all the corruptions which followed in the 
train of the Papacy, and began to sweep from 
the floor of the Church the rubbish that en- 
cumbered it. He commenced with the monks. 

" Now, then, I come to that slothful crew 
who promise much, but do little. Bear with 
me, my friends ; I mean you well : what I 
have to say to you is a truth both sweet and 
bitter; it is, that no more cloisters must be 
built for mendicant friars. God knows we 
have enough already — and would to heaven 
they were all levelled with the ground ! Va- 
gabonding through a country never has done 
and never can do good." 

The marriage of ecclesiastics comes next. 
It was the first time that Luther had spoken 
on that subject. 

"To what a condition is the clergy fallen ! 
and how many priests do we find burdened 
with women and children, and their bitter re- 
morse, while no one comes to their aid ! It 
may suit the Pope and the bishops to let things 
go on as they list, and that which is lost con- 
tinue lost: be it so. But, for. my part, I will 
deliver my conscience. I will open my mouth 
freely : let pope, bishop, or whoever will, take 
offence at it! I say, then, that, according to 



| the appointment of Christ and his aposties 
j every town should have a pastor, or bishop, 
and that this pastor may have one wife, as St. 
I Paul writes to Timothy: ' Let the bishop be 
the husband of one wife,' (1 Tim. iii. 2,) and 
as is still the practice in the Greek church. 
But the devil has persuaded the Pope, as St. 
Paul tells Timothy, (1 Tim. iv. 1—3,) 4 tc 
forbid' the clergy 4 to marry.' And hence 
miseries innumerable. What is to be done 1 ? 
W'hat resource for so many pastors, irreproach- 
able in every thing, except that they live in 
: secret commerce with a woman to whom they 
\ would, with all their heart, be joined in wed- 
j lock? Ah ! let them set their consciences at 
I rest; let them take this woman for their law- 
ful wife, let them live virtuously with her, 
without troubling themselves whether it please 
the pope or not. The salvation of the soul is 
of more consequence than tyrannous and arbi- 
trary laws, which corne not from the Lord." 

It is in this way that the Reformation sought 
to restore purity of morals in the Church. 
The Reformer continued : 

" Let festivals be abolished, and none ob- 
served but Sunday: or, if it is wished to 
keep the great Christian festivals, let them be 
celebrated only in the morning, and the rest 
of the day be regarded as a working-day. 
For since people do nothing on feast-days but 
drink, play, run into vice, or waste their time 
in idleness, there is much more offence to God 
on these days than on others." 

He then turns to the dedication of churches, 
which he designates mere taverns; and next 
notices the customary fasts and the different 
religious fraternities. He insists not only 
against the abuses of these things, but aims 
to put an end to schisms. " It is time," he 
says, "that we should take a serious interest 
in the affair of the Bohemians ; that we should 
lay aside hatred and envy, and unite with 
them." He proposes some excellent measures 
of conciliation, and adds: "It is thus that 
we ought to convince heretics by Scripture, 
following in this the example of the early 
fathers, and not exterminate them by fire. 
According to the contrary course the execu- 
tioners would be the best teachers in the world. 
Oh ! would to God that on both sides we 
would stretch out the right hand of brotherly 
humility, instead of erecting ourselves in the 
opinion of our strength of argument and righ;. 
Charity is more needed than the Roman Pa- 
pacy. I have done all in my power. If the 
Pope and his adherents offer opposition, on 
their own heads must rest the responsibility. 
The Pope ought to be willing to surrender 
every thing — authority, wealth, and honour — 
if by so doing he could save one soul. But 
he would rather see the whole universe perish 
than yield a hair's-breadth of the power he 
has usurped! I am clear of these things". 

After this, Luther turns to the universities 
and schools : 

"I fear much," he says, " that the universi- 
ties will be found to be great gates leading 
down to hell, unless they take diligent care 
to explain the Holy Scriptures, and to engrave 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



I5T 



them in the hearts of our youth. I would not 
advise any one to place his child where the 
Holy Scriptures are not regarded as the rule 
of life. Every institution where God's word 
is not diligently studied must become cor- 
rupt." Weighty words! which governments, 
fathers, and the learned in all ages, would do 
well to consider. 

Towards the close of his appeal, he reverts 
to the Empire and the Emperor : 

"The Pope," he says, "not being able to 
manage the ancient masters of the Roman 
empire, bethought himself of the plan of ap- 
propriating their title and empire, and then 
giving them to us Germans. Thus it has 
Happened that we have become vassals of the 
Pope. The Pope took possession of Rome, 
extorting from the Emperor an oath not to re- 
side there ; and hence it is that the Emperor 
is Emperor of Rome, without Rome! We 
have the name, and tKe Pope the country and 
its cities. We have the title and arms of the 
Empire : the Pope monopolizes its treasure, 
power, privileges, and liberties. He devours 
the kernel, and we are put off with the shell. 
[t is thus that the pride and t3 r ranny of Rome 
have at all times abused our simplicity. 

" But may God, who has given us such an 
empire, now stand by us ! Let us act worthily 
of our name, our title, and our arms ; let us 
preserve our liberty ! and let the Romans learn 
what it is that God has given us by their 
hands. They boast of having given us an 
empire. Well, then, let us take it, for it is ours. 
Let the Pope abandon Rome, and all he holds 
possession of in the Empire. Let him cease 
his taxes and extortions ! Let him restore to 
us our liberty, our power, our property, our 
honour, our souls and bodies! Let the 
Empire be what an empire ought to be, and 
let the sword of princes no longer be lower- 
ed before the hypocritical pretensions of a 
Pope!" 

There is a lofty reason in these words, be- 
sides their force and persuasion. Did ever, 
before, any orator make such an appeal to the 
whole nobility of the empire, and the Emperor 
himself? Far from wondering that so many 
of the German States separated themselves 
from Rome, ought we not rather to be asto- 
nished that all Germany did not rise en masse 
and retake from Rome that imperial power 
which the Popes had with so much effrontery 
usurped ? 

Luther terminates this bold harangue with 
these words : 

" I can easily believe that I may have held 
too high a tone, -that I may have proposed 
many things which will appear impossible, 
and attacked many errors with too much vehe- 
mence. But what can I do? Let the world 
be offended rather than God ! They can but 
take my life. Again and again I have offered 
peace to my adversaries. But God has, by 
their own instruments, compelled, me continu- 
ally to uplift a louder and a louder voice 
against them. I have one indictment in re- 
serve against Rome. If their ears itch to 
Know what it is, I will utter it aloud Dost 



thou know, O Rome ! dost thou not know 
well what 1 mean ?...." 

Allusion is probably made here to a tract 
on Popery which Luther intended to give to 
the world, but which has not been published. 
The prior Burkhard wrote at the time to Spen- 
gler : " There is also a little book de execrandd 
venere Romanorum ; but it is kept back." The 
title indicated the probability that it would 
afford great occasion of scandal. There is 
reason to rejoice that Luther had the modera- 
tion not to publish this work. 

"If my cause is just," continued he, "it 
will be its lot to be condemned on earth, and 
espoused only by Christ in heaven. Let them 
come on then, popes, bishops, priests, monks, 
and doctors ! let them bring forth all their 
zeal, and let loose all their rage ! Verily, it 
is their part to persecute the truth, as every 
age has witnessed." 

But where did the monk acquire so clear a 
perception of public affairs, which the States 
of the Empire themselves often found it diffi- 
cult to estimate correctly? What could em- 
bolden this obscure German to stand up in the 
midst of his own long-enslaved nation, and to 
strike such mighty blows against the papal 
authority ? What is this mysterious strength 
which inspires him? May we not answer 
that he had heard these words of God, ad- 
dressed to one of the holy men of old : " Be- 
hold, I have made thy face strong against 
their faces ; as an adamant, harder than flint, 
have I made thy forehead : fear them not." 

Addressed to the German Nobility, Luther's 
appeal soon reached all those for whom it had 
been written. It spread through Germany 
with wonderful rapidity. His friends trem- 
bled; Staupitz, and those who preferred a 
moderate course, thought the blow too severe. 
"In these days," answered Luther, "whatever 
is quietly mooted, falls into oblivion, and no 
one troubles himself about it." At the same 
time, he evinced perfect simplicity and humili- 
ty. He had no conception of the prominent 
part he was to perform. " I know not what 
to say of myself," he wrote ; " perhaps I am 
the precursor of Philip, (Melancthon,) and, 
like Elias, am preparing the way for him in 
spirit and in power. And it is he who will 
one day trouble Israel and the houseof Ahab." 

But there was no need to wait for another 
than him who had already appeared. The 
house of Ahab was already shaken. The 
Appeal to the German Nobility had appeared 
on the 26th of June, 1 5*20 ; and in a short time 
4000 copies were sold, — an extraordinary 
number for that period. The astonishment 
was universal. This writing produced a pow- 
erful sensation among all the people. The 
force, the spirit, the clearness, and the noble 
daring which reigned throughout it rendered 
it a most popular tract. In short, it was felt 
by the common people as proceeding from one 
w r ho loved them. The hesitating views of 
very many wise men were clearly brought out, 
and the usurpations of Rome were made evi- 
dent to the minds of all. No one at Wiitem- 
berg any longer doubted that the Pope waa 



158 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Antichrist. Even the Elector's court, so cir- 
cumspect and timid, manifested no disappro- 
bation, and seemed to wait the result. But 
the nohility and the people did not wait. The 
whole nation was roused ; the voice of Luther 
had deeply moved it; henceforth it was gained 
over, and rallied round the standard that he 
raised. Nothing could have been more favour- 
able tu the Reformer than this publication. 
In palaces, in the castles of the nobles, in the 
citizens' dwellings, and even in the cottages 
of the peasantry, all were now prepared, and 
as though cased in steel, against the sentence 
of condemnation which was about to fall upon 
this prophet of the people. All Germany was 
in a flame; and whenever the Pope's bull 
might come, it would not avail to extinguish 
the conflagration. 

At Rome every thing was ready for the con- 
demnation of the defender of the Church's 
liberties. That Church had long lived in pro- 
found security. For many years the monks 
of Rome had accused Leo X. of caring for 
nothing but luxury and pleasure, and wast- 
ing time in hunting, plays, and music, while 
the Church was nodding to its ruin. Now, 
at length aroused by the clamours of Eck, — 
who had come from Leipsic to invoke the 
power of the Vatican, — the Pope, the cardi- 
nals, the monks, and all Rome were awake 
to the sense of danger and intent on saving 
the Papacy. 

In fact, Rome was brought into the neces- 
sity of having recourse to measures of stern 
severity. The gauntlet was thrown down ; 
the combat must be to the death. — It was not 
the abuses of the Pontiff's authority itself — 
that Luther had attacked. At his bidding, the 
Pope was required to descend meekly from 
his throne, and become again a simple pastor 
or bishop on the banks of the Tiber. All the 
dignitaries of the Roman hierarchy were re- 
quired to renounce their riches and w r orldly 
glory, and again become the elders and 
deacons of the churches of Italy. All that 
splendour and power, which had for centuries 
dazzled the West, was to vanish away and 
give place to the humble simplicity of wor- 
ship of the first Christians. Doubtless God 
could have wrought these changes, and He 
will do so in his own time ; but they could not 
be looked for from man. And even if a people 
had been found so disinterested and courage- 
ous as to be willing to overturn the ancient and 
costly edifice of the Roman Church", thousands 
of priests and bishops would have put forth 
their hands to save it from its fall. The Pope 
had received his power under the express con- 
dition of defending the dominion confided to 
him. Rome believed herself to beset by God 
for the government of the Church. We can- 
not, therefore, be surprised that she stood pre- 
pared to hurl the most terrible judgments. 
And yet for a while she hesitated. Many car- 
dinals, and the Pope himself, had no wish to 
resort to severe measures. The statesmanlike 
L*o was well aware that a sentence, the exe- 
cution of which depended on the rather doubt- 
ful consent of the civil power, might seriously 



compromise the authority of the Church. He 
saw besides that the violent measures already 
resorted to had but increased this evil. Might 
not this Saxon monk be gained over? asked 
the politicians of Rome. Was it possible that 
the^ Church's power, aided by Italian artifice, 
should fail to accomplish its object] Nego- 
tiation must yet be tried. 

Eck, therefore, found many difficulties to 
contend with. He tried every expedient; la- 
bouring incessantly to prevent any concessions 
to what he deemed heresy. In his daily walks 
through Rome he loudly vaunted his anger, 
and called for vengeance. He was quickly 
joined by the fanatical party of the monks. 
Emboldened by these allies, he besieged the 
Pope and the cardinals with fresh courage. 
According to him, any attempt at conciliation 
was useless. Such efforts, said he, are mere 
fancies and remote expectations. He knew 
the danger, for he had wrestled with the auda- 
cious monk. He saw the necessity for cutting 
off this gangrened member, lest the disorder 
should spread throughout the body. The vehe- 
ment disputerof Leipsic met and removed ob- 
jection after objection, and with difficulty per- 
suaded the Pope. He was resolved to save 
Rome in spite of herself. He left no stone 
unturned. For hours together he continued in 
close deliberation with the Pontiff. He excited 
the court and the convents, the people and 
the church. "Eck is moving against me," 
says Luther, "the lowest depths of hell; he 
has set the forest of Lebanon in a blaze." At 
length he carried his point. The politic coun- 
sellors were overborne by the fanatics who 
were admitted to the papal councils. Leo gave 
way. The condemnation of Luther was de- 
termined on, and Eck began to breathe freely. 
His pride was flattered by the thought that he 
had decided the ruin cf his heretical rival, and 
thus saved the Church. " It was well," said he, 
"that I came at this time to Rome, for the er- 
rors of Luther were but little known there. It 
will one day be known how much I have done 
in behalf of this cause." 

Thus did God send out a spirit of infatua- 
tion upon the doctors of Rome. It had be- 
come necessary that the separation between 
truth and error should be effected, and it was 
error that was destined to make the separation. 
Had matters been brought to an accom- 
modation, it could only have been at the 
expense of truth; but to take away from truth 
the smallest portion of itself is paving the way 
for its utter loss and annihilation. In this re- 
spect Truth resembles the insect which is said 
to die if deprived of one of its antennae. Truth 
requires to be entire and perfect in all its 
members, in order to the manifestation of that 
power by which it is able to gain wide and 
salutary victories and extend its triumphs 
to future ages. Blending a little error with 
truth, is like casting a grain of poison into a 
full dish ; that grain suffices to change the 
quality of the food, and death, slow but cer- 
tain, is the result. The defenders of the doc- 
trine of Christ, against the attacks of its ad- 
versaries, guard its advanced outworks as 



HTSTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



159 



jealously as the citadel itself; for the enemy 
once in possession of the least important of 
these posts, is not far removed from conquest. 
The Roman Pontiff, at the period we are treat- 
ing of, determined upon rending asunder the 
Church, and the portion which he has con- 
tinued to hold, though still magnificent, hides 
in vain, under outward pomp and ceremony, 
the principle that is undermining its existence. 
Where the word of God is, there only is life. 
Lather, courageous as he was, would proba- 
bly have been silent if Rome herself had kept 
silence, or shown any desire to make conces- 
sions. But God had not allowed the Reforma- 
tion to be dependent on the weakness of man's 
heart; Luther was in the hands of One whose 
eye penetrated results. Divine Providence 
made use of the Pope to break every link be- 
tween the past and the future, and to throw 
the Reformer into a course altogether un- 
known, and leading he knew not whither. The 
Papal Bull was Rome's bill of divorce ad- 
dressed to the pure Church of Jesus Christ in 
the person of one who was then standing as 
her humble but faithful representative; and 
the Church accepted it, that she might thence- 
forward hold only from her Head who is in 
heaven. 

Whilst at Rome the condemnation of Lu- 
ther was sought for with violent animosity, an 
humble priest, an inhabitant of one of the. rude 
towns of Switzerland, who never had any in- 
tercourse with the Reformer, had been deeply 
affected at the thought of the blow which 
hung over him, and whilst even the intimates 
of the doctor of Wittemberg were silent and 
trembling, this Swiss mountaineer formed the 
resolution to do his utmost to arrest the dread- 
ed bull ! His name was Ulric Zwingle. 
William Des Faucons, secretary to the Pope's 
Legate in Switzerland, and intrusted by- the 
Legate with his duties during his absence, 
was his friend. " As long as I live," said the 
Nuncio ad interim only a few days before, 
"you may rest assured of every thing on my 
part that can be expected from a true friend." 
The Swiss priest, trusting to this assurance, 
repaired to the office of the Roman Nuncio, (so 
at least we may conclude from one of his let- 
ters.) It was not for himself that he feared 
the dangers into which faith brings the be- 
liever: he knew that a disciple of Christ must 
be ever ready to lay down his life. " All that 
I ask of Christ for myself," said he to a friend 
to whom he at the time unbosomed his anxiety 
respecting Luther, " is that I may support the 
afflictions which await me like a man. I am 
a vessel of clay in his hands; let him break 
me in shivers or strengthen me as seems good 
to him." But the Swiss preacher dreaded the 
consequences to the Church of so severe a 
blow struck at the Reformer. He laboured to 
persuade the representative of Rome to inform 
the Pope on the matter, and to employ all the 
means in his power to deter him from excom- 
municating Luther. "The dignity of the holy 
see itself is concerned in it," said he; "for if 
tilings come to such a pass, Germany, en- 
thusiastically utached to the Gospel and its 
13 



j teacher, will be sure to treat the Pope and his 
; anathemas with contempt." The effort was 
I unavailing, and it appears that," even at the 
time it was made, the blow was already struck. 
Such was the first occasion on which the path 
of the Saxon doctor and that of the Swiss 
priest were so ordered as to meet together. We 
shall again find the latter in the course of 
this history, and shall behold him developing 
his character, and growing by degrees to lofty 
stature in the church of the Lord? 

The condemnation of Luther once deter- 
mined on, new difficulties arose in the bosom 
of the consistory. The divines proposed to 
proceed immediately to fulminate the sentence; 
the civilians, on the contrary, desired to com- 
mence by a citation. " Was not Adam," said 
they, appealing to their colleagues, "cited 
before he was condemned 1 ? 'Adam, where 
art thou V said the Lord. In the instance of 
Cain likewise: ' Where is thy brother Abel?' 
asked the Eternal." To these singular argu- 
ments drawn from holy Writ, the canonists 
added considerations derived from natural law. 
" Evidence of a crime," they said, " cannot 
take from any criminal the right of defending 
himself against the charge." It is pleasing 
to trace such principles of equity in a Romish 
synod. But these scruples did not suit the 
theologians of the assembly, who, carried 
away by passion, thought only of setting to 
work quickly. It was finally arranged that 
Luther's doctrine should be condemned imme- 
diately ; and that as to himself and his adhe- 
rents, a term of sixty days should be granted 
them ; after which, if they did not recant then 
opinions, they should be all ipso facto excom- 
municated. De Vio, who had returned from 
Germany sick, had himself carried on his 
couch to the assembly, unwilling to miss 
this petty triumph, which afforded°him some 
consolation. Though defeated at Augsburg, 
he claimed to take part at Rome in condemn- 
ing the unconquerable monk, whom his learn- 
ing, acuteness, and authority had failed to 
humble. Luther was not there to answer: 
hence the boldness of De Vio. On the 15th 
of June the sacred college agreed on the con- 
demnation, and gave their approbation to the 
celebrated bull. 

" Arise, O Lord !" said the Roman Pontiff, 
speaking at this solemn moment as Vicar of 
God and Head of the Church, "arise, and 
remember the reproaches wherewith fools re- 
proach thee all day long. Arise, O Peter! 
remember thy holy Roman Church, mother of 
all the churches, and mistress of the faith. 
Arise, O Paul ! for a new Porphyry is here, 
attacking thy doctrines and the holy popes, 
our predecessors. Finally, arise, assemblv 
of all the saints! noly Church of God! and 
intercede for us with God Almighty." 

The Pope proceeds to cite, as pernicious, 
scandalous, and corrupt, forty-one propositions 
of Luther, in which the latter explained the 
"sound doctrine" of the gospel. The follow- 
ing are included in' the propositions on- 
demntd .• — 

"To deny that sin remains in the infanl 



160 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



after baptism is to trample under foot St. Paul 
and our Lord Jesus Christ." 

"A new life is the best and highest peni- 
tence." 

" To burn heretics is contrary to the will 
of the Holy Spirit," &c, &c. 

"As soon as this bull shall be published," 
continues the Pope, " the bishops are to search 
diligently for the writings of Martin Luther 
in which these errors are contained, and to 
burn them publicly and solemnly in the pre- 
sence of the clergy and of the laity. As to 
Martin himself, what is there, in the name of 
Heaven, that we have not done"? Imitating 
the goodness of God Almighty, we are ready, 
notwithstanding, to receive him again into the 
bosom of the Church ; and we allow him sixty 
days to forward to us his recantation in writ- 
ing, attested by two prelates ; or, rather, 
(which would be more satisfactory,) to pre- 
sent himself before us in Rome, that none 
may any more doubt his obedience. In the 
mean time, he must from this moment cease 
preaching, teaching, and writing, and commit 
his works to the flames. And if he do not 
recant within the space of sixty days, we, by 
these presents, sentence himself and his adhe- 
rents as open and contumacious heretics." 
The Pope afterwards pronounces a long train 
of excommunications, maledictions, and inter- 
dicts against Luther and all his partisans, 
with orders to seize their persons and send 
them to Rome. It is easy to guess what 
would have become of these generous confes- 
sors of the Gospel in the dungeons of the 
Papacy. 

The storm was thus gathering over the head 
of Luther: the bull was published; and for 
centuries Rome had not uttered the sentence 
of condemnation without following it with the 
stroke of death. This murderous message 
from the seven-hilled city was to reach the 
Saxon monk in his cloister. The moment 
was well chosen. The new Emperor, who 
had so many reasons for cultivating friendly 
relations with the Pope, would no doubt hasten 
to recommend himself by sacrificing to him 
an obscure monk. Leo X., the cardinals, and 
all the partisans of Rome exulted, fancying 
they saw their enemy at their feet. 

While the eternal city was thus agitated, 
events of more tranquil character were pass- 
ing at Wittemberg. Melancthon was shed- 
ding there a soft but brilliant light. Near 
two thousand auditors from Germany, Eng- 
land, the Netherlands, France, Italy, Hunga- 
ry, and Greece, were frequently assembled 
around him. He was twenty-four years of 
age, and had not taken orders. Every house 
in Wittemberg was open to this young pro- 
fessor, so learned, and at the same time so 
amiable. Foreign universities, Ingolstadt in 
particular, sought to attract him within their 
walls. His friends at Wittemberg resolved 
to retain him among them, by inducing him 
to marry. Although he desired a partner for 
his dear Philip, Luther declared he would not 
be his adviser in this affair. Others took that 
part upon themselves. The young doctor 



was a frequent visitor at the house of the bur 
gomaster Krapp, who belonged to an ancient 
family. Krapp had a daughter named Cathe- 
rine, of a mild and amiable character, and 
great sensibility. Melancthon's friends urged 
him to ask her in marriage; but the young 
scholar was buried in his books, and would 
not hear of any thing else. His Greek au 
thors and his Testament formed his delight. 
He met the arguments of h'is friends with 
other arguments. At length his consent was 
obtained. The necessary steps were taken 
for him by his friends, and Catherine was 
given to him for a wife. He received her 
very coldly, and said, with a sigh, "God has 
then willed it so ! I must forego rny studies 
and my pleasures, in compliance with the 
wishes of my friends." Yet he was not in- 
sensible to Catherine's merits. "Her cha- 
racter and education," said he, "are such as 
I might have desired of God. Asfta 6 0*6$ 
ttxpaLpoLto.* And truly she is deserving of 
a better husband." The match was agreed 
on d uring the month of August ; the espousals 
took place on the 25th of September, and at 
the end of November, the marriage was cele- 
brated. Old John Luther, with his wife and 
daughters, came to Wittemberg on this occa- 
sion; and many learned and distinguished 
persons attended at the celebration of the 
wedding. 

The young bride was as remarkable for her 
warmth of affection as the young professor for 
his coldness of manner. Ever full of anxiety 
for her husband, Catherine was alarmed by 
the least appearance of danger to the object 
of her affection. W'hen Melancthon proposed 
to take any step that might compromise his 
safety, she overwhelmed him with entreaties 
to renounce his intention. "I was obliged," 
wrote Melancthon, on one of these occasions, 
" I was obliged to yield to her weakness ; — it 
is our lot." How many instances of unfaith- 
fulness in the Church may have z similar ori- 
gin ! Perhaps to the influence of Catherine 
we should attribute the timidity ^rd fears for 
which her husband has been of-en blamed. 
Catherine was no less tender aunt affectionate 
as a mother than as a wife. She gave liberally 
to the poor. " Forsake me no', O God, when 
I am old and grayheaded !'" Such was the 
ordinary ejaculation of this pious and timid 
soul. The heart of Melancthon was soon 
won over by the affection of his wife. When 
he had once tasted the sweets of domestic life, 
he became fully sensible of their value. He 
was formed, indeed, to relish them, and no- 
where was he more happy than with his Ca- 
therine and his children. A Frencn traveller, 
having one day found the " master of Germa- 
ny" rocking the cradle of his child with one 
hand, and holding a book in the other, started 
with surprise. But Melancthon, without being 
disconcerted, explained to him with so much 
earnestness the high valuo of children in the 
sight of God, that the> stranger left the house 

* May God bring tht Wair to a happv issue • 
(Corp. Ref. i. 212.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



161 



wiser, to use his own words, than he had 
entered it. 

The marriage of Melancthon added a do- 
mestic hearth to the Reformation. There 
was thenceforward in Wittemberg one family 
whose house was open to all those who were 
breathing the new life. The concourse of 
strangers was immense. People came to 
Melancthon concerning a thousand different 
matters ; and the established rule was to re- 
fuse nothing to any one. The young profes- 
sor was especially disinterested on occasions 
of doing good. When his money was spent, 
he would secretly part with his table service 
to some dealer, but little concerning himself 
for the loss of it, so that he might have where- 
withal to relieve the distressed. 

Accordingly, " it would have been impos- 
sible," says his friend Camerarius, "to have 
provided his own wants and those of his 
family, if a divine hidden blessing had not 
furnished him from time to time with the 
means." His good-nature was extreme. He 
had some ancient gold and silver medals, re- 
markable for their legends and impressions. 
One day he was showing them to a stranger 
who was on a visit. "■ Take any one you 
would like," said Melancthon to him. — " I 
would like them all," answered the stranger. 
" I own," says Philip, " I was at first offended 
at this unreasonable request : nevertheless, I 
gave them to him." 

There was in the writings of Melancthon 
a delightful odour of antiquity, which gave 
them an inexpressible charm, while it did not 
prevent the savour of Christ from being at the 
same time exhaled from every part of them. 
There is not one of his letters to his friends, 
in which one is not naturally reminded of the 
wisdom of Homer, of Plato, of Cicero, and 
of Pliny — Christ remaining always his Mas- 
ter and his God. Spalatin had desired of 
him an explanation of this saying of Jesus 
Christ: " Without me, ye can do nothing." 
(John xv. 5.) Melancthon referred him to 
Luther: '"Cur agam gestum spectante Ros- 
eio,' to use the words of Cicero,"* said he. 
He then continues: "The passage teaches 
that we must be absorbed by Christ, so that 
we ourselves should no longer act, but that 
Christ should live in us. As the divine na- 
ture has been made one body with man in 
Christ, so should man be incorporated by faith 
with Jesus Christ." 

This celebrated scholar usually retired to 
rest shortly after supper. At two or three 
o'clock in the morning he was at work. It 
was during these ea'rly studies that his best 
works were composed. His manuscripts 
were usually laid on his table, exposed in 
view of all who went in and out, so that he 
was robbed of several of them. W'hen he had 
invited any friends to his house, he requested 
one or other of them, before sitting down to 
table, to read some short composition, either 
in prose or verse. When he made a journey, 

* Why should I speak in the presence of Ros- 
cms?— (Corp. Reform. Ep. Apr. 13, 1520.) 



he always took with him some young persons 
as companions. He conversed with them in 
a manner both instructive and entertaining. 
If conversation flagged, each was required to 
recite in turn some passages from the ancient 
poets. He frequently resorted to irony, tem- 
pering it, however, by much sweetness. " He 
does but prick the skin," said he, speaking 
of himself, "he never inflicts a wound." 

Learning was his passion. The great ob- 
ject of his life was to diffuse a love of letters 
and general information. Let us not forget 
that the literature highest in his estimation 
was the Holy Scripture, and 'only subordi- 
nate^ the literature of the heathen. "I de- 
vote myself," said he, " to one thing only ; 
the defence of learning. We must by our 
example kindle the admiration of youth for 
knowledge, and lead them to love it for its 
own sake, not for the gain that is to be made 
of it. The ruin of letters brings with it the 
destruction of all that is good : religion, 
morals, the things of God, and the things of 

man The better a man is, the 

greater is his desire to preserve knowledge; 
for he knows that of all plagues ignorance is 
the most pernicious." 

Some time after his marriage Melancthon 
went to Bretten, in the Palatinate, in com- 
pany with Camerarius and some other friends, 
on a visit to his affectionate mother. As 
soon as he caught a view of his native town, 
he alighted, and kneeling down thanked God, 
for having permitted him to see it once more. 
Margaret, embracing her son, almost swooned 
for joy. She pressed him to fix his abode at 
Bretten, and was urgent in entreaties that he 
would continue in the faith of his fathers. 
Melancthon excused himself, but with much 
moderation and reserve, from fear of wound- 
ing his mother's conscience. He grieved at 
parting from her; and whenever any travel- 
ler brought him news from his native town, 
he was as merry, he said, as if going back to 
childhood itself. Such, in the touching pri- 
vacy of domestic life, was the man who was 
one of the chief instruments of the religious 
revolution of the sixteenth century. 

The family peace and busy studies of Wit- 
temberg were shortly after disturbed by a 
tumult. The students quarrelled and came to 
blows with the citizens. The rector betrayed 
great want of energy. The grief of Melanc- 
thon on witnessing the excesses of these dis- 
ciples of learning may be easily imagined. 
Luther was indignant. His was not the cha- 
racter that would conciliate by undue conces- 
sions. The disgrace these disorders brought 
upon the university deeply wounded him. 
He ascended the pulpit, and preached with 
great force against these seditions; calling 
on both parties to submit themselves to the 
magistrates. His discourse occasioned great 
irritation. "Satan," said he, "not being 
able to prevail against us from without, seeks 
to injure us from within. I do not fear him ; 
but I fear lest the anger of God should fall 
upon us for not having fully received his 
word. In these last three years, I have been 



•62 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



thrice exposed to great danger: in 1518 at 
Augsburg, in 1519 at Leipsic, and now in 
1520, at Wittemberg. It is neither by wis- 
dom, nor by violence, that the renovation of 
the Church will be accomplished, but by 
humble prayer, and a bold faith, that shall 
range Jesus Christ on our side. my friend, 
join thy prayers to mine, that the evil spirit 
may not be permitted to use this little spark, 
to kindle a vast conflagration." 

But more terrible conflicts awaited Luther. 
— Rome was brandishing the sword, with 
which she was about to strike the preacher 
of the Gospel. The rumour of the condem- 
nation which was about to fall upon him, far 
from depressing the Reformer, increased his 
courage. He took no pains to parry the stroke 
of this haughty power. It is by striking yet 
more terrible blows himself, that he will 
baffle those of his adversaries. While the 
Transalpine congregations were fulminating 
their anathemas against him, he was planning 
to carry the sword of the word into the midst 
of the Italian states. Letters from Venice 
spoke of the favour with which the opinions 
were there received. He ardently desired to 
send the Gospel beyond the Alps. But 
evangelists were required to be the bearers 
of it. " I could wish," said he, " that we 
had living books, that is to say, preachers, 
and that we could multiply and protect them 
in all places, that they might convey to the 
people the knowledge of divine things. The 
Prince could not undertake a work more 
worthy of himself. If the people of Italy 
were to receive the truth, our cause would 
then be unassailable." It does not appear 
that this project of Luther was realized. At 
a later period, it is true, some preachers of 
the Gospel, Calvin himself among others, re- 
sided for a while in Italy: but at this time no 
steps were taken to accomplish Luther's plan. 
He had looked for help to one of the princes 
of this world. Had he appealed to men in 
humble station, but full of zeal for the king- 
dom of God, the result might have been very 
different. At the period we are recording, 
the idea was general that every thing must 
be done by governments ; and the association 
of private individuals, an agency by which 
in our days such great things are accom- 
plished in Christendom, was almost unknown. 

If Luther was not successful in his plans 
for spreading the knowledge of the truth to 
distant countries, he was but the more zealous 
in preaching it at home. It was at this time 
that he delivered, at Wittemberg, his discourse 
on the office of the mass. In this discourse he 
declaimed against the numerous sects of the 
Romish Church, and reproached her, with 
justice, for her want of unity. " The multi- 
plicity of laws in matters of conscience," he 
exclaims, " has filled the world with sects and 
divisions. The hatred thence engendered be- 
tween priests, monks, and laity, is even 
greater than that which exists between Chris- 
tians and Turks. Nay, more than this ; 
priests are mortal enemies to priests, and 
monks to monks. Each is devoted to his 



! own sect, and despises all others. The unity 
I and love of Christ is broken up and destroyed. 
I — He then attacks the opinion that the mass 
j is a sacrifice and has any power in itself. 
" The better part of every sacrifice, and con- 
j sequently of the Lord's Supper," he says, "is 
I in the word and the promises of God. With- 
out faith in this word and in these promises, 
the sacrament is but dead ; it is a body with- 
out a soul, a cup without wine, a purse with- 
out money, a type without fulfilment, a letter 
without meaning, a casket without jewels, a 
sheath without a sword." 

The voice of Luther was not, however, con- 
fined within the limits of Wittembergr, and if 
he did not find missionaries to carry his in 
structions to distant parts, God had provided 
a missionary of a new kind. Printing w T as 
destined to supply the place of preachers of 
the Gospel. The press was to constitute a bat- 
tery which should open a breach in the Roman 
fortress. The mine had been charged by Lu- 
ther, and the explosion shook the edifice of 
Rome to its foundations. His famous tract op 
the Babylonian Captivity of the Church appear- 
ed on the 6th of October, 1520. Never had 
any one evinced such courage in circum- 
stances so critical. 

In this work he begins by setting forth, with 
admirable irony, all the advantages for which 
he is indebted to his enemies : 

" Whether I will or no," says he, " I learn 
more and more every day, urged on as I am 
by so many celebrated masters. Two years 
ago I attacked indulgences ; but with such fal- 
tering indecision that I am now ashamed of it. 
It, however, is not to be wondered at ; for then 
I had to roll forward the rock by myself." 

He then returns thanks to Prierias, to Eck, 
to Emser, and to his other adversaries. " I 
denied," he continued, " that the Papacy was 
from God, but admitted that it stood by hu- 
man right. But now, after having read all the 
subtleties on which these worthies'set up their 
idol, I know that Papacy is nothing but the 
reign of Babylon, and the violence of the 
mighty hunter Nimrod. I therefore request 
all my friends, and all booksellers, that they 
will burn the books I have before written on 
this subject, and in their stead substitute this 
single proposition : — ' The Papacy is a gene- 
ral chase, led by the Bishop of Rome, and 
having for its object the snaring and ruining 
of souls.' " 

Luther afterwards attacks the errors that 
prevailed with respect to the sacraments, 
monastic vows, &c. He reduces the seven 
sacraments of the Church to three; Baptism, 
Penitence, and the Lord's Supper. He ox- 
plains the true nature of the latter. He then 
passes on to baptism, and it is here especially 
that he establishes the excellence of Faith, 
and makes a powerful attack upon Rome. 
"God," he says, "has preserved to us this 
sacrament alone pure from human traditions. 
God has said : ' He that believeih, and is bap- 
tized, shall be saved.' This promise of God 
ought to be preferred to the glory of all works, 
to all vows, satisfactions, indulgences, and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



163 



every thing which man has invented. Now on 
this promise, received by faith, depends our 
salvation. If we believe, our heart is strength- 
ened by the divine promise; and though a be- 
liever should be bereft of all beside, this pro- 
mise which he believes will never forsake him. 
With this he will be able to withstand the ad- 
versary who assaults his soul. It will be his 
support in the hour of death, and his plea at 
the judgment-seat of God. In all his trials it 
A'ill be his consolation that he can say : God 
is faithful to his promise : I have received the 
pledge of it in baptism : if God is for me, who 
can be against me? Oh, how rich is the bap- 
tized Christian ! nothing can ruin him, but his 
own refusal to believe. 

" Perhaps the baptism of little children may 
be objected to what I say as to the necessity 
of faith. But as the word of God is mighty 
to change the heart of an ungodly person, who 
is not less deaf, nor less helpless than an in- 
fant—so the prayer of the Church, to which 
all things are possible, changes the little 
child, by the operation of faith which God 
pours into his soul, and thus purifies and re- 
news it." 

Having explained the doctrine of baptism, 
Luther makes use of it as a weapon against 
the Papacy. If the Christian really finds all 
his salvation in renewal by baptism through 
faith, what need has he of the prescriptions 
of Rome'? 

" For this reason," says Luther, "I declare 
that neither Pope, nor bishop, nor any other 
man living, has authority to impose the least 
thing upon a Christian without his own con- 
sent. Whatever is done otherwise, is done by 
an arbitrary assumption. We are free from all 
men. The vow which we have made in bap- 
tism is of itself sufficient, and more than we 
can ever fulfil. All other vows, then, may be 
dispensed with. Let whoever enters into the 
priesthood or ^oins a monastic order, be as- 
sured that the labours of a monk or of a priest, 
however arduous, differ in no respect, as to 
their value in the sight of God, from those 
of a peasant working in the field, or of a 
woman attending to the duties of her house. 
God esteems all things according to the faith 
whence they proceed. And it often happens 
that the simple labour of a serving man or 
woman is more acceptable to God than the 
fastings and works of a monk, because in these 
last faith is wanting. Christian people are 
the true people of God, carried captive to Ba- 
bylon, and there stripped of what they had 
acquired by their baptism." 

&uch were the means by which the reli- 
gious revolution, we are relating, was accom- 
plished. The necessity of faith was first es- 
tablished, and then the Reformers applied it 
to demolish and bring to dust the prevailing 
superstitions. It was with that power, which 
is of God, and which can remove mountains, 
that they advanced against so many errors. 
These words of Luther, and many other simi- 
lar appeals, circulating far and wide through I 
cities, convents, and country places, became 
the leaven which leavened the whole mass. 



Luther terminated this work on the Baby 
Ionian Captivity with these words: — 

" I hear that new papal excommunications 
have been concocted against me. If this be 
so, this book may be regarded as a part of my 
future ' recantation.' The rest will follow 
shortly, in proof of my obedience; and the 
whole will, by Christ's help, form a collec- 
tion such as Rome has never yet seen or heard 
of." 

After this, all hope of reconciliation be- 
tween the Pope and Luther must necessarily 
have vanished. The incompatibility of the 
faith of the Reformer with 'the Church's 
teaching could not but be evident to the least 
discerning. But at this very time fresh ne- 
gotiations had just commenced. About the 
end of August, 1520, and five weeks before 
the publication of the " Babylonian Capti- 
vity," the chapter of the Augustines was 
assembled at Eisleben. The venerable Stau- 
pitz resigned on this occasion the office of 
Vicar-general of the order, and Wenceslaus 
Link, who had accompanied Luther to Augs- 
burg, was invested with that dignity. The 
indefatigable Miltitz arrived suddenly during 
the sitting of the chapter. He was eagerly 
bent on reconciling the Pope ana' Luther. 
His self-love, his avarice, but above all his 
jealousy and hatred were interested therein. 
The vainglorious boasting of Eck had thrown 
him into the shade ; he knew that the doctor 
of Ingolstadt had disparaged him at Rome, 
and he would have made any sacrifice to baffle 
the plots of his troublesome rival by the 
prompt conclusion of peace. The religions 
bearing of the question gave him little or no 
concern. One day, as he himself relates, he 
was at table with the Bishop of Meissen ; and 
the guests had drank pretty freely, when a 
new work of Luther's was brought in. It 
was opened and read ; the bishop went into 
a passion: the official swore; but Miltitz 
laughed heartily. Miltitz dealt with the Re- 
formation as a man of the world ; Eck as a 
theologian. 

Stimulated by the arrival of Dr. Eck, Mil- 
titz addressed to the chapter of the Augus- 
tines a discourse delivered with a very marked 
Italian accent, thinking by this means to 
impose upon his good countrymen. " The 
whole order of the Augustines is compromised 
in this affair," said he: " Point out to me. I 
pray you, some means of restraining Luther." 
" W 7 e have nothing to do with the doctor," 
answered the fathers, "and we should not 
know what advice to give you." They rested 
their answer, doubtless, on the fact of Luther 
having been released by Staupitz at Augs- 
burg from his obligations as concerned their 
order. Miltitz persisted. "Let a deputation 
of this venerable chapter wait on Luther, and 
request him to write a letter to the Pope, 
assuring him that he has never laid any plots 
against his person. That will suffice to tei- 
minate the affair." .The chapter yielded to 
the proposal of the Nuncio, and commissioned, 
doubtless at his desire, Staupitz the hue Vicar- 
general, and Link his successor, to center 



164 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



with Luther. The deputation set out imme- 
diately for Wittemberg, bearing a letter from 
Miltitz addressed to the doctor; and full of 
expressions of high repect. "There was no 
time to lose," said he; "the thunder, already 
suspended over the head of the Reformer, was 
about to burst; and then all would be over." 

Neither Luther, nor the deputies, who were 
favourable to his opinions, entertained a hope- 
that any thing would be gained by writing to 
the Pope. But this in itself was a reason for 
not refusing compliance with the suggestion. 
The letter could but be a matter of form, which 
would make still more apparent the justice of 
Luther's cause. "This Italian of Saxony," 
(Miltitz,) thought Luther, " has doubtless his 
own private interest in view in making this 
request. Well, be it so; I will write, in strict 
conformity with truth, f hat I have never en- 
tertained any design against the Pope's person. 
I must be on my guard, and not be too stern 
in my hostility to the see of Rome, Yet it 
shall be sprinkled with salt." 

But shortly after this, the doctor heard of 
ihe arrival of the bull in Germany ; on the 3d 
of October, he declared to Spalatin that he 
would not write to the Pope, and on the 6th 
of the same month he published his book on 
rhe " Babylonian Captivity." Still Miltitz 
was not disheartened. — His wish to humble 
Eck made him dream of impossibilities. On 
the 2d of October he had written in full con- 
fidence to the Elector: "All will go well; 
but for God's sake, do not any longer delay 
paying me the pension which you and your 
brother have allowed me for some years past. 
I must have money to gain new friends at 
Rome. Write to the Pope, present the young 
cardinals, his relations, with gold and silver 
pieces of your Electoral Highness's coin, and 
add some for me ; for I have been robbed of 
what you had given me." 

Even after Luther had heard of the bull, 
the intriguing Miltitz was not discouraged. 
He requested a conference with Luther at 
Lichtenberg. The Elector ordered the latter 
to repair thither. But his friends, and above 
all the affectionate Melancthon, opposed his 
going. " What," thought they, " at the mo- 
ment of the appearance of the bull which 
enjoins all to seize Luther, that he may be 
taken to Rome, shall he accept a conference, 
in a secluded place, with the Pope's Nuncio! 
Is it not clear that Dr. Eck, not being able to 
approach the Reformer, because he has made 
his hatred too public, the crafty chamberlain 
has undertaken to snare Luther in his toils'?" 

These fears could not restrain the doctor of 
Wittemberg; The Prince had commanded, 
and he resolved to obey. " I am setting out 
for Lichtenberg," he wrote on the 11th of 
October to the chaplain: "Pray for me." 
His friends would not desert him. On the 
same day, towards evening, Luther entered 
Lichtenberg on horseback, surrounded by thirty 
horsemen, amongst whom was Melancthon. 
About the same time, the Pope's Nuncio ar- 
rived, attended only by four persons. Might 
not this modest escort be a stratagem to in- 



spire Luther and his friends with confidence] 
— Miltitz was urgent in his solicitations; he 
assured Luther that the blame would be 
thrown on Eck and his foolish boastings, and 
that all would be arranged to the satisfaction 
of both parties. " W T ell !" answered Luther, 
"I offer to keep silence for the future, if my 
adversaries will but do the same. I will do 
all I can to maintain it." 

Miltitz was overjoyed. He accompanied 
Luther as far as Wittemberg. The Reformer 
and the Papal Nuncio entered the city side by 
side, while Dr. Eck was drawing near it, 
holding, in menacing hands, the formidable 
bull, which, it was hoped, would extinguish 
the Reformation. " We shall bring the affair 
to a happy issue," wrote Miltitz forthwith to 
the Elector : " thank the Pope for his rose, 
and send at the same time forty or fifty florins 
to the cardinal Quntuor Sanctorum." 

Luther, in fulfilment of his promise, was to 
write to the Pope. Before bidding an eternal 
farewell to Rome, he resolved once more to 
address to her some weighty and salutary 
truths. His letter may perhaps be regarded 
by some as a mere caustic composition, a bit- 
ter and insulting satire; but this would be to 
mistake his feelings. It was his conviction 
that to Rome were to be attributed all the ills 
of Christendom : bearing that in view, his 
words are, not insults, but solemn warnings. 
The more he loves Leo, the more he loves the 
church of Christ; he resolves therefore to dis- 
close the greatness of the evil. The energy 
of his affection may be inferred from the 
strength of his expressions. The moment is 
arrived for heavy blows. He reminds us of 
a prophet, for the last time traversing the 
city, reproaching it with all its abominations, 
revealing to it the judgments of the Eternal, 
and crying aloud : " Yet a few days !" — The 
following is the letter : 

" To the Most Holy Father ki God, Leo X., 
Pope of Rome, all happiness and prosperity 
in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen. 

" From the midst of this violent contest, 
which, for these three years past, I have waged 
with abandoned men, I cannot refrain from 
sometimes turning my eyes toward you, O 
Leo, Most Holy Father in God. And although 
the madness of your impious parasites has 
compelled me to appeal from your sentence 
to a future Council, my heart has never been 
turned away from your Holiness ; and I have 
never ceased, by prayers and sighs, to pray to 
God for your prosperity, and for that of your 
pontificate. 

" I have attacked, it is true, some antichris- 
tian doctrines, and I have inflicted some deep 
wounds on my adversaries, on account of their 
impiety. I cannot regret this, for I have in 
this Christ for an example. Of what use is 
salt, if it hath lost its savour] or the sword- 
blade, if it doth not cut? Cursed is he who 
doth the Lord's work coldly. O, most excel* 
lent Leo, far from having conceived any evil 
design against you, I wish you the most pre- 
cious blessings for all eternity. One 'hing 
only have I done. I have defended the word 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



165 



of truth. I am ready to give way to every j 
one, in every thing: but as regards that word, 
I will not — I cannot abandon it. He who 
expects otherwise of me, mistakes me. 

"It is true that I have attacked the court of j 
Rome ; but neither yourself nor any man upon j 
earth can deny that the corruption of that 
court is greater than that of Sodom or Gomor- 
rah, and that there is no hope left of curing its 
impiety. True, I have been filled with horror, 
beholding that in your name the poor of 
Christ's lock were deceived. I have opposed 
this, and will continue to oppose it; not that 
I dream of effecting anything in this Babylon 
of confusion, against the opposition of syco- 
phants : but 1 am debtor to my brethren, that, 
if possible, some of them may escape these 
terrible scourges. 

" You know that Rome, for many years 
past, has inundated the world with every thing 
destructive to soul and body. The Church 
of Rome, formerly pre-eminent for sanctity, 
is become a den of thieves, a scene of open 
prostitution, a kingdom of death and hell, so 
that Antichrist himself, if he were to appear, 
could not increase its iniquity. All this is as 
clear as the light of day. 

"And you, Leo, are all this while as a 
lamb in the midst of wolves; or as Daniel in 
the den of lions! Unaided, how can you 
resist these monsters? Perhaps there may be 
three or four cardinals uniting virtue with 
learning. But what are these among so many 1 
You will be taken off by poison, even before 
you are able to apply a remedy. There is no 
hope for Rome; the anger of God has gone 
forth, and will consume her. She hates re- 
proof, and dreads reform ; she refuses to re- 
strain the madness of her impiety ; and it may 
be said of her as of her mother: ' We would 
have healed Babylon, but she is not healed : 
let us forsake her.' Men looked to you and 
your cardinals to apply the cure to all this; 
but the patient laughs at her physician, and 
the steed will not answer to the reins. 

"Full of affection for you, most excellent 
Leo, I have ever regretted that, formed as you 
are for a better age, you have been raised to 
the pontificate at such a period as this. Rome 
is not worthy of you, or of any who resemble 
you; she deserves no other ruler than Satan 
himself. And truly it is he, rather than your- 
self, who reigns in that Babylon. Would to 
God that, laying aside the glory which your 
enemies extol so highly, you could exchange 
it for a simple pastorship, or subsist on your 
paternal inheritance ! for none butJudases are 
fit for such state. * What end, then, dear Leo, 
is served by you in this court of Rome, unless 
it be that execrable men should, under cover 
of your name and power, ruin men's fortunes, 
destroy souls, multiply crimes, and lord it over 
the faith, the truth, and the whole Church of 
God 1 0, Leo, Leo ! you are the most unfor- 
tunate of men, and you sit on the most peril- 
ous of <i 1 thrones! I tell you the truth, be- 
cause 1 wish you well. 

•'Is it not true that there is nothing under 
heaven mce corrupt and hateful than the Ro- 



man court'? It exceeds the very Turks in 
vice and profligacy. Once as the gate of hea- 
ven, it is become the jaws of hell itself! dis- 
tending and kept open by the wrath of God, 
so that when I behold so many poor creatures 
throwing themselves into it, I must needs cry 
aloud in the midst of this tempest, that some 
may be saved from the frightful abyss. 

" This, O Leo, my Father, is the reason 
why I have inveighed so strongly against a 
see which dispenses death to its adherents. 
Far from conspiring against your person, I 
have felt that I was labouring for your safety, 
in boldly attacking the prison', or, rather, the 
hell in which you are confined. To do the 
utmost to destroy the court of Rome, is but to 
discharge your own duty. To cover it with 
shame, is to honour Christ; in a word, to be 
a Christian, is to be not a Roman. 

" However, seeing that I was losing my 
time in succouring the See of Rome, I sent 
to her my letter of divorce, saying, Farewell, 
Rome; ' he that is unjust, let him be unjust 
still; and he who is filthy, let him be filthy 
still;' and then, in silence and retirement, 
applied myself to the study of the Holy Scrip- 
tures. Then it was that Satan stirred up his 
servant, John Eck, a great enemy of Jesus 
Christ, to challenge me again to descend into 
the arena. He sought to establish his own 
primacy, not the primacy of Peter; and with 
this purpose; to conquer Luther, and lead him 
in triumph to Rome, upon him must lie the 
blame of the defeat which has covered Rome 
with shame." 

Luther here relates what had passed between 
himself and De Vio, Miltitz, and Eck ; he then 
continues : 

" Now, then, I come to you, most holy Fa- 
ther, and, prostrate at your feet, entreat you 
to restrain, if possible, the enemies of peace. 
But I cannot retract my doctrines. I cannot 
consent that rules of interpretation should be 
imposed on Holy Scripture. The word of 
God, the source whence all liberty flows, must 
be left free. 

"O Leo, my Father! do not lis'ten to the 
flatterers who tell you that you are not a mere 
man, but a demigod, and that you may right- 
fully command whatever you please. You 
are the ' servant of servants,'' and the place 
where you are seated is of all places the most 
dangerous and the most miserable. Put no 
faith in those who exalt you, but rather in 
those who would humble you. I may be bold 
in presuming to teach so sublime a .Majesty, 
which ought to instruct all men. But 1 see 
the dangers which surround you at Rome; I 
see you driven first one way, then another, on 
the billows of a raging sea; and charity 
obliges me to w T arn you of your danger, ami 
urge you to provide for your safety. 

"That I may not appear in your Holiness's 
presence empty-handed, I present you with a 
little book which has been dedicated to you. 
and which will apprize you with wh.it subjects 
I may occupy myself — in ease yofir flatterers 
shall permit me. It is but a trifle in appear 
ance, yet its contents are important : for ! 



166 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



comprises a summary of the Christian's life, 
lam poor, and have nothing more to offer you ; 
and indeed is there any thing you have need 
of, save spiritual gifts 1 I commend myself to 
the remembrance of your Holiness, praying that 
the Lord Jesus may ever preserve you! Amen !" 

The little book which Luther presented in 
token of respect to the Pope, was his discourse 
of "the liberty of the Christian." The Re- 
former shows incontrovertibly in this treatise, 
that the Christian, without infringement of the 
liberty which faith gives him, may submit to 
every external ordinance, in a spirit of liberty 
and love. Two truths are the basis of his ar- 
gument : " A Christian is free, and all things 
are his. A Christian is a servant, and sub- 
ject in all things unto all. He is free, and 
has all things by faith ; he is a subject and a 
servant in love." 

He first shows the power of faith in render- 
ing the Christian/ree .• " Faith unites the soul 
with Christ, as a spouse with her husband," 
says Luther to the Pope. " Every thing 
which Christ has, becomes the property of the 
believing soul : every thing which the soul 
Iras, becomes the property of Christ. Christ 
possesses all blessings and eternal life: they 
are thenceforward the property of the soul. 
The soul has all its iniquities and sins : they 
are thenceforward borne by Christ. A bless- 
ed exchange commences : Christ who is both 
God and man, Christ who has never sinned, 
and whose holiness is invincible, Christ the 
Almighty and Eternal, taking to himself by 
his nuptial ring of Faith, all the sins of the 
believer, those sins are lost and abolished in 
him ; for no sins dwell before his infinite 
righteousness. Thus by faith the believer's 
soul is delivered from all sins, and clothed 
with the eternal righteousness of her bride- 
groom Christ. O happy union! the rich, the 
noble, the holy Bridegroom takes in marriage 
his poor, guilty, and despised spouse, delivers 
her from every evil, and enriches her with the 
most precious blessings. -Christ, a king and 
a priest, shares this honour and glory with all 
Christians. The Christian is a king, and con- 
sequently possesses all things; he is a priest, 
and consequently possesses God. And it is 
faith,not works, which brings him all this ho- 
nour. A Christian is free from all things, — 
above all things, — faith giving him richly of 
all things!" 

In the second part of his discourse, Luther 
presents the other side of the truth. "Although 
the Christian is thus made free, he voluntarily 
becomes a servant, that he may act towards 
his brethren as God has acted towards himself 
by Jesus Christ." "I will serve," he says, 
"freely, joyfully, gratuitously, a Father who 
has thus shed upon me all the abundance of 
his blessings : I will become all things to my 
neighbour, as Christ has become all things for 
me." — "From Faith" continues Luther, 
" flows the love of God ; from love flows a 
life of liberty, charity, and joy., O how noble 
and exalted is the Christian's life! but, alas! 
none know it, and none preach it. By faith 
the Christian ascends to God; by love he de- 



scends to man; and yet abides ever in God. 
Such is true liberty, a liberty which as much 
surpasses every other as the heavens are high 
! above the earth." 

This was the work with which Luther ac- 
companied his letter to Leo X. 

While the Reformer was thus addressing 
himself for the last time to the Roman Pontiff, 
the bull which excommunicated him was 
already in the hands of the dignitaries of the 
German Church, and at the doors of Luther's 
dwelling. The Pope had commissioned two 
high functionaries of his court, Carracioli and 
Aleander, to carry it to the Archbishop of 
Mentz, desiring him to see to its execution. 
But Eck himself appeared in Saxony, as herald 
and agent in the great effort of the Pontiff. 
The doctor of Ingolstadt had had better oppor- 
tunities than any other of knowing the force 
of Luther's blows: he had seen the danger, 
and had stretched forth his hand to support 
the tottering power of Rome. He imagined 
himself the Atlas destined to bear up on his 
robust shoulders the old Roman world, which 
was ready to crumble into ruin. Elated with 
the success of his journey to Rome, proud of 
the commission which he had received from 
the Sovereign Pontiff, and of the bull he bore 
in his hands, and which contained the con- 
demnation of his unconquerable rival, his pre- 
sent mission was in his eyes a greater triumph 
than all the victories he had gained in Hunga- 
ry, in Bavaria, in Lombardy, and Saxony, and 
from which he had previously derived so much 
credit. But all this pride was about to be 
humbled. By intrusting to Eck the publica- 
tion of the bull, the Pope had committed an 
error which was destined to destroy its im- 
pression. So marked a distinction, granted 
to a man who did not hold any elevated rank 
in the Church, offended minds that were sus- 
ceptible of offence. The Roman Bishops, ac- 
customed to receive the bulls of the Pope di- 
rect, took it amiss that the present bull should 
be published in their dioceses by this unex- 
pected Nuncio. The nation which had ridi- 
culed the pretended victor in the conferences 
at Leipsic, when he fled to Italy, saw with 
astonishment and indignation the same person 
reappear on this side the Alps, armed with 
the insignia of a pontifical Nuncio, and with 
power to crush men whom it held in honour. 
Luther regarded this sentence, conveyed to 
him by his implacable adversary, as an act of 
personal vindictiveness. This condemnation 
appeared to him, says Pallavicini, as the con- 
cealed poniard of a mortal enemy, and not the 
lawful axe of a Roman lictor. Accordingly 
this writing was considered, not as the bull of 
the Sovereign Pontiff, but as the bull of Dr. 
Eck. Thus the force of the blow was broken 
by the very motives which had provoked it. 

The chancellor of Ingolstadt had repaired in 
haste to Saxony. It was there that he had 
given battle, it was there that he wished to 
parade his victory. He succeeded in getting 
the bull posted up at Meissen, at Merseburg, 
and at Brandenburg, toward the end of Sep- 
tember. But in the first of these towns it was 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



16? 



placarded in a place where nobody could read 
it, and the bishops of these three dioceses were 
in no haste to publish it. His great protector, 
Duke George himself, forbade the council of 
Leipsic to make it public before they had re- 
ceived the order of the Bishop of Merseburg, 
and this order did not arrive till the following 
year. " These difficulties are but for form's 
sake," thought Eck at first; for in other re- 
spects every thing seemed to smile upon him. 
Duke George sent him a gilt cup and a few 
ducats; Miltitz himself, who had hastened to 
Leipsic on hearing that his rival was arrived, 
invited him to dinner. The two Legates were 
fond of the luxuries of the table, and Miltitz 
thought that he could not have a better oppor- 
tunity of sounding Dr. Eck than over their 
wine. "When he had drunk pretty freely," 
says the Pope's chamberlain, " he began to 
boast above measure; he displayed his bull, 
and told how he had planned to bring that in- 
solent fellow, Martin, to reason." But it was 
not long before the doctor of Ingolstadt had 
occasion to observe that the wind was turning. 
A great change had been effected at Leipsic 
within a year. On St. Michael's day, some 
students posted, in ten different places, placards 
wherein the new Nuncio was keenly attack- 
ed. Taking the alarm, he sought refuge in 
the convent of St. Paul, where Tetzel had 
already found an asylum, refused all visits, 
and obtained from the prior a promise that his 
juvenile opponents should be called to account. 
But poor Eck gained little by this. The stu- 
dents composed a ballad upon him, and sung 
it in the streets. Eck overheard it from his 
seclusion. At this all his courage vanished, 
and the formidable champion trembled in every 
limb. Threatening letters poured in upon 
him. A hundred and fifty students arrived 
from Wittemberg, loudly exclaiming against 
the Papal envoy. The poor Nuncio could 
hold out no longer. 

" I do not wish him to be killed, "said Lu- 
ther, •* but I hope his designs will be frus- 
trated.' Eck quitted his retreat by night, re- 
tired clandestinely from Leipsic, and sought 
to conceal himself at Coburg. Miltitz, who 
relates the circumstance, seemed to triumph in 
it even more than the Reformer. But his 
triumph did not last long. The chamberlain's 
plans of conciliation all failed, and his end 
was deplorable, having, while in a state of in- 
toxication, fallen into the Rhine at Mentz. 

By degrees Eck resumed courage. He re- 
paired to Erfurth, where the theologians had 
shown more than one mark of their jealousy 
of the Wittemberg doctor. He required that 
this bull should be published in that city; but 
the students seized the copies, tore them in 
pieces, and threw them into the river, saying, 
"Since it is a bubble, let us see it float." 
" Now," said Luther, on hearing of this, " the 
paper of the Pope is truly a bubble, (bulla.") 
Eck did not dare to show himself at Wittem- 
berg: he sent the bull to the prior, menacing 
him, if it were not complied with, with the 
ruin of the university. He wrote at the same 
time to Duke John, brother and colleague of 



Frederic : " Do not take my proceeding amiss," 
said he, "for I am contending for the faith, 
and my task costs me much care and labour 
as well as money." The prior declared, that 
not having received a letter from the Pope ac- 
companying the bull, he must object to pub- 
lish it, and referred the matter to the opinion 
of the lawyers. Such was the reception which 
the condemnation of the Reformer met with 
from the learned world. 

While the bull was producing this violent 
agitation in the minds of the Germans, a 
solemn voice was raised in another country of 
Europe. One, who discerned the extensive 
schism the Pope's bull would cause in the 
Church, stood forth to utter a word of warn- 
ing and to defend the Reformer. This was 
the same Swiss priest whom we have already 
mentioned, Ulric Zwingle, who, without any 
communication or previous friendship with 
Luther, put forth a tract replete with discre- 
tion and dignity, and the earliest of his nume- 
rous writings. A fraternal affection seemed to 
attract him towards the doctor of Wittemberg. 
" The piety of the Pontiff," he said, " requires 
of him that he should joyfully sacrifice his 
dearest interests to the glory of Christ his 
King, and to the general peace of the Church. 
Nothing is more derogatory to bis true digni- 
ty than the having recourse only to rewards 
and terrors for its defence. The writings of 
Luther had not even been read, before he was 
decried among the people as a heretic, a schis- 
matic, and even as Antichrist himself. None 
gave him warning, no one refuted him : he re- 
quested a discussion, and it was thought suf- 
ficient to condemn him. The bull that has 
been issued against him is disapproved even 
by those who respect the Pope's authority ; 
for they discern in every part of it traces of 
the impotent hatred of a few monks, and not 
the mildness of a Pontiff who should be the 
vicar of a Saviour full of charity. It is univer- 
sally acknowledged, that the current teaching 
of the Gospel of Christ has greatly 'degene- 
rated, and that a visible and signal restoration 
of laws and public morals is requisite. Con- 
sult all men of learning and virtue, and it will 
be found that the more perfect their sincerity 
and their attachment to the truths of the Gos- 
pel, the less are they stumbled by the books 
of Luther. There is no one who does not con- 
fess that these books have made him a better 
man, although, perhaps, there may be some 
parts not to be approved. Let men of pure 
doctrine and of acknowledged probity be select- 
ed ; let three princes above all suspicion, the 
Emperor Charles, the King of England, and 
the King of Hungary, appoint arbitrators : and 
let the arbitrators read the writings of Luther, " 
let him be heard in person, and let whatever 
they shall determine be ratified. Nixrocuro 
37 tov ~Kp(,ntov 7tou6aa xal dxr£ma!"* 

This suggestion proceeding from Switzet- 
land was not attended to. It was necessary 
that the great divorce should take place; it 



* " May the doctrine and truth of Christ gai^ 
the victory !" 



168 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



was needful that Christendom should be rent; 
the remedy for the evils that oppressed it was 
to be discovered in its very wounds. 

And, indeed, what importance could be at- 
tached to this resistance on the part of a few 
students, priors, and priests 1 If the strong arm 
of Charles V. should unite with the power of 
the Pope, will they not together suffice to crush 
all these scholars and grammarians 1 Will any 
be able to withstand the combined power of the 
Pontiff of Christendom and of the Emperor of 
the West ] The blow is struck, Luther is 
excommunicated; the Gospel seems lost! At 
this awful crisis, the Reformer does not dis- 
guise from himself the greatness of the dan- 
ger in which he is placed. He looks for sup- 
port from above, and prepares to receive, as 
from the hand of the Lord himself, the blow 
which seems about to crush him. The thoughts 
of his soul were gathered before the throne of 
God. " What is about to happen," said he, 
" I know not, nor do I care to know, assured as 
I am that He who sits on the throne of heaven 
has, from all eternity, foreseen the beginning, 
the progress, and the end of this affair. Let 
the blow light where it may, I am without 
fear. Not so much as a leaf falls, without the 
will of our Father. How much rather will He 
care for us ! It is a light thing to die for the Word, 
since the Word which was made flesh hath him- 
self died. If we die with him, we shall live with 
him ; and passing through that which he has 
passed through before us, we shall be where he 
is and dwell with him forever." At times, how- 
ever, Luther was unable to repress his contempt 
for the devices of his enemies,and we find in him 
a recurrence of that mixture of sublimity and 
irony which characterized his writings. " I 
know nothing of Eck's movements," said he, 
" except that he has arrived with a long beard, 
a long bull, and a long purse — ; but I laugh 
at his bull." 

It was on the third of October that he was 
made acquainted with the Papal rescript. 
** At last then this Roman bull has come to 
hand," said he, " I despise it ; — and resist it 
as impious, false, and in every way worthy 
of Eck. It is Christ himself who is therein 
condemned. No reasons are given in it ; I 
am cited to appear, not that I may be heard, 
but that I may recant. I will treat it as a 
forgery, although I believe it to be genuine. 
Oh, that Charles the Fifth would act as a 
man ! oh, that for the love of Christ he would 
humble these demons! I glory in the prospect 
of suffering for the best of causes. Already I 
feel in my heart more liberty ; for I now know 
that the Pope is Antichrist, and that his chair 
is that of Satan himself." 

It was not merely in Saxony that the thun- 
ders of Rome had awakened apprehension. A 
private family in Suabia, which had been 
neutral in the contest, found its peace suddenly 
disturbed. Bilibald Pirckheimer, of Nurem- 
berg, one of the most distinguished men of 
his age, who had lost his beloved wife Cres- 
centia soon after their union, was joined in the 
closest bonds of affection with his two young 
sisters, Charitas, abbess of St Claire, and 



Clara, a nun in the same convent. These twc 
young ladies served God in solitude, and di- 
vided their time between study, attendance on 
the poor, and meditation on eternity. Bilibald, 
engaged in the business of the state, sought 
relaxation from public duties in the corres- 
pondence which he kept up with them. They 
were learned, read Latin, and studied the 
Fathers of the Church; but nothing was so 
dear to them as the Holy Scriptures. They 
had never had any other instructor than their 
brother. The letters of Charitas are distin- 
guished by delicacy and amiable feelings. 
Full of tender affection for Bilibald, she dread- 
ed the least danger that approached him. 
Pirckheimer, to reassure this- timid spirit, 
composed a dialogue between Charitas and 
Veritas, (Charity and Truth,) in which Veri- 
tas endeavours to strengthen Charitas. No- 
thing can be more touching, or more fitted to 
console an affectionate and anxious heart. 

What must have been the dismay of Chari- 
tas, when a rumour was spread that the name 
of Bilibald was posted up immediately under 
the Pope's bull, in conjunction with the name 
of Luther ! In fact, Eck, urged on by blind 
fury, had associated with Luther six of the 
most distinguished persons in Germany; name- 
ly, Carlstadt, Feldkirchen, and Egranus, who 
cared very little for his proceedings, and Adel- 
man, Pirckheimer, and his friend Spengler, 
whose position as public functionaries ren- 
dered them peculiarly sensitive to reproach. 
The agitation was great in the convent of St. 
Claire. How could the disgrace of Bilibald 
be endured 1 Nothing is more painful to re- 
latives than such trials. Pirckheimer and 
Spengler wrote to the Pope, affirming that 
they adhered to the doctrines of Luther only 
so far as they were in conformity with the 
Christian faith. Revenge and anger had been 
evil counsellors to Eck. The reputation of 
Bilibald and his friends brought the bull 
against them into discredit; and their charac- 
ter and their numerous connections increased 
the general irritation. 

Luther at first pretended to doubt the au- 
thenticity of the bull. "I find," said he, in 
his first writing he put forth, " that Eck has 
brought from Rome another bull, which is so 
like himself, that it might be named Doctor 
Eck, — so full is it of falsehood and error. He " 
gives out that it is the Pope's doing; whereas 
it is a mere piece of deception." Having al- 
leged reasons for his doubts, Luther ends by 
saying, "I require to see with my own eyes 
the seal and strings, the very words and sig- 
nature of the bull, in a word, every thing be- 
longing to it; otherwise I will not care one 
straw for these outcries." 

But no one, not even Luther himself, doubt- 
ed that the bull was the Pope's. Germany 
waited to see what the Reformer would do. 
Would he stand firm? All eyes were turned 
towards Wittemberg. Luther did not keep 
them long in suspense. He answered by a 
tremendous discharge of artillery, publishing 
on the 4th of November, 1520, his work 
"Against the Bull of Antichrist." 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



169 



"What numberless errors and frauds," said 
he, " have crept in among the poor deluded 
people under cover of the Church and the pre- 
tended infallibility of the Pope ! how many 
souls have thus been lost! how much blood 
shed ! how many murders committed ! how 
many kingdoms laid waste !" 

"lean discern all the difference," said he, 
ironically, " between skill and malice, and I 
care very little for malice so unskilful. To 
burn books is an act so easy, that even child- 
ren may perform it; how much more, then, 
the Holy Father and his illustrious doctors ! 
One would have looked for some more cun- 
ning move. Besides, for aught I care, let 
them destroy my works ! I desire nothing 
better; for all I wanted was to lead Christians 
to the Bible, that they might afterwards throw 
away my writings. Great God, if we had but 
a right understanding of the Holy Scriptures, 
what need would there be of my books] By 
God's grace, I am free, and bulls can neither 
soothe nor intimidate me. My strength and 
my consolation are in a place where neither 
men nor devils can ever reach them." 

The tenth proposition of Luther, condemned 
by the Pope, was couched in these terms : 
" A man's sins are not pardoned, unless he 
believes that they *are pardoned when the 
priest pronounces absolution." The Pope, 
by condemning this proposition, denied that 
faith was necessary in the sacrament. " They 
pretend," exclaims Luther, " that we are not 
to believe that our sins are pardoned, when 
we are absolved by the priest. What then 
are we to do? Hear now, O Christians, this 
great news from Rome! Condemnation is 
pronounced against that article of which we 
profess when we say, 'I believe in the Holy 
Ghost, the Christian Church, and the remis- 
sion of sins.' If I knew that the Pope had 
really issued this bull at Rome," (which he 
did not doubt,) "and that it had not been 
forged by that arch-liar Eck, I would proclaim 
to all Christians that they ought to hold the 
Pope as the very Antichrist the Scripture 
speaks of. And if he would not cease from 
thus publicly proscribing the faith of the 
Church, then ... let the temporal sword itself 
be opposed to him, rather than to the Turk ! . . . 
For the Turk leaves us free to believe, but the 
Pope forbids it!" 

While Luther was speaking with so much 
energy, new dangers were gathering. The 
plan of his enemies was to procure his expul- 
sion from W 7 ittemberg. If Luther could be 
jemoved from Wittemberg, Luther and Wit- 
;emberg would both be ruined. One measure 
»vou3d rid Rome of her heretic doctor and of 
the heretical university. Duke George, the 
Bishop of Merseburg, and the Leipsic theolo- 
gians were clandestinely labouring for this 
result. Luther, on hearing of it, remarked, 
" I leave the matter in God's hands." These 
intrigues were not altogether without effect. 
Adrian, professor of Hebrew at Wittemberg, 
suddenly turned against the doctor. It re- 
quired considerable firmness of faith to bear 
up agains*. the weight of the Pope's bull. 



There are some who will go only a certain 
length with truth. Such was Adrian. Awed 
by the Pope's sentence, he quitted Wittem- 
berg, and repaired to Leipsic to Dr. Eck. 

The bull was beginning to take effect. The 
word of the Pontiff of Christendom still car- 
ried force. Fire and sword had long since 
taught submission. The stake was still fixed 
and the fagots piled at his bidding. Every 
thing announced that an awful catastrophe 
was about to put an end to the audacious re- 
bellion of the Augustine monk. The Pope's 
nuncios had made urgent representations to 
the young emperor : Charles declared that he 
would protect the ancient religion ; and in 
some of his hereditary states scaffolds were 
raised for the purpose of committing the writ- 
ings of the heretic to the flames. Eccle- 
siastical dignitaries and counsellors of state 
attended at these autos-da-fe. Those flames 
will strike terror in all quarters, said the Ro- 
man courtiers. And they did, indeed, carry 
fear to many timid and superstitious minds; 
but even in the Emperor's hereditary states, 
the only part of his dominions where the clergy 
ventured to carry the bull into execution, the 
people, and sometimes the higher classes, 
often treated these pontifical demonstrations 
with ridicule or indignation. " Luther," said 
the doctors of Louvain, in an audience with 
Margaret, who at that time governed the Low 
Countries, " Luther is undermining the Chris- 
tian faith."—" W ho is this Luther ]" asked the 
princess. — "An ignorant monk." — "Well," 
replied she, "do you, who are learned, and so 
many, write against him. The world will 
surely believe a company of learned men, 
rather than a single monk of no learning." 
The doctors of Louvain preferred an easier 
method. They raised, at some expense, a 
vast pile of wood. The multitude flocked to 
the place. Students and citizens were seen 
making their way through the crowd in great 
haste, carrying under their arms huge volumes, 
which they threw into the flames. Their ap- 
parent zeal edified the monks and doctors ; 
but the stratagem was soon after discovered : 
it was the Sermones discipuh, Tartaret, and 
other scholastic and popish books, which had 
been thrown into the fire instead of the writ- 
ings of Luther. 

The Count of Nassau, viceroy of Holland, 
in reply to the solicitations of the Domini- 
cans, to be permitted to burn the obnoxious 
books, answered : " Go preach the Gospel 
as purely as Luther, and you will have no 
reason to complain of any one." Conversa- 
tion turning on the Reformer at a banquet at 
which the greatest princes of the empire were 
present, the lord of Ravenstein said aloud : 
"After the lapse of four whole centuries, a 
single Christian man has stood forth at last, 
and him the Pope would put to death." 

Luther, conscious of the strength of his 
cause, preserved his composure amidst all the 
tumult excited by the bull. " Were it not for 
your exhortations," said he to Spalatin, k< I 
should hold my peace; assured as I am. tl.it 
it is by the wisdom and the power of God 



170 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that the work must be accomplished." Here 
was the man of a timid spirit urging- openness 
of speech, while the man of native resolution 
was disposed to remain silent. The reason 
was, that Luther discerned the operation of a 
power whose agency was unnoticed by his 
friend. "Be of good cheer," continued the 
Reformer, " it was Christ that began all this, 
— and he will bring it to its appointed issue; 
— even though my lot be banishment, and 
death. Jesus Christ is here present; and 
He that is in us is mightier than he that is in 
the world." 

But duty now requires him to speak, that 
the truth may be made manifest. Rome has 
assailed him; it shall be seen whether he 
shrinks from her blows. The Pope has 
placed him under the ban of the Church ; he 
will place the Pope under the ban of Chris- 
tianity. The sentence of the Pontiff has 
hitherto been absolute : he will now oppose 
sentence to sentence, and the world shall per- 
ceive which is the word of power. " For the 
peace of my own conscience," said he, " I am 
resolved that men shall no longer remain 
ignorant of the danger they are in;" and forth- 
with he took steps to renew his appeal to a 
General Council. To appeal from the Pope 
to a council was in itself a crime. It was, 
therefore, by a fresh violation of the pontifical 
authority, that Luther undertook to exonerate 
himself from the offences already laid to his 
charge. 

On the 17th of November, a notary and five 
witnesses, of whom Cruciger was one, as- 
sembled at ten o'clock in the morning, in one 
of the halls of the Augustine convent, in 
which Luther resided. There, — the public 
functionary, Sarctor von Eisleben, being in 
readiness to take a minute of his protest, — the 
Reformer in a solemn tone of voice spoke as 
follows, in the presence of the witnesses ; 

"Forasmuch as a General Council of the 
Christian Church is superior to the Pope, 
especially in matters of faith; 

" Forasmuch as the authority of the Pope 
is not superior, but inferior to Scripture, and 
he has no right to slay Christ's sheep, or cast 
them into the jaws of the wolf; 

" I, Martin Luther, an Augustine, and Doc- 
tor of the Holy Scriptures at Wittemberg, on 
my own behalf, and on behalf of such as stand 
or shall stand on my side, do, by this instru- 
ment, appeal from his holiness, Pope Leo, to 
a General Christian Council, hereafter to be 
held. ' 

"I appeal from the aforesaid Pope Leo; 
first, as an unjust, hasty, and oppressive judge, 
who condemns me without having given me 
a hearing, and without declaring the grounds 
of his judgment : — secoi ily, as a heretic and 
apostate, misguided, hardened, and condemn- 
ed by Holy Writ, who requires me to deny 
the necessity of Christian faith in the use of 
the sacraments;* — thirdly, as an enemy, an 
Antichrist, an adversary of the Scriptures, 



* The German copy has a few paragraphs 
which are noi in the Latin. 



and a usurper of their authority, who pre- 
sumes to set up his own decrees against all 
the declarations of the word of God; — fourthly, 
as a contemner, a calumniator, a blasphemer 
i of the Holy Christian Church, and of every 
i free Council, who asserts that a Council is 
nothing in itself. 

" Wherefore, I most humbly beseech the 
i most serene, illustrious, excellent, wise, and 
worthy lords, Charles the Roman Emperor, 
\ the Electors, princes, counts, barons, knights, 
| gentlemen, cities, and municipalities of the 
whole German nation, to adhere to this my 
| protest, and unite with me to resist the anti- 
christian proceedings of the Pope, — for God's 
glory, in defence of the Church and of the 
Christian faith, and to uphold the free Coun- 
cils of Christendom; and Christ, our Saviour, 
will richly reward them by his everlasting 
grace. But if there be any who set my en- 
treaties at naught, preferring obedience to the 
Pope, an impious man, —rather than to obey 
God, I do hereby disavow all responsibility 
on their account, having given a faithful 
warning to their consciences ; and I leave 
them to the final judgment of God, together 
with the Pope and all his adherents." 

Such was Luther's instrument of divorced 
such was his answer to' the Pontiff's bull. It 
was a deeply momentous declaration. The 
charges which he brought against the Pope 
were of the gravest character, nor were they 
lightly preferred. The protest was circulated 
throughout the whole of Germany, and found 
its way into most of the courts of Christen 
dom. 

Luther, however, though his recent act 
might have seemed the very extremity of 
daring, had another and a still bolder measure 
in contemplation. He was determined thai 
in nothing would he be behind Rome. The 
monk of Wittemberg shall do all that the 
Sovereign Pontiff ventures to do. Sentence 
against sentence he has alread}^ pronounced ; 
he will now kindle pile for pile. The de- 
scendant of the Medici and the miner's son 
have encountered each other in the lists, breast 
to breast; and while that conflict continues 
with which the world is destined to resound, 
not a blow shall be struck by the one com- 
batant that shall not be returned by the other. 
On the 10th of December, a placard was 
affixed to the walls of the university of Wit- 
temberg. It contained an invitation to the 
professors and students to repair at the hour 
of nine in the morning to the east gate, beside 
the Holy Cross. A great number of doctors 
and youths assembled, and Luther, putting 
himself at their head, led the procession to the 
appointed spot. How many piles had Rome 
kindled during the ages of her domination! 
Luther was now to make a better application 
of the great Romish principle. It. was only 
of some musty writings that he sought to be 
rid, and fire he thought could never be em- 
ployed to better purpose. A scaffold haa 
already been erected. One of the oldest 
among the Masters of Arts soon set fire to it. 
As the flames arose, Luther drew nigh, and 




LUTHER BURNING THE POPE*S BULL. 




LUTnER BEFORE THE EMTEROR AND EMFTRE AT WORMS 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cast into the midst of them the Canon Law, 
the Decretals, the Clementines, the Extra- 
vagants of the Popes, and a portion of the 
works of Eck and of Emser. When these 
books had been reduced to ashes, Luther took 
the Pope's Bull in his hand, held it up, and 
said aloud : " Since thou hast afflicted the 
Lord's Holy One, may fire unquenchable af- 
flict and consume thee !" and thereupon he 
threw it into the flames. He then with much 
composure bent his steps towards the city, 
and the crowd of doctors, professors, and stu- 
dents, with loud expressions of applause, 
returned to Wittemberg in his train. "The 
Decretals," said Luther, "are like a body 
whose face is as fair as a virgin's; but its 
limbs are forceful as those of the lion, and its 
tail is that of the wily serpent. In all the 
papal laws, there is not a single word to teach 
us what Jesus Christ truly is.'' — " My ene- 
mies," he said again, "by burning my books, 
may have disparaged the truth in the minds 
of the common people, and occasioned the 
loss of souls ; for that reason I have burned 
their books in my turn. This is a mighty 
struggle but just begun. Hitherto I have 
been only jesting with the Pope. I entered 
upon this work in the name of God ; — He 
will bring it to a close without my aid, by his 
own power. If they dare to burn my books, 
— of which it is no vain boast to say that 
they contain more of the Gospel than all the 
Pope's books put together, — I may with far 
better reason bum theirs, which are wholly 
worthless." 

Had Luther commenced the Reformation by 
an act like this, the consequences might have 
been deplorable. Fanaticism might have been 
awakened by it, and the Church forced into a 
career of disorder and violence. But in the 
first stages of his task, the Reformer had been 
satisfied with calmly expounding the doctrines 
of Scripture. The foundations of the edifice 
had been cautiously and securely laid. In the 
present posture of affairs, a vigorous blow, 
such as he had just struck, might not merely 
be productive of no ill effect; it might proba- 
bly hasten the moment when Christianity 
should rejoice over the downfall of the power 
by which the Christian world had so long 
been held in thraldom. 

Luther by this act distinctly announced his 
separation from the Pope and the Papal 
Church. After his letter to Leo, such an an- 
nouncement might in his estimation be neces- 
sary. He now accepted the excommunication 
which Rome had pronounced. He proclaimed 
in the face of Christendom that between him 
and the Pope there was war even to the death. 
Like the Roman who burned the vessels that 
had conveyed him to the enemy's shore, he 
left himself no resource, but to advance and 
offer battle. 

We have seen how he re-entered Wittem- 
berg. On the following morning, the hall of 
the academy was more than usually crowded. 
The minds of those that composed the assembly 
had been excited, a deep solemnity prevailed, 
the address which the doctor was to deliver 



was the subject of earnest expectation. He 
proceeded with a portion of his commentary 
upon the Psalms, which he had begun in 
the month of March of the preceding year. 
Having finished his lecture, he paused for a 
few moments, and then he said with great vi- 
vacity : " Be on your guard against the laws 
and statutes of the Pope. I have burned the 
Decretals, but that is mere child's play. It is 
time, and more than time, that the Pope him- 
self were burned, — I mean," he immediately 
subjoined — "the papal chair, with all its false 
doctrines, and all its abominations." As- 
suming then a more solemn tone : " If you do 
not with your whole hearts resist the impious 
usurpation of the Pope, you cannot be saved. 
Whosoever takes pleasure in the Popish doc- 
trine and worship will be lost to all eternity in 
the world to come." 

" True," added he, " if we reject that false 
creed, we must expect no less than to encoun- 
ter every kind of danger — even to the loss of 
life. But far better it is to expose ourselves 
to all the perils that this present world can 
assail us with, than to hold our peace! So 
long as my life shall last, I, for my part, will 
never cease to warn my brethren of the wound 
and plague of Babylon, lest any of those who 
now walk with us should slide back like the 
rest into the pit of hell." 

It is difficult to conceive the effect which 
was produced upon the auditory by this dis- 
course, with the energy of which we our- 
selves cannot fail to be struck. " Not a man 
among us," adds the candid student to whom 
we are indebted for its preservation, " unless 
he be a senseless block, (as all the Papists 
are," he remarks in a parenthesis) — " not a 
man among us doubts that this is the very 
truth. It is evident to all the faithful, that 
Doctor Luther is an angel of the living God, 
commissioned to lead back the sheep of 
Christ's flock to the wholesome pastures from 
which we have wandered." 

This discourse and the act which preceded 
it mark an important epoch in the Reforma- 
tion. In his heart, Luther had been alienated 
from the Pope by the controversy at Leipsic. 
But at the moment when he burned the bull, 
he declared in the most explicit manner his 
separation from the Bishop of Rome and the 
Roman Church, and his adherence to the 
Church universal, as founded by the apostles 
of Jesus Christ. At the east gate of Wittem- 
berg he kindled a flame which three hundred 
years have not yet extinguished. 

" The Pope," said he, " has three crowns : 
— I will show you why ; — the first is against 
God, for he abrogates religion ; — the second 
against the Emperor, for he abrogates the se- 
cular power; — the third against society at 
large, for he abrogates marriage." When he 
was accused of too much violence in his op- 
position to Popery : — " Oh !" he replied, 
" were it mine to choose, my testimony against 
it should be no other than the voice of thun- 
der, and every word should fall like the fiery 
bolt." 

This undaunted spirit was rapidly commM 



172 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



nicated to Luther's friends and fellow-coun- 
trymen. The nation rallied round him. Me- 
lancthon, about this time, addressed to the 
States of the Empire a discourse which, for 
elegance of style and strength of reasoning, is 
worthy of its amiable author. It was an an- 
swer to a book attributed to Emser, but pub- 
lished under the name of the Roman theologian 
Rhadinus. Never had Luther himself spoken 
with greater energy ; and yet in Melancthon's 
composition there is a grace superadded, which 
wins it way to the heart. 

After proving, by texts quoted from Scrip- 
ture, that the Pope is not superior to other 
bishops ; — " What hinders us," he asks of 
the States, "from depriving the Pope of the 
authority with which we have invented him'? 
It is a matter of small concern to Luther that 
our wealth — the treasure of Europe — is sent 
to Rome. What grieves him, and grieves us 
also, is, that the Papal laws and Pontifical do- 
minion entail upon the souls of men, not jeo- 
pardy merely, but absolute ruin. Every man 
may judge for himself, whether or not it be- 
hoves him to dedicate his money to the main- 
tenance of Romish luxury ; but to form a judg- 
ment on matters of religion and the holy mys- 
teries is beyond the capacity of the multitude. 
On this ground does Luther appeal to your 
faith and to your zeal ; and every pious man, 
if not openly, at least by secret groans and 
sighs, joins in the same invocation. Recollect 
that you are Christians, princes of a Christian 
nation, and hasten to rescue the piteous wreck 
of Christianity from the tyrannous hand of 
Antichrist. They who would persuade you 
that you have no jurisdiction over these priests 
are deceiving you grossly. Let the same spirit 
that animated Jehu against the priests of Baal, 
urge you by that memorable example to crush 
the Romish superstition ; a superstition more 
detestable by far than the idolatry of Baal 
itself." Such was the language in which the 
mild Melancthon addressed the princes of Ger- 
many. 

Here and there a cry of alarm was raised 
among the friends of the Reformation. Men of 
feeble character, ever inclined to concession 
and compromise, and Staupitz, the foremost 
of this class, gave utterance to sentiments of 
deep concern. " All that has been done hith- 
erto," said Luther to him, " has been mere 
play. Remember what you yourself said; — 
if God were not the author of all this, it never 
could have taken place. The tumult is con- 
tinually growing more and more tumultuous ; 
nor do I think that it will ever be appeased 
until the last day." This was Luther's method 
of encouraging the timorous. Three centu- 
ries have passed away, and the tumult is not 
appeased yet. 

" The Papacy," continued he, " has ceased 
tj be what it was yesterday, and the day be- 
fore. Excommunicate me, and burn my writ- 
ings it may, — ay, and put me to death ! — but 
that which is now going forward it can never 
stop. We stand on the very threshold of 
some wonderful dispensation. When I burn- 
ed the bull.it was with inward fear and trem- 



bling ; but I look back upon that act with more 
pleasure than upon any passage of my life." 

Here we cannot but pause, delighted to trace 
the image of the future so vividly impressed 
on the mighty mind of the Reformer. " O my 
father," says he to Staupitz in the conclusion 
of his letter, " pray for the word of God and 
for me ! I am hurried along by these billows, 
and wellnigh overwhelmed." 

On every side, then, the battle is now be- 
gun. The combatants have flung away their 
scabbards. The Word of God has reclaimed 
its rightful authority, and the sentence of de- 
position has gone forth against him who had 
usurped the place of God. The agitation per- 
vades every class of the community. In no 
age has there been a lack of selfish men, who 
would gladly allow mankind to slumber on in 
error and corruption : but those whose hearts 
are enlarged, however timid by natural consti- 
tution, think far differently. " We are well 
aware," says the rnild and moderate Melanc- 
thon, " that statesmen are averse from all in- 
novation ; and it must be confessed that in 
this scene of mournful confusion, which we 
call human life, — controversies, however just 
the grounds from which they spring, are always 
chargeable with some measure of evil. Never- 
theless, it is necessary that God's word and 
his commandments should have preference in 
the Church over every earthly interest The 
everlasting anger of God is denounced against 
such as endeavour to suppress the truth. It 
was Luther's duty, therefore, — a Christian 
duty from which he could in no way escape. 
more especially as he held the office of a 
teacher in the Church, — to reprove those per- 
nicious errors which unprincipled men were 
so shamefully engaged in diffusing. If these 
disputes engender many evils, as, to my great 
grief," he adds, " I perceive that they do, the 
fault rests with those who first propagated er- 
ror, and with those who now, with diabolical 
malignity, attempt to uphold it." 

But this was not the opinion entertained by 
all. Luther was overwhelmed with reproach- 
es, — the storm burst upon him from every 
quarter. — " He stands alone !" said some. — 
" He teaches new doctrines !" said others. 

" Who knows," replied Luther, deeply con- 
scious of the vocation he had received from on 
high, — " who knows, whether God has not 
called and chosen me for this very purpose, 
and whether they who despise me have not 
reason to fear lest they be found despisers of 
God himself] Moses was alone when the 
Israelites were led out of Egypt; Elijah was 
alone in the time of King Ahab ; Ezekiel was 
alone at Babylon. God has never chosen for 
his prophet either the high-priest or any other 
person of exalted rank ; he has generally cho- 
sen men of a mean and low condition, — in the 
instance of Amos, even a simple shepherd. 
The saints in every age have been called upon 
to rebuke the great of this world — Kings and 
princes — priests and scholars — and to fulfil 
their office at the peril of their lives. Has it 
not been thus under the New Testament dis- 
pensation ' Ambrose in his time stood alone , 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



173 



after him, Jerome was alone; — later still, Au- 
gustine was alone. I say not that I am a 
prophet; but I say that they have the more 
reason to fear, because I am alone and they are 
many. Of this I am sure, that the Word of 
God is with me, and that it is not with them." 

"It is asserted also," continues he, " that I 
am bringing forward novelties, and that it is 
impossible to believe that all other teachers 
for so long - a time have been in error. 

" No — these are not novelties that I preach ! 
— But I affirm that the doctrines of Christiani- 
ty have been lost sight of by those whose spe- 
cial duty it was to preserve them — by the 
learned — by the bishops. I doubt not, indeed, 
that the truth has still found an abode in some 
few hearts, were it only with infants in the 
cradle. Poor husbandmen and simple child- 
ren, in these days, understand more of Jesus 
C/irist than the Pope, the bishops, or the doc- 
tors. 

"I am accused of rejecting the holy doctors 
of the Church. I reject them not, but since 
those doctors all labour to prove what they 
write by the Holy Scriptures, it follows that 
the Scriptures must be clearer and more con- 
clusive than their writings. Who would 
ever think of proving what is in itself obscure 
by the help of something obscurer still 1 Ne- 
cessity, therefore, obliges us to have recourse 
to the Bible, as all the doctors have done ; 
and to test their writings by it, — for the Bible 
is our only rule and standard. 

" But it is further objected that men high in 
station pursue me with their censures. What 
then ! — do not the Scriptures clearly show that 
they who persecute are generally in the wrong, 
and they who suffer persecution in the right, 
— that the majority has always been on the 
side of falsehood, and the minority only on the 
side of truth 1 It is the fate of truth to occa- 
sion an outcry." 

Luther then passes under review the vari- 
ous propositions which had been condemned 
by the bull as heretical; and demonstrates 
their truth by arguments drawn from Holy 
Scripture. With how much force, in particu- 
lar, does he maintain the doctrine of grace ! 

" What," says he, " shall we say, that na- 
ture, antecedently to, and unassisted by, grace, 
can hate sin, flee from sin, and repent of it, 
v. hile yet, after grace vouchsafed, that same 
nature loves sin, seeks it, yearns after it, and 
never ceases to strive against grace and op- 
pose it, — this being the burden under which 
the saints are continually gioaning. It is as 
though you were to tell me that some sturdy 
tree, which my utmost efforts could never 
bend, would bend of its own accord were it 
left alone, or that some torrent which dikes 
and dams were ineffectual to lestrain would 
check its own course if all these impediments 
were removed. NO! never shall we attain 
to repentance by considering sin or its conse- 
quences, but only by fixing our contemplation 
on the wounded Saviour, and on the love of 
which his wounds are the token. The know- 
ledge of sin must proceed from repentance, — 
not repentance from the knowledge of sin. 



That knowledge is the fruit, — repentance the 
tree. In our country the fruit grows on the 
tree, but in the domain of his Holiness it 
would seem that the tree grows on the fruit!" 

The intrepid teacher, though protesting, yet 
retracts some of his propositions. Notwith- 
standing all his protestations, Luther retracts. 

But our surprise will cease, when we learn 
the manner of his doing this. After citing the 
four propositions regarding indulgences which 
had been condemned by the bull,* he simply 
adds: 

"In deference to the holy and learned bull, 
I retract all that I have ever advanced on the 
subject of Indulgences. If my books deserved 
to be burned, it was because they contained 
certain concessions to the Pope in respect to 
that doctrine of indulgences; on which ac- 
count I myself now condemn them to the 
flames." 

Then follows another retractation in respect 
to John Huss : " I now say, not that some of 
the articles but that all the articles propound- 
ed by John Huss are altogether orthodox. 
The Pope in condemning Huss has condemn- 
ed the Gospel. I have gone five times as far 
as he, and 'yet I greatly fear I have not gone 
far enough. Huss only says that a wicked 
Popeisnota member of the Christian Church; 
— I, on the other hand, w r ere I now to see St. 
Peter himself seated in the Roman chair, 
would deny that he was Pope by God's ap- 
pointment." 

The powerful language of the Reformer 
sunk deep into men's minds, and prepared 
them for enfranchisement. Every word was 
a living spark helping to spread the flame 
through the whole nation. But an important 
question was yet to be decided. Would the 
Prince, whose territory Luther inhabited, con- 
cur in the execution of the bull, or would he 
oppose hi This question was not easily an- 
swered. The Elector, as w r ell as the other 
princes of the Empire, was then at Aix la- 
Chapelle. It was there that the crown of 
Charlemagne was placed on the head of the 
youngest, and yet the most powerful monarch 
of Christendom. The pomp and magnificence 
displayed on that occasion surpassed all pre- 
vious example. After the ceremony, Charles 
the Fifth, attended by Frederic and the other 
princes, by the ministers and ambassadors, 
immediately repaired to Cologne. Aix-la- 
Chapelle, wmich had been visited by the 
plague, seemed to discharge its entire popu- 
lation into that ancient city of the Rhine. 

Among the crowd of strangers who wei 
then received Within its walls, were the Pope\ 
two nuncios, Marino Carracioli and Hierony- 
mus Aleander. Carracioli, who had been 
employed on a previous embassy to Maximi- 
lian, was authorized to congratulate the new 
Emperor, and to treat w : ith him on affairs of 
state. But Rome had perceived that in order 
to bring her measures for the extinction of the 
Reformation to a successful issue, she must 
send to Germany a nuncio specially charged 

* The 19th to the 22d. 



174 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



with that service, and fitted by a peculiar cast 
of mind, and by a union of dexterity with 
activity, for its accomplishment. With this 
view Aleander had been selected This in- 
dividual, who at a later period was invested 
with the cardinal's purple, was descended, it 
would appear, from a family of considerable 
antiquity, and not, as some have reported, 
from a Jewish stock. The licentious Borgia 
sent for him to Rome to make him secretary 
to that son Caesar, at whose very name all 
Rome trembled. " The master and the ser- 
vant were well matched," says a contem- 
porary writer, intimating thus similarity of 
character between Aleander and Alexander 
the Sixth. The verdict seems too severe. 
After the death of Borgia, Aleander give him- 
self up to study with renewed ardour. His 
proficiency in Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and 
Arabic, gained him the credit of being the 
most learned man of his age. Whatsoever 
pursuit he engaged in, he devoted himself to 
it with his whole heart. The zeal with which 
he applied himself to the acquisition of lan- 
guages was no less intense than that which 
he afterwards displayed in persecuting the 
Reformation. His services were next en- 
gaged by Leo the Tenth. Protestant histo- 
rians speak of his epicurean morals ; Romish 
historians celebrate his blameless life. It 
appears that he was addicted to luxury, to 
dramatic entertainments, and public shows. 
" Aleander lives at Venice the life of a gro- 
velling epicurean in high estate," said his old 
friend Erasmus. All reports agree that he 
was a man of imperious character, prompt in 
his actions, ardent, indefatigable, imperious, 
and devoted to the Pope. Eck was the fiery 
and intrepid champion of the schools; Ale- 
ander, the haughty envoy of the domineering 
Vatican. He seemed born to be a Nuncio. 

Rome had every thing in readiness for the 
destruction of the monk of W T ittemberg. The 
part which Aleander had to perform as the 
Pope's representative in the coronation of the 
Emperor, he regarded as only a subordinate 
commission, adapted, however, to promote 
his main design, by the personal consider- 
ation which it necessarily secured for him. 
But his real office was to persuade Charles to 
crush the Reformation in its birth. "The 
Pope," said the Nuncio, as he gave the bull 
into the Emperor's hands, "the Pope, who 
has measured his strength with so many 
mighty princes, will find little difficulty in 
dealing with these grammarians." Under 
that contemptuous designation he included 
Luther, Melancthon, and Erasmus. Erasmus 
himself was present at the audience. 

Immediately after his arrival at Cologne, 
Aleander, acting in concert with Carracioli, 
made it the object of his most strenuous ef- 
forts that the heretical writings of Luther 
should be publicly burned in every part of 
the empire, but more particularly under the 
eyes of the German princes assembled in that 
city. Charles the Fifth had already given 
his consent, so far as concerned his hereditary 
dominions. The agitation of men's minds in 



this juncture was extreme. The ministers 
of Charles and the Nuncios themselves were 
solemnly warned that measures like these, 
instead of healing the wound, would inflame 
it. " Do you imagine," they were asked, 
"that the doctrine taught by Luther exists 
only in those books which you are now con- 
demning to the flames 1 It is deeply engraven 
where you cannot obliterate it — in the hearts 
of the German nation. If you mean to em- 
ploy force, you must give the word for myriads 
of swords to be unsheathed, and a countless 
multitude of victims to be slaughtered. Pil- 
ing a few fagots together to burn a few 
sheets of paper will be of no avail: nor does 
it beseem the dignity of the Emperor or that 
of the Sovereign Pontiff to employ such wea- 
pons.' The Nuncio clung to his fagots not- 
withstanding. " These flames that we shaii 
kindle," said he, "are a sentence of condem- 
nation written in giant characters, conspicuous 
far and wide — to the learned and the unlearn- 
ed — legible even to such as can read no 
others." 

But, after all, the Nuncio cared little about 
books or papers ; Luther himself was the 
mark he aimed at. "These fires," he re- 
marked again, " are not sufficient to purify the 
pestilential atmosphere of Germany. Though 
they may strike terror into the simple-minded, 
they leave the authors of the mischief unpu- 
nished. We must have an imperial edict 
sentencing Luther to death." 

Aleander found the Emperor less compli- 
ant when the Reformer's life was demanded, 
than he had shown himself before, when his 
books alone were attacked. 

" Raised as I have been so recently to the 
throne, I cannot," said Charles, "without the 
advice of my counsellors, and the consent of 
the Princes of the Empire, strike such a blow 
as this against a faction so numerous and so 
powerfully protected. Let us first ascertain 
what our father, the Elector of Saxony, thinks 
of the matter; we shall then be prepared to 
give our answer to the Pope." On the Elec- 
tor, therefore, must the Nuncios now exer- 
cise their artifices and the power of their 
rhetoric. 

On the first Sunday of November, after 
Frederic had attended mass in the convent of 
the Cordeliers, Carracioli and Aleander de- 
manded an audience of him. He received 
them in the presence of the Bishop of Trent 
and of several of his counsellors. Carracioli 
opened the interview by presenting to the 
Elector the Pope's brief. Of a milder cha- 
racter than Aleander, he thought it expedient 
to gain the Prince over, if possible, by fail 
speeches, and accordingly began by compli 
menting him and his ancestors. " In your 
Highness," said he, "are reposed all oui 
hopes for the salvation of the Church and the 
Holy Roman Empire." 

But the impetuous Aleander, resolved to 
come at once to the point, stepped abruptly 
forward and interrupted his colleague, who 
modestly gave way to him. " It is to myself 
and to Eck," said he, " that the affair of friar 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



175 



Martin has been intrusted. Consider the in- 
finite peril into which this man is plunging 
the Christian commonwealth. Unless a re- 
medy be speedily applied, the fate of the 
Empire is sealed. Why has the Empire of the 
Greeks been destroyed, but because they fell 
away from the Pope ? You cannot join your- 
self to Luther without being dissevered from 
Christ. In the name of his Holiness, I re- 
quire of you two things; first, that you cause 
Luther's writings to be burned ; secondly, 
that you inflict upon the heretic himself the 
punishment he deserves, or else that you de- 
liver him up a prisoner to the Pope. The 
Emperor and all the Princes of the Empire 
have signified their willingness to accede to 
our demands ; — you alone demur." 

Frederic replied by the mouth of the Bishop 
of Trent: "This is a matter of too much im- 
portance to be decided instantly. Our deter- 
mination in regard to it shall be duly commu- 
nicated to you." 

The position in which the Elector was 
placed was a difficult one. To which side 
shall he incline? On the one side are arrayed 
the Emperor, the Princes of the Empire, and 
the Sovereign Pontiff, whose authority Frede- 
ric, at this time, has no thought of shaking 
off: on the other stands a monk, a poor monk, 
for against Luther alone is this assault level- 
led. The reign of Charles has but just begun. 
Shall Frederic, the oldest, the wisest of the 
sovereign princes of Germany, be the first to 
kindle discord in the Empire? And, besides, 
how shall he forfeit the praise of that devotion 
which led him in earlier days on his long pil- 
grimage to the sepulchre of Christ*? 

But there were voices raised to plead on the 
opposite part also. A youthful Prince, who 
afterwards wore the electoral diadem, and 
whose reign was signalized by great calami- 
ties — John Frederic, the son of Duke John, 
and nephew of the Elector, having been edu- 
cated by Spalatin, and having now attained 
the age of seventeen, had had his heart deeply 
imbued with a love of the truth, and was ar- 
dently attached to Luther. When he saw him 
pursued by the anathemas of Rome, he em- 
braced his cause with the fervour of a young 
Christian, and the spirit of a young Prince. 
He wrote to the Reformer, and also to his 
uncle, and with dignified earnestness besought 
the latter to protect Luther against his ene- 
mies. On the other hand, Spalatin, — often, 
it must be confessed, in too timid a strain, — 
as well as Pontanus, and the other counsellors 
who were with the Elector at Cologne, repre- 
sented to the Prince that he could not abandon 
the Reformer. 

Amidst this general agitation, one man 
remained unmoved: it was Luther himself. 
While his friends were invoking the assist- 
ance of the great to save him from destruction, 
the monk, in his cloister at Wittemberg, had 
come to the conclusion that it was his part, 
rather, to rescue the great of this world from 
their imminent peril. "If the Gospel," he 
wrote to Spalatin, " were of such a nature that 
it must be propagated or supported by earthly 
13 



potentates, God would not have committed it 
to the hands of a few fishermen. It is not to 
princes or to pontiffs that the task is assigned 
of defending God's word. Enough for them, 
if they can themselves escape the judgments 
of the Lord and his Anointed. I speak thus 
boldly, that they may be led to acquaint them- 
selves with the divine Word, and may find 
salvation there." 

What Luther desired was about to be ac- 
complished. The same faith that worked 
unseen in the convent of Wittemberg, was to 
display its power in the princely halls of Co- 
logne. Frederic's courage, which for a while, 
perhaps, had faltered, soon rose again to its 
wonted pitch. He shuddered at the thought 
of delivering an honest man into the hands of 
his implacable enemies. "Justice must have 
precedence even of the Pope :" by this prin- 
ciple would he regulate his conduct. 

On the 4th of November, his counsellors 
intimated, in his name, to the Papal Nuncios, 
who had again met in the presence of the 
Bishop of Trent, in the Elector's palace, that 
his highness had seen with great concern the 
advantage which Doctor Eck had taken of his 
absence, to involve many persons in the sen- 
tence of condemnation, who were not particu- 
larized in the bull ; that since his departure 
from Saxony, multitudes, very probably, of 
every class, the learned as well as the unlearn- 
ed, the clergy as well as the laity, had joined 
themselves to Luther, and become parties to 
his appeal; that neither his Imperial Majesty 
nor any one else had yet made it appear to 
him that Luther's writings had been refuted, 
or demonstrated to be fit only for the flames; 
that he demanded, therefore, that Doctor Lu- 
ther should be furnished with a safe-conduct, 
and permitted to answer for himself before a 
tribunal composed of learned, pious, and im- 
partial judges." 

After this announcement, Aleander, Carra- 
cioli, and their followers withdrew for a while 
to hold a consultation. This was the first 
occasion on which the Elector had publicly 
declared his intentions in regard to the Re- 
former. The Nuncios had expected him to 
adopt a very different course. The affair hav- 
ing been brought to that stage in which his 
continued neutrality would expose him to dan- 
gers, the full extent of which no foresight 
could measure, they thought that he would no 
longer hesitate to give up the obnoxious monk. 
So Rome had reasoned. But her machina- 
tions were now to be baffled by a power which 
her calculations had left wholly out of view — 
the love of justice and truth. 

On the read mission of the Nuncios into the 
audience-chamber, " I should like to know," 
said the arrogant Aleander, " what would the 
Elector think, if one of his subjects were to 
appeal from his judgment to that of the King 
of France, or some other foreign sovereign." 
But, perceiving at last that the Saxon coun- 
sellors were not to be wrought upon, " We 
will execute the bull," said he; "we will 
pursue and burn the writings of Luther. As 
for his person," he added, affecting a tone of 



176 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



disdainful indifference, " the Pope has little 
inclination to imbrue his hands in the blood 
of the unhappy wretch." 

When the tidings reached Wittemberg of 
the reply given by the Elector to. the Nuncios, 
Luther's friends were transported with joy. 
Melancthon and Amsdorff, in particular, con- 
ceived the most sanguine hopes of the future. 
"The German nobles," said Melancthon, 
" will follow the guidance of the Prince whom 
they revere as their Nestor. If Homer styled 
his aged hero the bulwark of the Greeks, why 
may not our Frederic be surnamed the bulwark 
of Germany ?" 

Erasmus, the oracle of courts, the arbiter of 
schools, the luminary of the age, was then at 
Cologne. He had been summoned thither by 
several princes, desirous to profit by his coun- 
sels. Erasmus, at the epoch of the Reforma- 
tion, was the leader of that party which held 
the just mean between the other two: such, 
at least, was his own persuasion, — a mistaken 
one, however; for when truth and error stand 
in hostile opposition, justice halts not on the 
middle ground. He was the chief of that 
philosophical and academic party, which, for 
centuries, had been attempting to correct the 
abuses of the Romish Church, but still with- 
out success. He was the representative of 
human wisdom, — a wisdom far too weak to 
chastise the pride of Popery. The task could 
be achieved only by the wisdom of God, which 
men often deem foolishness, but at the voice 
of which the mountains crumble into dust. 
Erasmus would neither throw himself into the 
arms of Luther, nor yet would he crouch at 
the footstool of the Pope. He wavered, and 
sometimes lost his balance between the two 
opposing influences; ever and anon attracted 
towards the Reformer, and then again suddenly 
drawn back into the sphere of Romish delu- 
sion. In a letter addressed to Albert, the 
Archbishop of Mentz, he had declared himself 
in Luther's favour. "It seems," said he, 
"as though the last spark of Christian piety 
were about to be extinguished ; and this it is 
that has stirred up the heart of Luther; — his 
aim is not distinction, nor is he seeking 
wealth." But this letter, which Ulric Von 
Hiitten imprudently published, was the cause 
of so much annoyance to Erasmus, that he 
determined to observe more caution for the 
future. Moreover, though he lay under the 
charge of connivance with Luther, the unmea- 
sured language employed by the latter gave 
him serious umbrage. "Almost all good peo- 
ple lean towards Luther," he observed, "but 
I perceive that the affair will end in rebellion. 

, . I do not wish my name to be coupled 
with his. It injures me, and does him no 
service." "Be it so," replied Luther; "if 
that displeases you, I promise you that I will 
never make mention of you, or any of your 
friends." Such was the man to whom the 
favourers and the enemies of the Reformer 
alike addressed themselves. 

'The Elector, knowing that the opinion of a 
man so highly respected as Erasmus would 
carry great weight with it, requested a visit 



from the illustrious Hollander. Erasmus 
obeyed the invitation on the 5th of December. 
The friends of Luther regarded the interview 
with some measure of secret alarm. The 
Elector was standing before the fire, with Spa- 
latin by his side, when Erasmus was ushered 
into the chamber. " What think you of Lu- 
ther]" asked Frederic immediately. The 
prudent Erasmus, surprised by the question 
so suddenly put to him, endeavoured at first 
to evade a reply. He screwed up his mouth, 
Wt his lips, and remained silent. Hereupon 
the Elector raised his eyebrows, (as was his 
custom, Spalatin tells us, when he meant to 
force an explicit answer from the person with 
whom he was conversing,) and looked Eras- 
mus steadfastly in the face The latter, at a 
loss how to extricate himself from the diffi- 
culty, replied at last, in a half-jocular tone: 
"Luther has committed two grievous sins; he 
has attacked the Pope's crown and the monks' 
bellies." The Elector smiled, but intimated 
to his visitor that he was in earnest. Eras- 
mus then, casting off his reserve, replied as 
follows : " The origin of all these dissensions 
is the hatred the monks bear to learning, and 
the fear that besets them of seeing their tyran- 
ny brought to an end. What are the weapons 
of their warfare against Luther] clamour, ca- 
bal, malice, and slander. The more virtuous 
a man is, and the more strongly attached to 
the doctrines of the Gospel, the less does he 
find to censure in Luther's proceedings. The 
severity of the bull has roused the indigna- 
tion of all good men ; for they find in it none 
of the gentleness that befits the Vicar of 
Christ. Two universities onty, out of the 
whole number, have condemned Luther ; and 
even they have condemned without having 
convicted him. Let them not deceive them- 
selves; the danger is greater than some per- 
sons imagine. There are difficulties in their 
way which will not easily be surmounted. 
To begin the reign of Charles by so unpopu- 
lar an act as Luther's imprisonment, would 
be an evil omen for the future. The world is 
thirsting - for gospel truth: let us beware how 
we resist so holy a desire. Let the whole 
question be examined by dispassionate and 
competent judges; it is the only course that 
can be followed, consistently with the dignity 
of the Pope himself." 

Such was the language of Erasmus to the 
Elector. Its frankness may perhaps astonish 
us; but Erasmus well knew to whom he was 
speaking. Spalatin listened to it with de- 
light. When Erasmus took his leave, he ac- 
companied him the whole way to the house 
of Count von Nuenar, the provost of Cologne, 
where the illustrious scholar resided. The 
latter, obeying the impulse of the moment, 
when he found himself at home, sat down, 
committed to writing the substance of what 
he had said to the Elector, and gave the papei 
into Spalatin's hands. The fear of Aleander, 
however, soon took possession of his mind ; 
the courage he had felt in the presence of the 
Elector and his chaplain forsook him, and he 
entreated Spalatin to let him have that ud- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



177 



ft warded paper back again, lest it should fall | 
into the hands of the terrible Nuncio. But it I 
was already too late. 

The Elector, feeling himself strengthened ! 
by the opinion of Erasmus, assumed a more 
decided tone in his communications with the 
Emperor. Erasmus himself, in several con- 
ferences, which (like those granted to Nico- 
demus of old) were held at night, laboured 
hard to persuade the Imperial counsellors that 
the whole affair might be referred to the judg- 
ment of an impartial tribunal. He probably 
hoped that he himself might be chosen to de- 
cide the controversy which threatened to divide 
the Cnristian world. His vanity would have 
found ample gratification in such an office. 
But at the same time, that he might not lose 
his credit at Rome, he wrote to Leo the Tenth 
in the most submissive terms, and Leo answer- 
ed his letters graciously; a circumstance 
which was the source of deep mortification to 
Aleander. Tn his devotion to the Pope's cause, 
the Nuncio would willingly have administer- 
ed a severe reproof to the Pope himself; for 
Erasmus gave publicity to the Pontiff's let- 
ters, and made them subservient to the con- 
firmation of his own credit. Aleander for- 
warded a remonstrance on this head to the 
Vatican. The reply he received was to this 
effect : " Do not appear to perceive the evil 
intentions of the man. Prudence forbids it. 
We must not close the door of repentance 
against him." 

Charles, himself, adopted a system of equi- 
poise, which consisted in flattering both the 
Pope and the Elector, and manifesting a dis- 
position to lean alternately to the one side or 
the other, according to the shifting exigency 
of the moment. His ministers obscurely in- 
timated to Aleander the plan which their mas- 
ter was inclined to follow. "The Emperor," 
said they, "will be regulated in his conduct 
towards the Pope, by the tenor of the Pope's 
conduct towards himself; he does not choose 
1o increase the power of his rivals, particularly 
that of the King of France." At these words, 
the arrogant Nuncio gave vent to his indigna- 
tion. " What," he replied, " even though the 
Pope should relinquish his alliance with the 
Emperor, must the Emperor on that account 
relinquish his creed? If that be the way in 
which he means to avenge himself, bid him 
tremble, — his faithlessness will be visited on 
his own head." But the Imperial diploma- 
tists were not to be intimidated by the Nun- 
cio's threats. 

Yet, though the Roman legates had failed 
to bend the great ones of this world to their 
will, the inferior agents of the Papacy suc- 
ceeded in making some impression on the 
lower ranks of men. The myrmidons of Rome 
had heard the command given by their chief. 
Many fanatical priests gladly took advantage 
of the bull to alarm the consciences of their 
hearers, and many well-meaning but ill-in- 
structed ecclesiastics deemed it a sacred duty 
to obey the injunctions of the Pope. It was 
hi the confessional that the struggle against 
Rome had been begun by Luther; it was in 



the confessional that Rome now put forth her 
strength against the adherents of the Reform- 
er. Denied all public recognition of its validi- 
ty, the bull, nevertheless, became powerfully 
operative in these solitary tribunals. "Have 
you read the writings of Luther ]" was the 
question put by the confessor: — "have you 
them in your possession 1 — do you regard 
them as true or heretical V And if the pe- 
nitent hesitated to pronounce the prescribed 
anathema, the priest refused him absolution. 
The consciences of many were disturbed. 
Great agitation prevailed amongst the people. 
This dexterous expedient promised fair to 
bring multitudes once more under the Papal 
yoke, who had but now been won over to the 
gospel. Well might Rome rejoice that six 
centuries before* she had created a tribunal so 
admirably adapted to secure to the priesthood 
a despotic sway over the conscience of every 
Christian. So long as that tribunal stands, 
her empire shall not be overthrown. 

Luther was speedily informed of what was 
going on. With none to aid him in baffling 
this device, how shall he act]' The Word, 
the testimony of Holy Writ, loudly and fear- 
lessly proclaimed — this shall be his weapon 
of defence. The Word shall find access to 
those troubled consciences, those dismayed 
hearts, — and they shall be strengthened. A 
powerful impulse was needed, and powerfully 
was the voice of Luther lifted up. He ad- 
dressed the penitents in atone of intrepid dig- 
nity and high-minded contempt for all second- 
ary considerations. "When you are asked," 
said he, " whether or not you approve of my 
books, let your answer be — ' You are a con- 
fessor, not an inquisitor nor a jailer. It is 
my duty to confess whatsoever my conscience 
prompts me to disclose, it is yours to abstain 
from prying into the secrets of my heart. 
Give me absolution first, and then dispute 
with Luther — with the Pope — with whomso- 
ever you please; but beware of turning the 
sacrament of penance into an instrument of 
strife and debate.' And if the confessor 
should refuse to yield," said Luther, " I would 
dispense with his absolution. Be not disquiet- 
ed ; if man absolves you not, God will ab- 
solve you. Rejoice, therefore, that you are 
absolved of God himself, and come forward 
fearlessly to the sacrament of the altar. The 
priest will have to answer at the last day for 
the absolution he has withheld. They may 
deny us the sacrament, but they cannot de- 
prive us of the strength and grace which God 
has attached to it. It is not their will, nor any 
power of theirs, but our own faith that the 
Lord has made essential to our salvation. 
The sacrament, — the altar, — the priest, — the 
church, — we may pass them all by; that 
word of God which the bull condemned is 
more than all these things! The soul may 
dispense with the sacrament, but it cannot 
live without the Word. Christ, the true 
bishop, will himself supply your spiritual 
feast." 

* In 1215, by the fourth Lateran Council under 
Innocent the Third. 



178 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Such was the strain of Luther's exhortation. 
That animating voice pierced the recesses of 
every dwelling, — of every troubled bosom, 
—and courage and faith were everywhere 
awakened by its echoes. But it was not 
enough for him to stand on the defensive, — he 
felt that he must become the assailant, and re- 
turn blow for blow. A book had been written 
against him by a Roman theologian, named 
Ambrosius Catharinus. " I will rouse the 
cholerofthat Italian beast," said Luther. He 
kept his word. In his answer, he proved by 
the revelations of Daniel and St. John, by the 
Epistles of St. Paul, St. Peter, and St. Jude, 
that the kingdom of Antichrist, predicted and 
described in the Bible, was no other than the 
Papacy. " I know for certain," said he, in 
conclusion, " that our Lord Jesus Christ liveth 
and reigneth. In the strength of that assu- 
rance I could face ten thousand Popes, and 
never shrink. May God visit us at length ac- 
cording to his infinite power, and hasten the 
day of the glorious coming of his Son, in 
which he shall destroy that man of sin. And 
let all the people say, Amen." 

And all the people did say, Amen ! A sa- 
cred dread took possession of every mind. The 
image of Antichrist seated on the Pontifical 
throne was present to every imagination. 
This new idea, so startlingly displayed by Lu- 
ther to his contemporaries in the glowing co- 
lours of prophetic delineation, gave a fearful 
shock to the power of Rome. Faith in the di- 
vine Word succeeded to that unqualified sub- 
mission w r hich had hitherto been rendered to 
the Church, and the Pope's authority, so long 
regarded with the deepest reverence, was now 
the object of general detestation and terror. 

Germany replied to the Papal bull by salut- 
ing Luther with redoubled acclamations. The 
plague had made its appearance in Wittem- 
berg, yet new students were continually flock- 
ing to the university, and from five to six 
nundred disciples were statedly assembled to 
listen to the lectures of Luther and Melanc- 
thon. The convent chapel and the city church 
were both too small for the eager crowd that 
hung on the lips of the Reformer. The prior 
of the Augustines was in constant alarm, lest 
the buildings should give way under the 
weight of the throngs that filled them. Nor 
was this excitement confined within the walls 
of Wittemberg — all Germany partook of it. 
From princes, nobles, and scholars, in every 
quarter, — Luther received letters that spoke 
the language of encouragement and of faith. 
JMore than thirty such letters were shown by 
him to Spalatin. 

On one occasion the Margrave of Branden- 
burg, accompanied by several other princes, 
came to Wittemberg, to pay Luther a visit. 
"They wanted to see the Man," as he him- 
self expresses it. And of a truth all wanted 
to see the man whose voice stirred the nations 
and caused the Pontiff of the West to totter 
on his throne. 

The enthusiasm of Luther's friends grew 
stronger every day. " 0, the unheard-of folly i 
of Emser!" cried Melancthon, "that he] 



should presume to measure his strength with 
our Hercules, overlooking the finger of Gog 
in what has been done by Luther, even as the 
king of Egypt overlooked it in the acts of 
Moses." The mild Melancthon employed the 
most energetic language to urge forward such 
as appeared to him to be falling back, or 
pausing in their course. " Luther has arisen 
to defend the truth," said he, addressing John 
Hesse, "and dost thou keep silence] He 
breathes still — ay, and prospers, — in spite of 
all the wrath and fury of Pope Leo. Remember 
that it is impossible for Romish impiety to 
giveasanctiontothe Gospel. In this unhappy 
age how can we hope that a Judas or a Caia- 
phas, — a Pilate or a Herod will ever be want- 
ing to uphold the evil cause ] Stand forth then 
to resist such adversaries, in the might of 
God's holy word." 

Besides this, caustic satires against the 
most conspicuous among the Italian agents of 
the Pope were circulated through all the pro- 
vinces of the empire. Ulric von Hutten was 
indefatigable in his exertions. He addressed 
letters to Luther, to the Legates, to all the 
most considerable personages of Germany. 
" I tell thee — once and again I tell thee, Ma- 
rinus !" said he in an epistle to the Legate 
Carracioli, " that those deceitful mists with 
which you blinded our eyes are scattered for- 
ever ; the Gospel is preached, the truth is 
made known, the absurdities of Rome are 
given up to contempt, — your decrees are un 
heeded, and null,— our deliverance is at hand." 

Not content with the use of prose, Hutten 
had recourse also to verse. He published his 
" Outcry on the Fire raised by Luther." 1 Ap- 
pealing in this poem to Christ himself, he 
besought him to rebuke in his fiery displea- 
sure all who dared to deny his authority. 
Hutten was not inclined to stop at words ; — 
he was eager to draw his sword in the strug- 
gle. Luther reproved his rash designs. " 1 
would not have the Gospel supported by vio- 
lence and carnage," said he: "I have written 
to Hutten to tell him so." 

The celebrated painter, Lucas Cranach, 
published a set of prints under the title ot 
Christ' 's Passion and Antichrist ,• representing 
on one side the. glory and magnificence of the 
Pope ; on the other the humiliation and suf- 
ferings of the Redeemer. Luther composed 
the inscriptions for these prints. They pro- 
duced an unexampled effect. The people re- 
nounced their attachment to a church which 
appeared in every particular so directly op- 
posed to the example of its founder. "It is 
an excellent work," said Luther, "for the 
laity." 

In some instances those who attacked the 
Papacy employed weapons ill suited to the 
sanctity of the Christian character Emser 
had answered Luther's work, addressed "To 
the Goat of Leipsic," by another, inscribed 
"To the Bull of Wittemberg:" the appella- 
tion was not ill chosen. But at Magdeburg 
Emser's book was hung to the gallows, with 
this inscription: "The book is worthy of its 
place ;" and a rod was hung under it, to denote 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



179 



the punishment due to the author. At Doeb- 
lin there was written under the Pope's ball, 
in derision of its impotent fury, "The nest is 
here, but the birds are flown." 

The students of Wi^temberg, taking 1 ad van- 
tage of the carnival, dressed up one of their 
own number in garments resembling those 
worn by the Pope, and carried him in pompous 
procession, though in a manner somewhat too 
ludicrous, as Luther remarks, through the 
streets of the city. When they reached the 
great square beside the river, some of them, 
feigning a mutiny, made a sudden attempt to 
throw the Pope into the water. His Holiness, 
unwilling to submit to the immersion, took to 
his heels; his cardinals, his bishops, and fa- 
miliars of every degree did the same; the stu- 
dents chased them from street to street, and 
every corner of Wittemberg enjoyed the spec- 
tacle of some Romish dignitary pursued by 
the jeers and shouts of the excited populace. 
"The enemy of Christ," says Luther, " who 
mocks at kings, and at Christ himself, meets 
but a just requital, when he also is turned into 
mockery." Here, in our judgment, he errs; 
the spotless dignity of truth ought not to be 
so profaned. In the conflicts she is called 
upon to wage, she needs not such auxiliaries 
as songs, or caricatures, or the mummeries of 
a carnival. It may be, indeed, that without 
these popular demonstrations, her success 
would be less apparent ; but it would be purer, 
and consequently more durable. 

It was not all exultation and defiance, how- 
ever, with the Reformer. Behind his triumphal 
chariot, drawn joyously along by enthusiastic 
and devoted adherents, there stood the slave 
to remind him of impending evil. Some of 
his friends, at this time, seemed disposed to 
retrace their steps. Staupitz, whom he called 
his father, appeared to be wavering. The 
Pope had accused him, and Staupitz had de- 
clared himself ready to submit to the judgment 
of his Holiness. "I fear," said Luther, "that 
by accepting the Pope as ) r our judge, you will 
seem to renounce me and the doctrines which 
I have maintained. If Christ loves you, he 
will constrain you to retract your letter. Christ 
is rejected, stripped, blasphemed ; this is not 
the time to shrink back, but to sound the 
onset. You exhort me to be humble; I, on 
the other hand, exhort you to be firm : for you 
have too much humility, as I have too much 
pride. I shall be called a proud man, I know ; 
a covetous man, an adulterer, a homicide, an 
antipope, a wretch guilty of every crime. It 
matters little, — so that no one can charge me 
with having impiously kept silence while the 
Lord was complaining, ' I looked on my right 
hand and beheld ; but there was no man that 
would know me.' The word of Christ is a 
word, not of peace, but of the sword. If you 
will not follow Christ, let me' advance alone. 
I will press forward, and the prize of the high 
calling shall be mine." 

Luther thus, like a consummate general, 
kept a watchful eye on the face of the battle; 
and while fresh combatants were continually 
lushing forward at his bidding into the thick- 



est of the fight, he failed not to mark where 
any of his followers were beginning to give 
ground; nor was he slow to rally them ayain 
beneath their adopted standard. His warning 
voice resounded far and wide. Letter followed 
letter in rapid succession. Three printing 
presses were incessantly employed in multi- 
plying the copies of his various writings. 
His discourses passed from hand to hand 
through the whole nation; supporting the agi- 
tated penitent in the confessional, giving cou- 
rage to the faltering convert in the cloister, 
and asserting the claims of evangelic truth, 
even in the abodes of princes. 

"Amid the storms that assailed me," he 
wrote to the Elector, " I always hoped that I 
should be permitted to enjoy repose at last. 
But I now see that this was one of the thoughts 
of man. Day after day the waves are rolling 
higher, and on every side the ocean hems me 
in. Fiercely, indeed, is the tempest raging: 
yet I still grasp the sword with one hand,' 
while with the other I build up the walls of 
Sion." His former ties are now broken: the 
arm that levelled the thunders of excommuni- 
cation against him, has severed them forever. 
" Being excommunicated by the bull," said 
he, "I am released from the authority of the 
Pope and the monastic laws. I embrace my 
deliverance, with joy. Yet I relinquish not 
the habit of my order; nor do I leave the con- 
vent." And still, in the midst of all this 
commotion, he recalls to mind the dangers to 
which his own soul is exposed in the struggle. 
He feels the necessity of watching over him- 
self. "Thou dost well to pray for me," he 
wrote to Peliican, who was residing at Basle ; 
"I cannot give myself up as I ought to holy 
exercises; life is a cross to me. Thou dost 
well in exhorting me to moderation ; I feel the 
need of it; but I am not master of myself : an 
impulse, of I know not what nature, hurries 
me away. I bear enmity to no man ; but I 
am so beset with enemies myself, that I can- 
not be sufficiently on my guard against the 
seductions of Satan. Pray for me, then. ..." 

Thus it was that both the Reformer and the 
Reformation were led forward on the way 
which God had marked out for them. The 
agitation was still spreading more widely. 
Persons who might have been expected to 
prove the stanchest adherents of the hierarchy, 
began now to share in the general movement. 
"Those even," says Eck, with considerable 
candour, "on whom the Pope has conferred 
the best benefices and the richest prebends, 
are as mute as so many senseless stocks. 
There are many of them even, who extol Lu- 
ther as a man filled with the Spirit of God, 
and call the defenders of the Pope sophists 
and flatterers." The Church, apparently in 
full vigour, supported by the treasures, the 
power, the armed array of the world, — hut in 
reality exhausted, enfeebled, destitute of the 
love of God, of Christian vitality, of devotion 
to the truth, — found herself, in this condition, 
opposed to a company of simple-minded hut 
courageous men, who had learned that God is 
with them who contend for his word, and 



180 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



therefore never doubted of their victory. In 
all ages it has been seen how great is the 
power of any predominant idea to work upon 
the inert mass of mankind, to rouse the spirit 
of a nation, and to urge its votaries by thou- 
sands, if need be, into the field of battle and 
the very jaws of death. But if an idea whose 
origin is earthly has a potency so great, what 
limit shall we set to the power of one commu- 
nicated from above, when God himself has 
opened men's hearts to receive hi Not often, 
indeed, in the world's history has such a power 
been exerted ; it waa displayed, however, in 
the infancy of Christianity; at the period of 



the Reformation it was exhibited again ; and 
it shall be witnessed once more in the latter 
days. Men who despised the riches and the 
grandeur of the world, and were content to 
lead a life of poverty and privation, began now 
to bestir themselves for the sake of that most 
precious of all treasures, the doctrine of truth 
and grace. All the elements of religious feel- 
ing were fermenting in the agitated bosom of 
society, and a glowing enthusiasm was kin- 
dled in men's souls, which forced thein, by 
an irresistible impulse, into that glorious career 
opened by the providence of God for the moral 
renovation of their race. 



BOOK VII. 



THE DIET OF WORMS. 



January to May, 1521. 



Difficulties — Luther summoned to Worms — Public Opinion — Efforts of Aleander — Fresh charges 
against Luther — Aleander rouses Rome — The Bull fulminated — Luther's Motives — Political 
Councils — The Confessor — And the Chancellor — Unavailing Manoeuvres — Erasmus's Declara- 
tion — The Briefs — The Threats — The Audience — Speech of Aleander — Rome's Defence — Ap- 
peal to Charles — Effects of the Nuncio's Speech — Feelings of the Princes — Duke George's 
Speech — Character of the Reformation — Charles gives way — Public Opinion — Luther's Serenity 
— Death and no Retractation — Summons — Safe-conduct — Fears of the Elector — Holy Thursday at 
Rome — The Pope and Luther — Luther's Courage — Bugenhagen — Persecution in Pomerania — ■ 
Amsdorff— -Schurff— Hiitten to Charles V. — Luther's Farewell — Luther at Weimar — Cavalcade 
of Erfurth — Justus Jonas — Preaches at Erfurth — Faith and Works — The People and Luther — 
Luther to Spalatin — -A Stratagem — Luther's Resolution — Enters Worms — Death-song — Capito 
and the Temporizers — Citation — His Prayer — The Strength of the Reformation — Luther repairs 
to the Diet — The Diet — Luther is encouraged — Luther s Answer — Luther's Prudence — The 
Spaniards — Luther's Vow — Luther again before the Diet — Luther's Speech — Requires Proof of 
Error— A Warning Voice — Repeats his Speech in Latin — New Attempt — Calm in the Midst of 
Tumult — Duke Eric's Offering — The Elector and Spalatin — The Emperor's Message. — The 
Safe-conduct in Danger — Enthusiasm for Luther — Conciliation — Concourse to Luther — Philip 
of Heose — Conference at Apb. of Treves' — Wehe's Exhortation — Private Conversation — Coch- 
lseus's Proposal — Bursting of the Wineglass — Conference at the Hotel — Final Conference with 
the Archbishop — End of the Negotiations — Luther ordered to quit Worms — Luther's Departure 
from Worms — His Letter to Cranach — Luther's Letter to Charles V. — The Curate of Eisenach — 
Charles signs the Decree against Luther — The Edict of Worms — Luther among his Relations— 
The Ways of God — The Wartburg — The Reformation under a Cloud. 



The Reformation engendered by the solita- 
ry struggles of a broken and contrite spirit, in 
a cell of the convent at Erfurth, had been gain- 
ing strength from the moment of its birth. A 
man of humble station, holding in his hand 
the Word of life, had stood erect in the pre- 
sence of earthly dignities, and they had quail- 
ed before him. Armed with that Word alone, 
he had encountered first Tetzel and his nume- 
rous host, and after a brief resistance those 
greedy traffickers had been driven from the 
field ; — then the Roman Legate at Augsburg, 
and the Legate in confusion had suffered his 
prey to escape ; — then again the learned di- 
vines in the halls of Leipsic, and the astonish- 
ed theologians had seen the weapons of their 
scholastic logic shivered in their hands; — 
lastly, when the Pope himself had started from 
his slumbers to launch his fiercest lightnings 
at the head of the offending monk — that same 
Word had again been the safeguard of him 
who trusted in it, and the arm of the spiritual 
despot had been stricken with palsy. One 



struggle more was yet to be enduTed ; for the 
Word was destined to triumph over the Em- 
peror of the West, over the kings and princes 
of many lands, and at length, having humbled 
all earthly opposition, to be exalted in the 
church, and there to reign supreme as the very 
Word of the living God. 

A solemn diet was about to be convened, — 
the first assembly of the German States since 
the accession of Charles. Nuremberg, the 
city in which, by virtue of the Golden Bull, 
it ought to have been held, was at this time 
afflicted by the plague; it was therefore sum- 
moned to meet at Worms, on the 6th of Janua- 
ry, 1521. Never before had so many princes 
been present at the Diet ; on this occasion all 
were desirous of taking a part in the first act 
of the young Emperor's government ; all were 
ambitious of displaying their own grandeur. 
Among the rest, the young Landgrave Philip 
of Hesse, who was afterwards to play so im- 
portant a part in the Reformation, arrived at 
Worms about the middle of January, with a 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



181 



tTain of six hundred cavaliers, many of them 
rrighl} 7 distinguished for their military prowess. 

A more powerful motive, however, had 
actuated the electors, the dukes, the archbish- 
ops, the landgraves, the margraves, the counts, 
the bishops, the barons and lords of the Em- 
pire, as well as the deputies of the free cities 
and the ambassadors of the various foreign 
sovereigns, whose gorgeous retinues were now 
pouring from every quarter into the city of 
Worms. Intimation had been given that the 
Diet would be occupied with the nomination 
of a Council of Regency to administer the 
government in the Emperor's absence, with 
the question regarding the jurisdiction of the 
Imperial Chamber, and with other weighty 
matters ; but the public attention was chiefly 
fixed upon a subject distinct from all these, 
but which the Emperor had also mentioned in 
his letters of convocation, namely, the Re- 
formation. The great political interests of 
state faded into insignificance when contrasted 
with the cause of the monk of Wittemberg. 
This was the main topic of discourse among 
the dignified personages who were assembled 
in Worms. 

Every thing indicated that the Diet would 
be a difficult and.boisterous one. Charles, at 
this early period, had not yet adopted a de- 
cided line of policy, his tutor and first minis- 
ter died while the assembly was sitting, — 
many ambitious designs were on foot, — many 
conflicting passions at work, — the Spaniards 
and the Flemings were striving hard to ex- 
clude each other from the confidence of their 
youthful Sovereign, — the Nuncios were busily 
pursuing their artful schemes, — the German 
Princes had assumed a tone of independence. 
It was easy to foresee that a struggle was at 
hand in which all the subtleties of party in- 
trigue would find ample exercise. 

How was Charles to act, between the Pa- 
pal Nuncio on the one hand, and the Elector 
to whom he was indebted for his crown on the 
other % How avoid giving offence either to 
Aleander or to Frederic? The former was 
continually urging the Emperor to execute the 
Pope's bull ; the latter as perseveringly en- 
treated him to take no steps against the monk 
until he should have .allowed him a hearing. 
Desirous of satisfying both these contending 
parties, the young Prince, during a temporary 
residence at Oppenheim, had written to the 
Elector to bring Luther to the Diet, on the as- 
surance that no injustice should be practised 
against, him, that lie should be protected from 
all violence, and that a free conference should 
be allowed him with men qualified to discuss 
the disputed points. 

This letter from Charles, which was accom- 
panied by others from his minister Chievres 
and the Count of Nassau, threw the Elector 
into great perplexity. He well knew that at 
any moment an alliance with the Pope might 
become necessary to the young and ambitious 
Emperor, and that Luther in that case would 
be- lost. If he carried the Reformer to Worms, 
he might probably be conducting him to the 
scaffold. And yet the Emneror's orders were 



peremptory. The Elector desired Spalatin 
to inform Luther of the directions he had re- 
ceived. " Our enemies," observed the chap- 
lain, " are straining every nerve to accomplish 
their design." 

The friends of Luther trembled, but he him- 
self partook not of their fears. His health at 
that time was very weak; but this he heeded 
not. " If I cannot perform the journey to 
Worms as a man in good health," said he in 
his answer to the Elector, £ 'I will be carried 
thither in a litter. For since the Emperor has 
summoned me, 1 can regard it only as the call 
of God. If they intend to use violence against 
me, as they probably do, for assuredly it is 
with no view of gaining information that they 
require me to appear before them ; I commit 
the matter into the hands of God. He still 
lives and reigns who preserved the three Is- 
raelites in the fiery furnace. If it be not His 
will to save me, my life is little worth. Let 
us only take care that the Gospel be not ex- 
posed to the insults of the ungodly, and let us 
shed our blood in its defence rather than allow 
them to triumph. Who shall say whether my 
life or my death would contribute most to the 
salvation of my brethren 1 It is not for us to 
decide. Let us only pray God that our young 
Emperor may not begin his reign by imbruing 
his hands in my blood. I would rather perish 
by the sword of Rome. You remember the 
judgments with which the Emperor Sigis- 
mund was visited after the murder of John 
Huss. Expect any thing from me but flight or 
recantation. Fly I cannot, still less can I re- 
cant." 

Before Luther's letter reached him, the 
Elector had formed his resolution. This 
Prince, whose acquaintance with the Gospel 
was daily increasing, began now to adopt a 
more decided course. He was ( sensible that 
the conference at Worms could lead to no ad- 
vantageous result. " It seems to me," he 
wrote to the Emperor, " that to bring Luther 
with me to Worms, would be an undertaking 
of much difficulty. I beg to be relieved from 
it. Moreover, it has never been my desire to 
favour his doctrines, but only to prevent him 
from being condemned unheard. The Le- 
gates, without waiting for your sanction, took 
measures which were injurious both to Lu- 
ther's honour and to mine; and I have reason 
to fear that he has been provoked to an act of 
imprudent retaliation, which, in the event of 
his appearance at Worms, might place him in 
extreme jeopardy." The Elector alluded to 
the burning of the Pope's bull. 

But the report of Luther's intended appear- 
ance had already been circulated at Worms. 
The seekers after novelty heard it with joy, — 
the Imperial courtiers with alarm, — but by 
none was it received with so indignant a feel- 
ing as by the Papal Legate. Aleander, on 
his way to the Diet, had had opportunities of 
seeing to what extent the Gospel proclaimed 
by Luther had found acceptance in every 
class of society. - Academicians, lawyers, 
nobles, the inferior clergy, many even of the 
monks, and vast numbers of the common peo 



:89 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pie, had embraced the Reformation. The ad- 
herents of the new doctrines showed a fearless 
front, their language was frank and firm, — 
and, on the contrary, an unconquerable terror 
paralyzed the partisans of Rome. The Pa- 
pacy was standing yet, but those who were 
regarded as its pillars began to stagger, for 
their ears had already caught the presages 
of approaching ruin; — presages resembling 
that faint and dubious sound which alone 
gives brief warning when a mountain tofeters 
to its fall. Aleander, in the course of his 
journey to Worms, was often subjected to the 
severest mortification. When he had occa- 
sion to halt in any spot for refreshment or re- 
pose, neither collegians, nor nobles, nor priests, 
even among those believed to be favourable 
to the Pope's cause, would venture to receive 
him, and the haughty Nuncio was obliged to 
seek shelter in the meanest inns. Alarmed 
by these symptoms, Aleander concluded that 
his life was in danger. He arrived at W T orms, 
with that idea uppermost in his mind, and 
his Roman fanaticism assumed additional bit- 
terness from the sense of personal injury. He 
had immediate recourse to every means within 
his reach to prevent the audacious appearance 
of the formidable Luther. " Would it not be 
a scandal," said he, " to see laymen insti- 
tuting a fresh inquiry into a cause in which 
the Pope has already pronounced a sentence 
of condemnation'?" To a Roman courtier, 
nothing could be so unwelcome as an inquiry, 
— and, moreover, this was to have taken place 
in Germany, not at Rome, a circumstance in 
itself deeply affronting, even on the supposi- 
tion of Luther being eventually condemned 
without a dissentient voice; but such result 
of the trial was uncertain. Might it not be 
feared that the man whose powerful eloquence 
had already done such deadly mischief might 
draw aside many of the princes and lords into 
the path of perdition 1 Aleander's remon- 
strances with Charles were of the most urgent 
character, he entreated, he threatened, he spoke 
in the lofty tone of one who represented the 
Head of the Church. Charles gave way, and 
wrote to the Elector that inasmuch as the 
time allowed to Luther had expired, he was 
now in the condition of a man actually ex- 
communicated by the Pope, and consequently, 
if he would not retract what he had written 
Frederic must leave him at W'ittemberg. But 
that prince had already commenced his jour- 
ney without him. " I beseech the Lord," 
said Melancthon, when the Elector took his 
departure, " to deal graciously with our so- 
vereign. On him rest all our hopes for the 
revival of Christianity. His enemies will 
stop at nothing, xai Ttdvta 7^ov xcvrjaofxhoi,* 
Dut God will bring to nought the devices of 
A.chitophel. As for us, let us perform our 
part in the conflict by our teachings and our 
prayers " Luther was much grieved that he 
was forbidden to appear at Worms. 

It was not enough for Aleander, however, 



* They w^ll not leave a 6 tone unturned.' (Corp. 
Ref. i. 279 24 Jan.) 



that Luther was prevented from making his 
appearance at the Diet, — he was bent on 
obtaining his condemnation. He returned 
incessantly to the charge with the princes, 
prelates, and other members of the assembly ; 
he charged the Augustine not only with dis- 
obedience and heresy, but also with sedi- 
tion, rebellion, impiety and blasphemy. But 
the very tones of his voice betrayed the pas- 
sions by which he was actuated. " Hatred 
and the thirst of vengeance," an observer re- 
marked, "are his motives, rather than any 
true zeal for religion;"* and in spite of the 
frequency and the vehemence of his harangues 
he persuaded no one. Some reminded him 
that the Pope's bull had only condemned Lu- 
ther conditionally ; others allowed indications 
to escape them of the joy they felt at seeing 
the pride of Rome brought down. The Em- 
peror's ministers on the one hand, and the 
ecclesiastical Electors on the other, affected 
extreme coldness, — the former, in order that 
the Pope might perceive the necessity of con- 
tracting an alliance with their master, the lat- 
ter that he might be compelled to purchase 
their co-operation at a higher price. A con- 
viction of Luther's innocence was the pre- 
vailing sentiment in the assembly, and Ale- 
ander could not restrain his indignation. 

But the coldness of the Diet he could bet- 
ter have brooked than the coldness which was 
now manifested by Rome. Rome, when at 
length, with much difficulty, she had been 
induced to treat the attack of the "drunken 
German" as a serious matter, never imagined 
that a bull emanating from the Sovereign 
Pontiff could fail to reduce him at once to 
complete and abject submission. — She had 
relapsed into her former security, and neither 
bull nor coin did she now forward to Ger- 
many. Now, without money, how was it 
possible to manage an affair like this ] Rome 
must be roused, and Aleander accordingly 
sounds the alarm. " Germany," he wrote tc 
the Cardinal de Medicis, " is falling away 
from Rome; — the Princes, I say, are falling 
away from the Pope. A little more delay — 
a little more compromise — and the case be- 
comes hopeless ! — Money ! Money ! or Ger- 
many is lost!" 

At this cry Rome awakes ; the retainers of 
the Papacy, assembled in the Vatican, cast 
aside their torpor, and hasten to forge fresh 
thunders of direful potency. The Pope issues 
a new bull, and that excommunication, with 
which hitherto the heretical doctor had only 
been threatened, is now decidedly pronounced 
against him and against all his adherents. 
Rome, by thus wilfully snapping asunder the 
last thread that yet held him to her church, 
gave Luther more liberty, and consequently 
more power. Assailed by the papal thunders, 
he cast himself, with a more ardent love, into 
the arms of Christ. Driven from the out- 
ward temple, he felt more deeply that be 



* (Hist. Joh. Cochlaei de actis et scriptis IVIar- 
tini Lutheri. Par. 1556. p. 27. verso. — Cochlaeus 
was one of Luther's greatest, enemies. We shall 
shortly have to speak of him.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



183 



was a temple himself, inhabited by the Holy 
Spirit. 

"It is a glorious thing to think of," said he, 
"that we sinners, believing in Christ and feed- 
ing on his flesh, should have him dwellingin us, 
— in all his power, his wisdom, and his righte- 
ousness, — for it is written, ' Whosoever believeth 
i?i me, in him I abide? wonderful abode ! 
marvellous tabernacle, how far excelling that 
which was set up by Moses! within, how 
magnificently adorned, with costly hangings 
and purple veils and implements of gold ! and 
yet without, even like that other tabernacle 
which God commanded to be erected in the 
wilderness of Sinai there is nothing to be seen 
but the coarse covering of ram's skins and 
goat's hair. Often does the Christian stumble, 
and in his outward aspect all is weakness and 
reproach. But what matters it"? — beneath 
that infirmity and foolishness of his, a power 
lies hid which the world cannot know, and 
which yet must overcome the world ; for 
Christ abideth in him. I have sometimes 
seen Christians halting in their walk, and 
ready to fall, but when the hour came that 
they must wrestle with the enemy, or plead 
their Master's cause before the world, Christ 
on a sudden stirred within them, and so strong 
and valiant did they then become that Satan 
was dismayed and fled from their presence." 

Such an hour as he spoke of was soon to 
come upon himself; and Christ, who " abode" 
with him was then to be his present help. 
Rome in the mean time cast him off in scorn. 
The Reformer and all who took part with 
him, of whatsoever rank or degree, were ana- 
thematized, and were declared to have forfeit- 
ed for themselves and their descendants all 
their honours and their worldly goods. Every 
faithful Christian was enjoined, as he valued 
his own soul, to shun all intercourse with that 
accursed crew; in every place where the 
heresy had gained a footing, it was the duty 
of the priests on Sundays and holidays, at the 
hour of high mass, solemnly to publish the 
sentence of excommunication. The sacred 
vessels and ornaments were to be removed 
from the altar, — the cross to be laid on the 
ground, — twelve priests, holding torches in 
their hands, were to light them first, and im- 
mediately to dash them down, and extinguish 
them by trampling them under foot ; the 
bishop was then to proclaim the condemna- 
tion of those ungodly men ; the bells were to 
be tolled ; the bishop and the priests in con- 
cert were to chant anathemas and maledic- 
tions ; and the service was to be concluded by 
a discourse of unsparing severity against Lu- 
ther and his adherents. 

Twenty-two days had elapsed since the 
publication of the sentence at Rome, though 
it probably had not yet transpired in Ger- 
many, when Luther, having heard that it 
was again in contemplation to summon him to 
Worms, addressed a letter to the Elector, 
couched in such terms as to give that Prince 
the option of communicating it to the Diet. 
Lvther was anxious to correct the erroneous 
nations entertained by the Princes who com- 



1 posed that august assembly, — and candidly 
to explain to them the true merits of a causo 
so little understood. " I rejoice with all my 

l heart, most serene Prince," said he, " that his 
Imperial Majesty is disposed to have this af- 
fair brought before him. I call Christ to wit- 
ness that it is the cause of the German na- 
tion, of the Catholic church, of the Christian 
world, — of God himself, — not the cause of a 
solitary, humble individual. I am ready to 
repair to Worms, provided only that a safe- 
conduct, and learned, pious, and impartial 
judges be allowed me. 1 am ready to answer 
for myself, — for it is not in the spirit of reck- 
lessness, nor for the sake of worldly profit, 
that I have taught the doctrine which is laid 
to my charge ; — I have taught it in obedience 
to my conscience and to my oath as a doctoi 
of the Holy Scriptures; — for God's glory 
have I taught it, — for the salvation of the 
Christian Church, — for the good of the Ger- 
man people, — for the rooting out of gross su 
perstition and grievous abuses, — the cure of 
innumerable evils, — the wiping away of foul 
disgrace, — the overthrow of tyranny, blasphe- 
my, and impiety in countless forms." 

This declaration, made at so critical a mo- 
ment of Luther's life deserves to be regarded 
with deep attention. Here we see the motives 
by which he was actuated, here are the secret 
springs which gave the first impulse of revi- 
val to the Christian community. We find no 
traces here of monkish emulation, or a desire to 
break loose from the restraint of monastic vows. 
But all this was of little moment to mere 
politicians. An alliance with the Pope was 
every day becoming more necessary to the 
success of Charles's designs. Situated as he 
was between the Pope and the Elector, he 
could have wished either to separate Frederic 
from Luther, or to satisfy the Pope without 
offending Frederic. But how was this to be 
accomplished ] Many of his courtiers treated 
the whole affair of the Augustine monk with 
that contemptuous indifference which politi- 
cians generally affect when the interests of re- 
ligion are discussed. " Let us avoid all ex- 
treme measures," said they. " Let us entangle 
Luther in negotiations, and silence him by 
the help of some partial concessions. To 
stifle the flame, not fan it, — is the course of 
true policy. If the monk fall into the trap, 
we have gained our object. By accepting a 
compromise, he will fix a gag on his own 
mouth and ruin his cause. To save appear- 
ances, a few external reforms must be granted, 
— the Elector will be satisfied, the Pope will 
be conciliated, and things will go on once 
more in the ordinary track." 

Such was the plan devised by the confi- 
dants of the emperor. The doctors of Wit- 
temberg appear to have discovered this new 
artifice. "They are trying to gain men over 
secretly," said Melancthon, " and mining hi 
the dark." John Glapio, the Emperor's con- 
fessor, a man in high repute, an adroit courtier, 
and a wily monk, was charged with the exe- 
cution of the scheme. Glapio possessed the 
full confidence of Charles, who, adopting ld 



184 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



this particular the Spanish custom, abandoned 
to him almost entirely the care of all matters 
relating to religion. Charles had no sooner 
been elevated to the Imperial throne, than 
Leo hastened to gain the good will of Glapio 
by marks of favour which the confessor warm- 
ly acknowledged. He could not better dis- 
charge his debt of gratitude to the Pontiff than 
by silencing the new-born heresy, and accord- 
ingly he applied himself to the work. 

Among the counsellors of the Elector of 
Saxony, one who held a conspicuous place 
was Gregory Bruck, or Pontanus, a man dis- 
tinguished for intelligence, decision, and cou- 
rage, whose skill in divinity might have 
shamed all the doctors; while his wisdom 
was adequate to baffle the united craft of all 
the monks in the court of Charles the Fifth. 
Glapio, knowing the influence which the 
Chancellor possessed, requested an interview 
with him, and introducing himself, as though 
he had been a friend of the Reformer : "I was 
filled with joy," said he, in a kindly tone, 
"when I read the first writings of Luther; I 
looked upon him as a vigorous tree that had 
shot forth goodly branches and gave promise 
to the Church of the most precious fruit. 
Many others, it is true, had entertained the 
same views as he; but none had so nobly and 
undauntedly proclaimed the truth. But when 
I read his book on the Babylonian Captivity, 
I felt like a man stunned and overwhelmed by 
a shower of blows from head to foot. I can- 
not believe," added the monk, " that brother 
Martin will avow himself the author of it; it 
is marked neither by his peculiar style, nor 
by the learning he elsewhere evinces." After 
some discussion the Confessor continued: 
" Conduct me to the Elector, and in your 
presence I will show him where Luther has 
erred." 

The Chancellor replied that the business of 
the Diet left his Highness no leisure, and, 
moreover, that he took no part in that affair. 
The monk, to his great vexation, found his 
request eluded. "Nevertheless," said the 
Chancellor, "since you say there is no evil 
without a remedy, be pleased to explain 
yourself." 

Assuming a confidential air, the Confessor 
answered, "The Emperor earnestly desires to 
see a man like Luther reconciled to the 
Church; for his books (before the publication 
of the treatise on the Babylonian Captivity) 
were by no means disagreeable to his Majesty. 
That last w 7 ork of Luther's was, doubtless, 
written under the irritation of feeling excited 
by the bull. Let him but declare that he had 
no intention to disturb the peace of the Church, 
and the learned of every nation will join hands 
with him. Procure me an audience of his 
Highness." 

The Chancellor waited on the Elector again. 
Frederic well knew that any retractation what- i 
soever was impossible. "Tell the Confessor," 
said he, " that I cannot comply with his wish; ! 
but continue your conference with him." 

Glapio received this message with many ; 
demonstrations of respect; and, shifting his > 



' ground, he said, "Let the Elector name- some 
persons in whom he places confidence to deli- 
l berate on this affair." 

The Chancellor. — "The Elector does nol 
| profess to be Luther's advocate." 

The Confessor. — "Well, then, you and I, 
at least, can take the matter up. Christ is 
my witness that I urge this from love to the 
Church, and to Luther himself, who has 
opened so many hearts to the truth." 

The Chancellor having refused to undertake 
a task which properly belonged to the Reformer 
himself, was about to withdraw. 

" Stay !" said the monk. 

The Chancellor. — " What is your wish]" 

The Confessor. — " Let Luther deny that 
he is the author of the Babylonian Captivity." 

The Chancellor. — " But the Pope's bull 
condemns all his other works." 

The Confessor. — "That was because of 
his obstinacy. If he disclaims that book, the 
Pope, in virtue of his plenary authority, can 
easily reverse the sentence of excommunica- 
tion. What may we not hope for, now that 
we have so excellent an Emperor'?" 

Perceiving that these words had made some 
impression on the Chancellor, the monk fol- 
lowed them up by observing, " Luther always 
wants to argue from the Bible. The Bible — 
it is like wax ; you may stretch and mould it 
any way that you please. I would undertake 
to find authority in the Bible for doctrines 
more extravagant even than Luther's. He 
runs into error by interpreting every word of 
Christ as a command." Wishing next to act 
upon the other's fears, he added, " What 
would the issue be, if, to-morrow or the next 
day, the Emperor were to have recourse to 
arms ? . . . Think of that." 

The Confessor's artifices were not yet ex- 
hausted. "A man might have lived ten years 
in his company," says Erasmus, "without 
having fathomed him at last." 

" What an excellent book," said he to the 
Chancellor on his next visit, a few days after- 
wards, " is that work of Luther's on Christian 
liberty ! What wisdom, what learning, what 
wit does it display! it is the production of a 
scholar, indeed ! . . . . Let men of irreproach- 
able character be chosen on both sides, and 
let the Pope and Luther agree to abide by their 
judgment. In manyarticles.it is past a doubt 
that a decision would be in Luther's favour. . . 
I will speak to the Emperor about it myself. 
Believe me, I am not without grounds for 
what I say to you. I have told the Emperor 
that the chastisements of God would fall upon 
him and the princes also, unless the Church, 
the spouse of Christ, were cleansed from all 
those stains which now defile her. I told him, 
too, that God had raised up Luther, and given 
him a commission to reprove men for their 
sins, using him as a rod to punish the offences 
of the world." 

These words we may receive as the echo 
of the popular voice at that period, and as tes 
tifying the opinion which was then entertained 
of Luther, even by his enemies. The Chan- 
cellor, roused by what the monk had just said 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



185 



could not help expressing his surprise that his 
master should be treated with so little defer- 
ence. " The Emperor holds daily consulta- 
tions on this affair," said he, "and the Elector 
is invited to none of them. He thinks it 
strange that the Emperor, to whom he has 
rendered some service, should exclude him 
from his councils." 

The Confessor. — " I was never present at 
any of those deliberations but once, and on 
that occasion I heard the Emperor resist the 
importunities of the Legates. Five years 
hence it will be seen what Charles has done 
for the reformation of the Church." 

"The Elector," replied Pontanus, "knows 
nothing of Luther's intentions. Let him be 
summoned hither to speak for himself." 

The Confessor replied, with a deep sigh, 
"I call God to witness how ardently I desire 
to see the reformation of Christendom accom- 
plished." 

- To slacken the course of the affair, to keep 
Luther's mouth closed in the mean time — this 
w r as the sum of what Glapio aimed at; at all 
events, to prevent Luther from coming to 
Worms. To the nuncios, the monks, and the 
rest of the papal phalanx, a dead man return- 
ing from the other world, and appearing in the 
midst of the Diet, would not have been so 
fearful a spectacle as the bodily presence of 
the Doctor of Wittemberg. 

" How many days does it take to travel 
from Wittemberg to Worms'?" inquired the 
Confessor, in a tone of affected indifference; 
and immediately departed, having first en- 
treated Pontanus to present his very respectful 
salutations to the Elector. 

Such were the stratagems practised by the 
courtiers. The firmness of Pontanus discon- 
certed them all. That upright man was un- 
moved as a rock throughout the whole course 
of these proceedings. And, in the end, the 
monks themselves fell into the snare which 
they had laid for their enemies. "The Chris- 
tian," said Luther, in his figurative language, 
"is like the bird tethered beside a trap. 
Wolves and foxes prowl around it, and at 
length spring upon their prey ; but they fall 
into the pit and perish there, while that timo- 
rous bird remains unharmed. Thus it is that 
we are preserved by the holy Angels, and 
those devouring wolves, the hypocrites and 
persecutors, are restrained from doing us any 
hurt." Not only were the artifices of the 
Confessor unavailing, but the admissions he 
had made confirmed Frederic in his opinion 
that Luther was in the right, and that it was 
his duty to protect him. 

The hearts of men were still inclining more 
strongly towards the Gospel. A Dominican 
prior proposed that the Emperor, the Kings 
of France, Spain, England, Portugal, Hun- 
gary, and Poland, the Pope, and the Electors, 
should name representatives, to whom the de- 
termination of the controversy should be com- 
mitted. "A case like this," it was urged, 
" has never been decided by the Pope alone." 
Such was the spirit now everywhere preva- 
lent, that it seemed impossible to condemn, 



' Luther without having heard and convicted 
( him. 

Aleander, in the height of his alarm, dis- 
; played unwonted energy. It was no longer 
against the Elector and Luther alone that he 
had to contend. The secret negotiations of 
; the Confessor, the plan of accommodation 
| proposed by the Dominican, the acquiescence 
| of Charles's ministers, the coldness of Rornish 
piety even among the most devoted friends of 
the Pontiff— a coldness which Pallavicini 
likens to that produced by the gush of some 
icy stream, —all these circumstances Aleander 
viewed with a foreboding eye. He had at 
length received from Rome the money he had 
applied for; he had in his possession briefs 
couched in the strongest language, and ad- 
dressed to the highest authorities in the Em- 
pire. Fearful least his victim should escape 
him, he conceived that now was the time to 
strike the decisive blow. He forwarded the 
briefs to the several parties to whom they 
were directed, he scattered silver and gold 
with an unsparing hand, he lavished the most 
alluring promises, "and aided by his three- 
fold machinery," says the Cardinal, whose 
narrative we follow, "made a fresh effort to 
draw the wavering assembly to the Pope's 
side." For the Emperor he planted his snares 
with special diligence. He took advantage 
of the dissension between the Flemish and 
Spanish ministers. He laid incessant siege 
to the Sovereign's ear. The friends of Rome, 
waking at his call from their torpor, pressed 
the youthful Charles with their united soli- 
citations. " Not a day passes," wrote the 
Elector to his brother John, "but measures 
hostile to Luther are brought forward ! his 
enemies now demand that he should be placed 
under the ban of the Pope and the Emperor 
jointly; to injure him by every possible 
method is their single aim. The men who 
parade their red hats before us, — the Romans 
and their followers, — pursue this work with 
an unwearied zeal." 

Aleander did, in reality, urge the condem- 
nation of the Reformer with an impetuosity 
which Luther himself designates as "incre- 
dible fury." The Jlpostate Nuncio, as Luther 
calls him, was on one occasion transported 
by his anger so far beyond the bounds of cau- 
tion, that he cried aloud : " If ye seek to shake 
off your allegiance to Rome, ye Germans ! 
we will bring things to such a pass, that ye 
shall unsheath the sword of extermination 
against each other, and perish in your own 
blood." "It is in this way that the Pope 
feeds Christ's sheep," observes the Reformer. 
But much unlike this was the language he 
used himself. For his own sake he asked 
nothing. " Luther," said Melancthon, " is 
ready to purchase the glory and advancement 
of the Gospel at the cost of his own life." 
But he trembled when he thought of the 
calamities of which his death might be the 
signal. He saw a misguided people aveng 
ing his martyrdom, probably by shedding the 
blood of his adversaries, and especially that 
of the priests. He deprecated so terribie a 



186 



HISTORY OF 'IriE REFORMATION. 



responsibility. " God," said he, " is restrain- 
ing the fury of his enemies ; but if it break 
loose .... then shall we see a storm burst- 
ing on the heads of the priests like that which 
formerly swept over Bohemia and laid it 
waste. I shall not have to answer for this, 
for I have made it my earnest prayer that the j 
German Princes would oppose the Romans I 
by the wisdom of their counsel, not by the \ 
sword. To war against priests, a timid and I 
helpless tribe, is to war against women and 
children." 

Charles the Fifth did not long hold out 
against the solicitations of the Nuncio. The 
bigotry he inherited from his Flemish and 
Spanish ancestors had been successful l\ r fos- 
tered by his preceptor Adrian, who at a later 
period ascended the Pontifical throne. But 
it was necessary to obtain the concurrence of 
the States. " Convince the Diet,'''' said the 
youthful Monarch. This was exactly what 
Aleander desired ; it was agreed that he should 
be introduced to the assembly on the 13th of 
February. 

The Nuncio duly prepared himself for that 
solemn audience. It was a weighty task that 
had been imposed upon him; but Aleander 
was worthy to sustain it. He was not merely 
the Legate and representative of the Sove- 
reign Pontiff, invested with all the outward dig- 
nity befitting his exalted functions. — he was 
also one of the most eloquent men of his 
age. The friends of the Reformation waited 
the result in some anxiety. The Elector, 
under the pretext of indisposition, absented 
himself from the sitting; but he instructed 
some of his counsellors to attend and to take 
notes of the Nuncio's discourse. 

On the appointed day, Aleander proceeded 
to the Imperial Assembly. The feelings of 
the people were strongly excited, many called 
to mind how Annas and Caiaphas had gone 
tn the judgment-hall of Pilate to demand the 
death of him " who perverted the nation."" At 
the moment when the Nuncio had his foot 
upon the threshold, the usher of the Diet, 
says Pallavicini, rudely stepping up to him, 
set his clenched fist against his breast and 
thrust him back. " He was a Lutheran in 
his heart," adds the Romish historian. If this 
anecdote is true, it certainly shows an un- 
seemly excess of passion in the individual, 
but it also enables us to judge how powerful 
an effect had been produced by Luther's 
teaching, even among those who kept the 
doors of the Germanic Council. The high- 
spirited Aleander, repressing the officer's in- 
solence by his dignified demeanour, walked 
forward and entered the hall. Never had 
Rome been summoned to plead her cause 
before so august an assembly. The Nuncio 
placed before him such documents as he 
thought necessary to certify the sentence of 
condemnation, together with the writings of 
Luther and the Papal bulls, and then, silence 
having been proclaimed in the Diet, he spoke 
as fo'lows: — 

"■Most august Emperor! most potent 
Princes ! most excellent Deputies ! I appear 



before you to advocate the cause which en- 
gages the warmest affections of my heart. My 
office is to guard the ever-hallowed tiara that 
rests on the brows of my master, to uphold 
that Pontifical throne in whose defence 1 
would gladly deliver my body to the flames, 
were I only assured that the newly-spawned 
heresy which I stand forth to denounce would 
perish along with me.* 

" I deny the assertion that the controversy 
between Luther and Rome is one in which 
the Pope alone is interested. I have Luther'a 
writings here before me, and any man who 
has his eyesight may see that the)" attack the 
holy doctrines of the Church. He teaches 
that those alone are worthy communicants, 
whose consciences are filled with sorrow and 
confusion on account of their sins, and that 
baptism justifies no one unless he hath faith 
in that word of promise of which baptism is 
the pledge. He denies the necessity of good 
works to qualify us for everlasting glory. He 
denies that we have liberty and power to obey 
the law of nature and the law of God. He 
affirms that we sin of necessity in all our ac- 
tions. Have weapons better fitted than these 
to sever all the ties of morality ever been 
drawn from the arsenal of hell? .... He 
contends for the abrogation of religious vows. 
What miserable disorder would the world 
behold, if those who were designed to be the 
leaven of their race were to cast aside their 
sacred vestments, forsake the temples that 
once resounded with their holy songs and 
plunge at once into adultery, incest, and licen- 
tiousness ! 

" Why should I enumerate all the crimes 
of this audacious monk ] He sins against the, 
dead, for he denies the existence of purgato- 
ry ; he sins against heaven, for he says that he 
would not believe an angel sent from heaven ; 
he sins against the church, for he maintains 
that all Christians are priests; he sins against 
the saints, for he treats their venerable writ- 
ings with contempt; he sins against Councils, 
for he calls the Council of Constance an as- 
sembly of devils; he sins against the secular 
power, for he forbids the punishment of death 
to be inflicted on any one who has not com- 
mitted a mortal sin. There are people who 
tell us he is a man of piety. I will not 
impugn his private character; I will only 
remind this assembly that it is a common 
thing for the devil to deceive men under the 
appearance of sanctity." 



* Dummodo raecum una monstrum nascenm 
haeresis arderet. (Pallavicini, i. 97.) Secken- 
dorf, and after him other Protestant historians, 
have asserted that Pallavicini himself is the author 
of the speech which he puts into the mouth of 
Aleander. It is true, that the Cardinal admits 
having moulded it into the shape in which he pre- 
sents it to his readers ; but he specifies the mate- 
rials he has used, and among these Aleander's 
letters deposited in the archives of the Vatican. 
(Acta Wormatiae, fol. 66 and 99.) I think, there- 
fore, that to reject it altogether would be injudi- 
cious. I have collected some additional passages 
of the speech from other sources, Protestant and 
Romish. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



197 



Aleander next adverted to the decree of the 
Council of Florence, condemning the doctrine 
of purgatory, and laid the Pope's bull regard- 
ing that council at the Emperor's feet. The 
Archbishop of Mentz took up the bull and gave 
it into the hands of the Archbishop of Cologne 
and Treves, who received it reverently, and 
handed it to the other Princes. The Nuncio 
having thus preferred his charge against Lu- 
ther, proceeded in his second object, the jus- 
tification of Rome. 

" Luther tells us that at Rome the lips pro- 
fess what the life belies. If this be true, must 
not the inference we draw from it be exactly 
the opposite of his % If the ministers of any re- 
ligion live in accordance with its precepts, 
that very token proves the religion to be false. 
Such was the religion of the ancient Romans. 
Such is that of Mahomet, and that of Luther 
himself; but such is not the religion taught us 
by the Roman Pontiffs. No ! the doctrine 
they profess condemns them all as having 
failed in their duty, many of them as highly 
blameworthy, some, I frankly confess it, as 
deeply criminal. . . By that doctrine their 
actions are delivered over to the censure of 
men's tongues while they live, to the execra- 
tion of history after their death. Now what 
pleasure, or what profit, I ask, can the Pon- 
tiffs have proposed to themselves in inventing 
a religion like this 1 

" The Church, we shall be told, in the early 
ages was not governed by the Roman pon- 
tiffs .... and what is the inference here 1 If 
an argument like this is to have any weight, 
w r e may next exhort men to feed upon acorns, 
or princesses of royal blood to go forth and 
wash their garments by the river side." 

But the Nuncio's main attack was directed 
personally against his antagonist the Reform- 
er. Adverting indignantly to the opinion ex- 
pressed by some, that Luther ought to be heard : 
" Luther," cried he, "will allow himself to 
be set right by no one. Long ago the Pope 
summoned him to Rome, but he obeyed not 
the call. The Pope then required him to ap- 
pear before his Legate at Augsburg, and he 
did appear there, when he had obtained a safe- 
conduct from the Emperor, — that is to say, 
when the Legate's hands were tied, and the 
use of his tongue alone allowed him. 
Oh," said Aleander, turning towards Charles, 
"I beseech your Imperial Majesty not to do 
that which could only reflect dishonour upon 
your name. Meddle not with an affair in 
which the laity have no right to interpose. 
Discharge the duty that properly devolves 
upon you. Let Luther's doctrines be proscribed 
by your authority throughout the Empire, 
— let his writings be everywhere committed 
to the flames. Shrink not from the path of 
justice. There is enough in the errors of 
Luther to warrant the burning of a hundred 
thousand heretics. And whom have we to 
fear? The multitude'? Their insolence makes 
them formidable while the battle is delayed, 
but when it comes, their cowardice will ren- 
der them contemptible. Foreign princes? 
Nay ! the King of France has issued an edict 



to prevent Luther's doctrine from gaining an 
entrance into his dominions; the King of 
England is preparing to combat him with h * 
own royal pen. The opinion of Hungary 
Italy, and Spain, it is for yourself to declare 
and there is not one of your neighbours, how 
great soever their hatred against you, who 
would wish you so much mischief as this 
heresy must entail upon you. For if our enemy 
dwells close beside us, we may, perhaps, de- 
sire that the ague should enter his house, but 
not the plague. What are all these Lutherans ? 
A motley rabble of insolent grammarians, licen- 
tious priests, disorderly monks, ignorant advo- 
cates, degraded nobles, misled and perverted 
plebeians. How greatly superior is the Catho- 
lic party in numbers, in intelligence, in power ! 
A unanimous decree of this illustrious as- 
sembly will open the eyes of the simple, show 
the unwary their danger, determine the wa- 
vering, and strengthen the weak-hearted. But 
if the axe be not laid to the root of this venom- 
ous plant, — if the death-blow be not dealt 
against it, — then I behold it covering Christ's 
heritage with its branches, changing the vine- 
yard of the Lord into a howling wilderness, 
converting God's kingdom into a haunt of 
wild beasts ; plunging Germany into the 
same wretched condition of barbarism and de- 
solation to which Asia has been reduced by 
the superstition of Mahomet." 

The Nuncio concluded his address. He had 
spoken for three hours. His impetuous elo- 
quence had produced a strong sensation in the 
assembly. The Princes looked at each other, 
Cochlaeus tells us, with countenances that be- 
trayed excitement and alarm, and murmurs 
were soon heard to arise from various quar- 
ters against Luther and those who supported 
him. If the energetic Luther had been pre- 
sent to reply to this address ; — if, taking ad- 
vantage of those admissions which the re- 
membrance of the infamous Borgia, his former 
master, had wrung from the Roman orator, he 
had shown that the very arguments by which 
the Nuncio attempted to defend Rome were 
sufficient to condemn her; if he had demon- 
strated that the doctrine which bore witness 
to her iniquity was not that invented by her, 
as the orator had said, but was that pure re- 
ligion which Christ had given to the world, and 
which it was the aim of the Reformation to 
re-establish in its primitive lustre; if he had 
drawn a faithful and vivid picture of the errors 
and abuses of the Papacy, and pointed out 
how it converted the religion of Jesus Christ 
into an engine of self-aggrandizement and 
spoliation ; the effect of the Nuncio's harangue 
would have been utterly and at once destroyed ; 
— but no one rose to speak. The assembly 
continued under the influence of the address, 
and, in the first moments of agitation and ex- 
citement, it manifested a strong desire to root 
out the Lutheran heresy from the soil of the 
Empire. 

Nevertheless this victory was won in ap- 
pearance only. .It was the will of God that 
Rome should have an opportunity of display- 
ing the utmost strength of her cause with her 



188 



HISTORV OF THE REFORMATION. 



utmost skill. The greatest of her orators had 
spoken in this assembly of Princes; he had 
said all that Rome had to say in her own be- 
half; but to many of those who heard him, 
this last effort of the Papacy was destined to 
serve as a sign of its abasement. If the open 
confession of truth be required to secure its 
triumph, so also the unreserved exhibition of 
error is the necessary prelude of its overthrow. 
Neither of them can accomplish its course in 
secret. The light brings all things to the 
test. 

A few days were sufficient to efface the im- 
pression produced by the speech, — as is always 
the case when an orator has recourse to high 
sounding words to cover the hollowness of 
his reasoning. The majority of the Princes 
were ready to sacrifice Luther, but none were 
disposed to abandon the rights of the Empire, 
or to suppress the grievances of the Germanic 
nation. They were willing enough to give 
up the insolent monk who had dared to speak 
out so plainly ; but their compliance in this 
particular entitled them, as they thought, to 
represent to the Pope more urgently the justice 
of a reform, demanded by the concurrent voice 
of the chiefs of the nation. And accordingly 
it was the most determined of Luther's per- 
sonal enemies, Duke George of Saxony, who 
spoke with the greatest earnestness against 
the encroachments of Rome. This prince, the 
grandson of Podiebrad, King of Bohemia, 
though offended by the doctrine of grace 
taught by the Reformer, still looked forward 
with hope to a Reformation, moral and eccle- 
siastical. The chief cause of his irritation 
against the monk of Wittemberg was, that, by 
those obnoxious doctrines of his, he was spoil- 
ing the whole affair. But now, when he 
found the Nuncio studiously involving Luther 
and the Reformation of the Church in one and 
the same sentence of condemnation, Duke 
George suddenly stood up to speak in the as- 
sembly of the Princes, to the great astonish- 
ment of those who knew his hostility to the 
Reformer. "The Diet," said he, "must not 
lose sight of the grievances of which it has to 
claim redress from the Court of Rome. How 
numerous are the abuses that have crept into 
our dominions ! The annats, which the Em- 
peror granted of his free will for the good of 
religion, now exacted as a due; the Roman 
\ courtiers daily inventing new regulations to 
\ favour the monopoly, the sale, the leasing out 
of ecclesiastical benefices; a multitude of of- 
fences connived at; a scandalous toleration 
granted to rich offenders, while those who 
have not wherewithal to purchase impunity 
are severely punished; the Popes continually 
bestowing reversions and rent-charges on the 
officers of their palace to the prejudice of those 
to whom the benefices rightly belong; the 
abbeys and convents of Rome given in com- 
mendam to cardinals, bishops and prelates, 
who apply their revenues to their own use, — 
60 that in many convents where there ought 
to be twent}^ or thirty monks, not one is to be 
found; — stations multiplied to excess ; shops 
for indulgences opened in every street and 



[ square of our cities, — shops of Saint Anthony, 
of the Holy Ghost, of Saint Hubert, of Saint 
Vincent, and I know not how many more ;— 
societies contracting at Rome for the privilege 
of setting up this trade, — then purchasing from 
their bishop the right of exposing their mer- 
chandise to sale: and finally, to meet all this 
outlay of money, squeezing and "draining the 
last coin out of the poor man's purse ; indul- 
gences which ought to be granted only with a 
view to the salvation of souls, and procured 
only by prayer and fasting and works of 
charity, — sold for a price; — the officials of 
the bishops oppressing men of low degree 
with penances for blasphemy, or adultery, or 
drunkenness, or profanation of this or that 
festival, — but never addressing so much as a 
rebuke to ecclesiastics who are guilty of the 
same crimes ; — penances so devised as to be- 
tray the penitent, into a repetition of his offence, 
in order that more money may be exacted from 
him : — these are but a few of the abuses 
which cry out on Rome for redress. All shame 
is laid aside, and one object alone incessantly 
pursued, — money ! evermore money ! — so that 
the very men whose duty it is to disseminate 
the truth are engaged in nothing but the propa- 
gation of falsehood, and yet they are not 
merely tolerated but rewarded; — because the 
more they lie the larger are their gains. This 
is the foul source from which so many cor- 
rupted streams flow out on every side. Profli- 
gacy and avarice go hand in hand. The 
officials summon women to their houses on 
various pretences, and endeavour, either by 
threats or by presents, to seduce them, — and 
if the attempt fails, they ruin their reputation. 
Oh ! it is the scandal occasioned by the clergy 
that plunges so many poor souls into ever- 
lasting perdition. A thorough reform must be 
effected. To accomplish that reform, a Gene- 
ral Council must be assembled. Wherefore, 
most excellent Princes and Lords, I respect- 
fully beseech you to give this matter your im- 
mediate attention." Duke George then pre- 
sented a written catalogue of the grievances 
he had enumerated. This happened a few 
days after Aleander's address. The important 
document has been preserved in the archives 
of Weimar. 

Luther himself had not spoken with greater 
energy against the abuses of Rome, but he 
had done something more. The Duke pointed 
out the evil, — Luther along with the evil had 
pointed out also its cause and its cure. He 
had shown that the sinner receives the true 
indulgence, — that remission of sins which 
comes from God, — solely by faith in the grace 
and merits of Christ; — and by this simple yet 
powerful truth he had overthrown all the 
traffic which had been established by the 
priests. " How shall a man become holy?" 
said he one day. " A cordelier will reply : 
Put on a gray hood and tie a cord round 
your middle. A Roman will answer: Hear 
mass and fast. But a Christian will say: 
Faith in Christ — and that alone— justifies and 
saves. We must have eternal life before good 
works. But when we are born anew and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



189 



made children of God by the word of grace, 
then we perform good works." 

The Duke's language was that of a secular 
prince ; Luther's that of a true Reformer. 
The great sin of the Church was that she had 
thrown down the barriers that separated her 
from the world, — that she had converted all 
her operations and all her benefits into exter- 
nal and material things. In the last stage of 
her contamination, she had embraced the 
scheme of indulgences, and the most spiritual 
blessing that belongs to Christianity, — pardon, 
— was now to be bought at a stall like food 
or drink ! Luther's great achievement con- 
sisted in this, — that he took advantage of that 
extremity of degradation into which Christi- 
anity had sunk, to lead back individuals and 
the Church to the original fountain of life, — 
and to re-establish the supremacy of the Holy 
Spirit in the sanctuary of the believer's heart. 
The remedy in this case, as in many others, 
arose out of the evil itself, and the two ex- 
tremes touched each other. Henceforward 
the Church, which for so many ages had been 
content with an external manifestation by 
ceremonies and observances and practices of 
human authority, began once more to seek 
her development within, in faith, hope, and 
charity. 

The Duke's speech produced the greater 
effect on account of his well-known opposi- 
tion to Luther. Other members of the Diet 
brought forward other grievances. Even the 
ecclesiastical princes supported these com- 
plaints. " We have a Pontiff," said they, 
"who is occupied only with pleasure and the 
chase; the church preferment of Germany is 
bestowed at Rome on gunners, falconers, 
valets, ass-drivers, grooms, guardsmen, and 
other people of the same stamp, ignorant, 
inexperienced, and strangersto our nation." 

The Diet nominated a Committee to draw 
up a list of grievances ; the enumeration ex- 
tended to a hundred and one. A deputation 
composed of secular and ecclesiastical princes 
presented this report to the Emperor, with an 
earnest request that he would do them right 
in the matter, — conformably to the engage- 
ment he had contracted on his elevation to 
the throne. " What a loss of Christian souls," 
said they to Charles, "what injustice, what 
extortion are the daily fruits of those scandal- 
ous practices to which the spiritual head of 
Christendom affords his countenance. The 
ruin and dishonour of our nation must be 
averted. We therefore very humbly, but very 
urgently, beseech you to sanction a general 
Reformation, to, undertake the work, and to 
carry it through." The Christian community 
at this period was operated upon by an un- 
known power, which descended alike on 
princes and people, — a wisdom from above, 
which exerted its influence even on the adver- 
saries of reform, and prepared the way for 
that great deliverance whose appointed hour 
was now at hand. 

Charles could not be insensible to the re- 
monstrances of the Imperial Diet. Neither 
the Nuncic no: the Emperor had anticipated 



them. The latter immediately withdrew the 
edict which commanded Luther's writings to 
be committed to the flames in every part of 
the Empire, and issued in its stead a provi- 
sional order that all copies of those writings 
should be delivered into the hands of the 
magistrates. 

This did not satisfy the assembly ; it de- 
manded Luther's appearance. It is unjust, 
said his friends, to condemn Luther without 
having heard' him, and without having ascer- 
tained from his own lips that he is the author 
of those books which it is proposed to burn. 
His doctrine, said his adversaries, has taken 
so fast a hold on men's minds, that it is im- 
possible to check its progress, unless we 
allow him a hearing. There shall be no dis- 
puting with him ; and in the event of his ac- 
knowledging his writings, and refusing to 
retract them, we will all with one accord, 
Electors, Princes, and States of the holy Em- 
pire, in firm adherence to the faith of our 
ancestors, give your Majesty our unsparing 
aid to carry your decrees into full effect. 

Aleander, disturbed by this proposal and 
dreading every thing from Luther's intrepi- 
dity and the ignorance of the Princes before 
whom he would have to plead, made strenu- 
ous efforts to prevent his being summoned 
After conferring with Charles's ministers, he 
went to those Princes who were best dis- 
posed towards the Pope, and from them to 
the Emperor himself. " It is not permitted," 
said he, "to question what the Sovereign 
Pontiff has decreed. There shall be no dis- 
puting with Luther, you say ; but how can 
we be sure," he continued, " that the genius 
of this audacious man, the fire that flashes 
from his eyes, the eloquence of his speech, 
the mysterious spirit that animates him, will 
not suffice to excite a tumult 1 ? Already there 
are many who revere him as a saint, and his 
image is everywhere to be seen encircled 
with rays of glory, like those which surround 
the heads of the blessed. If he must needs 
be cited to appear, beware, at all events, of 
pledging the public faith for his safety" 
These last words were calculated to intimi- 
date Luther, or to pave the way for his de- 
struction. 

The Nuncio found, it easy to influence the 
grandees of Spain. In the intensity of their 
fanatic zeal, they panted for the annihilation 
of the new heresy. Frederic, Duke of Alva, 
in particular, was thrown into a fit of rage, as 
often as the Reformation was mentioned. It 
would have delighted him to wade knee-deep 
in the blood of its proselytes. The summons 
for Luther's appearance was yet suspended, 
but his name had become a watchword of 
startling interest in the ears of all the mag- 
nates of Christendom then assembled at 
Worms. 

The man by whom the powers of the earth 
were thus shaken seemed alone to enjoy peace. 
| The tidings from Worms were alarming; 
even Luther's friends were dismayed. " No- 
thing is left to us but your good will and your 
prayers," wrote Melancthon to Spalatin. 



190 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'* Oh that God would vouchsafe to make our 
blood the price of the Christian world's de- 
liverance!" But Luther, a stranger to all 
fear, shutting himself up in his quiet cell, 
fixed his meditations, with an immediate re- 
ference to his own case, on these ecstatic 
words of Mary, the mother of Jesus : " My 
soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath 
rejoiced in God my Saviour. . . For he that is 
mighty hath done to me great things ,• and holy 
is his name. . . He hath showed strength with 
his arm. . . He hath put down the mighty 
from their seats, and exalted them of low de- 
gree." Let. us review some of the thoughts 
which passed through Luther's heart. " He 
that is mighty . . . saith Mary. Oh what 
boldness of speech in this young virgin! By 
a single word she brands all the strong with 
weakness — all the mighty with faintness — all 
the wise with folly — and all those whose 
name is glorious on the earth with disgrace ; 
— and casts all strength, all might, all wis- 
dom, all glory, at the feet of God alone. 
His arm, she says again, — signifying the 
power by which he acts of himself, without 
the aid of any of his creatures, — that myste- 
rious power which operates in secret and in 
silence until it has accomplished all his will. 
. . . Destruction comes when none has mark- 
ed its approach — deliverance comes when none 
lias dared to look for it. He leaves his child- 
ren in oppression and misery, so that every 
one says within himself, They are past all 
hope! But even then is He strongest; for 
when man's strength ends, God's strength 
begins. Only let faith wait upon him . . . 
And at another time he suffers his enemies to 
exalt themselves in their pomp and vainglory. 
He withdraws from them the succour of his 
strength, and leaves them to be puffed up with 
their own. He empties them of his eternal 
wisdom, and permits them to be inflated with 
their own wisdom, which is but for a day; 
and then, when the eyes of their fellow men 
are dazzled with their greatness, God's arm 
is lifted up, and lo ! the fabric they have been 
rearing disappears in a moment, like a bubble 
bursting in the air !" 

It was on the 10th of March, while the im- 
perial city was trembling at his name, that Lu- 
ther concluded his commentary on the magni- 
ficat. 

He was not long to be left undisturbed in 
his retreat. Spalatin, in obedience to the or- 
ders of the Elector, sent him a note of the ar- 
ticles which he would be called on to retract. 
A retractation after his refusal at Augsburg! 
" Never fear," he wrote to Spalatin, " that I 
will retract a single syllable, since the only 
argument they have to urge against me is that 
my writings are at variance with the ob- 
servances of what they call the Church. If 
our Emperor Charles sends for me only to re- 
tract, my answer shall be that I will remain 
here, and it will be all the same as though I 
had %een at Worms and returned again. But 
if the Emperor chooses then to send forme to 
put me to death as an enemy to the Empire, I 
shall be ready to obey his summons: for, by j 



Christ's help, I will never abandon his word 
in the hour of battle. I know that these blood- 
thirsty men will never rest till they have taken 
my life. God grant that my death may be 
laid to the charge of the Papists alone!" 

The Emperor at length had formed his re- 
solution. Luther's appearance before the Diet 
seemed the only probable method of settling 
the affair which engrossed the attention of the 
Empire. Charles accordingly resolved to cite 
him to Worms, but without giving him a safe- 
conduct. It now became necessary for Fre- 
deric once more to assume the part of his pro- 
tector. The danger which threatened the Re 
former was obvious to every one. The friends 
of Luther, Cochlaeus remarks, were afraid that 
he would be delivered up to the Pope, or that 
the Emperor would himself cause him to be 
put to death as an obstinate heretic, who had 
forfeited every claim to be treated with goocl 
faith. There was a long and earnest debate 
on this point in the Diet. Overawed, at last, 
by the agitation that prevailed in almost every 
part of Germany, and fearing lest some sud- 
den tumult, or some dangerous insurrection 
(in favour of the Reformer, doubtless) should 
break out in the course of Luther's journey, 
the Princes decided that it was expedient to 
quiet men's minds in regard to his personal 
safety ; and not only the Emperor, but also the 
Elector of Saxony, Duke George, and the 
Landgrave of Hesse, through whose territo- 
ries he had to pass, gave him severally a safe- 
conduct. 

On the 6th of March, 1521, Charles the 
Fifth affixed his signature to the following 
summons addressed to Luther: — 

"Charles, by the grace of God, Emperor 
elect of the Romans, alwa)^ August, &c.&c. 

"Worshipful, well beloved, and godly! 
Whereas we and the States of the holy Em- 
pire here assembled, have resolved to institute 
an inquiry touching the doctrine and writings 
which thou hast lately put forth, we have on 
our own behalf and on behalf of the Empire, 
issued our safe-conduct, hereunto annexed, for 
thy journey hither and return to a place of se- 
curity. Our hearty desire is that thou should- 
est prepare thyself to set out immediately, so 
that within the space of twenty-one days, fixed 
by our safe-conduct, thou mayest without fail 
present thyself before us. Fear no injustice 
or violence. We will steadily abide by our 
safe-conduct aforesaid, and we expect that 
thou wilt pay obedience to our summons. 
Such is our earnest injunction. 

" Given in our imperial city of Worms, this 
6th day of the month of March, in the year of 
our Lord 1521, and the second of our reign. 

" Charles. 

" By order of my Lord the Emperor, under 
his sign manual, Albert, Cardinal of Mentz 
Arch-Chancellor. 

" Nicolas Zwyl.*' 

The safe-conduct enclosed in this writ wag 
directed "To the worshipful our well belovec 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



191 



and godly Doctor Martin Luther, of the order 
of the Augustines." 

It began thus : 

" We, Charles, the fifth of that name, by 
the grace of God, Emperor elect of the Ro- 
mans, always August, King of Spain, of the 
Two Sicilies, of Jerusalem, of Hungary, of 
Dalmatia, of Croatia, &c, Archduke of Aus- 
tria, Duke of Burgundy, Count of Hapsburg, 
of Flanders, of the Tyrol," &c. &c. 

And then this sovereign of so many states, 
intimating that he has cited a certain Augus- 
tine monk, named Luther, to appear in his 
presence, requires all princes, lords, magis- 
trates, and others, to respect the safe-conduct 
which he has granted to him, under pain of 
neing dealt with as offenders against the Em- 
peror and the Empire. 

Thus did the Emperor bestow the appella- 
tions of "well beloved, worshipful, and god- 
ly," on a man whom the head of the Church 
had visited with excommunication. The 
phraseology of the instrument was designed to 
remove all mistrust from the mind of Luther 
and his friends. Gaspar Sturm was appointed 
to deliver this missive to the Reformer, and to 
escort him to Worms. The Elector, fearing 
some outbreak of the popular feeling, wrote 
on the 12th of March to the magistrates of 
Wittemberg, desiring them to adopt measures 
for the safety of the Emperor's officer, and, if 
necessary, to furnish him with a guard. The 
herald took his departure. 

Thus was the purpose of God fulfilled. It 
was His will that this light, which He had 
kindled in the world, should be set upon a 
hill ; and emperor, kings, and princes were 
all busily employed — though they knew it not 
— in executing what He had appointed. It is 
an easy thing with Him to raise the meanest 
to dignity. An act of His power, operating 
through successive years, suffices to lead the 
offspring of a Saxon peasant from the lowly 
cottage of his childhood to that imperial hall 
in which assembled sovereigns awaited his 
coming. In His presence none are either 
small or great; and when he wills it, Charles 
and Luther meet on the same level. 

But will Luther obey the summons 1 ? His 
best friends were in uncertainty on this point. 
" Dr. Martin," wrote the Elector to his bro- 
ther on the 21st of March, "is cited to appear 
here ; but I know not whether he will come. 
I augur nothing but mischief." Three weeks 
later, on the 16th of April, this excellent prince, 
perceiving that the danger was increasing, 
wrote again to Duke John as follows: — "A 
proclamation has been issued against Luther. 
The cardinals and the bishops are very hard 
upon him. God grant that this may end well ! 
Would to God that I could insure him a fa- 
vourable hearing !" 

While these things were passing at W 7 orms 
and Wittemberg, the Papacy was renewing 
its assaults. On the 28th of March, which 
was the Thursday before Easter, all Rome re- 
sounded with a solemn sentence of excommu- 
nication. It is the custom at this season to 
publish the terrible bull in coena Burning 
14 



[ which is nothing but a lony string of impreca- 
tions. On the day of which we speak, the 
j approaches to the church in which the Sove- 
reign Pontiff was to officiate in person, were 
■ filled at an early hour by the Papal guard, and 
by a vast multitude, that had flocked together 
from all parts of Italy to receive the benedic 
tion of the Holy Father. The square before 
the Basilica was decorated with laurel and 
myrtle; wax candles were burning on the 
balcony of the church, and beside them was 
elevated the sacred receptacle of the host. On 
a sudden the deep sound of bells reverberates 
through the air; — the Pope, arrayed in his 
pontifical robes, and borne in an arm-chair, 
makes his appearance on the balcony ; the 
people fall on their knees; all heads are un- 
covered: the flags that were waving in the 
wind are lowered ; the troops ground their 
arms; and a solemn silence ensues. After a 
pause of some moments, the Pope slowly 
stretches out his hands, lifts them up towards 
heaven, and then, making the sign of the^ross, 
lets them gradually fall tow r ards the earth. He 
repeats these gestures three times. And now 
again the pealing bells are heard, giving no- 
tice, far and wide, of the Pontiff's benediction ; 
and next a train of priests is seen advancing, 
each with a lighted torch in his hand : as they 
rush hurriedly along, they swing their torches 
downwards, they brandish them aloft, they 
toss them wildly to and fro, like so many fires 
of hell; the multitude are thrilled with awe 
and terror; and the words of malediction roll 
heavily above their heads.* 

W 7 hen Luther was apprized of this excom 
munication, he published the form of it, with 
some remarks in that caustic style which he 
knew so well how to assume. Although this 
publication did not appear till some time after- 
wards, we shall present some extracts from 
it here. Let us listen to the high-priest ot 
Christendom, as he speaks from the balcony 
of his Basilica, — and to the monk of Wittem 
berg, who answers him out of the heart ot 
Germany. 

There is something characteristic in the 
contrast of the two voices. 

The Pope. — "Leo, bishop." 

Luther. — " Bishop ! as much as a wolf is 
a shepherd ; for a bishop's duty is to give 
godly exhortations, not to vomit forth impre- 
cations and curses." 

The Pope. — "Servant of all the servants 
of God " 

Luther. — "In the evening, when we are 
drunk; but next morning we call ourselves 
Leo, lord of all lords." 

The Pope. — "The Bishops of Rome, our 
predecessors, have been wont on this festival 
to employ the arms of justice. . . ." 

Luther. — " Which, according to your ac- 
count, are excommunication and anathema: 



* This ceremony is described in several works, 
and, amongst others, in the " Tagebueh einer 
Reise durch Deutschlahd und Italien." — (Berlin. 
1817, iv. 94.) Its principal features are of a higher 
» itiquity :han the times of which we treat. 



192 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hut, according' to St. Paul, long-suffering', 
kindness, love unfeigned." (2 Cor. vi. 6, 7.) 

The Pope. — "According to the duty of the 
Apostolic charge, and to maintain the purity 
of the Christian faith. . ... ." 

Luther. — " That is to say, the temporal 
possessions of the Pope." 

The Pope. — "And the unity thereof, which 
consists in the union of the members with 
Christ their head, .... and with his Vicar." 

Luther. — "For Christ is not sufficient: 
we must have another besides." 

The Pope. — "To preserve the holy com- 
munion of the faithful, we follow the ancient 
rule, and accordingly do excommunicate and 
curse, in the name of God Almighty, the Fa- 
ther " 

Luther. — " Of whom it is said : ' God sent 
not his Son into the world to condemn the 
world: "—(John iii. 17.) 

The Pope. — " The Son and the Holy 
Ghost, — and by the authority of the Apostles, 
Peter and Paul, and by our own . . . ." 

Luther. — " Our own, says the ravenous 
wolf, as though God's might were too weak 
without him." 

The Pope. — " We curse all heretics : — 
the Garasi,* the Patarini, ' the poor men' of 
Lyons, the Arnoldists, the Speronists, the 
Passageni, the Wicklefites, the Hussites, the 
Fraticelli " 

Luther. — " Because they have sought to 
possess themselves of the Holy Scriptures, 
and admonished the Pope to be modest, and 
preach the Word of God." 

The Pope. — " And Martin Luther, recent- 
ly condemned by us for a like heresy, together 
with all his adherents, and all persons, who- 
soever they may be, who aid or abet him." 

Luther. — " I thank thee, most gracious 
Pontiff, that thou hast proclaimed me in com- 
pany with all these Christians. It is an honour 
for me to have had my name proclaimed at 
Rome at the time of the festival, in so glo- 
rious a manner, and to have it circulated 
throughout the world with the names of all 
those humble confessors of Christ." 

The Pope. — " In like manner, we ex- 
communicate and curse all pirates and cor- 
sairs. . . ." 

Luther. — " And who is the greatest of all 
pirates and corsairs, if it be not he who takes 
souls captive, and binds them in chains, and 
delivers them to death ?" 

The Pope. — " . . . especially such as in- 
fest our seas " 

Luther. — " Our seas ! St. Peter, our pre- 
decessor said: ' Silver and gold, have I none? 
(Acts iii. 6.) Jesus Christ said, ' The kings of 
the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; but ye 
shall not be so.' (Luke xxii. 25.) But if a 
wagon laden with hay must give way to a 
drunken man, how much more fitting is it that 
St. Peter and Christ himself should give way 
to the Pope !" 

The Pope. — " In like manner we excom- 



* This is a corrupt orthography : read Gazari 
or CatharL 



municate and curse all those who falsify ou; 
bulls and letters apostolical . . . ." 

Luther. — "But God's letters, — God's Holy 
Scriptures, — any one may condemn and burn 
them." 

The Pope. — " In like manner we excommu- 
nicate and curse all those who intercept any 
provisions on their passage to our city of 
Rome . . . ." 

Luther. — " He snarls and bites like a dog 
that is battling for his bone." 

The Pope. — " In like manner we condemn, 
and we curse all those who withhold any pri- 
vileges, dubs, tithes, or revenues belonging to 
the clergy." 

Luther. — "Forasmuch as Christ hath said, 
1 If any man will sue thee at the law and take 
away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also ,•' 
(Matt. v. 40 :) and ye have now heard Our 
commentary thereon . ." 

The Pope. — "Whatever be their station, 
dignity, order, authority, or rank, be they even 
bishops or kings." 

Luther. — " ' For there shall be false teacher* 
among you. who shall despise dominion, and 
speak evil of dignities,'' saith the Scripture." 
(Jude 8.) 

The Pope. — "In like manner we condemn 
and curse all who in any manner whatsoever 
shall molest the city of Rome, the kingdom 
of Sicily, the islands of Sardinia and Corsica, 
the patrimony of St. Peter in Tuscany, the 
duchy of Spoleto, the marquisate of Ancona, 
the Campagna, the cities of Ferrara and Be- 
ne vento, or any other city or territory belong- 
ing to the Church of Rome." 

Luther. — " O, Peter, thou poor fisherman ! 
how hast thou become master of Rome and 
so many kingdoms besides ? I bid thee all 
hail ! Peter ! king of Sicily ! . . . and fish- 
erman of Bethsaida." 

The Pope. — "We excommunicate and 
curse all chancellors, counsellors, parliaments, 
procurators, governors, officials, bishops and 
others who shall resist any of our letters ad- 
monitory, permissive, prohibitory, mediatory, 
or executive." 

Luther. — " For the Holy See seeks only 
to live in idleness, pomp and debauchery, — to 
rule and intimidate, — to lie and deceive, — to 
dishonour and seduce, and commit all kinds 
of evil in peace and security . . . ." 

" O Lord, arise ! it is not so with us as the 
Papists pretend ; thou hast not forsaken us, 
neither are thine eyes turned away from us." 

Such was the dialogue between Leo the 
Tenth at Rome, and Martin Luther at Wittem- 
berg. 

The Pontiff having concluded his anathe- 
mas, the parchment on which they were 
written was torn up and its fragments scat- 
tered among the people. The crowd was 
instantly thrown into violent commotion, 
every one rushed forward eager to seize a 
scrap of the terrible bull. These were the 
holy relics that the Papacy offered to his fol- 
lowers on the eve of the great day of grace 
and expiation. The multitude soon dispersed, 
and the neighbourhood of the Basilica resumed 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



193 



its accustomed stillness. Let us return to 
Wittemberg. 

It was now on the 24th of March, Gas- 
•ar Sturm, the Imperial Herald, had passed 
through the gates of the city in which Luther 
resided. He presented himself before the 
Doctor, and delivered into his hands the Em- 
peror's writ of summons. It was an anxious 
and solemn moment for the Reformer. His 
friends were all panic struck. Hitherto not 
one of the Princes, not even Frederic the 
Wise, had openly espoused his cause. The 
knights, it is true, had begun to use threaten- 
ing language; but Charles, in the plentitude 
of his power, paid small regard to it. Luther, 
however, preserved his composure: "The 
Papists," said he, observing the distress of 
his friends, " have little desire to see me at 
Worms; but they long for my condemnation 
and death ! No matter ! Pray, not for me, 
but for the word of God. My blood will 
scarcely be cold before thousands and tens of 
thousands in every land will be made to an- 
swer for the shedding ofit. The ' Most Holy' 
adversary of Christ, the father and master and 
chief of manslayers is resolved that it shall be 
spilt. Amen! The will of God be done! 
Christ will give me his Spirit to overcome 
these ministers of Satan. I despise them 
while I live ; I will triumph over them in 
death. They are striving hard at Worms to 
force me to recant. My recantation shall be 
this : I said formerly that the Pope was 
Christ's vicar; now I say that he is the ad- 
versary of the Lord and the Apostle of the de- 
vil." And when he was told that all the pul- 
pits of the Franciscans and Dominicans were 
ringing with imprecations and maledictions 
against him: " Oh, how it delights me to hear 
it," exclaimed he. He knew that he had 
obeyed the will of God, and that God was 
with him: — why then should he fear to set 
out % Purity of intention and a conscience void 
of offence impart to the servant of God a hid- 
den yet incalculable strength which never fails 
him, — a strength in which he goes forth 
against his enemies with that assurance of 
victory which no adamantine breastplate, no 
phalanx of trusty spears can ever afford. 

Luther was at this time unexpectedly called 
on to welcome a man who, like Melancthon, 
was destined to be his friend through life, as 
well as to give him present comfort in the 
hour of his departure. This was a priest 
named Bugenhagen, in the thirty-sixth year 
of his age, who had fled from the rigorous 
persecution exercised by the Bishop of Camin, 
and Prince Bogislas, of Pomerania, against 
all, whether ecclesiastics, citizens, or scho- 
lars, who embraced the Gospel. Born at 
Wollin, in Pomerania, (whence he is com- 
monly called Pomeranus,) of a family hold- 
ing senatorial rank, Bugenhagen, from the 
age of twenty, had been teaching at Treptow. 
The young listened eagerly to his instructions ; 
the noble and the learned vied with each other 
in courting his society. He was a diligent 
student in the sacred literature, and one who 
prayed to God to enlighten and direct him. 



One evening (it was towards the end of De- 
cember, 1520) as he sat at supper with some 
friends, a copy of Luther's book on the Baby- 
lonian Captivity was put into his hands. 
"Since Christ's death," said he, after having 
glanced it over, " there have been many here- 
tics to vex the Church; but never yet has 
there risen up such a pest as the author of 
this book." Having taken the book home 
with him, however, and read it once and 
again, his thoughts underwent a total change ; 
truths of which he had never dreamed became 
palpable to his mind ; and returning a few 
days afterwards to his companions, he said : 
" The whole world has been lying in thick 
darkness. This man — and none but he — has 
discerned the truth." Several priests, a dea- 
con, and even the abbot himself, received the 
pure doctrine of salvation, and in a short time, 
by their powerful preaching, they turned their 
hearers, says an historian, from human super- 
stitions, to put their sole trust in the availing 
righteousness of Jesus Christ. Then burst 
forth the persecution. Many were already 
groaning in dungeons. Bugenhagen escaped 
from his enemies, and arrived as we have 
seen, at Wittemberg. " He is suffering for 
the Gospel's sake," observed Melancthon, 
writing on this occasion, to the Elector's 
chaplain, " where could he seek refuge, but 
in this asylum of ours under the protection of 
our Prince 1 

But by none was Bugenhagen received so 
joyfully as by Luther. It was agreed be- 
tween them that immediately after the Refor- 
mer's departure, Bugenhagen should begin to 
expound the Psalms. Thus did Providence 
raise up that gifted man to supply, in part at 
least, the loss of him whom W T ittemberg was 
about to lose. A year later, Bugenhagen was 
placed at the head of the Church of that cit} T , 
and he continued to preside over it for six-and- 
thirty years. Luther bestowed upon him the 
emphatic appellation of the Pastor. 

Luther was now ready to set out. His 
dejected friends believed that, unless God 
should interpose by a miracle, he was going 
to meet his death. Melancthon, far removed 
from his native soil, had attached himself to 
Luther with the strong affection of an ardent 
mind. " Luther," said he, " makes up to me 
for the loss of all my friends. He is, in my 
estimation, greater and more wonderful than 
I know how to. express. You remember how 
Socrates was revered by Alcibades; — but my 
admiration of Luther is of a higher kind, for 
it is a Christian feeling." And he adds the 
beautiful though simple phrase: "As often 
as I contemplate him, he seems to me every 
time to have grown greater than himself." 
Melancthon wished to bear Luther company 
in his perils. But their common friends, — 
and, — doubtless, the Reformer himself, — op- 
posed his desire. Was not Philip to fill his 
friend's place ? — and if the latter should never 
return, who would then carry on the work of 
reformation ? " Would to God ;" said Me- 
lancthon, as he reluctantly submitted, " I were 
allowed to set out with him." 



.94 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The vehement Amsdorff at once declared 
his intention to accompany the Doctor. His 
bold heart delighted in danger — and his lofty 
spirit did not shrink from appearing before an 
assembly of kings. The elector had invited 
to Wittemberg a professor of law, the cele- 
brated John Schurff, son of a physician at St. 
Gall, a man of a remarkably mild disposition, 
who lived in intimacy with Luther. " He 
could never find the heart to pass sentence 
of death upon any criminal," said Luther, 
speaking of Schurff. Yet this timid man de- 
sired to be present with the Doctor as his ad- 
viser, in the course of his hazardous journey. 
Peter Suaven, a young Danish student, who 
lodged in Melancthon's house, and was after- 
wards famous for his preaching of the Gospel in 
Pomerania and Denmark, also announced that 
he would accompany his " father." It was fit 
that the youth of the schools should have some 
one to represent it, at the side of the champion 
of truth. 

All Germany was moved at the thought of 
the dangers which threatened one who was the 
people's representative. She found a voice 
that was worthy of her to express her alarms. 
Ulric Hiitten, trembling at the thought of the 
blow the country was on the eve of sustain- 
ing, wrote on the 1st of April to Charles V. 
himself: " Most excellent Emperor, you are 
about to involve yourself and us in one com- 
mon ruin. What is the object of this pro- 
cedure against Luther, unless it be the destruc- 
tion of our liberty and the downfall of your 
power ] Throughout the empire there is no 
man but takes a lively interest in this matter. 
The priests alone are opposed to Luther, be- 
cause he has stood forth against their over- 
grown power, shameful luxury, and depraved 
conduct, and pleaded for the Christian doc- 
trine, the national liberties, and purity of mo- 
rals. 

" O Emperor, no longer countenance those 
Roman advocates, those bishops and cardinals 
who would hinder all reformation. Have you 
not noticed the sadness of the people when 
they beheld your arrival, approaching the 
Rhine surrounded with those red hats, — a 
troop of priests, instead of a cohort of valiant 
warriors 1 

" Give not up your sovereign majesty to 
those who would trample it under their feet. 
Take pity on us, and do not involve the whole 
nation in your own ruin. Lead us into the 
midst of dangers —against sword and cannon 
— let all nations conspire, and their armies 
come against us, so that we may prove our 
courage in the face of day, and not be conquer- 
ed and enslaved, darkly and secretly, as if we 
were women unarmed and unresisting. . . . 
Alas, we hoped that you would deliver us 
from the Roman yoke and dethrone the Pon- 
tiff's tyranny. God grant that the future may 
be happier than these beginnings. 

" All Germany is at your feet, imploring 
your help, your compassion, your fidelity; ap- 
pealing to those German heroes, who stood 
erect before the proud city, when the whole 
world besides were its subjects, and conjuring 



you to save her, — to restore her to what she 
once was — to deliver her from slavery, and 
avenge her on her tyrants." 

Thus spake the German nation to Charles 
the Fifth, by the mouth of Ulric Hiitten. The 
Emperor paid no attention to this appeal, and, 
it is probable, threw the letter contemptuously 
to one of his secretaries. He was a Fleming, 
not a German. His personal power, and not 
the liberty or glory of the Empire, was the ob- 
ject of his desire. 

It was the 2d of April. Luther was to take 
leave of his friends. After having apprized 
Lange, by letter, that he would spend the 
Thursday or Friday following at Erfurth, he 
bade adieuto his colleagues. Turning to Me- 
lancthon, he said, with deep emotion : li If 
I never return, and my enemies should take 
my life, cease not, dear brother, to teach and 
stand fast in the truth. Labour in my stead, 
since I can no longer work. If thy life be 
spared, my death will matter little." Then 
committing his soul to Him who is faithful, 
Luther stepped into the wagon and quitted 
Wittemberg. The town-council had furnish- 
ed him with a plain carriage, covered with an 
awning, which the travellers might throw 
back or draw over them at pleasure. The Im- 
perial herald in full costume, and wearing the 
imperial eagle, went before on horseback, and 
was followed by his servant. Then came Lu- 
ther, Schurff, Amsdorff, and Suaven in theft 
open wagon. The burghers of Wittemberu-, 
to whom the Gospel was precious, sorrowing 
and in tears, invoked the blessing of God 
upon his journey. Luther set forth. 

He soon had occasion to observe that gloomy 
presentiments filled the hearts of those he met. 
AtLeLpsic no honours were paid him, beyond 
the customary offering of wine. At Naum- 
burg he met a priest, probably J. Langer, a 
man of stern zeal, who kept hung up in his 
study a portrait of the celebrated Jerome Sa- 
vonarola, of Ferrara, who perished in the 
flames at Florence in the year 1498, by ordei 
of Pope Alexander the Sixth, — a martyr to 
liberty and morals, rather than a confessor of 
the Gospel. Taking down the portrait of the 
Italian martyr, the priest held it forth in si- 
lence as he approached Luther. The latter 
well understood the import of this silent 
action, but his intrepid spirit was unmoved. 
" It is Satan," he remarked, " who seeks by 
these terrors to hinder the confession of the 
truth in the assembly of the princes, for he 
foresees the effect it will have on his king- 
dom." — " Stand fast in the truth thou hast pro- 
fessed," replied the priest gravely, " and thy 
God will never forsake thee." 

Having passed one night at Naumburg, 
where the burgomaster had received him hos- 
pitably, Luther arrived on the following even- 
ing at Weimar. He had scarcely alighted, 
when he heard the voices of the criers on all 
sides. They were proclaiming his sentence. 
"Look there," said the herald. He turned 
his eyes, and beheld with astonishment the 
Emperor's messengers passing from street tc 
street, everywhere placarding the imperial 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



105 



edict, enjoining all men to bring in his writ- 
ings to the magistrates. Luther saw clearly 
that these vigorous proceedings were design- 
ed to stay his further progress, — by working 
upon his apprehensions, — and after that, to 
condemn him as having refused to appear. 
" Well, Doctor, will you go any further ?" 
asked the herald, in alarm. " Yes," replied 
Luther, " though I should be put under inter- 
dict in every town, I will go on. I rely on the 
Emperor's safe-conduct." 

At Weimar, Luther had an audience of 
Duke John, brother to the Elector of Saxony 
who was then residing in that city. The prince 
requested him to preach, and he consented. 
Words of life-giving power flowed forth from 
his swelling heart. A Franciscan monk, John 
Voit, a friend of Frederic Myconius, was on 
that occasion converted to the Gospel. Two 
years afterwards he left the convent, and be- 
came subsequently professor of theology at 
W'ifrtemberg. The Duke assisted Luther with 
money for his journey. 

From Weimar the Reformer repaired to Er- 
furth. It was the town in which his youth 
had been passed. He expected to find there 
his friend Lange ; if, as he had written word, 
there was no risk incurred by entering the 
town. As he came within three or four leagues 
of the place, nigh the village of Nora, he saw 
at a distance a troop of horsemen. Were they 
friends or foes] Rapidly Crotus, rector of 
the University, Eobanus Hesse, the friend of 
Melancthon, (styled by Luther the prince of 
poets,) Euricius Cordus, John Draco, and 
others, to the number of forty, senators, stu- 
dents, and burghers, welcomed him with joy- 
ful acclamations. A crowd of the popula- 
tion of Erfurth met him in the road and cheer- 
ed him as he drew nigh, eager to behold the 
mighty monk who had dared to give battle to 
the Pope. 

A young man of twenty-eight years of age, 
named Justus Jonas, preceded the party. Jo- 
nas, after studying the law at I]rfurth, had 
been elected rector of the University in 1519. 
Receiving the light of the gospel, which was 
then beaming forth in all directions, he had 
conceived the wish to devote himself to sacred 
learning. " I think," said Erasmus, in writ- 
ing to him, "that God has chosen you as his 
instrument to make known to others the glory 
of his Son Jesus." The thoughts of Jonas 
were all turned towards Luther at Wittemberg. 
Some years before, when he was yet a student 
of law, his enterprising spirit had led him, in 
company with a few friends, to make a jour- 
ney on foot through forests infested by thieves, 
and across a country ravaged by the plague, 
in order to visit Erasmus, who was then at 
Brussels. And shall he not brave dangers of 
another kind to accompany the Reformer to 
Worms? He entreated Luther to allow him 
to join him, and Luther consented. This was 
the first meeting of the two doctors, who were 
destined to pass their whole lives in labouring 
together for the revival of the Church. Divine 
Providence, was assembling around Luther 
men who were destined to be the lights of j 



Germany: Melancthon, Amsdorff, Bugenha 
gen, Jonas. After his return from Worms, 
Jonas was elected provost of the church ot 
Wittemberg and doctor of divinity. "Jonas," 
continued Luther, " is a man whose continued 
life on this earth is worth any purchase. No 
preacher had more power of captivating his 
hearers. " Pomeranus is exegetical," said 
Melancthon; "I am a logician,— Jonas is the 
preacher. Words flow beautifully from his 
lips, and his eloquence is full of energy. But 
Luther excels in all." It appears that about 
this time a friend of Luther's childhood, and 
also one of his brothers, joined him in his route. 

The deputation from Erfurth had turned 
their horses' heads. They entered its walls, 
on horseback and on foot, surrounding Luther's 
wagon. At the city gate, in the public squares, 
and in those streets where the poor monk had 
so often begged a morsel of bread, a crowd of 
spectators was assembled ; Luther alighted at 
the convent of the Augustines. Lange wel- 
comed him with joy. Usingen and some of 
the more aged friars manifested considerable 
coolness. He was requested to preach ; — 
preaching had been forbidden him; but the 
herald himself, carried away by the feelings 
of those about him, gave his consent. 

On the Sunday after Easter, the church of 
the Augustines, of Erfurth, was crowded to 
excess. The brother whose duty it once was 
to unclose the gates and sweep out the aisles, 
ascended the pulpit, and, opening the Bible, 
read these words : " Peace be unto you ! and 
when Jesus had so said, he showed unto them 
his hands and his side.' 1 (John xx. 19, 20.) 
•' Philosophers, learned doctors, and writers," 
said he, "have all laboured to show how man 
can attain to eternal life, and they have all 
failed. I am now to tell you the way." 

In every age this has been the great ques- 
tion; accordingly, his hearers were all at- 
tention. 

" There are two kinds of works," continued 
the Reformer; "works not of ourselves, and 
these are good works ; and our own works, 
and they are but little worth. One builds 
a church ; another goes a pilgrimage to St. 
James's or St. Peter's ; a third fasts, prays, 
assumes the cowl, and goes barefoot; another 
does something else. All these are of no 
value, and will pass away; for our own works 
are powerless. But I am about to declare to 
you what is work indeed. God has raised up 
a Man, the Lord Jesus Christ, that He might 
destroy death, finish transgression, and close 
the gate of hell. This is the work of Salva- 
tion. The devil thought he had the Lord in 
his grasp, when he saw him between two 
thieves, suffering a shameful death, under the 
curse of God and men. But the Godhead dis- 
played its power, destroying Death, Sin, and 
Hell. . . . ." 

" Christ has overcome! — this is the great 
news! — and we are saved by his work, not by 
our own. The Pope teaches a different doc- 
trine. But I affirm that even the holy mother 
of God is saved neither by her virginity, nor 
by her maternity, nor yet by her purity, or he* 



196 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



works,— but solely by means of faith, and by 
the operation of God. . . ." 

While Luther was preaching, a noise was 
suddenly heard in one of the galleries, and it 
was thought it was giving way from the weight 
of the crowd. This caused much confusion 
in the auditory. Some rushed from their 
places, others were motionless from fear. The 
preacher stopped for a moment, — then, stretch- 
ing forth his hand, he exclaimed aloud, " Fear 
not! there is no danger: the devil is seeking 
to throw hinderances in the way of my preach- 
ing the gospel , but he shall not gain his point." 
At his bidding, those that were leaving the 
nlace stopped, astonished and constrained ; 
:he assembly resumed its calmness, and Lu- 
ther proceeded, not regarding the temptations 
of the devil. "Some, perhaps, will say, You 
talk to us much about faith ; teach us, then, 
how to obtain it. Well, agreed; I will show 
you how. Our Lord Jesus Christ said, ' Peace 
be unto you! Behold my hands T That is to 
say, Look, man ! it is I, I alone, who have 
taken away thy sin and redeemed thee, and 
now thou hast peace, saith the Lord. . . ." 

" I," continued Luther, "ate not the fruit 
of the tree — no more did you ; but we have 
received the sin transmitted to us by Adam, 
and we have sinned. In like manner, I suf- 
fered not on the cross — no more did you ; but 
Christ suffered for us ; we are justified by the 
work of God, and not by our own: I myself, 
saith the Lord, am thy righteousness and thy 
redeemer." 

" Believe the Gospel — believe St. Paul — 
and not the letters and decretals of the Popes." 

Luther, after preaching Faith as justifying 
the sinner, proceeds to preach Works as the 
fruits and evidence of our being saved. 

" Since God has saved us, let us so order 
our works that he may take pleasure in £a _,n. 
Art thou rich 1 — let thy riches be the supply 
of other men's poverty. Art thou poor] — let 
thy service minister to the rich. If thy labour 
is for thyself alone, the service thou offerest 
to God is a mere pretence." 

Not a word concerning himself did Luther 
find place for in this sermon, nor yet for any 
allusions to the circumstances in which he 
stood ; not a word concerning Worms, the 
Emperor, or the Nuncios: he preached Christ, 
and Him alone. In a moment when the eyes 
of all the world were turned on him, he had 
no thought uppermost for himself; — it is a 
mark of the faithful servant of God. 

Luther took his departure from Erfurth, and 
passed through Gotha, where he again preach- 
ed. Myconius adds, that after the sermon, 
when the congregation were leaving, the devil 
detached from the pediment of the church 
some stones that had not moved for two hun- 
dred years. The Doctor took ~ night's rest 
in the convent of the Benedictines at Rein- 
hardsbrunn, and proceeded from thence to 
Eisenach, where he was suddenly taken ill. 
Amsdorff, Jonas, Schurff, and all his friends 
were alarmed. They bled him, and were un- 
remitting in attentions. The Schulthess of 
the town, John Oswald, brought him a cordial. 



Luther having taken it, had some sleep, and, 
refreshed by rest, was enabled to resume his 
journey on the following morning. 

Everywhere, as he passed, the people of the 
country flocked round him. His progress re- 
sembled a triumph. Men contemplated with 
interest the bold man who was going to pre- 
sent himself bareheaded before the Emperor 
and the Empire. A dense crowd accompanied 
his steps, discoursing with him. "Ah," said 
some, "there are plenty of cardinals and bish- 
ops at Worms! . . . Y r ou will be burned alive, 
and your body reduced to ashes, as they did 
with John Huss." But nothing daunted the 
monk. "Though they should kindle a fire, 
whose flame should reach from Worms to 
Wittemberg, and rise up to heaven, I would 
go through it in the name of the Lord, and 
stand before them; I would enter the jaws of 
the behemoth, break his teeth, and confess the 
Lord Jesus Christ." 

One day, when he had entered into an inn, 
and the crowd was as usual pressing about 
him, an officer made his way through, and 
thus addressed him : "Are you the man who 
has taken in hand to reform the Papacy? . . . 
How can you expect to succeed ?" — " Yes," 
answered Luther, "I am the man. I place 
my dependence upon that Almighty God 
whose word and commandment is before me." 
The officer, deeply affected, gazed on him 
with a mild expression, and said, " Dear 
friend, there is much in what you say; I arn 
a servant of Charles, but your Master is 
greater than mine. He will help and protect 
you." 96 Such was the impression that Luther 
produced. Even his enemies were awed by 
the sight of the crowd that surrounded him ; 
but they have depicted his progress in very 
different colours. At length the Doctor reached 
Frankfort on Sunday, the 14th of April. 

Accounts of Luther's progress had before 
this reached Worms. The Pope's partisans 
had not expected that he would obey the Em- 
perors summons. Albert, Cardinal-archbishop 
of Mentz, would have given the world to stop 
him on his journey; new expedients were re- 
sorted to for this purpose. 

Luther rested a short time at Frankfort ; 
from thence he wrote to Spalatin, who was 
then with the Elector at Worms, announcing 
his approach. It is the only letter he wrote 
during the journey. "I am arrived here," 
said he, "although Satan has sought to stop 
me in my way by sickness. From Eisenach 
to this place I have been suffering, and 1 am 
at this moment in worse condition than ever. 
I find that Charles has issued an edict to ter- 
rify me; but Christ lives, and we shall enter 
Worms in spite of all the councils of hell and 
all the powers of the air. Therefore engage a 
lodging for me." 

Next day Luther visited the learned school 
of William Nesse, the celebrated geographer 
of that age. "Apply yourselves," said he, 
"to the reading of the Bible and the investi- 
gation of truth." Then, laying his right hand 
on one and his left on another, he, pronounced 
his blessing on all the scholars. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



197 



If Luther was thus engaged in blessing 
children, he was not the less the hope of aged 
Christians. A widow of great age, who served 
God with her heart, Catherine of Holzhausen, 
came to him with these words : " My father 
and mother predicted to me that God would 
one day raise up a man who should oppose 
the vanities of the Pope, and rescue the word 
of God. I hope you are that man; and I 
wish you the grace and Holy Spirit of God 
for your help." 

These feelings were very far from being 
general at Frankfort. John Cochlaeus, dean 
of the Church of our Lady, was a devoted ad- 
herent of the Roman Church. He could not 
repress his fears at sight of Luther in his pas- 
sage through Frankfort on his way to Worms. 
He felt that the Church had need of zealous 
defenders. It mattered little that he had not 
been called upon. Scarcely had Luther left 
the city, when Cochlaeus set out after him, 
ready, as he said, to lay down his life in de- 
fence of the honour of his Church. 

The panic was great among the partisans 
of the Pope. The heresiarch was approaching ; 
every day, every hour brought him nearer. 
Once at Worms, and all might be ruined. 
The Archbishop Albert, the Confessor Glapio, 
and all the political advisers of the Emperor 
were in dismay. How to stop the monk was 
the question. To seize and carry him off 
was not to be thought of, for he was furnished 
with Charles's safe-conduct; artifice alone 
could compass the end. Instantly they devise 
the following plan. The Emperor's confessor 
and his grand chamberlain, Paul of Armsdorff. 
set out in haste from Worms. They direct 
their course toward the chateau of Ebernburg, 
distant about ten leagues, and the residence 
of Francis Sickingen, the knight who had 
offered Luther an asylum. Bucer, a young 
Dominican, and chaplain to the Elector Pala- 
tine, converted to the Gospel at the period of 
the conference at Heidelberg, had sought re- 
fuge and was then residing in this " abode of 
the righteous." The knight, who was not 
well versed in matters of religion, was easily 
imposed upon; and the character of the former 
chaplain to the Palatine favoured the views 
of the confessor. In fact, Bucer was disposed 
for peace. Distinguishing fundamental from 
secondary truths, he thought he might sacri- 
fice the latter for the sake of peace and unity. 

The chamberlain and Charles's confessor 
opened the business. They gave Sickengen 
and Bucer to understand that if Luther were 
once in Worms, it would be all over with him. 
They declared that the Emperor was ready to 
send certain learned men to Ebernberg, there 
to talk over matters with the Doctor. "Both 
parties," said they to the knight, "will put 
themselves under your protection." And to 
Bucer they said, " We agree with Luther on 
all essential things, — the only questions be- 
tween us relate to some secondary points. 
You will act as mediator between us." The 
knight and the doctor were shaken. The con- 
fessor and the chamberlain continued — " The 
invitation must come from you," said they to 



1 Sickengen, " and Bucer must be the bearer of 
it." The whole project was agreed to, ac- 
cording to their wish. Only let Luther credu- 
lously obey their invitation to Ebernburg, and 
the term of his safe-conduct will soon expire : 
— then who can protect him? 

Luther had reached Oppenheim. In three 
days his safe conduct would be void. A troop 
of horsemen were seen approaching, and soon 
he recognised the same Bucer with whom he 
had held such intimate conversations at Heidel- 
berg. "These horsemen belong to Francis 
Sickengen," said Bucer, after the first greet- 
ings. " He has sent me to conduct you to 
his fortress. The Emperor's confessor desires 
a conference with you. His influence with 
Charles is unbounded; — every thing may yet 
be arranged ; but have nothing to do with 
Aleander!" Jonas, Amsdorff, Schurff, knew 
not what to think. Bucer urged him : — but 
Luther never faltered. "I shall go on," an- 
swered he, "and if the Emperor's confessor 
has any thing to say to me, he will find me at 
Worms. I repair to the place of summons." 

In the mean while Spalatin himself began 
to be disturbed with apprehensions. Situate 
in the midst of enemies of the Reformation, 
he heard it said on all sides that the heretic's 
safe-conduct would be disregarded. His 
friendship took the alarm. At the moment 
when Luther was approaching the city, a ser- 
vant met him and delivered him a message 
from the chaplain: "Abstain from entering 
Worms." And this from Spalatin himself, 
the Elector's confidential adviser! Luther, 
still unshaken, turned his eyes on the mes- 
senger, and answered, "Go tell your master, 
that though there should be as many devils at 
Worms as there are tiles on its roofs, I would 
enter it." At no time had the grandeur of 
Luther's spirit been more evidenced. The 
messenger re-entered Worms, and delivered 
the astounding declaration. "I was then in- 
trepid," said Luther, (a few days before his 
death.) "I feared nothing. God can give 
this boldness to man. I know not whether 
now I should have so much liberty and joy." 
" When our cause is good," adds his disciple 
Mathesius, " the heart expands and gives cou- 
rage and energy to the evangelist and the 
soldier." 

At last, on the morning of the 16th April, 
Luther discovered the walls of the ancient 
city. All were expecting him. But one sub- 
ject occupied the thoughts of the citizens. 
Some young nobles, Bernard of Kirscbfeld, 
Albert Lindenau, with six mounted cavaliers, 
and other gentlemen of the prince's retinue, 
to the number in all of a hundred, (according 
to Pallavicini,) in their impatience, rode out 
of the city to meet him, and surrounding his 
travelling car, escorted him to the gates. He 
went forward. The Imperial herald galloped 
before, attired in the vestments of his oihVe. 
Luther came next, in his modest vehicle. Jonas 
followed on horseback, and the party of horse- 
men surrounded him. A vast crowd was 
awaiting his arrival at the gates. At ten 
o'clock he entered within those walls, whence 



I9S 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



eg many had predicted to him that he would 
never again depart. Behold him in Worms ! 
Two thousand persons accompanied the 
famed monk of Wittemberg through the streets 
of the city. People ran to their doors to see 
him. The crowd was increasing every mo- 
ment, — and was even greater than at the pub- 
lic entry of the Emperor himself. Of a sud- 
den, says an historian, a man clothed in gro- 
tesque habiliments, and bearing before him a 
lofty cross, as is customary at funerals, pene- 
trated through the crowd, and advanced to- 
wards Luther: — then with the shrill and 
plaintive cadence, in which the priests perform 
masses for the repose of the dead, he chanted 
these words as if he were uttering them from 
the abode of departed spirits — 

Advenisti, deside? - abilis ! 
Quern expectabamus in tenebris!* 

Thus was Luther's arrival celebrated by a 
requiem. It was the court fool of one of the 
Dukes of Bavaria, who (if the account may 
be depended upon) thus gave to Luther one 
of those warnings, replete at once with solemn 
instruction and irony, of which so many in- 
stances are on record. But the shouts of the 
crowd soon drowned the de profundis of the 
cross-bearer. The procession made its way 
with difficulty through the people. At last 
the herald of the Empire stopped before the 
hotel of the Knights of Rhodes. It was there 
that Frederic of Thun, and Philip Feilitsch, 
two counsellors of the Elector, and Ulric Pap- 
penheim, the Marshal . of the Empire, had 
taken up their abode. Luther alighted from 
his wagon, and as he set foot on the ground, 
exclaimed, "God will be my defence." "I 
entered Worms," said he, at a later period, 
" in an open cart and in a monk's frock. And 
every one came out into the streets, desiring 
to see friar Martin." 

The intelligence of his arrival was received 
with alarm by the Elector of Saxony and Ale- 
ander. Albert, the young and accomplished 
Archbishop, whose mind was in a middle posi- 
tion, was dismayed at this daring step. " If 
I had no more courage than the Archbishop," 
said Luther, " true it is they would never have 
seen me at Worms." 

Charles V. instantly convoked his council. 
The confidential advisers of the Emperor re- 
paired in haste to the palace — for the fear had 
communicated to them. "Luther is come," 
said Charles, " what must be done ?" 

Modo, Bishop of Palermo and Chancellor 
of Flanders, answered, according to the testi- 
mony of Luther: — " We have long thought 
of this matter. Let your Majesty rid your- 
self at once of this man. Did not Sigismund 
bring John Huss to the stake? One is under 
no obligation either to give or to observe a 
safe-conduct in the case of heretics." " Not 
so," said Charles, " what we promise we 
should observe and keep." It was, therefore, 
agreed that the Reformer should be heard. 

Whilst the great were thus planning how 

* Thou art come whom we desired — whom we 
waited for in the regions of darkness ! 



to deal with Luther, there were not a few in 
Worms rejoicing in the opportunity of at last 
beholding this distinguished servant of God. 
Capito, chaplain and counsellor of the Arch- 
bishop of Mentz, was of their number. This 
remarkable man, who a little while before 
had preached the Gospel in Switzerland with 
much liberty* — though he then owed it to the 
station he filled, to pursue a course which ex- 
posed him to the charge of cowardice from 
the Evangelical preachers, and of dissimula- 
tion from the Romanists. Yet at Mentz he 
had preached the doctrine of faith with great 
clearness. When he was leaving that city he 
had arranged for his place being supplied by 
a young and zealous preacher named Hedion. 
The word of God was not bound in that an- 
cient seat of the German primacy. The 
Gospel was eagerly listened to; in vain die 
the monks attempt to preach from the Scrip 
tures after their manner; — in vain did they 
make every effort to arrest the impulsion giver 
to men's minds. Their failure was complete 
But whilst preaching the new doctrine, Capitc 
sought to maintain friendly relations with its 
persecutors ; — with a few of the same opinions 
he flattered himself that he might in this way 
render great service to the Church. To hear 
them talk one might have thought that if Lu- 
ther was not burnt, and his followers excom- 
municated, it was only owing to the influence 
that Capito possessed with the Archbishop. 
Cochleeus, dean of Frankfort, arriving at 
Worms at the same time as Luther, repaired 
direct to Capito's residence. The latter, who 
at least was outwardly on very friendly terms 
with Aleander, introduced Cochlaeus to him, 
becoming thus a connecting link between the 
Reformer's two great enemies. Doubtless 
Capito imagined that he did service to the 
cause of Christ, by keeping up these appear- 
ances ; but it would be impossible to show 
any good effect flowing from them. The 
event almost always disconcerts such calcu- 
lations of human policy, proving that a de- 
cided course, while it is the most frank, is 
also most wise. 

Meanwhile crowds continued to gather out- 
side the hotel of Rhodes where Luther had 
alighted. Some had conceived an idea of 
him as a prodigy of wisdom; others as a 
monster of iniquity. Every one desired to 
see him. They left him, however, a few 
hours to recruit himself after his journey, and 
discourse with his most intimate friends. But 
ss soon as the evening closed in, counts, 
barons, knights, gentlemen, ecclesiastics, and 
citizens, flocked about him. All, even those 
most opposed to him, were struck with his 
courageous bearing — the joy that beamed in 
his countenance — the power of his eloquence, 
and the solemn elevation and enthusiasm 
which gave to the words of a single monk a 
sort of irresistible authority. But some as- 
scribed this grandeur to a something divine; 
while the partisans of the Pope loudly ex- 
claimed that he was possessed by a devil. 



Book vni 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



199 



Visitors poured in, and the succession of the 
curious kept Luther from his bed till a late 
hour. 

On the next morning, 17th of April, the 
hereditary Marshal of the Empire, Ulric Pap- 
penheim, cited him to appear at four o'clock 
in the afternoon, in presence of his Imperial 
Majesty and of the States of the Empire. 
Luther received the message with profound 
respect. 

Thus all things were ready. He was 
about to appear for Jesus Christ before the 
most august of all assemblies. Encourage- 
ments were not wanting. The bold knight, 
Ulric Hiitten, was then in the castle of Ebern- 
burg. Prevented coming to Worms, (for Leo 
the Tenth had desired Charles to send him 
bound hand and foot to Rome,) he resolved 
at least to stretch out the hand of friendship 
to Luther, and on the same day, 17th of April, 
he wrote to him, adopting the words of the 
king of Israel : — " The Lord hear thee in the 
day of trouble .• the name of the God of Jacob 
defend thee .• send thee help out of Zion : grant 
ihee according to thine own heart, and fulfil all 
thy counsel. O beloved Luther, my venerated 
father ! . . . . fear not and stand firm. The 
counsels of the wicked have laid wait for you, 
they have opened their mouths against you — 
like roaring lions. But the Lord will arise 
against them and put them to flight. Fight, 
therefore, valiantly the battle of Christ. For 
my part I too will fight boldly. Would to 
God I might be allowed to face their frowns. 
But the Lord will deliver his Vine, that the 
wild boar of the forest has laid waste .... 
Christ preserve you!" . . . Bucer did what 
Hiitten was prevented doing, he made the 
journey from Ebernburg t<^ Worms, and never 
left his friend during his stay there. 

But Luther looked not to men for his 
strength. " He who, attacked by the enemy, 
holds up the buckler of Faith," said he one 
day, " is like Perseus presenting the head of 
the Gorgon. Whoever looks upon it is struck 
dead. It is thus that we should hold up the 
Son of God against the snares of the devil." 
On the morning of this 17th April, he was 
for a few minutes in deep exercise of mind. 
God's face seemed to be veiled, and — his faith 
forsook him : — his enemies seemed to multiply 
before him, and his imagination was overcome 
by the aspect of his dangers. His soul was 
like a ship driven by a violent tempest, rocked 
from side to side, — one moment plunged in 
the abyss, and the next carried up to heaven. 
In that hour of bitter trial — when he drank of 
the cup of Christ — an hour which to him was 
as the garden of Gethsemane, he threw him- 
self with his face upon the earth, and uttered 
those broken cries, which we cannot under- 
stand, without entering, in thought, into the 
anguish of those deeps from -whence they rose 
to God." "Oh God, Almighty God ever- 
lasting! how dreadful is the world! behold 
how its mouth opens to swallow me up, and 
how small is my faith in Thee ! . . . Oh ! the 
weakness of the flesh and the power of Satan ! 
If I am to depend upon any strength of this 



world — all is over. . . . The knell is struck. 

. . . Sentence is gone forth O God ! 

God ! O thou my God ! help me against 
all the wisdom of this world. Do this, I be- 
seech thee ; thou shouldst do this by 

thy own mighty power The work is 

not mine, but Thine. I have no business 

here I have nothing to contend for 

with these great men of the world ! I would 
gladly pass my days in happiness and peace. 
But the cause is Thine, . . . . and it is righ- 
teous and everlasting ! O Lord ! help me ! 

faithful and unchangeable God ! I lean not 
upon man. It were vain ! Whatever is of 
man is tottering, whatever proceeds from him 
must fail. My God! my God ! dost thou not 
hear 1 My God ! art thou no longer living ? 
Nay, thou canst not die 1 Thou dost but hide 
Thyself. Thou hast chosen me for this work. 

1 know it ! . . . Therefore, O God, accom- 
plish thine own will ! Forsake me not, for the 
sake of thy well-beloved Son, Jesus Christ, 
my defence, my buckler, and my stronghold." 

After a moment of silent struggle, he con- 
tinued, "Lord — where art thou 1 ? . . . My 
God, where art thou? . . . Come! I pray 
thee, I am ready. . . . Behold me prepared 
to lay down my life for thy truth . . . suffer- 
ing like a lamb. For the cause is holy. It 
is thine own ! . . . I will not let thee go ! 
no, nor yet for all eternity! And though the 
world should be thronged with devils — and 
this body, which is the work of thine hands, 
should be cast forth, trodden under foot, cut 
in pieces, .... consumed to ashes, . . . 
my soul is thine. Yes, I have thine own 
word to assure me of it. My soul belongs to 
thee, and will abide with thee forever ! Amen ! 
God send help ! . . . Amen !" 

This prayer discloses to us Luther and the 
Reformation. History here lifts the veil of 
the sanctuary, and discovers the secret source 
whence strength and courage descended to 
the humble and despised man, who was God's 
instrument, to set at liberty the soul and 
thought of man, and open a new age. Lu- 
ther and the Reformation lie open before us. 
We discern their inmost springs. We see 
where their power lay. This effusion of a 
soul offering itself up in the cause of truth is 
found in the collection of documents relative 
to the citation of Luther to Worms, under 
number 16, of the safe-conducts and other 
papers of that nature. One of his friends 
doubtless overheard and preserved it. In our 
judgment it is one of the noblest of historical 
documents. 

Four o'clock arrived. The Marshal of the 
Empire appeared. Luther prepared to set out. 
God had heard his prayers ; he was calm 
when he quitted the hotel. The herald walk- 
ed first. Next came the Marshal of the Em- 
pire, followed by the Reformer. The crowd 
that thronged the streets was yet more dense 
than on the preceding evening. It was not 
possible to advance — it was in vain that or- 
ders were given to make way; — the crowd 
was increasing. At last the herald, seeing 
the impossibility of reaching the Town Hall, 



200 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



demanded admission into some private houses, 
and conducted Luther through the gardens 
and hack ways to the place where the Diet 
was assembled. The people who witnessed 
this, rushed into the houses after the monk of 
Witternberg, stationing themselves at the 
windows overlooking the gardens, and many 
of them taking their stand on the tops of the 
houses. The roofs and the pavements, above 
and beneath, all around him, were covered 
with spectators. 

Arriving at last at the Town Hall, Luther 
and his companions were again at a loss how 
to pass the gateway, which was thronged by 
the multitude. Make room ! was the cry ; 
but no one stirred. The Imperial soldiers then 
cleared a passage. The people hurrying for- 
ward to enter together with the Reformer, the 
soldiers drove them back with their halberds. 
Luther entered the interior of the hall, and 
there again he beheld the enclosure crowded. 
In the ante-chambers and window recesses, 
there were more than five thousand spectators 
— German, Italian, Spanish and of other na- 
tions. Luther advanced with difficulty. As 
he drew near the door which was to admit him 
to the presence of his judges, he was met by 
a valiant knight, George Freundsberg, who, 
four years afterwards, attended by his follow- 
ers, couched his lance at the battle of Pavia, 
and bearing down the left of the French army*, 
drove it into the Tessino, and decided the cap- 
tivity of the King of France. This old general, 
seeing Luther pass, touched him on the shoulder 
and shaking his head, blanched in many battles, 
said kindly, " My poor monk, my poor monk, 
thou hast a march and a struggle to go through, 
such as neither I nor many other captain's 
have seen the like in our most bloody battles. 
But if thy cause be just, and thou art sure of 
it, go forward in God's name, and fear nothing ! 
He will not forsake thee !" A noble tribute 
rendered by martial spirit to the courage of 
the soul. ■■■ He that ruleth his spirit is greater 
than he that taketh a city," was the word of 
a king. (Prov. xvi. 32.) 

And now the doors of the hall were thrown 
open, — Luther entered, and many who formed 
no part of the Diet gained admission with 
him. Never had any man appeared before so 
august an assembly. The Emperor Charles 
V., whose kingdom extended across both 
hemispheres, — his brother the Archduke Fer- 
dinand, — six Electors of the Empire, most of 
whose successors are now crowned heads, — 
twenty-four dukes, many of them territorial 
sovereigns, and among whom were some who 
bore a name in after times held in fear and 
horror by the nations who accepted the Re- 
formation — (the. Duke of Alva and his two 
•sons) — eight margraves, — thirty archbishops, 
bishops, and prelates, — seven ambassadors, 
including those of France and England, — the 
deputies of ten free cities, — a number of 
princes, counts, and barons of rank,-— the 
Pope's Nuncios, — in all two hundred persons. 
Such was the imposing assemblage before 
which stood Martin Luther. 

His appearance there was of itself a signal 



victory over the Papacy. The man whom the 
Pope had condemned stood before a tribunal 
raised by that very fact above the Pope's 
authority. Placed under interdict, and struck 
out from human fellowship by the Pope, — he 
was cited in respectful terms, and received be- 
fore the noblest of human auditories. The 
Pope had decreed that his lips should be 
closed forever, — and he was about to unclose 
them in the presence of thousands assembled 
from the remotest countries of Christendom. 
Thus had an immense revolution been effected 
by his means ; Rome was brought down from 
her seat, and the power that thus humbled 
her was the word of a monk ! 

Some Princes who were near him, observing 
the humble son of the miner of Mansfield 
awed and affected in this assembly of sove- 
reigns, approached him kindly. One of them 
w r hispered, " Fear not them who are able to 
kill the body, and cannot destroy the soul." 
Another whispered to him, "When you are 
brought before kings it shall be given to you 
by the Spirit of your Father what you shall 
say." Thus was the monk strengthened with 
his Master's words by the great ones of this 
world. 

Meanwhile the guards made way for Lu- 
ther. He stepped forward and found himself 
in front of the throne of Charles V. All eyes 
were turned upon him. The confusion was 
stilled, and there was a profound silence. 
•■" Say nothing until a question is put to you," 
said the Marshal of the Empire as he quitted 
him. 

After a moment's solemn pause, John Ecl\ 
the Chancellor of the Archbishop of Treves, 
and the friend of Aleander, whom we must not 
confound with the theologian of that name, 
rose, and in a clear and sonorous accent, first 
in Latin and then in German, said : 

" Martin Luther, his sacred and invincible 
Majesty has cited you before his throne, act- 
ing on the opinion and advice of the States of 
the Holy Roman Empire, to require you to 
answer to these questions. First: Do you 
acknowledge these writings to have been 
composed by you V At the same time the 
speaker pointed w T ith his finger to about twenty 
volumes placed on a table in the centre of the 
hall, immediately before Luther. " I could 
not guess where they had obtained them," 
said Luther, relating the fact ; it w r as Alean- 
der who had taken the trouble to collect them. 
"Secondly," continued the Chancellor, "Are 
you prepared to retract these, and the proposi- 
tions contained therein, or do you persist in 
what you have therein advanced ?" 

Luther, without faltering, was about to an- 
swer the first question in the affirmative, when 
Jerome SchurfT, hastily interrupting him, ex 
claimed aloud, " Let their titles be read." 

The Chancellor advancing to the table read 
the titles. There were in the number several 
works of a devotional character, and altogethei 
unconnected with the controverted points. 

The enumeration being gone through, Lu- 
ther spoke as follows, first in Latin, then ic 
German : — 




LUTHER PREPARING BY PRAYER. 
LUTHER AND FRONDSBERG, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



yoi 



" Most gracious Emperor, Princes and 
Lords ! 

" His Imperial Majesty puts to me two 
questions. 

" As to the first, I acknowledge the books, 
the names of which have been read, to be of 
my writing; I cannot deny them. 

" As to the second, seeing that it is a ques- 
tion which has reference to faith, and the sal- 
vation of souls, — a question which concerns 
the word of God, the greatest and most pre- 
cious treasure of heaven or earth, — 1 should 
act rashly if I were to answer without reflec- 
tion. I might say less than the circumstance 
demands, or more than truth requires, and so 
sin against that word of Christ, — Whosoever 
shall deny me before men, him I will deny be- 
fore my Father who is in heaven. Therefore 
't is that I most humbly desire his Imperial 
Majesty to allow me time, that I may answer 
without offending against the word of God." 

This reply, far from countenancing the sup- 
position of indecision in Luther, was worthy 
of the Reformer and of the assembly. It was 
fit that he should act calmly and circumspect- 
ly in a question of such grave importance, 
that this solemn moment of his life might be 
clear from the suspicion of passion or precipi- 
tancy. Besides, by taking reasonable time the 
deliberate firmness of his resolution would be 
the more strikingly apparent. Many men in 
the history of the world have brought great 
evils on themselves and their contemporaries 
by a hasty word. Luther restrained his own 
naturally impetuous temper: — he suppressed 
the words that were on his tongue and kept 
silence, when all the feelings that inspired 
him struggled to find utterance. This self 
command and'calmness, so unusual in such a 
man, increased his power a hundred-fold, and 
enabled him afterwards to answer with a pru- 
dence, a force, and a dignity, which balked 
the expectations of his enemies, and confound- 
ed their pride and malice. 

Nevertheless, as his tone had been respect- 
ful, many thought he was wavering. A ray 
of hope appeared for the Roman courtiers. 
Charles, eager to know more of a man whose 
teaching disturbed the Empire, had observed 
him narrowly. Turning to one of his courtiers, 
he remarked contemptuously, "Certainly that 
man will never induce me to turn heretic." 
Then rising from his seat, the young Emperor, 
attended by his ministers, withdrew to the 
council chamber; — the Electors assembled in 
another apartment together with the Princes ; 
— the deputies of the free cities in a third. 
The Diet on re-assembling agreed to grant 
the request. It was a notable blunder in men 
actuated by passion and prejudice. 

"Martin Luther," said the Chancellor of 
Treves, " his Imperial Majesty, acting in the 
goodness of his nature, consents to allow you 
one day's delay; but on condition that you 
make answer by word of mouth, and not in 
writing." 

Immediately the Imperial herald came for- 
ward and conducted Luther back to the hotel. 
Threats and shouts accompanied him through 



the crowd ; — alarming reports reached his 
friends. "The Diet is displeased," it was 
said : "the Pope's envoys triumph ; — the Re- 
former will fall a victim." Men's passions 
were roused. Some gentlemen repaired in 
haste to Luther. "Doctor," said they in agi- 
tation, what is all this"? They say they are 
resolved to bring you to the stake. . . If they 
dare attempt it," they added, "it shall be at 
the peril of their lives." " And it would have 
been so," said Luther, repeating their words 
at Eisleben twenty years later. 

On the other hand, Luther's enemies were 
all confidence. "He has begged for time;" 
said they, " he is going to retract. At a dis- 
tance his speech was arrogant; — but now his 
courage forsakes him. . . . He is conquered." 

Luther was perhaps the only person at 
Worms perfectly undisturbed. A few mi- 
nutes after his return from the diet he wrote 
to the counsellor Cuspianus: "I am writing 
to you from the midst of a tempest (perhaps 
he alluded to the noise of the crowd outside 
his hotel). An hour ago I appeared before 
the Emperor and his brother ... I avowed 
myself the author of my books, and I have 
promised to give my answer to-morrow, as to 
recantation. By the help of Jesus Christ, I 
will not retract a single letter of my writings." 

The commotion among the people and the 
soldiers of the states was increasing every 
hour. Whilst the two parties were repairing 
calmly to the Diet, — the people and the sol- 
diers came to blows in the streets. The 
Spanish troops, proud and stern, gave great 
offence by their insolence to the burghers of 
the city. One of these satellites of Charles, 
finding in a bookseller's shop the Pope's Bull, 
published with a commentary written by the 
knight Hiitten, laid hands upon it, tore it in 
pieces, and trampled it under foot. Others 
having discovered several copies of Luther's 
tract on the Captivity of Babylon, carried them 
off and tore them up. The common people 
roused to resistance, fell upon the soldiers and 
compelled them to retire. At another time a 
mounted Spaniard pursued, sword in hand, 
through the public streets of Worms, a Ger- 
man, who fled from him, — and the people in 
their fright made no attempt to stop the pur- 
suer. 

Some politic persons thought they had hit 
upon an expedient to rescue Luther. "Re- 
tract," said they, "your errors in doctrine, 
but adhere to all you have said concerning the 
Pope and his court, and you will be safe." 
Aleander trembled at the suggestion. But 
Luther, not- to be moved from his purpose, 
declared that he cared little for a political 
reformation if it were not based upon faith. 

On the 18th of April, Father Glapio, the 
Chancellor Eck, and Aleander met early in 
the morning agreeably to orders from Charles 
V. to settle the course of proceeding with 
Luther. 

Luther composed his thoughts. He felt 
that tranquillity of soul without which man can 
do nothing truly great. He prayed ; — he read 
the Word of God; — he glanced over hj s oun 



202 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



writings, and endeavoured to give a suitable 
form to his answer. The thought that he was 
about to bear testimony for Jesus Christ and 
his word in the face of the Emperor and of 
the whole Empire dilated his heart with joy ! 
The moment when he was to make his appear- 
ance was approaching. He drew near the 
table on which the volume of the Holy Scrip- 
tures lay open, placed his left hand upon it, 
and raising the other towards heaven, he 
vowed to adhere constantly to the Gospel, and 
to confess his faith freely, even though he 
should be called to seal his confession with 
his blood. This done, he felt the peace of his 
soul increased. 

At four o'clock the herald presented him- 
self, and conducted Luther to the hall of the 
Diet. The general curiosity was extreme, 
for the answer was to be decisive. The Diet 
being engaged in deliberation, Luther was 
obliged to wait in the court, surrounded by a 
dense crowd, eagerly moving to and fro, and 
resembling a sea of heads. For two hours, 
the Reformer was hemmed in by the multi- 
tude pressing to see him. " I was not used," 
said he, " to such ways and noises." To an 
ordinary man this would have been a grievous 
hinderance to preparedness of mind. But Lu-" 
ther was walking with God. His look was 
serene; his features unruffled. The Eternal 
was placing him on a rock. Evening began 
to close in, and the torches were lighted in the 
hall. Their light gleamed through the ancient 
painted glass to the court beyond, and the 
whole scene wore an aspect of more than com- 
mon solemnity. At length the Doctor was ad- 
mitted. Many persons obtained admission 
with him, for every one was desirous to hear 
his answer. The Princes having taken their 
seats, and Luther being again in presence of 
Charles V. — the Chancellor of the Elector of 
Treves broke silence, and said : 

" Martin Luther, you requested yesterday a 
delay which is now expired. Certainly the 
Diet was not bound in justice to accede to 
your desire, since every man should be so 
grounded in his faith as to be able at all times 
to give an answer to those who ask him ; much 
more one who is an eminent and learned doc- 
tor in the Scriptures Now, therefore, 

answer the inquiry of his Majesty, who has 
manifested so much indulgence. Are you 
prepared to defend all that your writings con- 
tain, or do you wish to retract any part of 
them?" 

After having spoken these words, the Chan- 
cellor repeated them in German. 

"Hereupon," say the Acts of Worms, 
" Doctor Martin Luther made answer in a low 
and humble tone, without any vehemence or 
violence, but with gentleness and mildness, 
and in a manner full of respect and diffidence, 
yet with much joy and Christian firmness." 

" Most Serene Emperor, and you illustrious 
Princes and gracious Lords," said Luther, 
turning towards Charles, and looking round 
the assembly, "I this day appear before you 
in all humility, according to your command ; 
and I implore your Majesty and your august 



J Highnesses, by the mercies of God, tc Irsten 
{ wit'h favour to the defence of a cause which I 
I am well assured is just and right. I ask par- 
I don if, by reason of my ignorance, I am want- 
j ing in the manners that befit a court; for I 
have not been brought up in king's palaces, 
but in the seclusion of a cloister. 

"Two questions were yesterday put to me 
by his Imperial Majesty ; the first, whether I 
was the author of the books whose titles were 
read ; the second, whether I wished to revoke 
or defend the doctrine I have taught. I an- 
swered the first, and I adhere to that answer. 
"As to the second, I have composed writ- 
ings on very different subjects. In some I 
have discussed Faith and Good Works, in a 
spirit at once so pure, clear, and Christian, 
that even my adversaries themselves, far from 
finding any thing to censure, confess that these 
writings are profitable, and deserve to be pe- 
rused by devout persons. The Pope's bull, 
violent as it is, acknowledges this. What 
then should I be doing, if I were now to re- 
tract these writings ? Wretched man ! I alone, 
of all men living, should be abandoning truths 
approved by the unanimous voice of friends 
and enemies, and opposing doctrines that the 
whole world glories in confessing. 

" I have composed, secondly, certain works 
against Popery, wherein I have attacked such 
as, by false doctrines, irregular lives, and 
scandalous examples, afflict the Christian 
world, and ruin the bodies and souls of men. 
And is not this confirmed by the grief of all 
who fear God ? Is it not manifest that the 
laws and human doctrines of the Popes entan- 
gle, vex, and distress the consciences of the 
faithful, while the crying and endless extor 
tions of Rome engulf the property and wealth 
of Christendom, and more particularly of this 
illustrious nation? 

" If I were to revoke what I have written 
on that subject, what should I do ... but 
strengthen this tyranny, and open a wider 
door to so many and flagrant impieties? 
Bearing down all resistance with fresh fury,« 
we should behold these proud men swell, 
foam, and rage more than ever. And not 
merely would the yoke which now weighs 
down Christians be made more grinding by 
my retractation, — it would thereby become, so 
to speak, lawful ; for, by my retractation, it 
would receive confirmation from your most 
Serene Majesty, and all the States of the Em- 
pire. Great God ! I should thus be like to an 
infamous cloak, used to hide and cover over 
every kind of malice and tyranny. 

" In the third and last place, I have written 
some books against private individuals, who 
had undertaken to defend the tyranny of Rome 
by destroying the faith. I freely confess that 
I may have attacked such persons with more 
violence than was consistent with my profes- 
sion as an ecclesiastic. I do not think of my- 
self as a saint; but neither can I retract these 
books, because I should, by so doing, sanction 
the impieties of my opponents; and they 
would thence take occasion to crush God's 
people with still more cruelty. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



203 



"Yet, as I am a mere man, and not God, I 
will defend myself after the example of Jesus 
Christ, who said, i If I have spoken evil, bear 
witness against meS (John xviii. 23.) How 
much more should I, who am but dust and 
ashes, and so prone to error, desire that every 
one should bring forward what he can against 
my doctrine! 

"Therefore, most Serene Emperor, and you 
illustrious Princes, and all, whether high or 
low, who hear me, I implore you by the mer- 
cies of God to prove to me by the writings of 
the prophets and apostles that I am in error. 
As soon as 1 shall be convinced, I will in- 
stantly retract all my errors, and will myself 
be the first to seize my writings, and commit 
them to the flames. 

"What I have just said, I think, will clearly 
show that I have well considered and weighed 
the dangers to which I am exposing myself; 
but, far from being dismayed by them, I rejoice 
exceedingly to see the Gospel this day, as of 
old, a cause of disturbance and disagreement. 
It is the character and destiny of God's word. 
' I came not to send peace unto the earth, but 
a sword, 5 said Jesus Christ. God is wonder- 
ful and awful in his counsels. Let us have a 
care lest, in our endeavours to arrest discords, 
we be found to fight against the holy word of 
God, and bring down upon our heads a fright- 
ful deluge of inextricable dangers, present dis- 
aster, and everlasting desolation Let us 

have a care lest the reign of the young and 
noble Prince, the Emperor Charles, on whom, 
next to God, we build so many hopes, should 
not only commence, but continue and termi- 
nate its course under the most fatal auspices. 
I might cite examples drawn from the oracles 
of God," continued Luther, speaking with 
noble courage in the presence of the mightiest 
monarch of the world; "I might speak of 
Pharaohs, of Kings of Babylon, or of Israel, 
who were never more contributing to their 
own ruin than when, by measures in appear- 
ance most prudent, they thought to establish 
their authority. God removeth the mountains, 
and they know not. (Job ix. 5.) 

"In speaking thus, I do not suppose that 
such noble Princes have need of my poor judg- 
ment; but I wish to acquit myself of a duty 
that Germany has a right to expect from her 
children. And so, commending myself to your 
August Majesty, and your most Serene High- 
nesses, I beseech you, in all humility, not to 
permit the hatred of my enemies to rain upon 
me an indignation I have not deserved."* 

Luther had pronounced these words in Ger- 
man, with modesty, and yet with much earn- 
estness and resolution: he was desired to 
repeat them in Latin; (the Emperor was not 
fond of German.) The splendid assembly 
which surrounded the Reformer, its noise and 
excitement, had exhausted him. "I was 
bathed in sweat," said he, "and standing in 
the centre of the Princes." Frederic of Thun, 
confidential counsellor of the Elector of Sax- 

* This speech, as well as mos: of the documents 
we cite, are taken, word for word, from authentic 
documents. Se< v - L. Opp 'L.) xvii. 116 — 780. 



ony, who, by his master's orders, had taken 
his stand at the Reformer's side, to guard him 
against surprise or violence, seeing the ex- 
haustion of the poor monk, said, "If you are 
not equal to the exertion of repeating your 
speech, what you' have said will suffice." 
But Luther, having taken a moment's breath- 
ing time, began again, and repeated his ad* 
dress in Latin, with undiminished power. 

"The Elector was quite pleased with that," 
said the Reformer, when relating the circum- 
stance. 

As soon as he stopped speaking, the Chan- 
cellor of Treves, spokesman of the Diet, said, 
angrily, 

" You have not given any answer to the 
inquiry put to you. You are not to question 
the decisions of the Councils, you are required 
to return a clear and distinct answer. Will 
you, or will you not retract V Luther then 
answered unhesitatingly, " Since your most 
Serene Majesty and your High Mightinesses 
require of me a simple, clear, and direct an 
swer, I will give one, and it is this: I cannot 
submit my faith either to the Pope or to the 
Councils, because it is as clear as noonday 
that they have often fallen into error, and even 
into glaring inconsistency with themselves. 
If, then, I am not convinced by proof from 
Holy Scripture, or by cogent reasons; if I am 
not satisfied by the very texts that I have cited ; 
and if my judgment is not in this way brought 
into subjection to God's word, I neither can 
nor will retract any thing; for it cannot be 
right for a Christian to speak against his con- 
science." Then turning a look on that assem- 
bly before whom he stood, and which held in 
its hands his life or death — " I stand here, and 
can say no more: God help me! Amen." 

Thus did Luther, constrained to act upon 
his Faith ; led by his conscience to the sur- 
render of his life; bound by the noblest of all 
necessity, — the servant of the truth he believed, 
and in that service most free; like a vessel 
freighted with treasure more precious than it- 
self, that the pilot runs upon the rocks, — pro- 
nounce the sublime words that, at the distance 
of three centuries, still make our hearts bound 
within us. Thus spake, in presence of the 
Emperor and the chiefs of the nation, a single 
monk! and that weak and poor man, standing 
alone, but depending on the grace of the Most 
High, shone forth grander and mightier than 
them all. His words came with a power 
against which the great of this world could 
do nothing. This is that weakness of God 
which is stronger than men. The Empire 
and the Church on the one hand, an obscure 
individual on the other, have looked upon each 
other. God had gathered together these kings 
and prelates, to bring publicly to naught their 
wisdom. The battle is lost; and the conse- 
quences of this defeat of the powers of this 
world will be felt among all nations, and in 
all ages to come. 

The assembly was motionless with astonish 
ment. Several of the Princes present could 
scarcely conceal their admiration. The Em- 
peror, recovering from first impressions, ex.- 



204 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



claimed, " The monk speaks with an intrepid 
heart and unshaken courage." The Spaniards 
nnd Italians alone were confounded, and soon 
began to ridicule a moral grandeur which they 
could not comprehend. 

" If you do not retract," resumed the Chan- 
cellor, as soon as the assembly had recovered 
from the impression produced by Luther's 
speech, — "the Emperor and the States of the 
Empire will proceed to consider how to deal 
with an obstinate heretic." At these words 
Luther's friends trembled ; — but the monk re- 
peated : " May God be my helper! for I can 
retract nothing-." 

This said, Luther withdrew, and the 
Princes deliberated. Every one saw clearly 
that the moment was critical for Christendom. 
On the yea or nay of this monk, perhaps, de- 
pended the repose of the Church and of the 
world for ages to come. In the desire to over- 
awe him, he had been raised on a platform in 
sight of a whole nation: the attempt to give 
publicity to his defeat had only served to en- 
hance his victory over his enemies. The par- 
tisans of Rome could not patiently submit to 
this humiliation. Luther was again called in, 
and the speaker thus addressed him : — " Mar- 
tin, you have not spoken with that humility 
which befits your condition. The distinction 
you have drawn as to your works was need- 
less, for if you retracted such as contain errors, 
the Emperor would not allow the rest to be 
burned. It is absurd to require to be refuted 
by Scripture, when you are reviving heresies 
condemned by the General Council of Con- 
stance. The Emperor therefore commands you 
to say simply, yes or no, whether you mean 
to affirm what you have advanced, or whether 
you desire to retract any part thereof." — " I 
have no other answer to give than that I have 
already given," said Luther quietly. They 
understood him. — Firm as a rock, — the bil- 
lows of the powers of the world had broken 
harmlessly at his feet. The simple energy of 
his words, his erect countenance, the glance 
of his eye, the inflexible firmness that might 
be traced in his rude German features, had in- 
deed left a deep impression on the assembly. 
A'l hope of quelling his spirit had vanished. 
The Spaniards, the Belgians, and even the 
Italians were silent. The monk had triumph- 
ed over these powers of this world. He had 
said No to the Church and to the Empire. 
Charles the Fifth arose from his seat, and the 
whole assembly rose at the same instant. 
" The Diet will meet again to-morrow morn- 
ing to hear the Emperor's decision," said the 
Chancellor aloud. 

It was night; — each repaired home in the 
dark. Two of the Imperial officers were ap- 
pointed to accompany Luther. Some per- 
sons took it into their heads that his doom had 
been decided, that they were conducting him 
to prison, which he would only leave to 
mount the scaffold. Then a tumult spread. 
Several gentlemen demanded aloud : '.' Are 
they leading him to prison ?" — " No !" an- 
swered Luther, " they are conducting me to 
my hotel." On hearing this the commotion 



1 subsided. Then certain Spaniards of the Em- 
! peror's household followed the bold man 
j through the streets that led to the hotel, with 
shouts and mockery, while others poured forth 
the cries of a wild beast bereft of his prey. 
But Luther maintained his firmness and as- 
surance. 

Such was the scene of Worms. The in- 
trepid monk who had hitherto boldly braved 
all his enemies, spoke on that occasion to 
those who thirsted for his blood with calm 
dignity and humility. With no exaggeration, 
no enthusiasm of the flesh, no irascibility; he 
was in peace in the liveliest emotion ; unpre- 
sumptuous, though withstanding the powers 
of this world ; and full of grandeur in presence 
of the great ones of the earth. Behold an in- 
dubitable sign that Luther was then acting in 
obedience to God, and not the suggestions of 
his own pride. In the hall at YVorms was 
one greater than Luther or than Charles. 
" When ye shall be brought before governors 
and kings for my sake, take no thought how 
or what ye shall speak, for it shall be given 
you in that same hour what ye shall speak. 
For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of 
your Father which speaketh in you." Never, 
perhaps, has this promise been more signally 
fulfilled. 

A powerful impression had been produced 
on the chiefs of the empire. Luther had re- 
marked this ; and it had given him new cou- 
rage. The Pope's adherents were provoked 
because Eck had not earlier interrupted the 
speech of the guilty monk. Several princes 
and lords were won over to his cause by the 
tone of deep conviction with which he had de- 
fended it. It is true, with some the effect was 
transient; but some, who then concealed their 
thoughts, at a later period declared themselves 
with great boldness. 

Luther had returned to his hotel, and was 
seeking in repose to recruit his strength, ex- 
hausted in the stern and trying events of the 
day. Spalatin and others of his friends sur- 
rounded him, giving thanks to God. As they 
were discoursing, a servant entered bearing a 
silver vase filled with Eimbek beer. " My 
master," said he, as he offered it to Luther, 
"desires you to refresh yourself with this be- 
verage." — " What Prince is it," said the W T it- 
temberg Doctor, " who has me in such gra- 
cious remembrance 1 ?" It was the aged Duke 
Eric of Brunswick. The Reformer was moved 
by this offering from a powerful lord belong- 
ing to the Pope's party. " His Highness 
himself," continued the messenger, "drank 
of the cup before sending it to you." Here- 
upon Luther, being thirsty, poured out some 
of the Duke's beer, and after having drunk, 
he said : " As on this day Duke Eric has re- 
membered me, may our Lord Jesus Christ re- 
member him in the hour of his last struggle." 
The gift was a trifling one ; but Luther, de- 
siring to" show his gratitude to a Prince Wio 
thought of him at such a moment, gave him 
of such as he had, — a prayer ! The servant 
bore his message to his master. The aged 
Duke called to mind these words at the mo 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



20E 



ment of his death, and addressing a young 
page, Francis Kram, who was standing at his 
bedside. — "Take the Bible," said he, "and 
read to me." The youth read the words of 
Christ, and the soul of the dying man took 
comfort. " Whosoever shall give you a cup of 
water to drink in my name, because ye belong 
to Christ" said the Saviour, " verily I say unto 
you he shall not lose his reward." 

The servant of the Duke of Brunswick had 
scarcely left him, when a messenger from the 
Elector of Saxony brought orders to Spalatin 
to come to him immediately. Frederic had 
attended the Diet with many apprehensions. 
He had expected that Luther's courage would 
have failed him in the Emperor's presence. 
Hence he had been deeply affected by the Re- 
former's firmness. He felt proud of having 
taken such a man under his protection. When 
the chaplain arrived, the table was spread. 
Tne Elector was just, sitting down to supper 
with his court, and already the servant in 
waiting had taken away the vase in which it 
was the custom to wash before eating. On 
seeing Spalatin enter, Frederic instantly made 
a sign to him to follow him ; and as soon as 
he found himself alone with him in his bed- 
chamber, he said with strong emotion: " Oh ! 
how Luther spoke before the Emperor and all 
the States of the Empire : — all I feared was 
that he might go too far!" From that time 
Frederic formed a resolution to protect the 
Doctor more openly. 

Aleander saw the effect that Luther had 
produced ; there was no time to lose. It was 
necessary to urge the young Emperor to adopt 
vigorous measures. The moment was favour- 
able : a war with France was impending. 
Leo X., eager to aggrandize his states, and 
caring little for the peace of Christendom, 
was at the same time secretly negotiating two 
treaties, — one with Charles against Francis, 
and the other with Francis against Charles. 
By the former he stipulated with the Emperor 
for the possession of Parma, Placentia, and 
Ferrara; by the latter he claimed from the 
King a district of the kingdom of Naples, 
which should be conquered from Charles. 
The latter felt the importance of gaining Leo 
to his side, that he might be strengthened by 
his alliance in the war with his rival of France. 
The mighty Pontiff's friendship seemed to be 
cheaply purchased by the sacrifice of Luther. 
The day following Luther's appearance 
being Friday, the 19th of April, the Emperor 
caused to be read aloud to the Diet, a mes- 
sage written in Flemish by his own hand: 

" Descended from the Christian Emperors 
of Germany, from the Catholic Kings of 
Spain, from the Archdukes of Austria and 
Dukes of Burgundy, who have all distin- 
guished themselves as defenders of the faith 
of Rome, I am firmly resolved to tread in the 
footsteps of my ancestors. A single monk, 
led astray by his own madness, erects him- 
self against the faith of Christendom. I 
will, sacrifice my kingdoms, my power, my 
friends, my treasure, my body and blood, my 
thoughts and my life, to stay the further pro- 



gress of this impiety. I am about to dismiss 
the Augustine Luther, forbidding him to cause 
the least disturbance among the people. 1 
will then take measures against him and his 
adherents, as open heretics, by excommuni- 
cation, interdict, and every means necessary 
to their destruction. I call on* the members 
of the states to comport themselves like faith- 
ful Christians." 

This address was not well received by all 
to whom it was addressed. Charles, young 
and hasty, had not observed the customary 
form which obliged him first to ask the opi- 
nion of the Diet. Immediately two directly 
opposite parties began to show themselves. 
The creatures of the Pope, the Elector of 
Brandenburg, and several dignitaries 01 the 
church, demanded that Luther's safe-conduct 
should not be respected. " His ashes ought 
to be thrown into the Rhine," said they, " as 
was the fate of John Huss." Charles, if we 
may believe one historian, subsequently re- 
pented bitterly that he did not adopt this 
cowardly suggestion. " I acknowledge," 
said he, towards the close of life, "that I 
committed a great mistake in not punishing 
Luther with death. I was not bound to keep 
my promise ; that heretic had offended a 
master greater than I. I might and I ought 
to have forgotten my pledge, and avenged the 
offence he committed against God. It is be- 
cause I did not have him put to death, that 
heresy has ever since been spreading. His 
death would have stifled it in its cradle."* 

This frightful proposal filled the Elector 
and all Luther's friends with alarm. " The 
death of John Huss," said the Elector Pala- 
tine, "has brought too many calamities on 
Germany for us to think of again erecting a 
like scaffold." Even Duke George exclaim- 
ed : "The German Princes will not endure 
the violation of a safe-conduct. This first 
Diet, presided over by our new Emperor, will 
not be guilty of so shameful an action. Such 
perfidy befits not the ancient good faith of the 
Germans." The Bavarian Princes, though 
attached to the Roman Church, supported this 
protest; and the prospect of his death that 
Luther's friends had before them gradually 
disappeared. 

The report of these discussions, which 
lasted for two days, circulated in the city. 
Party spirit was roused. Certain gentlemen 
who had espoused the new opinions began to 
speak their minds boldly on the act of trea- 
chery that Aleander solicited. "The Empe- 
ror," said they, " is young, and is led away 
by the cajoleries of Papists and bishops." 
Pallavicini mentions four hundred nobles, all 
ready with their swords to enforce respect to 



* Sandoval Hist, de Carlos V., quoted by 
Llorente in his History of the Inquisition, ii. 57. 
According to Llorente, the supposition that 
Charles toward the end of his life leaned to evan- 
gelical opinions is an invention of the P.oteStants, 
and of the enemies of Philip II. The question is 
a problem in history which the numerous cita 
tions of Llorente seem, unhappily, to olve cot 
formably to his statement. 



206 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Luther's safe-conduct. On the morning of 
Saturday, placards were seen posted on the 
doors of the houses, and in the public squares, 
some against Luther, and others in his favour. 
In one was read the strong and simple words 
of Ecclesiastes, Wo io thee, land, -when 
thy king is a child!''' 1 It was rumoured that 
Sickengen had assembled, at a distance of a 
few leagues from Worms, within the impreg- 
nable \a alls of his fortress, a number of knights 
and soldiers, and waited only the issue of the 
affair to know how to act. The popular en- 
thusiasm, not merely in Worms, but even in 
the remotest towns of the Empire, the in- 
trepid courage of the knights, — the devotion 
of several princes to the cause of the Refor- 
mation — all together, gave clear intimation to 
Charles and to the Diet that the course of 
proceeding urged by the Romanists might 
place in jeopardy the supreme authority, give 
birth to popular commotions, and endanger 
the very stability of the Empire itself It 
was but a question — whether a single monk 
should be brought to the stake ; but the 
princes and partisans of Rome could not mus- 
ter among them all either the strength or the 
courage necessary for the act. Doubtless, 
also, Charles V., yet in his youth, feared to 
incur the guilt of perjury. We might infer 
this, from a saying which, if report be true, 
\ he uttered at this juncture. " Though honour 
and good faith should be banished from the 
earth, they should find an asylum in the 
breasts of princes." It is a melancholy re- 
flection that he appears to have forgotten this 
maxim before his death. But the Emperor 
may have been actuated by other motives. 
The Florentine Vettori, the friend of Leo X. 
and of Machiavelli, affirms that Charles spared 
Luther that he mighthold the Pope in check. 

In the sitting of Saturday, the violent pro- 
positions of Aleander were rejected. Luther 
was the object of much affection, and a desire 
was general to rescue this simple man, whose 
confidence in God was so affecting ; but it 
was wished, at the same time, to save the 
Church. Men trembled at the foreseen con- 
sequences of either the triumph or the pu- 
nishment of the Reformer. Plans of concilia- 
tion were started, and it was proposed to make 
a new effort with the Doctor of Wittemberg. 
The Archbishop Elector of Mentz himself, 
the young and prodigal Albert, "more devout 
than bold," says Pallavicini, had caught the 
alarm at witnessing the interest evinced by 
the people and the nobility in the fate of the 
monk - of Saxony. His chaplain, Capito, 
who during his residence at Bale had con- 
tracted acquaintance with the evangelical 
priest of Zurich, Zwingle, a courageous con- 
fessor of the truth, of whom we have before 
had occasion to speak, there can be little 
doubt, also represented to Albert the justice 
of the Reformer's cause. The worldly Arch- 
bishop experienced one of those transient re- 
currences of Christian feelings which we 
sometimes trace in the lives of men, and con- 
sented to wait on the Emperor and request 
him to give time for a fresh attempt. But 



I Charles would not hear of any thing of the 
kind. On Monday the 22d of April, the 
Princes came in a body to repeat the request 
of Albert. "I will not go from what I have 
laid down," replied the Emperor. "I will 
authorize no one to have any official commu- 
nication with Luther. But," added he (much 
to the indignation of Aleander,) " I will allow 
that man three days' consideration; during 
which time any one may exhort him privately, 
as he may think fit." It was all his friends 
asked. The Reformer, thought they, elevated 
by the solemnity of his public trial, would 
perhaps give way in more friendly conference, 
and, by this means, it might be possible to 
save him from the gulf that yawned before 
him. 

The Elector of Saxony knew the very con- 
trary: hence he was full of anxiety. "If it 
were in my power," he wrote on the next day 
to his brother, Duke John, " I would be ready 
to undertake the defence of Luther. You can 
hardly imagine how I am beset by the parti- 
sans of Rome. If I were to tell you all, you 
would hear strange things. They are bent 
upon his ruin; and if any one evinces the least 
interest in his safety, he is instantly cried 
down as a heretic. May God, who forsaketh 
not the cause of the righteous, bring the strug- 
gle to a happy issue !" Frederic, without be- 
traying his warm affection for the Reformer, 
contented himself with keeping a constant eyu 
upon all his movements. 

Not so men of all ranks at Worms. Their 
sympathy broke forth without fear or disguise. 
On the Friday, a train of princes, counts, ba- 
rons, knights, gentlemen, ecclesiastics, laity 
and common people, surrounded the Reform- 
er's lodging, entering and departing as if 
never satisfied with gazing on him He was 
become the man of Germany. Even those 
who did not question his being in error, weie 
affected by the nobility of soul which led him 
to peril his life at the call of his conscience. 
Luther had the happiness of holding with 
many persons at Worms, and those some of 
the most intelligent of the nation, conversa- 
tions abounding in that salt with which all his 
words were seasoned. All, on leaving him, 
carried away a sentiment of generous enthu 
siasm for truth. " How many things have 1 
to tell you," wrote George Vogler, private se- 
cretary to the Margrave Casimir von Bran- 
denburg. " What conversations, overflowing 
with piety and kindness, Luther has had with 
me and others. Oh ! how rich in grace is 
that man !" 

One day a young Prince, of seventeen 
years of age, galloped into the court of the 
inn ; — it was Philip, who for two years had 
governed Hesse. The young Landgrave was 
of decided and enterprising character, — wise 
above his years, warlike, impetuous, and little 
accustomed to be guided by anything but his 
own will. Struck by Luther's speech, he 
wished to have a nearer view of him. " He 
however was not on my side in the matter." 
said Luther, in relating it. He threw himself 
from his horse, — ran up the stairs without cere* 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



S07 



mony to Luther's apartment, and addressing 
him, said, " Well, Doctor ; how are you going 
on 1 ?" "My noble lord," answered Luther, 
" I think all will end well." " I hear," re- 
plied the Landgrave, laughing, "that you, 
Doctor, teach that a woman may leave her 
husband and take another when the first is 
proved to be too old." The courtiers of the 
Imperial Court had invented this story. The 
enemies of truth never fail to circulate inven- 
tions as pretended doctrines of Christian 
teachers. "No, my lord," replied Luther, 
with gravity, " do not talk thus, I beg of your 
Highness." On this the Prince thrust out his 
hand to the Doctor, cordially grasping Lu- 
ther's, with the words : " Dear Doctor, if 
you are in the right, may God be your helper !" 
and then leaving the room, jumped into his 
saddle and rode off. It was the first inter- 
view of these two men, who were destined 
subsequently to stand in the van of the Re- 
formation, defending it, — the one by the sword 
of the Word, — and the other by that of kingly 
power. 

The Archbishop of Treves, Richard von 
GreifFenklau, by permission of Charles, had 
andertaken the office of mediator. Richard, 
who was intimate with the Elector of Saxony, 
and a stanch Roman Catholic, wished, by 
accommodating this affair, to render a service 
to his friend as well as to the Church. In the 
evening of Monday, 22d April, just as Luther 
was sitting down to table, a messenger from 
this prelate brought him word that the Arch- 
bishop wished to see him on the day after the 
morrow, Wednesday, at six in the morning. 

The chaplain, attended by Sturm, the Im- 
perial herald, was at Luther's door before six 
in the morning of that day. But already, and 
as early as four o'clock, Aleander had sum- 
moned Cochlasus to his side. The Nuncio 
had quickly discerned in the man whom 
Capito had introduced to him a devoted in- 
strument of the Roman Court, and one on 
whom he could rely as upon himself. Not 
being himself able to attend the interview, 
Aleander wished much to have some one in 
place of himself. " Do you go direct to the 
Archbishop of Treves," said he to the Dean 
of Frankfort, " take no part in the discussion, 
but merely pay attention to all that is said, so 
as to be able to bring me an exact report," 
The Reformer repaired, accompanied by some 
of his friends, to the Archbishop's residence. 
He found the Prelate surrounded by the Mar- 
grave Joachim of Brandenburg, Duke George 
of Saxony, the Bishops of Brandenburg and 
Augsburg, some nobles and deputies of the 
free cities, and other" civilians and divines, 
among whom were Cochlaeus and Jerome 
W T ehe, chancellor of Baden. The latter, a 
learned civilian, was anxious to see a reform- 
ation of general morals and discipline : he 
went even further in his wishes^ " What we 
want," said he, " is that word of God, so long 
hidden under a bushel, should be brought for- 
ward in all its brightness." This friend to 
conciliation was appointed to conduct the 
Conference. Turning kindly to Luther, he 
15 



said, " the object in summoning you hither 
is not to dispute with you, — but to urge upon 
you brotherly exhortations. You know how 
carefully Scripture enjoins us to beware of the 
'arrow that flieth by day, and the destruction 
that wasteth at noon-day.' The adversary of 
the human race has impelled you to the pub- 
lishing certain things contrary to the faith. 
Consider your own eternal interest, and that 
of the Empire. Have a care, lest those whom 
Christ hath redeemed from eternal death by 
his blood, should by you be led away to their 
everlasting ruin. Cease to set up your judg- 
ment against that of holy Councils. Unless 
we adhere to the decrees of our fathers, there 
will be nothing but confusion in the Church. 
The eminent Princes who hear me are quite 
intent upon saving you ; but if you persist, the 
Emperor will banish you beyond the Empire, 
and no part of the world will tnen be able tc 
give you shelter. Consider, therefore, the fate 
that awaits you." 

" Most serene Princes," answered Luther, 
" I thank you for your kind concern, but I am 
but a poor man, — of too mean station to look to 
be advised by such great lords ;" and he pro- 
ceeded to say, " I have not censured all the 
Councils, but only the Council of Constance, 
for their condemnation of John Huss's doc- 
trine : namely, that the Christian Church is 
the assembly of those who are predestined to 
salvation. It condemned that article of our 
faith, I believe in the holy universal Church, and 
even the word of God." He added : " I am 
told that my preaching gives occasion to stumb- 
ling. I answer, that it is impossible to preach 
the Gospel of Christ without offence. Why 
then should any such fear separate me from 
the Lord, and that divine word which alone is 
truth 1 No, rather will I give up body, blood, 
and life itself! ..." 

The Princes and Doctors having deliberated, 
Luther was called in, and Wehe resumed with 
mildness : — " We must honour the powers that 
be, even when they err: and sacrifice much 
for the sake of charity." Then with more 
earnestness he added : — " Submit to the judg- 
ment of the Emperor, and fear nothing." 

Luther. — "I consent with all my heart to 
the Emperor, the Princes, and even the hum- 
blest Christian's examining and judging of 
my writings, but on one single condition, 
namely, that they take God's word for their 
guide. Men have nothing to do, but to render 
obedience to that. My conscience is in de- 
pendence upon that word, and I am the bound- 
en subject of its authority." 

The Elector of Brandenburg. — "If I 
understand you, Doctoi, you will acknow- 
ledge no other judge than the Holy Scrip- 
ture]" 

Luther. — " Yes, my Lord, exactly so — that 
is my resolve." On this the Princes and 
Doctors withdrew, but the excellent Arch- 
bishop of Treves was still loath to forego his 
undertaking. " Come with me," said he to 
Luther, passing into his private apartment, 
and at the same time he desired John Eck and 
Cochlaeus of the one side, and Schurff and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



Amsdorffof the other party to follow. " Why," 
asked Eck, with warmth, "continually appeal 
to the Holy Scripture? — it is from thence 
gome all heresies." But Luther, says his 
friend Mathesius, was unmoved as a rock, 
backed by the true ruck, the word of the Lord. 
" The Pope," said he, " is no judge in things 
pertaining to the word of the Lord. It is 
the duty of every Christian to see and un- 
derstand how to live and die." They sepa- 
rated. The partisans of the Papacy felt 
Luther's superiority, and ascribed it to the 
circumstance of there being no one at hand 
capable of answering him. " If the Emperor 
had managed well," says Cochlaeus, " when 
he cited Luther to Worms, he would have 
also summoned theologians capable of refuting 
his errors." 

The Archbishop of Treves repaired to the 
Diet, and communicated the failure of his 
negotiation. The surprise of the young Em- 
peror was only equalled by his indignation. 
"It is high time," said he, " to put an end to 
this business." The Archbishop requesting 
a delay of two days, and all the Diet joining 
in the request, Charles V. gave consent. 
Aleander, losing patience, broke forth in com- 
plaints. 

While these things were passing in the 
Diet, Cochlaeus burned with desire to bear 
off'the victory denied to prelates and kings. 
Though he had ever and anon thrown out a 
word, in the presence of the Archbishop of 
Treves, the injunction of Aleander to main- 
tain silence had restrained him. He resolved 
to make amends for this restraint, and lost no 
time, after giving the Pope's Nuncio an ac- 
count of his mission, to present himself at. 
Luther's lodging. Advancing to him in a 
friendly manner, he expressed his regret at 
the Emperor's resolution. After they had 
dined together, the conversation grew more 
animated. Cochlaeus urged Luther to retract. 
The latter shook his head. Several persons 
who sat at table could with difficulty control 
their feelings. They expressed their indig- 
nation that the Papists, instead of convincing, 
should seek to restrain the Reformer by force. 
"Well," said Cochlaeus to Luther, growing 
impatient of these reproaches, " I offer to dis- 
pute publicly with you if you will forego your 
safe-conduct." Of all things what Luther 
most wished was a public discussion. What 
was he to do? To throw aside his safe-con- 
duct would be to risk destruction : to decline 
Cochlaeus's challenge would be casting doubt 
upon his cause. The guests saw in this pro- 
posal an act of perfidy planned with Aleander, 
whom the Dean had just left. Vollrat von 
W 7 atzdorf relieved Luther from the embarrass- 
ment of a decision. Warm in his temper, 
and roused to indignation at the thought of a 
stratagem devised for delivering Luther into 
the hands of the executioner, he rose with 
great warmth, and seizing the terrified priest 
turned him out of doors; and blood might 
have flowed, had not the guests interposed 
between the angry knight and the trembling 
Cochlaeus. The latter withdrew in confusion 



from the hotel of the Knights of Rhodes. 
Doubtless it was nothing but the warmth of 
argument that had drawn forth the words let 
slip by the Dean: doubtless there was no 
design concocted with Aleander to draw Lu- 
ther into the toils. Cochlaeus denies it, and 
we prefer to believe his assurance. Yet, true 
it is, he had but just quitted the Nuncio to 
present himself at Luther's lodging. 

That same evening the Archbishop of 
Treves assembled at supper the persons who 
had been present in the morning's conference. 
He sought thus to unbend the minds of the 
parties, and dispose them in favour of recon- 
ciliation. Luther, with all his intrepid firm- 
ness in presence of arbiters or judges, was 
remarkable in private intercourse for a good 
nature and cheerfulness, which gave ground 
to hope almost any thing from him. The 
Archbishop's Chancellor, who had displayed 
so much stiffness in his official bearing, con- 
curred in this plan, and towards the end of 
the repast, gave Luther's health. The latter 
was about to return the compliment, — the 
wine was poured out, and according to his 
custom he had made the sign of the cross on 
his glass; when all of a sudden the glass 
burst in his hands, and the wine was spilt 
upon the table. The guests were thunder- 
struck. Some of Luther's friends exclaimed, 
" It must have been poisoned,"* but the Doc- 
tor, without discomposure, answered with a 
smile — " Dear friends, either this wine was 
not destined for me, — or it would have dis- 
agreed with me:" adding calmly — "No doubt 
the glass has flown, because in washing, it 
was plunged too suddenly in cold water." 
These simple words have something of gran- 
deur about them in his circumstances, and 
show his unruffled peace. We cannot hence 
infer that the Romanists intended to poison 
Luther, above all, at the table of the Arch- 
bishop of Treves. This repast had no effect 
one way or another. Neither human applause, 
nor any fear of man, could shake the Refor- 
mer's decision. It was from above ! 

On the morning of Thursday, the 25th of 
April, the Chancellor Wehe and Doctor Peu- 
tinger of Augsburg, the Emperor's counsel- 
lor, who had expressed much friendship for 
Luther on occasion of his interview with De 
Vio, repaired to the hotel of " the Knights of 
Rhodes." The Elector of Saxony sent Fre- 
deric von Thun, and another of his council, 
to be present at the conference. " Rely upon 
us," said Wehe and Peutinger, earnestly de- 
sirous at any sacrifice to prevent the schism 
which was on the point of dividing the 
Church — " this business shall be concluded 
in a Christian spirit ; take our word for it." 
"I answer at once," said Luther; "I con- 
sent to forego my safe-conduct, and resign my 
person and my life to the Emperor's disposal; 

* Es miisse Gift darinnen gewesen seyn. Lu 
ther does not mention this circumstance, but his 
friend Razeberg, physician to the ^lector John 
Frederic, records it in a manuscript history, iotind 
in the library of Gotha, and says he received il 
from an eye-witness. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



209 



but as to the word of God . . . Never!" Fre- 
deric von Thun, in strong emotion, stood up, 
and addressing the two envoys, said, " Is not 
that enough 1 Is not such a sacrifice suffi- 
cient ?" And then, protesting he would hear 
no more, he withdrew. On this Wehe and 
Peutinger, hoping to succeed better with the 
Doctor himself, seated themselves at his side. 
" Submit to the Diet," said they to him. 
"No," answered Luther, " for it is written, 
4 Cursed is he who trusteth in man.' " (Jere- 
miah xvii.) Wehe and Peutinger redoubled 
their exhortations and instances, — pressing 
the Reformer more and more closely ; — Lu- 
ti.er, worn out, arose, and made sign to them 
to retire, saying: "I will allow no man to 
exalt himseif above God's word." " Think 
better of it," said they as they withdrew; 
" we will call on you again in the afternoon." 

They came, according to appointment, but 
aware that Luther would not yield the point, 
they brought with them a new proposal. Lu- 
ther has declined to acknowledge the Pope, 
the Emperor, and the Diet, there was yet an 
authority which he himself had formerly in- 
voked ; a General Council. Doubtless such 
a suggestion would call forth the anger of 
Rome, but it was a last plank. The delegates, 
therefore, proposed to Luther an appeal to a 
Council. He had only to accede to the offer 
•without entering into points of detail. Years 
must elapse before the difficulties the Pope 
w ? ould interpose in the way of a Council could 
be removed. A gain of some years was every 
thing to the Reformation and the Reformer. 
God, in the progress of events, would in that 
time bring about great, changes. But Luther 
put right above all things; he had no desire 
to deliver himself at the expense of the Truth, 
even though a silent dissimulation of it should 
be all required of him. "I consent, — but," 
he answered, and the condition involved an 
appeal from the Council as judge, — "on con- 
dition that the Council should decide accord- 
ing to Holy Scripture." 

Peutinger and Wehe, who had no idea of a 
Council deciding otherwise, hastened over- 
joyed to the Archbishop. "Doctor Martin," 
said they, "w r ill submit his writings to the 
judgment of a Council." The Archbishop 
was preparing to communicate the intelli- 
gence to the Emperor, when a doubt crossed 
his mind ; he sent for Luther. 

Richard von Greiffenklau was alone when 
the Doctor arrived. "Dear Doctor," said the 
Archbishop, with much kindness of manner, 
"my doctors assure me that you consent to 
submit your cause without reserve to the de- 
cision of a Council." " My Lord," answered 
Luther, "I can endure any thing except to 
abandon the Holy Scripture." The Arch- 
bishop saw at once that Wehe and Peutinger 
had not fully explained the- facts. Never 
could Rome give her consent to a Council 
which should take Scripture alone for its 
guide. "It was requiring," says Pallavicini, 
" that one of weak sight should read very 
small writing, and at "the same moment re- 
fusing him the use of glasses." The good 



Archbishop sighed. "It was of little use, 
said he, "my sending for you. What would 
have been the consequence if I had gone di- 
rect to bear the message to the Emperor]" 

The unshaken firmness and uprightness of 
Luther may well astonish us. They will, 
however, be comprehended and honoured by 
all who know the righteousness of God. Sel- 
dom has a nobler testimony been borne to the 
unchangeable word of the Lord at the peril of 
the liberty and life of the man who thus bore 
witness. 

" Well then," said the venerable Prelate, 
addressing Luther, "let me hear your own 
remedy for the evil." 

Luther was silent for an instant. " My 
Lord, I know of none but what is found in 
that word of Gamaliel: 'If this work be of 
men, it will come to naught. But if it be of 
God ye cannot overthrow it, lest haply ye be 
found even to fight against God.' Let the 
Emperor, the Electors, and the states of the 
Empire, return that answer to the Pope." 

The Archbishop. — " At least retract some 
articles." 

Luther. — " Provided they be not those 
which the Council of Constance has con- 
demned." 

The Archbishop. — "Alas, I fear it is pre- 
cisely those." 

Luther. — "Then far sooner take my life, 
rather would I be deprived of my limbs than 
give up the plain and sincere Word of God.'' 

The Archbishop at length understood Lu- 
ther. " Retire," said he, still in a tone of 
much mildness. "My Lord," resumed Lu- 
ther, " may I beg you to request his Majesty 
to send me the safe-conduct necessary for my 
return whence I came." — " I will attend to 
it," replied the worthy Archbishop, — and they 
parted. 

Thus terminated these negotiations. The 
attention of the whole Empire had been en- 
gaged by this man, and its urgent entreaties 
and direful threats had not caused him to 
stumble. His erect bearing under the iron 
hand of the Pope was the means of emancipat- 
ing the Church — and the commencement of 
a new era. The interposition of Providence 
wasv manifest. It was one of those grand 
scenes in history above which the majesty of 
God seems to rise and hover. Luther retired 
in company with Spalatin, who had joined 
them during his conversation with the Arch- 
bishop. John von Minkwitz, counsellor of 
the Elector of Saxony, had been taken ill at 
Worms. The two friends visited him. Lu 
ther comforted the sick man in the tenderest 
manner. "Farewell;" said he as he left the 
room, " to-morrow I leave Worms." 

Luther was not mistaken. Scarcely three 
I hours had elapsed from his return to his hotel, 
j when the Chancellor Eck, attended by the 
! Chancellor of the Empire, and a notary, pre- 
j sented themselves. 

The Chancellor addressed him as follows . 
— "Martin Luther, His Imperial Majesty, the 
Electors, Princes, and States of the Empire, 
having repeatedly and in various ways, — but 



210 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hi vain, — exhorted you to submission, — the 
Emperor, in his character of defender of the 
Catholic faith, finds himself compelled to re- 
sort to other measures. He therefore orders 
you to return to whence you came, within the 
space of twenty-one days, and prohibits you 
from disturbing- the public peace on your 
journey, either by preaching or writing." 

Luther was well aware that this message 
was the precursor of his condemnation. " It 
has happened unto me," answered he mildly, 
" according- to the will of the Eternal. Bless- 
ed be his name!" He then proceeded, — 
" And first, I humbly, and from the bottom of 
my heart, thank his Majesty, the Electors, 
Princes, and States of the Empire, that they 
have given me so gracious a hearing. I nei- 
ther have, nor ever have had a wish but for 
one thing: to wit, a reformation of the Church 
according- to the Holy Scripture. I am ready 
to do or to suffer all thing-s for obedience to 
the Emperor's will. Life or death, honour or 
dishonour, I will bear. I make but one reser- 
vation — the preaching- of the Gospel ; for, 
says St. Paul, the Word of God is not to be 
bound." The deputies retired. 

On Friday morning- the 26th of April, the 
Reformer's friends and several nobles assem- 
bled at Luther's lodgings. Men took delight 
in recognising in the Christian constancy he 
had opposed to Charles and to the Empire, 
the features of the celebrated character of an- 
tiquity. 

Justum ac termcem propositi virum, 
Non civium ardor prava jubentium 
Non vuitus instantis tyranni, 
Mente quatit golida. . . (Horat. Od. lib. 3.) 

All were eager once more, and perhaps for 
the last time, to say farewell to the intrepid 
monk. Luther partook of a simple repast. 
And now he must bid adieu to his friends, 
and depart far from them under a sky over- 
hung with storms. He resolved to spend this 
solemn moment in the presence of God. He 
fortified his soul, and gave his blessing to 
those around him. It was ten o'clock. Lu- 
ther left the hotel, attended by his friends who 
had accompanied him to Worms. Twenty 
gentlemen on horseback surrounded the wa- 
gon. A crowd accompanied him outside the 
city. Sturm, the Imperial herald, joined him 
shortly after at Oppenheim, and on the fol- 
lowing day the party arrived at Frankfort. 

Thus did Luther leave those walls which 
seemed destined to become his tomb. His 
heart overflowed with praise to God. "Satan 
himself," said he, "kept the Pope's citadel, 
but Christ has made a wide breach in it, and 
the devil has been compelled to confess that 
Christ is mightier than he." 

"The day of the Diet of Worms," says the 
devout Mathesius, the disciple and friend of 
Luther, "is one of the most glorious given to 
the earth before its great catastrophe." The 
conflict at Worms resounded far and near; and 
as the report of it traversed Europe from the 
northern countries to the mountains of Switzer- 
land, and the towns of England, France, and 



Italy, many seized with eagerness the mighty 
weapons of the word of God. 

Arriving at Frankfort on the evening of 
Saturday, the 27th of April, Luther, on the 
following morning, took advantage of a mo- 
ment of leisure, the first he had enjoyed for a 
long time past, to despatch a short letter, re- 
plete at once with familiarity and energy, to 
his friend Lucas Cranach, the celebrated painter 
at Wittemberg. " My service to you,- dear 
Master Lucas," said he: "I expected his 
Majesty would assemble fifty learned doctors 
to convict the monk outright. But not at all. 
Are these books of your writing? Yes. 
Will you retract them] No. Well, begone! 
There's the whole history. Deluded Ger 
mans . . . how childishly we act! — how we 
are duped and defrauded by Rome ! Let the 
Jews sing their Yo ! Yo ! Yo ! But a pass- 
over is coming for us also, and then we will 
sing Hallelujah!* We must keep silence 
and endure for a short time. 'A little while 
and ye shall not see me, and again a little 
while and ye shall see me,' said Jesus Christ. 
I trust I may say the same. Farewell! — I 
commend you all to the Eternal. May He 
preserve in Christ your understanding and 
your faith from the attacks of the wolves and 
dragons of Rome. Amen." 

After writing this rather mysterious letter, 
Luther immediately set out for Friedberg, six- 
leagues from Frankfort. Time, in fact, pressed. 
On the following morning he again collected 
his thoughts, and resolved once more to ad- 
dress Charles the Fifth. He was unwilling 
to appear in the light of a guilty rebel. In 
his letter he explained clearly the obedience 
the Christian owes to his king, and that which 
is due to God, and the point at which the 
former must give place to the latter. As we 
read Luther's letter, we are involuntarily re- 
minded of the saying of the greatest autocrat 
of modern times: "My dominion ends where 
that of conscience commences. "j" 

" God is my witness, who knoweth the 
thoughts," said Luther, " that I am ready with ' 
all my heart to obey your Majesty, through 
good or evil report, in life or in death, with no 
one exception, save the word of God, by which 
man liveth. In all the affairs of this life my 
fidelity shall be unshaken, for, in these, loss 
or gain has nothing to do with salvation. 
But it is contrary to the will of God, that man 
should be subject to man in that which per- 
tains to eternal life. Subjection in spirituals 
is a real worship, and should be rendered only 
to the Creator." 

Luther also wrote in German a letter to the 
States. It was nearly to the same effect, and 
recapitulated what had taken place at Worms. 
This letter was several times transcribed and 



* Es miissen die Juden einrnal singen Io, lo, 
Io! . . . (L. Epp. i. 589.) The shouts of the Jews 
at the crucifixion are here taken to represent the 
triumphant songs of the partisans of Popery on the 
downfall of Luther; but the Reformer hears at a 
distance the hallelujahs of deliverance. 

t Napoleon to the Protestant deputies, after his 
accession to the Empire. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



211 



circulated throughout the Empire, exciting 1 
everywhere, says Cochlreus, the feelings of 
the people against the Emperor and the upper 
ranks of the clergy. 

Early the following morning Luther wrote 
a note to Spalatin, enclosing in it the two let- 
ters he had written on the previous evening. 
He sent back to Worms the herald Sturm, 
who had been gained to the cause of the Gos- 
pel. Embracing him, he parted from him, 
and set out in haste for Grunberg. 

On the Tuesday, when he was within two 
leagues distance from Hirschfeld, he was met 
by the Chancellor to the Prince Abbot of the 
city, who had come out to welcome him. 
Soon after appeared a troop of horsemen, 
headed by the Abbot. The latter dismounted, 
Luther stepped from his wagon. The Prince 
and the Reformer embraced, and entered 
Hirschfeld together. The Senate received 
them at the gates. Thus dignitaries of the 
Church opened their arms to a monk whom 
the~Pope had anathematized, and the higher 
classes did honour to a man whom the Empe- 
ror had placed under ban of the Empire. 

" To-morrow morning, at five o'clock, we 
shall be at chufch," said the Prince, rising 
from a repast to which he had invited the 
Reformer. He insisted on his occupying his 
own apartment. The following day Luther 
preached, and the Prince Abbot and his suite 
attended the sermon. 

In the evening of that day Luther reached 
Eisenach, the scene of his childhood. All 
his acquaintance in the place came round him, 
and entreated him to preach; and the follow- 
ing day they escorted him to church. Upon 
this the curate appeared, attended by a notary 
and witnesses. He stepped forward, trembling 
between fear of losing his appointment and of 
opposing the energetic man before him. " I 
mast protest" said he at last, with embarrass- 
ment, "against the liberty you are about to 
take." Luther ascended the pulpit, and a 
voice which, three-and-twenty years before, 
had sung in the streets of that same town for 
a morsel of bread, proclaimed through the 
vaulted roofs of its venerable church the word 
which was beginning to agitate the world. 
The sermon being over, the curate stepped up 
to Luther. He held in his hand the record 
drawn up by the notary, and regularly wit- 
nessed, to protect the curate from dismissal. 
"I ask your pardon," said he, humbly; "I 
take this course from fear of the tyrants that 
oppress the Church." 

And truly there was ground for apprehen- 
sion. Affairs at Worms had changed their 
aspect, and Aleander reigned paramount. "The 
only prospect for Luther is banishment," wrote 
Frederic to his brother, Duke John; "nothing 
can save him. If God permits me to see you 
again, I shall have strange things to tell you. 
Not only Annas and Caiphas, but Pilate and 
Herod have conspired against him." Frederic 
had no desire to prolong his stay, and accord- 
ingly quitted Worms, as did the Elector Pa- 
latine. The Elector Archbishop of Cologne 
also took his departure from the Diet, and the 



inferior Princes followed the example. Deem- 
ing it impossible to avert the blow, they pre- 
ferred, perhaps unwisely, to leave the place. 
The Spaniards, Italians, and the most ultra- 
montane of the German Princes alone remained. 

Thus Aleander was master of the field. He 
presented to Charles a rough draft of an edict, 
intended to serve as a model for that the Diel 
was about to publish against the monk. The 
production of the Nuncio pleased the incensed 
Emperor. He assembled the members of the 
Diet still at Worms in his council-chamber, and 
read to them Aleander's paper, which, as Palla- 
vicini informs us, was approved by all present. 

On the following day, which was a public 
festival, the Emperor repaired to the cathedral, 
attended by the nobles of his court. The ser- 
vice being gone through, a crowd of persons 
thronged the interior, when Aleander, clothed 
in the insignia of his order, approached Charles. 
He held in his hand two copies of the edict 
against Luther, one in Latin, the other in 
German; and, kneeling before his Imperial 
Majesty, he petitioned Charles to affix to it 
his signature and the seal of the Empire. It 
was at the moment when sacrifice had just 
been offered, when the incense filled the tem- 
ple, and the hymn was reverberating in the 
vaulted roofs, and, as it were, in the imme- 
diate presence of God, that the seal was to be 
set to the destruction of the enemy of Rome. 
The Emperor, in the most gracious manner, 
took a pen and attached his signature to the 
edict. Aleander withdrew in triumph, and 
instantly sent the decree to the printer, and 
thence to every part of Christendom. This 
result of Roman diplomacy had cost no small 
pains to the Papacy. We learn from Palla- 
vicini himself that the edict, though dated the 
8th of May, was written and signed some days 
later, but antedated, in order that it might 
appear sanctioned by the presence of the whole 
Diet. 

" We, Charles the Fifth, &c," said the 
Emperor, "to the Electors, Princes, Prelates, 
and all to whom these presents shall come. 

"The Almighty having confided to us foi 
the defence of our holy faith more extensive 
dominion and rule than He hath given to any 
of our predecessors, we purpose to employ ail 
our powers to preserve our holy empire from 
being polluted by any heresy. 

" The Augustine monk, Martin Luther, re- 
gardless of our exhortations, has madly at- 
tacked the holy Church, and attempted to 
destroy it by writings full of blasphemy. He 
has shamefully vilified the unalterable law 
of holy marriage ; he has laboured to incite 
the laity to imbrue their hands in the blood 
of their priests: and, defying all authority, 
has incessantly excited the people to revolt, 
schism, war, murder, theft, incendiarism, and 
the utter destruction of the Christian faith. . . 
In a word, and passing over many other evil 
intentions, this being, who is no man, but Sa- 
tan himself under the semblance of a man in 
a monk's hood, has collected in one offensive 
mass, all the worst heresies of former ages, 
adding- his own to the number. 



212 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



"We have therefore dismissed from our 
presence this Luther, whom all reasonable 
men count a madman, or possessed by the 
devil ; and it is our intention that, so soon as 
die term of his safe-conduct is expired, effec- 
tual measures be forthwith taken to put a stop 
to his fury. 

"For this end, and on pain of incurring' the 
penalty of treason, we hereby forbid you to 
receive the said Luther from the moment when 
the said term is expired, or to harbour or to 
give him meat or drink, or by word or act, 
publicly or in private, to aid or abet him. 
We further enjoin you to seize, or cause him 
to be seized, wherever he may be, and to 
bring him before us without delay, or hold 
him in durance until you shall be informed 
how to deal with him, and have received the 
reward due to your co-operation in this holy 
work. 

" As to his adherents, you are enjoined to 
seize upon them, putting- them down, and 
confiscating their property. 

"Touching his writings — seeing- that the 
best of food is held in horror by all men when 
the least poison is mixed therewith, how 
much more should such writings, wherein the 
main object is a mortal venom, be not merely 
rejected, but destroyed ] You will, therefore, 
burn, or in other ways utterly destroy them. 

"As to the authors, poets, printers, painters, 
venders, or purchasers of caricatures or pla- 
cards against the Pope or the Church, you are 
enjoined to seize on their persons and pro- 
perty, and deal with them as may seem fit. 

" And if any one, whatever may be his 
rank, should dare to act contrary to this de- 
cree of our Imperial Majesty, we command 
that he be placed under ban of the Empire. 

" Let each one observe this decree." 

Such was the edict signed in the cathedral 
of Worms. It was more than a Roman bull, 
which though issued in Italy might not be 
carried into execution in Germany. The Em- 
peror himself had spoken, and the Diet had 
ratified the decree. The whole body of Ro- 
manists shouted for joy. "The trag-edy is 
over," exclaimed they. " For my part," said 
Alphonso Valdez, a Spaniard of Charles's 
court, " I am persuaded it is not the last act, 
but the beginning-." Valdez clearly perceived 
that the movement was in the Church, the 
people, the age, — and that were Luther to fall, 
his cause would not perish with him. But 
none could help seeing the imminent and ine- 
vitable danger in which the Reformer was 
placed, and the superstitious multitude were 
impressed by a feeling of horror at the thought 
of that incarnate Satan whom the Emperor 
pointed to as clothed with a monk's habit. 

The man against whom the mighty ones of 
this earth were thus forging their thunderbolts, 
— on leaving the pulpit of Eisenach, endea- 
voured to muster resolution to take leave of 
some of his dearest friends. He decided not 
to take the road to Gotha and Erfurth, but to 
proceed by way of the village of Mora, the 
birthplace of his father, in order once more 
to see his grandmother (who died four months 



afterwards) and to visit his uncle, Henry Lu- 
ther, and some other relations. Schurff, Jo- 
nas, and Suaven set out for Wittemberg ; 
Luther entered his wagon, accompanied bj 
Amsdorff, and plunged into the forest of Thur 
ringen. 

That same evening he arrived in the village 
of his fathers. The aged peasant pressed to 
I her heart that grandson who had dared to 
! confront the Emperor and the Pope. Luther 
passed the following day with his relations, 
joyfully contrasting its sweet tranquillity with 
the turmoil of Worms. The next day he 
again set out in company with Amsdorff and 
his brother James. It was in these secluded 
spots that the Reformer's fate was on the point 
of being decided. They skirted the woods 
of Thuringen, taking the path that leads to 
Waltershausen. As the wagon was passing 
a narrow defile near the ruined church of 
Glisbach, a short distance from the castle of 
Altenstein, suddenly a noise was heard, and 
in a moment, five horsemen, masked and armed 
from head to foot, fell upon them. His bro- 
ther James, as soon as he caught sight of the 
assailants, jumped from the wagon, and fled 
as fast as he could without tittering a word. 
The driver would have resisted. " Stop," 
cried a hoarse voice, and instantly one of the 
attacking party threw him to the earth. An- 
other of the masks grasped Amsdorff, and held 
him fast. While this was doing, the three 
horsemen laid hold on Luther, maintaining 
profound silence. They forced him to alight, 
and throwing a knight's cloak over his shoul 
ders, set him on a led horse that they had 
with them. This done, the two other masks 
let go Amsdorff and the wagoner, and the 
whole five sprang into their saddles. One 
dropped his cap, but they did not stop to re- 
cover it; and in the twinkling of an eye, the 
party and their prisoner were lost in the thick 
gloom of the forest. At first they took the 
direction of Broderode ; but they rapidly 
changed their route, and without quitting the 
forest, rode first in one direction and then in 
another, turning their horses' feet to baffle any 
attempt to track their course. Luther, little 
used to riding, was soon overcome with fa- 
tigue. His guides permitted him to stop for a 
few instants. He rested on the earth beside 
a beech tree, and drank some water from a 
spring, which still bears his name. His bro- 
ther James, continuing his flight from the 
scene of the rencounter, reached Waltershausen 
that evening. The driver, hastily throwing 
himself into the wagon, in which Amsdorff 
had already mounted, galloped his horse at 
full speed, and conducted Luther's friend to 
Wittemberg. At Waltershausen, at Wittem- 
berg, in the open country, the villages and 
towns on the route, the news spread that Lu- 
ther was carried off. Some rejoiced at the 
report, but the greater number were struck 
with astonishment and indignation, — and soon 
a cry of grief resounded throughout Ger- 
many — " Luther has fallen into the hands of 
his enemies !" 

After the stirring conflict that Luther had 




LUTHER SEIZED T?V HIS FTtTENDS. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



211 



been called to sustain, it had pleased God that 
he should be transferred to a place of repose 
and peace. After raising him on the dazzling 
stage of Worms, where all the energies of the 
Reformer's soul had been roused to their 
highest pitch, God had- prepared for him the 
obscure and lowly refuge of a prison. He 
draws from the deepest obscurity the frail in- 
struments by which He designs to bring 
mighty things to pass ; and then when He has 
suffered them to shine for a while on an illu- 
mined stage, He dismisses them again to ob- 
scurity. The Reformation was to be brought 
about by other steps than violent struggles or 
public tribunals. Not thus does the leaven 
penetrate the body of the people : — the Spirit 
of God seeks stiller channels. The man whom 
the champions of Rome were pitilessly perse- 
cuting, was to disappear for a time from the 
world. It was needful that his personal great- 
ness should be hidden in the shade, that the 
^revolution then accomplishing might not bear 
the impress of one man. It was fit that the 
man should be put aside, that God alone might 
remain, to move by his Spirit over the abyss, 
wherein the darkness of the middle ages was 
sinking, and to say, " Let there be light!" in 
order that there might be light. 

The shades of evening closing in, and no 
one being now able to observe their track, Lu- 
ther's escort changed their route. It was nearly 
eleven o'clock at night when they arrived at 
the foot of a hill. The horses slowly climbed 
the steep ascent. On the summit stood an 
ancient fortress, on every side but that by 
which they approached it, surrounded by the 
black forests which clothe the mountains of 
Thuringen. 

It was to the lofty and isolated castle of 
Wartburg, where the ancient Landgraves in 
earlier times had fixed their retreat, that Lu- 
ther was thus led. The bolts were drawn 
back, the iron bars fell, the gates unclosed, 
the Reformer passed the threshold, and the 
doors were closed upon him. He dismounted 
in an inner court. One of the horsemen, 
Burkard von Hund, lord of Altenstein, then 
left him. Another, John von Berlepsch, pro- 
vost of Wartburg, conducted him to his I 



apartment, where he found a knight's gar- 
ment and sword. The three others followed, 
and took away his ecclesiastical habit, attiring 
him in the knightly dress prepared for him, 
and enjoining him to let his beard and hail 
grow, that no one in the castle "might know 
who he was. The attendants of the castle of 
Wartburg were to know the prisoner only bj 
the name of knight George. Luther scaroelj 
recognised himself under his singular meta 
morphosis. Left at length to his meditations, 
he had leisure to revolve the extraordinary 
events that had befallen him at Worms, the 
uncertain future that awaited him, and his new 
and strange abode. From the narrow win- 
dows of his turret, his eye discovered the dark, 
untrodden, and boundless forest which sur- 
rounded him. " It was there," says Mathe- 
sius, his friend and biographer, " that Luther 
was shut in, like St. Paul in his prison at 
Rome." _ 

Frederic von Thun, Philip Feilitsch, and 
Spalatin, in a confidential conversation with 
Luther, by order of the Elector, had not dis- 
guised from him that his liberty would be sa- 
crificed to the anger of Charles, and of the 
Pope. Yet this forced abduction w T as so in- 
volved in mystery that Frederic himself was 
for a long time ignorant of the place where 
Luther was concealed. The grief of those who 
were favourable to the Reformation continued. 
Spring passed away ; summer, autumn, win- 
ter, succeeded ; — the sun had run its annual 
course, and the walls of the Wartbiwg still 
held their prisoner. Truth had been placed 
under interdict by the German Diet; and its 
defender, immured in a fortress, was no longer 
on the stage of events; and even the fate that 
had overtaken him was unknown. Alean- 
der was all confidence, and the Reformation 
appeared lost . . . but God reigns ! and the 
blow which seemed to bring to nothing the 
cause of the Gospel, will but serve to rescue 
its undaunted servant, and diffuse far and 
wide the radiance of faith. 

Let us leave Luther a captive in Germany, 
on the heights of the Wartburg, and let us see 
what God was then bringing to pass in c ther 
countries of Christendom. 



SH 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK VIII. 



THE SWISS. 



1484—1522. 



Democracy — Mercenary Service — The. Cottage of Wildhaus — The Herdsman's Family — Young 
Ulric — Ulric. at Bale — Ulric at Berne — Jetzer and the Ghost — Jetzer's Visions — Exposure of the 
Dominicans — Passion for Music — Wittembach — Schinner — The Labyrinth — Zwingle in Italy — 
Principals of the Reformation — Zwingle's Studies — Zwingle's Classical Studies — Paris and Glaris 
— Oswald Myconius — CEcolampadius — Zwingle and Marignan — Alarm of the Pope — Dawn of the 
Reformation— Effects of the Defeat at Marignan — The Two Worlds — Our Lady of the Eremites 
— A Learned Society — Zwingle Transcribes the Scriptures — Zwingle Opposes Error — Effects of 
his Preaching — Zwingle and the Legate — The Bishop of Constance — Stapler and Zwingle — The 
Preachership — The Candidates — Zwingle's Confession — Zwingle Elected — Leaves Einsidlen — 
Reception by the Chapter — Zwingle's Mode of Lecturing — Zwingle opens the Gospel — Effects 
of his Preaching — Opposition — Familiar Manner — Love of Music — Imitation of Christ — The Col- 
porteur — Samson at Berne — The Dean of Bremgarten — Henry Bullinger — Samson and the Dean 
— Zwingle's Studies — Samson and the Helvetic Diet — The Baths of Pfeffers — The Critical Mo- 
ment — Zwingle Attacked by the Plague — His Sick Bed and Hymn — General Joy — The Adver- 
saries — Effect of the Visitation — Myconius and Xyloctect — Myconius Goes to Lucerne — Capido 
and Hedio — Opposition of the Monks — The Unnatural Son — Zwingle's Gentleness — Fall and 
Recovery of Man — Expiation of the God-man — No Merit in Good Works— Power of Love for 
Christ— Effects of his Preaching — Dejection and Courage — Zwingle and Staheli — Violent Attacks 
— The Reformer of Berne — Halfer's Dejection — Oswald Persecuted — H. Bullinger — Gerold Von 
Knonau — Roubli at Bale — War Between Francis and Charles — Foreign Service of the Swiss — 
Ferment — Truth Triumphs Amidst Opposition — The Bishop's Deputies — The Councils — The 
Parties Confronted — The Coadjutor and Zwingle — Zwingle's Answer — Hofman's Charge- 
Zwingle's Reply — The Bishop's Mandates — The Archeteles — The Bishop Appeals to the Diet 
— Zwingle and the Monks — The Nuns of Oetenbach — Defeat of Bicocca — Francis Lambert — 
Preaches at Zurich — The Commander of the Johannites — Carnival at Berne — The " Feeders 
Upon the Dead" — The Scull of St. Ann — Appenzel — Adultery and Murder — Zwingle's Marriage 
—Meeting at Einsidlen — Petition to the Bishop — The Meeting at Einsidlen Breaks Up — A Scene 
in a Convent — Myconius at Lucerne — Effects of the Petition — The Council and the Diet — Fri- 
burg — Treatment of Oswald — Oswald Encouraged — Oswald Quits Lucerne — Zwingle's Family 
Alarmed — His Resolution — Zwingle's Prayer. 



At the period when the decree of the Diet 
of Worms was announced, a steadily progres- 
sive movement was beginning- to manifest it- 
self in the quiet valleys of Switzerland. To 
the voices which were raised in the plains of 
Upper and Lower Saxony, responded from 
the mountains of Switzerland the bold voices 
of its priests and herdsmen, or of the inhabit- 
ants of its martial cities. The partisans of 
Rome, in their sudden alarm, exclaimed aloud 
that a vast and formidable conspiracy was 
every where forming against the Church. 
The friends of the Gospel joyfully replied, 
that as in spring-time the breath of life is felt 
from the sea-shore to the mountain top, so the 
Spirit of God was now melting the ice of a 
long winter in every part of Christendom, and 
clothing with verdure and flowers the most 
secluded valleys, and the most steep and bar- 
ren rocks. Germany did not communicate the 
light of truth to Switzerland, — Switzerland to 
France, — France to England : all these lands 
received it from God; just as no one region 
transmits the light to another, but the same 
orb of splendour dispenses it direct to the 
earth. Raised far above men, Christ, the 
Day-Star from on high, was, at the period of 
the Reformation, as at the first introduction 
of the Gospel, the Divine source whence 
came the light of the world. One and the 



same doctrine suddenly established itself in 
the 16th century, at the domestic hearths, and 
in the places of worship, of nations the most 
distant and dissimilar. It was because the 
same Spirit was every where present, pro- 
ducing the same faith. 

The Reformation in Germany and that in 
Switzerland demonstrate this truth. Zwingle 
did not communicate with Luther. Doubtless 
there was a bond of union between both these 
men; but we must seek it above this earth. 
He who gave the truth from heaven to Lu- 
ther, gave it to Zwingle. Their communion 
was in God. "I began," said Zwingle, "to 
preach the Gospel in the year of grace 1516 
— that is, at a time when the name of Luiher 
had never been heard among these countries. 
It was not from Luther that I learned the 
doctrine of Christ, — it was from God's word. 
If Luther preached Christ, he does as I do* 
that is all." 

But whilst the several Reformations de- 
rived from the same Spirit a comprehensive 
unity, — they also bore various peculiar fea- 
tures derived from the different populations 
in the midst of which they were wrought. 

We have already slightly sketched the state 
of Switzerland at the period of the Reforma- 
tion. We will add but a few words. In 
Germany the principle of monarchy prevailed 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



215 



In Switzerland the democratic principle pre- 
vailed. In Germany the Reformation had to 
struggle against the authority of princes, — in 
Switzerland -against the will of the people. 
A popular assembly, more readily swayed 
than a single individual, is more hasty in 
its decisions. The victory over Papal rule, 
which beyond the Rhine had cost years, re- 
quired, on the Swiss bank, but a few months 
or even days. 

In Germany the person of Luther rises 
majestically amid the Saxon population; he 
seems almost alone in his attacks on the Ro- 
man Colossus ; and wherever the battle rages 
we distinguish his lofty figure on the field of 
conflict. Luther is, as it were, the monarch 
of the change which is effected. — In Switzer- 
land the contest is begun, at one and the same 
time, in several cantons; — there is a confede- 
ration of Reformers; — their very number sur- 
prises us. Doubtless one head is seen above 
the rest, — but no one commands; — it is a re- 
publican magistracy, to which all come, bear- 
ing the peculiar features of their origin. We 
have Wittembach, Zwingle, Capito, Heller, 
(Ecolampadius, Osw r ald Myconius,Leo Juda, 
Farell, Calvin; — it is at Glaris, at Bale, at 
Zurich, at Berne, at Neufchatel, at Geneva, 
at Lucerne, at Schaffhausen, at Appenzel, at 
Saint Gall, and in the country of the Grisons. 
In the German Reformation but one stage is 
seen, and that uniform and level, like the face 
of the land ; but in Switzerland the Reforma- 
tion appears broken, like the country itself, 
by its thousand hills. Every valley has its 
own hour of awakening, and every mountain 
top its own radiance. 

A calamitous period had ensued to the 
Swiss people since their exploits against the 
Dukes of Burgundy. Europe having learned 
the strength of their arms, had drawn them 
from their fastnesses, and deprived them of 
their independence, by making them arbiters 
in the field of battle of the fortunes of her 
states. The hand of the Swiss peasant turn- 
ed a sword against the breast of his country- 
man in the plains of Italy and France, while 
foreign intrigues were spreading discord and 
envy in those Alpine meadows, so long the 
abode of simplicity and peace. Tempted by 
golden bribes, sons, workmen, and servants, 
quitted by stealth the chalets of the mountain 
pastures to tread the banks of the Rhone or 
of the Po. Swiss unity had yielded to the 
gradual progress of mules laden with gold. 
The Reformation, — for in Switzerland the Re- 
formation had its political aspect, — proposed 
to re-establish the unity and primitive virtue 
of the cantons. Its first call was, that the 
people should tear in pieces the nets of for- 
eign lures, and with one heart embrace each 
other at the foot of the Cross. But its gene- 
rous desire was unheeded; Rome, long used 
,o recruit in the Swiss valleys the blood she 
lavished in the strife for power, arose indig- 
nantly. She excited the Swiss against their 
own countrymen; and passions, till then un- 
known, lacerated the bosom of the nation. 
Switzerland stood in need of a reformation. 



The Swiss were, it is true, remarkable for a 
simplicity and credulity which were subjects 
of ridicule to the cunning Italians; but they 
were also considered to be of all nations the 
most stained by incontinency. Astrologers 
ascribed this to the constellations, —philoso- 
phers to the temperament of these indomita- 
ble people, — moralists to the principles of the 
Swiss, who counted deceit, unkind n.ess, and 
calumny, sins of deeper dye than unchastity. 
Marriage was forbidden to the priests; but it 
would have been difficult to find one who 
lived in true eelibacy. Often they were en- 
joined to behave themselves not chastely — 
but prudently. This was one of the first dis- 
orders which the Reformation opposed. It is 
time to take a view of the glimmerings of the 
new light that was dawning in the Alps. 

Toward the middle of the eleventh century, 
two pilgrims penetrated from St. Gall, in the 
direction of the mountains southward of that 
ancient monastery, and reached an uninhabit- 
ed valley ten leagues in extent. This valley 
is, on the north, separated from the canton of 
Appenzel by the lofty mountains of the Sen- 
tis, the Sommerigkopf, and the Old Man. 
Southward the Kuhfirsten, with its seven 
peaks, rises between it and the Wallenses, 
Sargans, and the Grisons. Towards the east, 
the valley lies open to the rays of the rising 
sun, displaying in the distance the magnifi- 
cent prospect of the Tyrolese Alps. The two 
pilgrims, arriving at the source of a small 
stream, the Thur, erected there two cells. 
By slow degrees thinly-scattered habitations 
appeared ; and on the most elevated site, 
2010 feet above the lake of Zurich, there 
arose around a little church a village called 
Wildhaus, or the WUdhouse, on which now 
depend two hamlets, Lisighaus, or Elizabeth's 
house, and Shonenboden. On those elevated 
spots the earth does not yield its fruits. A 
green sward of Alpine freshness clothes the 
whole valley, ascending the sides of moun- 
tains, above which, enormous rocks rise in 
savage grandeur towards heaven. 

A quarter of a league from the church, near 
Lisighaus, beside a footway leading to the 
pastures beyond the river, there still stands a 
solitary house. Tradition informs us that the 
wood required for the building was felled on 
the very spot it occupies. It has every ap- 
pearance of remote antiquity. The walls are 
thin, — the windows are composed of small 
round panes, — the roof is formed of shingles, 
loaded with stones to prevent the wind carry- 
ing them away. In front gushes a limpid 
stream. 

There lived in this house towards the close 
of the fifteenth century a man named Zwin- 
gle, amman or bailiff of the village. The 
family of Zwingle or Zwingli was ancient, 
and in great esteem among the dwellers on 
these mountains. Bartholomew, the bailiffs 
brother, first curate of the parish, and in 1-187 
dean of Wesen, enjoyed a sort of reputation 
in the district. The wife of the amman of 
Wildhaus, Margaret Meili. whose brother 
, John was afterwards abbot of the convent of 



216 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Fischingen in Thurgovia, had already borne 
him two sons, Henry and Klaus, when on 
new-year's day, 1484, just seven weeks from 
the birth of Luther, a third son, who was af- 
terwards named Ulric, saw the light in this 
solitary chalet. Five other sons, John, Wolf- 
gang, Bartholomew, James, and Andrew, and 
one daughter, added to the strength of this 
Alpine family. Not a man in the neighbour- 
ing country was more respected than the bai- 
liff" Zwingle. His character, his office, and 
his numerous progeny, made him the patri- 
arch of these hills. He, as well as his sons, 
led a shepherd life. Soon as the early days 
of May arrived to cheer the mountains, the 
father and his sons set out with their flocks 
for the pastures; ascending as the season ad- 
vanced, from station to station, and attaining 
the loftiest summits of the Alps towards the 
end of July. Then they began again to de- 
scend gradually toward the valley, and in this 
way the people of Wildhaus were accustomed 
to return in autumn to their lowly cottages. 
Frequently in summer the young folks, who 
had been left behind in their habitations, eager 
to breathe the pure air of the mountains, set 
out in parties for the chalets, accompanying 
with their songs the sound of their rustic 
music; for all were musical. As they arrivec 
on the Alps, the shepherds saluted them from 
afar with their horns and songs and hastened 
to regale them with a repast of milk ; after 
which the merry company, by many a wind- 
ing path, descended again into the valley to 
the sound of their pipes. Ulric, doubtless, 
sometimes shared these delights in early 
youth. He grew up at the foot of those 
rocks which seemed everlasting, and whose 
peaks pointed to the skies. " I have often 
thought," said one of his friends, "that be- 
ing brought near to heaven on these sublime 
heights, he contracted a something heavenly 
and divine." 

Many were the long winter evenings in 
the cottages of Wildhaus. At such seasons 
young Ulric listened at his paternal hearth to 
the conversations of the bailiff and the elder- 
ly men of the village. W T hen they recounted 
now the people of the valley had formerly 
groaned under a cruel yok,e, his heart re- 
sponded to the old men's joy at the thoughts 
of the independence achieved by Tockenburg, 
and secured to it by its alliance with the 
Swiss. The love of his country was kindled, 
and Switzerland became endeared to his heart. 
If a word were uttered against the confede- 
rated cantons, the child would immediately 
rise, and with simple earnestness undertake 
their defence. Often, too, would he sit quiet- 
ly at the knee of his pious- grandmother, list- 
ening with fixed attention to her Bible stories 
and superstitious legends, and eagerly receiv- 
ing them into his heart. 

The good bailiff took delight in observing 
the promising disposition of his son. He 
thought he saw that Ulric might be fit for 
6oinething better than tending his herds on 
Mount Sentis, and singing the Ranz des 
llergers. One day he took him in his hand 



and directed his steps towards Wessen. He 
crossed the grassy summits of the Ammon 
avoiding the wild and bold rocks which bor- 
der the lake of W~allenstadt; and arriving at 
the village, entered the dwelling of the dean, 
his brother, and gave into his care the young 
mountaineer, to be examined as to his capaci- 
ties. The dean, in a short time loved his 
nephew as if he were his own son. Delight- 
ed with the quickness of his understanding, 
he confided the task of his instruction to a 
school-master, who soon taught him all he 
himself knew. When he was ten years old, 
Ulric already evinced marks of superior intel- 
ligence, and his father and uncle decided on 
sending him to Bale. 

When this child of the mountains of Tock- 
enburg arrived in that celebrated city, a new 
world seemed to open before him. The fame 
of the celebrated Council of Bale, — its univer- 
sity founded by Pius II. in 1460, — its printing 
presses, which recalled to life the great writers 
of antiquity, and disseminated through the 
world the first fruits of the revival of learn- 
ing, — and the circumstances of its being the 
abode chosen by such eminent men as the 
Wessels and Wiitembachs, and, above all, 
by Erasmus, made Bale at the period of the 
Reformation one of the great foci of illumi- 
nation in the West. 

Ulric was placed in St. Theodore's school, 
at that time presided over by Gregory Binzli, 
a man of affectionate character, and of a 
gentleness at that period rarely found in 
school-masters. Young Zwingle made ra- 
pid progress. Learned discussions, much in 
vogue in that age among the doctors of uni- 
versities, had descended even to the children 
of the school. Ulric took part in them, dis- 
ciplining his nascent strength against the pu- 
pils of other establishments, and invariably 
coming off victorious from these contests, 
which were as the preludes of those which 
were to overthrow the Papal authority in 
Switzerland. Such early successes roused 
the jealousy of his senior rivals. Ere long 
he outgrew the school of Bale, as he had 
outgrown that of Wesen. 

Lupulus,a distinguished scholar, had short- 
ly before opened at Berne, the first learned 
foundation of Switzerland. The bailiff of 
Wildhaus, and the curate of Wesen, agreed 
together to send the youth there, and in 1497, 
Zwingle, leaving the smiling plains of Bale 
again approached those upper Alps among 
which he had passed his infancy, and whose 
snowy summits glowing in the sun might be 
discerned from Berne. Lupnlus, a distin- 
guished poet, introduced his pupil to the 
hidden treasures of classical learning, then 
known only, and but slightly to a few. The 
young neophyte was delighted to breathe 
these perfumes of antiquity. His mind open- 
ed, his style took its form, and himself be- 
came a poet. 

Among the convents of Berne, that of the 
Dominicans was most celebrated, A grave 
controversy existed between these monks and 
the Franciscans. The latter maintained the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



217 



immaculate conception of the Virgin, which 
the former denied. Wherever they went, — at 
the splendid altar that adorned their church, — 
and from the twelve columns which supported 
its roof, the Dominicans thought of nothing 
but to humble their l'ivals. The well-toned 
voice of Zwingle had drawn their notice ; 
they listened to the accounts brought them of 
his precocious understanding; and thinking 
he might do credit to their order, sought to 
attract him amongst them, and invited him 
to take up his residence in the convent, until 
the period when he might pass his noviciate. 
The future usefulness of Zwingle was at stake. 
The amman of Wildhaus, on learning the baits 
the Dominicans held out, trembled for the in- 
nocence of his son, and desired him to leave 
Berne without delay. Thus Zwingle escaped 
those monastic walls in which Luther had 
voluntarily immured himself. What after- 
wards ensued will shew the greatness of the 
danger Zwingle then incurred. 

A great agitation reigned in Berne in 1507. 
A young man of Zurzack, named John Jetzer, 
having one day presented himself at the con- 
vent of the Dominicans, had been repulsed. 
The poor youth, grieving at his rejection, had 
returned to the charge, holding out 53 florins 
and some silk stuffs. " It is all I have in the 
world," said he, " take it, and receive me into 
your order." He was admitted on the 6th of 
January as a lay brother. But on the very 
first night a strange noise in his cell filled 
him with terror. He fled to the convent of 
Carthusians, but they sent him back to the 
Dominicans. 

The following night, being the eve of the 
festival of St. Matthias, he was awakened by 
deep sighs. Opening his eyes he beheld by 
his bedside a tall phantom clothed in white : — 
" I am a soul from the fires of purgatory ;" 
said a sepulchral voice. The lay brother an- 
swered shuddering, "May God "deliver you! 
I can do nothing." On this the spirit drew 
nigh, and seizing him by the throat, reproach- 
ed him with his refusal. The terrified Jetzer 
cried aloud, — "What can I do for your de- 
liverance'?" — "You must scourge yourself 
to blood during eight days, and lie prostrate 
on the earth in the chapel of St. John." 
This said, the apparition vanished. The lay 
brother confided what he had seen to his con- 
fessor, the convent preacher, and by his ad- 
vice submitted to the discipline enjoined him. 
[t was soon reported throughout the town that 
a departed soul had applied to the Dominicans 
for its deliverance out of purgatory. The mul- 
titude deserted the- Franciscans, and every one 
hastened to the church where the holy man 
was seen stretched prostrate on the earth. 
The soul of the sufferer had announced that 
it would return in eight days. On the ap- 
pointed night it re-appeared, accompanied 
by two spirits tormenting it, and howling 
tearfully : — " Scot," said the voice ; — " Scof, 
the forger of the Franciscans' doctrine of 
the. immaculate conception of the Virgin is 
among those who suffer with me these horri- 
ble torments." A* this report, which soon 



circulated in Berne, the partisans of the 
Franciscans were still more appalled. But 
the soul had announced that the Virgin her- 
self would make her appearance.. According- 
ly, on the day named, the astonished brother 
beheld Mary appear in his cell. He could 
not believe his eyes. She approached him 
kindly, delivered to him three tears of Jesus, 
three drops of his blood, a crucifix, and a let- 
ter addressed to Pope Julius II. "He is," 
said she, " the man whom God has chosen to 
abolish the festival of the immaculate concep- 
tion." Then coming close to the bed in which 
the brother lay, she announced in a solemn tone 
that a distinguished grace was about to be con- 
ferred on him, — and he felt his hand pierced 
with a nail ! — but Mary wrapped round the 
wound a linen cloth, worn (she said) by 
her son during the flight into Egypt. But 
this was not enough; — that the glory of the 
Dominicans might equal that of the Francis- 
cans, Jetzer was to have the Jive wounds of 
Christ and of St. Francis in his hands, feet, 
and side. The other four were inflicted, — a 
sleeping potion was administered and he was 
placed in an apartment hung with tapestry, 
representing the events of the Passion. Here 
he passed days, his imagination becoming 
inflamed. Then the doors were from time to 
time thrown open to the people, who came in 
crowds to gaze on the brother with the five 
wounds, extending his arms, with his head 
reclined, and imitating in his posture the 
crucifixion of our Lord. At intervals, losing 
consciousness, he foamed at the mouth, and 
seemed to give up the ghost. " He is suffer- 
ing the cross of Christ," whispered those who 
stood round him. The multitude, eager for 
wonders, incessantly thronged the convent. 
Men worthy of high esteem, — even Lupulus, 
the master of Zwingle, — were awe-struck ; 
and the Dominicans from their pulpits, ex- 
tolled the glory with which God had covered 
their order. 

For some years that order had felt a neces- 
sity for humbling the Franciscans, and adding 
by the claim of miracles to the devotion and 
liberality of the people. Berne, with its " sim- 
ple, rustic, and ignorant population," (adopt- 
ing the description of it given by the sub-prior 
of Berne to the chapter held at Wempfen on 
the Necker) had been chosen for the scene of 
these wonders. The prior, the sub-prior, the 
preacher, and the purveyor of the convent had 
taken upon them the chief parts; but they 
could not play them throughout. Favoured 
with another vision of Mary, Jetzer thought 
he recognized the voice of his confessor, and 
having given utterance to his suspicion, Mary 
vanished. Soon after she again appeared to 
upbraid him with his incredulity. "This 
time it is the prior !" cried Jetzer, throwing 
himself forward with a knife in his hand. 
The saint hurled a pewter plate at the head 
of the brother, and again disappeared. 

In consternation at the discovery which 
Jetzer had made, the Dominicans sought to 
rid themselves of him by poison. He de- 
I tected the artifice, and fleeing from the con- 



218 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



vent, divulged their imposture. They put a 
good face upon the matter, and despatched 
deputies to Rome. The Pope commissioned 
his legate in Switzerland, together with the 
Bishops of Lausanne and Sion, to investigate 
the affair. The four Dominicans were con- 
victed, and condemned to be burned alive, 
and on the first of May, 1509, they perished 
in the flames, in presence of more than 30,000 
spectators. This event made a great noise 
throughout Europe, and by revealing one great 
plague of the Church, was instrumental in 
preparing the way of the Reformation. 

Such were the men from whose hands 
young Ulric Zwingle escaped. He had stu- 
died letters at Berne, — he was now to apply 
himself to philosophy ; and for this purpose 
he repaired to Vienna in Austria. Joachim 
Vadian, a young native of St. Gall, whose 
genius seemed to give promise of a distin- 
guished statesman to Switzerland; — Henri 
Loreti, of the canton of Glaris, commonly 
called Glarianus, and who shewed considera- 
ble talent for poetry ; — a young Suabian, John 
Heigerlin, son of a smith, and on that account 
called Faber, of supple character, fond of 
distinction, and manifesting the qualities of a 
courtier : — such were the companions of Ul- 
ric' s studies and amusements in the Austrian 
capital. 

In 1502 Zwingle returned to Wildhaus : 
while he gazed on its mountains, he felt that 
he had tasted of the sweets of learning, and 
was no longer able to live amid his brethren's 
songs, and the bleatings of their flocks. He 
was eighteen: he went to Bale to renew his 
application to study; and there at one and 
the same time master and student, he taught 
in the school of St. Martin, and pursued his 
studies at the university: he could now dis- 
pense with his father's succours. Shortly 
after he took the degree of Master of Arts. 
A native of Alsace, named Capito, who was 
nine years older than himself, was one of his 
dearest friends. 

Zwingle devoted himself to the study of 
scholastic theology, — for, called as he was at 
a later period to combat its sophisms, it was 
necessary he should explore its tangled laby- 
rinths. But often the joyous student of the 
mountains of the Sentis was seen suddenly 
to shake off the dust of the schools, and ex- 
changing his philosophic toils for amusement, 
take the lute, harp, violin, flute, dulcimer, or 
hunting-horn, and pour forth gladsome sounds 
as in the meadows of Lisighaus, making his 
apartment, or the houses of his friends echo 
with the airs of his beloved country, and ac- 
companying them with his own songs. In 
his love of music he was a true son of Tock- 
enburg, a master among many. He played 
the instruments we have named, and others 
besides. Euthusiastically attached to the art, 
he diffused a taste for it through the univer- 
sity, not that he relished dissipation, but be- 
cause he loved relaxation from the fatigue of 
graver studies, and its power of restoring 
him with fresh strength for close application. 
There was no one more cheerful or more ami- 



I able, or whose discourse had more charms. 
| He might have been compared to a vigorous 
| alpine-tree, expanding in all its grace and 
strength, not yet pruned, and sending forth 
its strong boughs on every side. The mo- 
ment was destined to arrive, when these 
branches would shoot upward with renewed 
vigour toward heaven. 

Having made his way into scholastic the- 
ology, he returned weary and disgusted from 
these arid sands, having found nothing but 
confused ideas, — a vain babble, emptiness, 
and barbarism, without any sound idea of 
doctrine. "It is mere lost time," said he, — 
and he waited to know more. 

Just at that crisis (November, 1505) arrived 
in Bale, Thomas Wittembach, son of a bur- 
gomaster of Bienne. Wittembach had pre- 
viously been teaching at Tubingen at the 
same time with Reuchlin. He was in the 
prime of life, sincere, pious, versed in the liberal 
sciences, in mathematics, and in the Holy 
Scriptures. Zwingle and all the young stu- 
dents immediately gathered round him. An 
energy hitherto unknown breathed in his dis- 
courses, and prophetic words proceeded from 
his lips. " The time is not far distant," said 
he, "when the scholastic theology will be 
abolished, and the primitive teaching of the 
Church restored." "The death of Christ," 
added he, "is the only ransom of our souls." 
The heart of Zwingle eagerly received those 
seeds of life. 

Among the students who constantly attend- 
ed the lectures of the youthful Doctor, was a 
young man of twenty-three years of age, of 
small stature, and weak and unhealthy ap- 
pearance, but whose look bespoke at once 
gentleness and intrepidity. It was Leo Juda, 
son of a curate of Alsace, and whose uncle 
had lost his life at Rhodes, under the standard 
of its knights, for the defence of Christendom. 
Leo and Ulric lived in the closest intimacy. 
Leo played the dulcimer, and had a very fine 
voice. Often in his apartment the two friends 
of the arts amused themselves in joyous song. 
Leo Juda became subsequently Zwingle's 
colleague, and death itself could not terminate 
this sacred friendship. 

The situation of pastor of Glaris became 
vacant at this period. Henry Goldi, a young 
courtier in the Pope's service, groom of his 
Holiness's palfrey, and already endowed with 
several benefices, hastened to Glaris with the 
Pope's letter of appointment. But the shep- 
herds of Glaris, proud of the antique glories 
of their race, and of their struggles for liberty y 
were unwilling to bow their heads before a 
parchment from Rome. Wildhaus is not far 
from Glaris; and Wesen, of which Zwingle's 
uncle was curate, is the place where that 
people hold their market. The reputation of 
the young master of arts at Bale had pene- 
trated to these mountains. The people of 
Glaris resolved to choose, Zwingle for their 
priest. They invited him in 1506. Zwingle, 
after being ordained at Constance by the 
bishop, preached his first sermon at Rappers- 
will. On St. Michael's day he read his first 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



219 



mass at Wildhaus, in presence of all his rela- ' 
tions and the friends of his family, and towards 
the close of the year reached Glaris. 

He immediately applied himself zealously 
to the duties of his extensive parish. Yet he 
was but twenty-two years of age, and at times j 
he yielded to dissipation and the loose mo- j 
rality of the age. As a Romish priest he was J 
like other priests all around him. But even j 
at that time, when as yet the Gospel had not 
changed his heart, Zwingle never plunged 
into those scandals which often grieved the 
Church, and he constantly felt that it was 
necessary to subject his desires to the holy 
rule of God's word. 

A passion for war at that time disturbed 
the quiet valleys of Glaris. There dwelt in 
those valleys whole families of heroes; the 
Tschudi, the Wala, the Aebli, whose blood had 
been shed on the field of battle. The elder 
warriors were accustomed to recount to youths 
ever ready to listen to such recitals, the events 
of the wars of Burgundy and Suabia, the bat- 
tles of St. James and of Ragaz. But alas, it 
was no longer against the enemies of their 
liberty that these martial shepherds took arms. 
They might be seen at the bidding of the King 
of France, of the Emperor, of the Duke of 
Milan, or of the Pope, descending like an 
avalanche from the Alps, and rushing with the 
noise of thunder against the trained soldiers 
of the plain. 

Towards the end of the fifteenth century, 
a poor boy named Matthew Schinner, who 
was attending the school of Sionin the Valais, 
was one day singing before the doors, as 
Luther used to do rather later, when he heard 
himself called by an old man ; the latter struck 
by the liberty with which the child answered 
his questions, said in that prophetic accent 
which, say some, man sometimes acquires 
shortly before his departure from this world — 
" Thou skalt be a Bishop and a Prince!" 
The prediction made a deep impression on the 
young mendicant, and from that moment an 
ambition the most unbounded took possession 
of his heart. At Zurich, and at Como, his 
progress in his studies amazed his teachers. 
He was appointed curate in a small parish in 
the Valais; rose rapidly in reputation, and 
being subsequently sent to Rome to solicit the 
Pope's confirmation of a recent election of a 
Bishop of Sion, he procured the bishopric for 
himself, and encircled his head with the epis- 
copal crown. Ambitious and artful, yet not 
unfrequently noble and generous, this man 
never regarded one dignity as anything but a 
stepping-stone to a higher. Having tendered 
his services to Louis XII. for a stipulated 
price, the King remarked, "It is too much for 
any one man." — "I will shew him," replied 
the Bishop of Sion in a passion, " that I am a 
man worth purchasing at the cost of many." 
Accordingly he made proposals to Pope Ju- 
lius II. who received his advances with joy; 
and Schinner, in the year 1510, succeeded in 
uniting the whole Swiss Confederation with 
the policy of the ambitious Pontiff. The 
Bishop having been rewarded with a Cardi- 



nal's hat, smiled to see but a single step 
between him and the papal throne itself! 

Schinner's attention was continually en- 
gaged by the Swiss cantons, and as soon as 
he discerned any man of rising influence, he 
hastened to attach him to his interest. The 
pastor of Glaris drew his notice; and it was 
not long before Zwingle was apprized that the 
Pope had granted him an. annual pension of 
fifty florins, to encourage him in his studies. 
His poverty being such as did not allow his 
purchasing books, this money, so long as he 
received it, was spent in procuring classical 
and theological works from Bale. Zwingle 
thenceforward connected himself with the Car- 
dinal, and thus became attached to the Roman- 
ist party. Schinner and Julius II. at length 
laid aside the mask. Eight thousand Swiss 
collected together by the eloquence of the 
Cardinal Bishop passed the Alps; — but want 
of supplies, and the valour and bribes of the 
French, obliged them to retreat ingloriously to 
their mountains. They brought with them the 
usual effects of their foreign wars, — suspicion, 
licentiousness, party spirit, violence, and 
every kind of disorder. The citizens rose 
against their magistrates, the children against 
their fathers, — agriculture and their flocks 
were neglected,— and luxury and beggary 
increased, — the most sacred ties were broken 
and the Confederacy seemed on the point of 
falling to pieces. 

Then it was that the eyes of the young 
curate of Glaris were opened, and his indig- 
nation was awakened. His powerful voice 
was raised to shew the people the gulph into 
which they were hurrying. In the year 1510, 
he published his poem, entitled the Labyrinth. 
Behind the mazes of that mysterious gar- 
den, Minos has concealed the Minotaur, a 
monster half man and half bull, whom he feeds 
with the blood of the Athenian youth. . The 
Minotaur, says Zwingle, is the sin, the irreli- 
gion, and the foreign service of the Swiss 
which devour her children. 

A brave man, Theseus, undertakes to deli- 
ver his country; but many obstacles are in the 
way ; — first, a lion with one eye ; it is Spain 
and Arragon; — next a crowned eagle, with 
open throat; it is the Empire; — then acock 
with crest erect, as if provoking to the onset; 
it is France. The hero overcoming all these 
obstacles, slays the monster and delivers his 
country. 

"So it is now," exclaims the poet, "the 
people wander in the labyrinth ; but being 
without the clue, they never return to light. 
We nowhere see men following the walk of 
Christ. For a breath of fame we risk our 
lives, — harass our neighbours, — rush into 
strifes, war, and battles .... as if the very 
furies had broken loose from hell." 

A Thesus was needed, — a Reformer; — 
Zwingle saw this, and from that moment he 
had an obscure presentiment of his destiny. 
Shortly after this he put forth another allegory, 
in which his meaning was more clearly con- 
veyed. 

In April, 1512, the confederates again roee 



220 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



at the Cardinal's summons to the rescue of 
the Church. Glaris was foremost. The whole 
commune was enrolled for the campaign, and 
ranged under its banner with its Landaman 
and Pastor. Zwingle was compelled to join 
the march. The army passed the Alps; and 
the Cardinal made his appearance among the 
confederates, with the Pontiff's presents, — a 
ducal cap adorned with pearls and gold, and 
surmounted with the Holy Spirit, represented 
under the figure of a dove. The Swiss scaled 
the walls of the fortified towns, and in the 
face of the enemy swam the rivers, naked, 
with their halberds in their arms. Every 
where the French were defeated, the bells and 
trumpets sounded, people flocked from all 
sides ; the nobles sent to the army wine and 
fruits in great abundance ; monks and priests 
proclaimed on the roads that the confederates 
were God's people, and the avengers of the 
spouse of Christ; while the Pope, a prophet 
similar to Caiaphas, conferred on the confede- 
rates the title of " Defenders of the Liberty of 
the Church." 

This visit to Italy was not without its con- 
sequences to Zwingle in his vocation as a 
Reformer. It was on his return from this 
campaign that he began to study Greek, — '• in 
order," he said, " to draw from the true source 
the doctrine of Christ." "I am resolved to 
apply myself so closely to Greek (he wrote to 
Vidian, Feb. 23, 1513,) that no one but God 
shall call me off from that study." "I do so 
from a love of divine learning, and not for the 
sake of fame." At a subsequent period, a 
worthy priest who had been his school-fellow, 
having visited him, — " Master Ulric," said 
the visitor, " they tell me you have gone into 
the new error, and that you are a follower of 
Luther." — "I am no Lutheran," said Zwingle, 
" for I understood Greek before I had heard 
the name of Luther." To understand Greek 
and study the Gospel in the original, was in 
Zwingle's judgment the basis of the Reforma- 
tion. 

Zwingle went beyond this early acknow- 
ledgment of the great principle of Evangelic 
Christianity, namely the unerring authority 
of Holy Scripture. He further saw the way 
of determining the sense of the Divine Word : 
— "Those persons have but low thoughts of 
the Gospel, who regard whatever they think 
incompatible with their reason as of no conse- 
quence, unnecessary, or unjust. Men are not 
permitted to bend the Gospel according to 
their pleasure, to their own interpretations." 
" Zwingle looked to heaven," says his best 
friend, "desiring to have no other interpreter 
than the Holy Ghost." 

Such, from the very commencement, of his 
career, was the man who has been boldly 
represented as having aimed to subject the 
Bible to human reason. " Philosophy and 
Theology," said he, "were constantly raising 
difficulties in my mind. At length I was 
brought to say, we must leave these things, 
and endeavour to enter into God's thoughls in 
his own w T ord. I applied myself," continues 
he, "in earnest prayer to the Lord to give me 



his light; and though I read nothing bu 
Scripture, its sense became clearer to me than 
if I had studied many commentators." He 
compared Scripture with Scripture, interpret- 
ing ohscure texts by such as were moreclear. 
Ere long he was thoroughly acquainted with 
the Bible, and especially with the New 
Testament. When Zwingrle thus turned 
towards the Holy Scriptures, Switzerland 
made its earliest advance towards the Re- 
formation. Accordingly, when he expounded 
their meaning, all felt that his teaching 
came from God and not from man. "A 
work altogether divine!" exclaims Oswald 
Myconius; — "it was in this manner thai 
we recovered the knowledge of heavenly 
truth." 

Yet Zwingle did not despise the explana- 
tions of the most celebrated teachers; he sub- 
sequently studied Origen, Ambrose, Jerome, 
Augustine, Chrysostom, but never as authori- 
ties. "I study the doctors," said he, "just 
as we ask a friend. How do you understand 
this?" Holy Scripture was, in his judgment, 
the touchstone by which the holiest doctors 
should themselves so be tested. 

Zwingle's advance was slow and progres- 
sive. He did not arrive at truth, as Luther 
had done, by those tempest-shocks, which 
compel the soul hastily to seek a refuge; he 
reached it by the gentle influence of Scripture 
— a power which £radually subdues the heart 
of man. Luther attained the wished-for shore 
after struggling with the storms of ocean; — 
Zwingle by steering cautiously and slowly 
along the shore. They are the tw 7 o leading 
methods by which God conducts men. Zwingle 
was not fully converted to God and his Gospel 
until the early days of his abode at Zurich ; yet 
the moment when in 15 14 or 15 15, this bold man 
bowed the knee before God, to ask of Him to 
enable him to understand His word, was that 
wherein appeared the dawn of the day-star 
which afterwards rose upon him. 

It was about this time that a poem of Eras- 
mus, wherein that writer introduced Jesus 
Christ speaking to one who was perishing by 
his own apathy, produced a deep impression 
on Zwingle's thoughts. Alone in his room 
he repeated to himself the passage in which 
Jesus complained that men came not to him 
for all grace, though he was the fountain of 
all blessing. "Ml!" said Zwingle, "All!" 
and that word again and again recurred to his 
mind — " Are there then any created beings oi 
saints, from whom we should seek help 1 No, 
Christ is our only treasure."* 

Zwingle did not confine his reading to 
Christian writers. One of the accompani- 
ments of the Reformation of the sixteenth 
century was an attentive study of the classics. 
Zwingle delighted in the poems of Hesiod, 
Homer, and Pindar, and has left commenta- 
ries on the tw T o latter. He studied closely 
Cicero and Demosthenes, whose writings 
instructed him in oratory and politics. The 

* Zwingle, speaking in 1523, says he read thi» 
poem of Erasmus eight or nine years before. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



221 



child of the mountains also loved the wonders I 
of nature as reported by Pliny. Thueydides, 
Sallust, Livy, Caesar, Suetonius, Plutarch, 
and Tacitus, gave him an insight into the 
affairs of life. He has been blamed for his 
enthusiastic attachment to the great names of 
antiquity ; and true it is that some of his ex- 
pressions respecting them are not to be justi- 
fied. But in paying them so much honour, 
he thought he discerned in them not mere 
human virtues, but the influence of the Holy 
Spirit. God's dealings, far from being limited 
in former ages to the Holy Land, extended, 
as he thought, to the whole world. "Plato, 
also," said he, "drew from a source divine; 
and if the Catos, Camillus', and Scipios, had 
not been deeply religious, could they have 
acted so nobly as we know they did?" 

Zwingle diffused around him a love of let- 
ters Several young persons of distinction 
were Drought up in his school. "You have 
offered me not only your books, but yourself," 
wrote Valentine Tschudi, son of one of the 
heroes in the wars of Burgundy; and this 
youth, who had already studied at Vienna 
and Bale under the first masters, added, "I 
have never met with any one who explains 
the classics with so much justness of thought, 
and depth of understanding, as yourself." 
Tschudi went to Paris, and had an opportunity 
of comparing the genius of its university, with 
that he had known in the narrow valley of the 
Alps, overlooked by the gigantic summits and 
eternal snows of the Dodi, the Glarnisch, the 
Rhigi, and the Freyberg. "In what trifling 
do they educate the youth of France!" said 
he, " no poison can equal the sophistical art 
they are trained in. It dulls the faculties, 
destroys the judgment, and reduces to the 
level of the brutes. It makes a man a mere 
echo, an empty sound. Ten women could 
not compete with one of such sophists. Even 
in their prayers I feel assured they bring their 
sophisms to God himself, and would by syl 
logisms oblige the Holy Spirit to grant their 
petitions." Such at this period was Paris, 
the intellectual capital of Christendom, con- 
trasted with Giaris, a market-town of shep- 
herds of the Alps. One gleam of light from 
God's word gives more true illumination than 
all the wisdom of man. 

A great genius of that age, Erasmus, exer- 
cised much influence on Zwingle. The mo- 
ment any of his writings appeared, Zwingle 
hastened to procure it. In 1514 Erasmus 
visited Bale, and was received by its Bishop 
with every expression of esteem. All the 
friends of learning assembled round him. 
But the monarch -of the schools had at once 
discovered the man who promised to be the 
glory of Switzerland. "I congratulate the 
Swiss People," said he, writing to Zwingle, 
"that you are doing your best to civilize 
and ennoble it, by studies and moral conduct 
alike worthy of admiration." Zwingle longed 
to sec him. "Spaniards and Gauls once 
made the journey to Rome to look on Titus 
Livius," said he, and — set out. Arriving 
at Bale, he there found a man about forty 



years of age, of small stature, weak health, 
and delicate constitution, but extremely ami- 
able and polite. It was Erasmus. The charm 
of his intimacy banished Zvvingle's timidity, 
and the power of his intellect impressed him 
with reverence. "As poor," said Ulric, "as 
iEschines, when the disciples of Socrates 
each brought a gift to their master, I make 
you the present he made, and give you my- 
self." 

Among the men of learning who then form- 
ed a kind of a court of Erasmus, — Amerbach, 
Rhenanus, Froben, Nessenus, Glareanus, and 
the rest — Zwingle took notice of a young 
native of Lucerne, twenty -seven years of age, 
named Oswald Geishussies. Erasmus, trans- 
lating his name into Greek, had named him 
Myconius. We shall often speak of him by 
his Christian name, to distinguish this friend 
of Zwingle from Frederic Myconius, the dis- 
ciple of Luther. Oswald, after studying at 
Rothwyl with another young man of his own 
age, named Berthold Haller, — then at Berne, 
and afterwards at Bale, — had become rsctor 
of St. Theodoric's and still later of St. Peters 
school in that city. Though the humble 
schoolmaster had but a slender income, he 
had married a young girl of a simplicity and 
purity of mind that won all hearts. We have 
already said that it was a time, of trouble in 
Switzerland ; when foreign wars gave rise to 
scandalous disorders, and the soldiers return- 
ing to their country brought with them habits 
of licentiousness and brutality. One winter's 
day, gloomy and overcast, some of these 
wretches attacked the quiet dwelling of Os- 
wald in his absence. They assaulted- the 
door, threw stones, and with indecent lan- 
guage called for his wife. At last they burst 
open the door, and having made their way to 
his school, broke every thing in the place, and 
then retired. Shortly after Oswald returned. 
His son, little Felix, ran to meet him with 
"loud cries; and his wife, speechless, made 
signs of horror. In a moment he perceived 
what had happened. At the same instant a 
noise was heard in the street. Unable to 
control himself, the schoolmaster seized a 
weapon and pursued the rioters to the ceme- 
tery. They took refuge within it and prepared 
to resist. Three of them rushed upon Myco- 
nius and wounded him ; and while his wounds 
were being dressed, the wretches again broke 
into his house with horrid cries. Oswald tell* 
no more. Such were the scenes which took 
place in Switzerland at the beginning of the 
sixteenth century, before the Reformation had 
humanized the manners of the people. 

The uprightness of Oswald Myconius, and 
his desire of learning and virtue brought him 
into contact with Zwingle. The rector of the 
school of Bale at once acknowledged the 
superior genius of the curate of Giaris. In 
unaffected humility he shrunk from the 
praises of Zwingle and Erasmus. " You 
schoolmasters," the latter would often say, 
" are, in my opinion, equal to kings." But 
the modest Myconius was of a different judg- 
ment. " I do but creep upon the earth," sa'd 



222 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



he; "from my childhood there has been a 
something low and small about me." 

A preacher who had arrived in Bale, almost 
at the same time as Zwingle, was then ex- 
citing attention. Of mild and peaceful tem- 
per, he loved a tranquil life ; — slow and cir- 
cumspect in his actions, he was most happy 
in studious occupations, and in endeavours to 
promote good will among Christians. He 
was named John Hausschein, in Greek (Eco- 
lampadius, or "light of the house," and was 
born in Franconia, of rich parents, one year 
before the birth of Zwingle. His pious mother 
wished to devote to learning and to God him- 
self the only child that providence had left 
her. His father at first destined him to com- 
merce, and afterwards to jurisprudence; but 
an CEcolampadius's return from Bologna, 
(where he had studied law) the Lord, whose 
purpose it was to make him a light in the 
Church, called him to the study of Theology, 
He was preaching in his native town when 
Capito, who had made his acquaintance at 
Heidelberg, obtained his election as preacher 
at Bale. He there proclaimed Christ with an 
eloquence which was the admiration of his 
hearers. Erasmus admitted him to intimacy. 
(Ecolampadius was charmed with the hours 
he spent in the society of this distinguished 
genius. " We must seek," said the prince of 
scholars, " we must seek but one thing in 
Holy Scripture, namely, Jesus Christ." He 
presented to the young preacher in token of 
his friendship the first chapters of St. John's 
Gospel. (Ecolampadius would often kiss this 
pledge of so valued a friendship, and appended 
it to his crucifix, "in order," said he, "that 
I may always remember Erasmus in my 
$» prayers." 

Zwingle returned to his mountain-home 
with his mind and heart full of all he had 
seen and heard at Bale. "1 should not be 
able to sleep," said he, writing to Erasmus, 
• fc without holding some discourse with you. 
There is nothing I am so proud of as having 
seen Erasmus." Zwingle had received a new 
impulse. Such visits have at times great 
effects on a Christian's conduct. The disci- 
ples of Zwingle, Valentin, Jost, Louis, Peter, 
and Egidius Tschudi ; his friends, the bailiff 
Aebli, the curate Binzli of Wesen, Fridolin 
Brunner, and the celebrated professor Glarea- 
nus, were delighted to watch his growth in 
wisdom and knowledge. The old respected 
him as a courageous defender of his country; 
— 'the faithful pastors as a zealous minister of 
the Lord. Nothing was transacted in the 
country without his advice. All the better 
sort looked to him as destined one day to re- 
store the ancient virtues of their country. 

Francis the First having ascended the throne, 
and preparing to avenge on Italy the honour of 
France, the Pope in alarm, sought to gain 
over the cantons. Thus, in 1515, Ulric again 
saw the plains of Italy covered by the batta- 
lions of his fellow-countrymen. But the dis- 
cord which the intrigues of the French intro- 
duced among the army of the confederates 
grieved his spirit. Often might he be seen, 



in the midst of the camp, haranguing, in words 
of energy and wisdom, an audience armed 
from head to foot and ready for battle. On 
the 8th of September, five days before the 
battle of Marignan, he preached in the square 
of Monza, where the Swiss troops who 
adhered to their standards were assembled. 
"If the advice of Zwingle had then been 
followed," says Werner Steiner of Zug, 
" what miseries would our country have been 
spared !" But all ears were closed against 
the accents of concord, peace, and submission. 
The overpowering eloquence of the Cardinal 
Schinner electrified the confederates, and 
made them rush impetuously to the fatal 
plains of Marignan. The flower of the Swiss 
youth perished. Zwingle, who had failed 
in his attempts to avert these calamities, ex- 
posed himself in the cause of Rome to the 
greatest danger. His hand grasped asword! 
Melancholy mistake of Zwingle. He, a min- 
ister of Christ, more than once forgot that it 
was his duty, to fight only with the weapons 
of the Spirit, and he was doomed to see 
accomplished in his own case in a most 
striking manner, that prophecy of the Lord, 
I 1 hey that take the sword shall perish by the 
sword. 

Zwingle and the Swiss failed to save Rome 
from defeat. The Venitian ambassador, at 
the court of Rome, was the first to learn the 
news of the defeat at Marignan. Overjoyed 
he repaired early to the Vatican. The Pope 
left his apartments, though scarcely attired, 
to give him audience. Leo the Tenth on 
hearing the intelligence made no secret of his 
fears. In a moment of alarm he saw nothing 
but Francis the First, and lost all hope : — 
"My Lord ambassador," said he tremblingly 
to Zorsi, " we must throw ourselves into the 
king's arms and cry for mercy." Luther and 
Zwingle, when in circumstances of peril, 
knew another refuge and invoked another 
mercy. 

This second visit to Italy was not unattended 
with advantage to Zwingle. He took notice 
of the differences betw r een the Ambrosian 
ritual, in use at Milan, and that of Rome. He 
collected and compared with each other the 
most ancient canons of the Mass. Thus his 
spirit of inquiry found employment amid the 
tumult of camps. At the same time the sight 
of the children of his native land, drawn from 
their mountains, and delivered up to slaughter 
like their cattle, filled him with indignation. 
" The blood of the confederates," said he, " is 
counted of less value than their sheep and 
oxen." The faithlessness and ambition of 
the Pope, -the avarice and ignorance of the 
clergy, — the licentiousness and immorality of 
the monks, — the pride and luxury of the 
prelates, — the corruption and venality that 
spread on all sides among his countrymen, — 
all these evils were forced more than ever on 
his notice, and helped to deepen more than 
ever his conviction of the necessity of a refor- 
mation in the Church. 

Zwingle from that time preached the woid 
of God with more distinctness. He expound 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



223 



ed the portions of the Gospels and Epistles 
chosen for public worship; ever comparing 
Scripture with Scripture. He spoke with 
force and animation, and pursued with his 
auditors the same course that God was pur- 
suing with him. He .did not expose, as Lu- 
ther did, the wounds of the Church ; but, 
according as his study of the Bible discovered 
to him any profitable instruction, he 'imparted 
it to his flock. He laboured to persuade them 
to receive thb truth into their hearts ; and then 
depended upon it for the effect it was destined 
to produce. " If the people see clearly what 
is true," thought he, "they will at once dis- 
cern what is false. "-r-Th is maxim is good in 
the commencement of a reformation,, but a 
time arrives when error must be boldly de- 
nounced. Zwingle well knew this. "The 
spring," said he, "is the season for sowing 
our seed." — It was then seed time with him. 

Zwingle has marked this period as the 
dawn of the Swiss Reformation. Four years 
before, he had bent over God's book ; and he 
now raised his head and turned toward the 
people to impart to them the light he had re- 
ceived from it. It was a new and important 
epoch in the development of the religious 
revolution of these countries; but it is a mis- 
taken conclusion to infer that Zwingle's re- 
formation preceded Luther's. Zwingle may 
possibly have preached the Gospel a year pre- 
vious to the theses of Luther, but the Gospel 
was preached by Luther himself four years 
before those celebrated propositions. If Lu- 
ther and Zwingle had done nothing but preach, 
the Reformation would not have so soon spread 
through the Church. The one and the other 
was neither the first monk, nor the first priest 
who taught a purer doctrine than the scholas- 
tic teachers ; but Luther was the first who 
boldly and publicly raised the standard of 
truth against prevailing error, and invited 
general attention to the fundamental doctrine 
of the Gospel, salvation by grace; thus intro- 
ducing his generation to that path of know- 
ledge, faith, and life, from which a new world 
has arisen, and commencing a real and saving 
change. The great battle, of which the sig- 
nal was given in the theses of 1517, was the 
true parent of the Reformation, and gave to it 
both its soul and its form. Luther was the 
earliest of the Reformers. 

A spirit of inquiry was beginning to breathe 
on the Swiss mountains. One day the curate 
of Glaris, being in the lovely country of Mol- 
lis, at the house of Adam the curate of the 
place in company with Binzli, curate of We- 
sen, and Varchon, curate of Kerensen, the 
party of friends found an old liturgy in which 
they read these words, — "After the child is 
baptized, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper 
and the cup is to be given him." -"Then," 
remarked Zwingle, "the Supper was at that 
time given under both kinds!" The liturgy 
in question was about two centuries old. 
This was a grand discovery for the priests 
of the Alps. 

The defeat at Marignan produced the con- 
9emences that were to be expected in the 
16 



remoter cantons. The victorious Francis 1. 
lavished gold and flattery to win over the 
confederates; and the Emperor adjured them 
by their honour, by the tears of widows and 
orphans, and the blood of their brethren, not 
to sell their services to their murderers. The 
French party prevailed in Glaris, and his re- 
sidence in the country became from that time 
a burthen to Ulric. 

At Glaris, Zwingle might have remained a 
man of his own age. Party intrigue, political 
prejudices, the Empire, France, the Duke of 
Milan, might have almost absorbed his life. 
God never leaves in the tumult of the world 
those whom he is training for the people. 
He leads them aside, — he sets them in soli- 
tude, where they may feel themselves in his 
presence, and gather inexhaustible instruc- 
tion. The Son of God himself, the type in 
that particular of his dealings with his ser- 
vants, passed forty days in the desert. The 
time had come when Zwingle was to be de- 
livered from the turmoil of his political agita- 
tion, which by constant passage through his 
soul would have quenched the Spirit of God. 
It was time that he' should be disciplined for 
another stage than that whereon figured cour- 
tiers and factions, and on which he might 
have been tempted to waste an energy worthy 
of better aims. His country stood in need of 
a very different service. It was necessary 
that a new life should at this time descend 
from heaven, and that he who was to be 
the instrument in communicating it to others 
should himself unlearn the things of time. 
These two spheres are entirely distinct; — a 
wide space separates these two Worlds; and 
before passing from the one to the other, 
Zwingle was to halt for a while on a neutral 
territory, a middle and preparatory ground, 
there to be taught of God. God at this time 
took him from the centre of the factions of 
Glaris, and led him, for his noviciate, to the 
solitude of a hermitage. Thus was the hope- 
ful promise of the Reformation, which ere 
long was to be transplanted to another soil, 
and to cover the mountains with its shadowy 
shut up in the narrow enclosure of the walls 
of an abbey. 

About the middle of the ninth century, a 
wayfaring monk, Meinrad of Hohenzollern, 
had passed between the lakes of Zurich and 
Wallstetten, and resting on a little hill in 
front of an amphitheatre of fir trees, had con- 
structed there his cell . Outlaws had imbrued 
their hands in the blood of the saint. For a 
long time the blood-stained cell was deserted 
But towards the end of the tenth century, a 
convent and church, in honour of the Virgin, 
was built on this sacred spot. On the eve of 
the day appointed for its consecration, the 
Bishop of Constance and his priests were at 
prayers in the church — when a heavenly 
chaunt, proceeding from some invisible be- 
ings, suddenly Tesounded in the chapel. 
They listened prostrate and amazed. Next 
day, as the bishop was about to consecrate 
the chapel, a voice three times repented, 
i " Stop ! Stop ! God himself has consecrated 



224 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



it." Christ in person, it was said, had pro- 
nounced his blessing 1 on it during the night; 
the hymns heard were those of the angels, 
apostles, and saints; and the Virgin had ap- 
peared for an instant like a flash of lightning' 
on the altar. A bull of Leo VIII. forbade the 
faithful to doubt the truth of this legendary 
tale. From that time a vast crowd of pil- 
grims poured incessantly to our Lady of the 
Eremites for the consecration of the angels. 
Delphi and Ephesus in former ages, and Lo- 
retto in modern times, have alone equalled the 
renown of Einsidlen. It was in this singular 
scene, that Ulric Zwingle was, in 1516, called 
to be priest and preacher. 

Zwingle did not hesitate. "I am neither 
swayed by ambition, nor the love of gain," 
said he, "but driven by the intrigues of the 
French." Motives of a higher kind concur 
to decide him. On the one hand being more 
retired, having more quiet, and a charge of 
less extent, he will have more time for study 
and meditation. On the other hand, this re- 
sort of pilgrims will afford him opportunity 
for diffusing to the most distant lands the 
knowledge of Christ. 

The friends of the gospel at Glaris loudly 
expressed their grief. "What, worse could 
have befallen Glaris," said Peter Tschudi, 
one of the most distinguished citizens of the 
canton, "than to lose so valuable a man." 
His parishioners, seeing his inflexibility, re- 
solved to continue to him the name of pastor 
of Glaris, with a part of the stipend, and the 
power of returning to it whenever he would. 

Conrad of Reichberg, a gentleman de- 
scended from an ancient family, of serious, 
open-hearted, intrepid, and sometimes stern 
manners, was one of the best known hunts- 
men of the country whither Zwingle was go- 
ing. He had established on one of his estates 
a stud for the breeding of horses, which be- 
came famous in Italy. This man was the Ab- 
bot of Our Lady of the Eremites. Reichberg 
held in equal aversion the pretensions of Rome, 
and theological controversy. When one, on 
occasion of a visitation of the order, made 
some remarks: "lam master here and not 
you," answered he abruptly ; " go about your 
business." Another time, when Leo Juda 
was discussing some subject at table with the 
administrator of the convent, the hunting Ab- 
bot exclaimed : " Let me put an end to your 
disputings : — I say with David, — Have mercy 
upon me, God! according to thy loving kind- 
ness : Enter not into judgment with thy servant ! 
— and I want to know nothing more." 

The Baron Theobald de Geroldsek was 
administrator of the monastery. He was of 
mild character, sincerely pious, and fond of 
learning. His favourite scheme was to col- 
lect in his convent a society of learned men. 
With this view he had invited Zwingle. 
Eager for instruction, he entreated his new 
friend to direct his studies. "Read the Holy 
Scriptures," answered Zwingle, "and for the 
better understanding them, consult St. Je- 
rome." "And yet," he continued, "a time 
is coming (and soon too, with God's help,) 



when Christians will think little of St. Jerome 
or any other teacher, but the Word of God." 
The conduct of Geroldsek exhibited evidence 
of his progress in the faith. He gave per- 
mission to the nuns of a nunnery attached 
to Einsidlen to read the Bible in t,he vulgar 
tongue, and some years after he took up his 
abode at Zurich, in Zwingle's neighbourhood, 
and died on the plain of Cappel. The same 
attraction soon united to Zwingle the worthy 
(Exlin, Lucas, Jmd other inmates of the abbey 
walls. These studious men, remote from the 
clamours of party, were accustomed to read 
together the Scriptures, the Fathers, the mas- 
terpieces of antiquity, and the writings of the 
restorers of learning. It often happened that 
friends from distant parts joined their interest- 
ing circle. One day Capito, among others, 
arrived on a visit to Einsidlen. The two 
friends, renewing the connexion formed at 
Baden, together went round the convent and 
its wild environs,— absorbed in conversation 
touching the Scripture and the will of God. 
On one point they were agreed ; — it was that 
the Pope must fall! Capito was at that time 
a braver man than he was at a later date. 

In this quiet retreat, Zwingle had rest, lei- 
sure, books, and friends ; and he grew in un- 
derstanding and in faith. Then it was (May 
1507,) that he applied himself to a task that 
was very useful to him. As in early times, 
the kings of Israel with their own hands 
transcribed the law of God, so Zwingle copied 
out the Epistles of St. Paul. There were then 
none but cumbrous editions of the New Tes- 
tament, and Zwingle wished to be able to 
carry it always about him.* He learnt by 
heart the whole of the Epistles; then the re- 
maining books of the New Testament; and 
after that portions of the Old. Thus did his 
heart cleave more and more to the supreme 
authority of God's Word. Not satisfied with 
acknowledging its supremacy he formed the 
resolution to subject his life to it in sincerity. 
Gradually his walk became in every thing 
more Christian. The purpose for which he 
had been brought into this wilderness was 
then accomplishing. Doubtless it was not 
till his visit to Zurich that the Christian life 
penetrated his soul with power; but already 
at Einsidlen his progress in sanctification 
was evident. At Glaris he had been seen to 
take part in worldly amusements; — at Ein- 
sidlen he was more noticeable for purity of 
manners and freedom from every stain and 
from every kind of worldliness : be began to 
see the great spiritual interests of the people, 
and by slow degrees learned what God would 
teach him. 

Providence had besides other purposes in 
bringing him to Einsidlen. He was to have 
a nearer view of the superstitions and corrup- 
tions which had invaded the Church. The 
image of the Virgin, carefully preserved in 
the monastery, it was alleged had the power 
of working miracles. Over the gate of the 
abbey might be read this pompous inscription 

*This manuscript is in the library of Zuricn. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



225 



— - f< Here may be obtained complete remission 
ot sins." A multitude of pilgrims from all 
parts of Christendom flocked to Einsidlen, 
that they might obtain this grace for their pil- 
grimage. The church, the abbey, the whole 
valley, was crowded on occasion of the fete 
of the Virgin, with her devout worshippers. 
But it was especially on the grand fete of the 
consecration of the angels, that the crowd 
thronged the hermitage. Long files, to the 
number of several thousands of both sexes, 
climbed the steep sides of the mountain lead- 
ing to the oratory, singing hymns, or counting 
the beads of their chaplets. These devout 
pilgrims forced their way into the church, be- 
lieving themselves nearer to God there than 
any where else. 

Zwingle's residence at Einsidlen bad simi- 
lar effects to those attending Luther's visit to 
Rome, in admitting him to a closer view of 
the corruptions of the Papacy. It was there 
his education, as a Reformer, was completed. 
The seriousness his soul had acquired soon 
manifested itself in outward action. Affected 
at the sight of so many evils, he resolved to 
oppose them energetically. He did not falter 
between his conscience and his interest. He 
boldly stood up, and his powerful eloquence 
fearlessly attacked the superstition of the 
crowd that surrounded him. " Think not," 
said he, speaking from his pulpit, "that God 
is in this temple more than in any other part 
of creation. Wherever he has fixed your 
dwelling he encompasses you, and hears you 
as much as at our Lady at Einsidlen. What 
power can there be in unprofitable works, 
weary pilgrimages, offerings, prayers to the 
Virgin and the saints, to secure you the fa- 
vour of God ] What signify the multiplying 
of words in prayer? What efficacy in the 
cowl, or shaven crown, or priestly garments 
falling, and adorned with gold ! God looks 
upon the heart — and our heart is far off from 
God." 

But Zwingle was resolved to do more than 
resist superstition ; he sought to satisfy the 
ardent desire after reconciliation with God, 
which urged on some of the pilgrims that 
flocked to the chapel of our Lady of Einsid- 
len. " Christ," he cried, like the Baptist from 
another wilderness of Judea; "Christ, who 
offered himself on the cross once for all, is 
the sacrifice and victim which satisfies for all 
eternity, for the sins of all believers." Thus 
Zwingle went forward. From the hour, when 
so bold a style of preaching was heard in the 
most venerated sanctuary in Switzerland, the 
banner of resistance, to Rome was more dis- 
tinctly visible above its mountains : and there 
was a kind of earthquake of reformation which 
moved its very foundations. 

In truth, an universal astonishment took 
possession of men's minds at the sound of 
the eloquent priest's sermons. Some with- 
drew with horror; others fluctuated between 
the faith of their fathers and the doctrine that 
was -to give them peace; many were led to 
that Jesus who was declared to be full of 
mercy, and took away with them the tapers 



they had brought to present to the Virgin. 
A crowd of pilgrims returned to their native 
places, everywhere announcing the > tidings 
they had heard at Einsidlen. " Christ alone 
saves us, and he saves everywhere !" It 
often happened that troops of pilgrims, as- 
tonished at what they thus heard recounted, 
turned back without completing their pil- 
grimage. The worshippers of Mary- were 
every day fewer. It was from their offerings 
the revenue of Zwingle and of Geroldsek was 
drawn. But the bold witness for the truth 
was too happy to see himself impoverished, 
while thus, spiritually, making many rich. 

On Eastef Sunday, 1518, among the nume- 
rous hearers of Zwingle was a learned man, 
of gentle character and active charity, named 
Gaspard Hedio, a doctor of divinity at Bale. 
Zwingle preached on the history of the man 
taken with palsy, (Luke v.) in which occurs 
our Lord's declaration: "The Son of Man 
hath power on earth to forgive sins" a passage 
well suited to strike the crowd assembled in 
the church of the Virgin. The preacher's 
discourse moved, delighted, and inspired the 
whole assembly; and in an especial manner 
the doctor of Bale. Long afterwards Hedio 
would express his admiration : — " How beau- 
tiful and profound! how grave and convinc- 
ing ! how moving and agreeable to the Gospel 
was that discourse !" said he. " How it re- 
minds one of the ?vfpyta, (force) of the an- 
cient doctors." From that moment' Hedio 
admired and loved Zwingle. He longed to 
go to him and open his heart; he lingered 
about the abbey without daring to make ad- 
vances, restrained, as he tells us, by a sort of 
superstitious fear. Mounting his horse, he 
slowly departed from our Lady's chapel, look- 
ing back on a spot which held so great a trea- 
sure, w r ith the warmest regret. 

In this manner did Zwingle preach ; less 
powerfully, no doubt, but with more mode- 
ration, and no less success than Luther; he 
avoided precipitation, and gave less offence 
to men's minds than the Saxon monk ; he 
trusted to the power of Truth for results. 
The same prudence marked his intercourse 
with the dignitaries of the Church. Far 
from directly opposing them, like Luther, — 
he continued long on friendly terms with 
them. They treated him with respect, not 
only on account of his learning and talents, 
(and Luther would have been entitled to 
equal attention from the Bishops of Mentz 
and Brandeburg) but still more on account 
of his devotion to the Pope's political views, 
and the influence that, such a man as Zwingle 
must needs possess in a republic. 

In fact, several cantons, weary of the Pope's 

service, were on the point of a rupture. But 

the Legates hoped to retain many on their 

side by gaining Zwingle, as they had gained 

! over Erasmus, by pensions and honours. 

, The Legates, Ennius and Pucci, often visited 

1 Einsidlen, where, from the proximity of the 

; democratic cantons, their negociations with 

' those states were most easy. But Zwingle, 

; far from sacrificing truth to the solicitations 



226 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and bribes of Rome, allowed no opportunity to 
pass of defending the Gospel. The famous 
Schinner, who was then on ill terms with 
his diocese, spent some time at Einsidlen. 
"The whole Papacy," remarked Zwingle, in 
conversation with him, "rests on bad foun- 
dations. Do you begin and clear away er- 
rors and corruptions, or else you will see the 
whole fabric come tumbling to the ground 
with frightful noise." 

He spoke with the same frankness to the 
Legate Pucci. Four times did he return to 
the charge. " By God's help," said he, " I 
mean to preach the Gospel, — and that will 
shake Rome :" and then he went on to ex- 
plain what was needed in order to save the 
Church. Pucci promised every thing, but 
did nothing. Zwingle declared his intention 
to throw up the Pope's pension, but the Le- 
gate entreated him to retain it. As he had 
no desire to appear in open hostility against 
the head of the Church, Zwingle continued in 
receipt of it for three years. " But do not 
think," said he, " that for any money I will 
suppress a single syllable of truth." Pucci, 
in alarm, procured the nomination of the Re- 
former as acolyte of the Pope. It was a step 
to further honours. Rome sought to intimi- 
date Luther by solemn judgments; — and to 
win Zwingle by her favours. Against one 
she hurled excommunications; to the other 
she cast her gold and splendours. They 
were two different methods for attaining the 
same end, and sealing the daring lips which 
presumed, in opposition to the Pope's plea- 
sure, to proclaim the word of God in Germa- 
ny and Switzerland. The last device was 
-he most skilfully conceived, — but neither 
was successful. The enlarged hearts of the 
preachers of the Gospel were shewn to be 
above the reach of vengeance or seduction. 

About this time, Zwingle conceived great 
hopes of another Swiss prelate. This was 
Hugo of Landenberg, Bishop of Constance. 
Landenberg gave directions for a general 
visitation of the churches, — but being a man 
of very feeble character, he allowed himself 
to be overruled, sometimes by Faber his vicar, 
at others by a bad woman, from whose in- 
fluence he could not extricate himself. He 
sometimes seemed to honour the Gospel ; — 
and yet, if any one preached it boldly, he 
looked upon the preacher as a disturber. He 
was one of those men too often met with in 
the church, who, preferring truth to error, are 
nevertheless more tender of error than con- 
cerned for truth; and are frequently found at 
'ast opposed to those in whose ranks they 
ought to be contending. Zwingle applied to 
Hugo ; — but in vain. He was doomed to ex- 
perience, as Luther had done, that it was use- 
less to invoke the assistance of the heads of 
the Church; and that the only way to revive 
Christianity was to act the part of a faithful 
teacher of God's word. The opportunity for 
this was not long delayed. 

In 1518, a barefooted Carmelite arrived 
on the heights of St. Gothard, in those ele- 
vated passes which have been with difficulty 



opened across the steep rocks that separate 
Switzerland from Italy. This man had been 
brought up in an Italian convent, and was the 
bearer of Papal indulgences, which he was 
commissioned to sell to the good Christian 
people of the Helvetic league. Brilliant suc- 
cesses under two preceding Popes had made ' 
him notorious for this shameful traffic. Com 
panions of his journey, whose business it was 
to puff off his wares, accompanied his advance 
across snows and ice-fields, as old as creation 
itself. The caravan, miserable in its appear- 
ance, and a good deal resembling a troop of 
adventurers in quest of booty, went forward 
to the sound of the dashing streams that form 
by their confluence the rivers Rhine, Reus*, 
Aar, Rhone, Tessino, and others, — silently 
meditating the spoiling of the simple Swiss. 
Samson, — for that was the name of the Car- 
melite, attended by his company, arrived first 
at Uri, and commenced their trade. They 
had soon made an end with these poor coun- 
try folks, and removed thence to the canton 
of Schwitz. It was there Zwingle was re- 
siding; and there it was that the contest 
between these servants of two widely differ- 
ent masters was to begin. "I am empowered 
to remit all sins.'" said the Italian monk (the 
Tetzel of Switzerland) to the people of 
Schwitz. "Heaven and earth are subject 
to my authority; and I dispose of Christ's 
merits to whoever will purchase them, — by 
bringing me their money for their indul- 
gence." 

When tidings of this discourse reached 
Zwingr]e, his zeal was kindled, and he 
preached vehemently. "Christ," said he, 
"the Son of God, says, Come unto me all ye 
who labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest. What audacious folly and 
madness is it then to say, contradicting him: 
' Buy letters of indulgence, — apply to Rome, 
— give your money to the monks, — sacrifice 
to the priests! —if you do these things, I will 
absolve you from your sins.' Christ is the 
one offering! Christ is the only sacrifice! 
Christ is the only way !" 

Throughout Schwitz people soon spoke of 
Samson as a cheat and impostor. He took 
the road to Zug; and, for the moment, the 
two champions missed each other. 

Scarcely had Samson taken his departure 
from Schwitz, when a citizen of that canton 
named Stapfer, who was much respected, and 
afterwards public secretary, was suddenly 
reduced, with his family, to a state of total 
destitution. "Alas!" said he, addressing 
himself in his perplexity to Zwingle, "I 
know not how to satisfy my hunger and the 
wants of my poor children." Zwingle could 
give when Rome would take; and* he was as 
ready to do good works, as he was to opprse 
those who inculcated them as means by which 
we are saved. He daily supplied Stapfer 
with support. "It is God," said he, intent 
on taking no credit to himself, "it is God 
who begets charity in the believer, and gives 
at once the first thought, the resolve, and the 
work itself: it is God who does it by his own 



History of the reformation. 



227 



power." Stopfer's affection for him lasted 
till death; and four years after this, when 
he filled the post of Secretary of Schwitz, 
he turned to Zwingle under the feeling of a 
higher want, and with noble candour said, 
"Since it was you \yho once supplied my 
temporal need, how much more n\ay I expect 
you may give me that which shall satisfy the 
famine of my soul." 

The friends of Zwingle multiplied daily. 
.It was no longer at Glaris, Bale, and Schwitz, 
that persons were found whose hearts were 
with him : — at Uri, there was Schmidt the 
secretary ; at Zug, Colin Muller, and Werner 
Sleiner, his old companion in arms at Marig- 
nan; at Lucerne, Xyloctect and Kilchmeyer; 
at Bienne, Wittembach ; and in other parts 
not a few. But the curate of Einsidlen had 
no more devoted friend than Oswald Myco- 
nius. Oswald had quitted Bale in 1516 to 
take the direction of the cathedral school at 
Zurich. At this period that city possessed 
neither learned men nor schools. Oswald 
laboured, in conjunction with several benevo- 
lent persons, to reclaim the people of Zurich 
from their ignorance, and initiate them in an- 
cient learning. He at the same time defended 
the uncompromising truth of holy Scripture, 
and declared that if the Pope or the Emperor 
should enjoin what was contrary to the Gos- 
pel, it was man's duty to obey God alone, 
who is above Emperor or Pope. 

Seven centuries before, Charlemagne bad 
added a college of canons to that same cathe- 
dral, the school attached to which was placed 
under Oswald Myconius. These canons hav- 
ing declined from their first institution, and 
wishing to enjoy their benefices in the sweets 
of indolence, had adopted the custom of elect- 
ing a preacher, to whom they delegated the 
d nty of preaching and the cure of souls. This 
post became vacant shortly after the arrival 
of Oswald, who immediately thought of his 
friend. What a blessing it would be to Zu- 
rich ! Zwingle's manners and appearance 
were prepossessing; — he was a handsome 
man, of polite address, and pleasing conver- 
sation, already remarked for his eloquence, 
and distinguished among all the confederated 
Swiss for his brilliant genius. Myconius 
spoke of him to the provost of the chapter, 
Felix Frey, who was prepossessed by the 
manners and talents of Zwingle; —to U tinker, 
an old man much respected, and to the canon 
Hoffman, a man of upright and open charac- 
ter, who having for a long time opposed the 
foreign service of the Swiss, was favourably 
inclined toward Ulric. Other inhabitants 
of Zurich had, on different occasions, heard 
Zwingle at Einsidlen, and had" returned home 
full of admiration. The approaching election 
of a preacher for the cathedral ere long put 
every body in Zurich in motion. Various in- 
terests were started : — many laboured night 
and day to promote the election of the elo- 
quent preacher of our Lady of the Eremites. 
Myconius apprized his friend of it. " On 
Wednesday next," answered Zwingle, " I 
am going to dine at Zurich, and we will talk 



it over." He came accordingly. Calling on 
one of the canons the latter inquired :^ " Could 
you not come amongst us and preach the word 
of God]" — "I could," answered Zwingle, 
" but I will not come unless invited ;" and 
forthwith he returned to his monastery. 

This visit alarmed his enemies. They per- 
suaded several priests to offer themselves as 
candidates for the vacant post. A Suabian, 
named Lorenzo Fable, even preached a ser- 
mon in proof of his talent ; and a report pre- 
vailed that he was chosen. "True it is, then," 
said Zwingle when he heard it, "no prophet 
is honoured in his own country; since a 
Suabian is preferred before a Swiss. I see 
what popular applause is worth." Imme- 
diately afterwards Zwingle received intelli- 
gence from the secretary of Cardinal Schinner 
that the election had not taken place; never- 
theless the false report that had reached him 
piqued the curate of Einsidlen. Finding one 
so unworthy as Fable aspiring to fill the 
office, he was the more bent on obtaining it, 
and wrote to Myconius on the subject. Os- 
wald answered the following day. " Fable 
will continue Fable.- the good folks who will 
have to decide the election, have learned that 
he is the father of six sons, and is besides 
possessed of I can't tell how many benefices." 

Zwingle's opponents were not discouraged ; 
true, all agreed in extolling .lis distinguished 
acquirements; butsome said, "he is too pas- 
sionately fond of music;" others, "he is fond 
of company and pleasure;" others again, "he 
Was in his youth very intimate with people 
of loose morals." One man even charged 
him with having been guilty of seduction. 
This was mere calumny : — yet Zwingle, al- 
though more innocent than the ecclesiastics 
of his acre, had more than once, in the first 
years of his ministry, given way to the pas- 
sions of youth. It is not easy to estimate 
the effect upon the soul of the atmosphere 
in which it lives. There existed under the 
Papacy, and among the clergy, disorders that 
were established, allowed, and recognised, as 
agreeable to the laws of nature. A saying 
of iEneas Sylvius, afterwards Pope Pius II., 
gives some notion of the wretched state of 
public morals at this period. Licentiousness 
had become almost every where allowed. 

Oswald exerted all his activity in his 
friend's favour. He laboured to the utmost 
to clear his character, and happily succeeded. 
He visited the burgomaster Roust, Hoffman, 
Frey, and Utinger. He extolled the probity, 
the frankness, and deportment of Zwingle, 
and confirmed the favourable impression that 
he had made on the people of Zurich. But 
little credence was given to the assertions of 
his adversaries. The men of most weight 
gave their judgment that Zwingle should be 
the preacher of Zurich. The canons whis 
pered the same thing. "You may hope foi 
success," wrote Oswald with emotion, ''for 
I have hopes of it." At the same time he 
apprised him of the charges of his enemies 
Although Zwingle was not. yet altogether a 
new man, his was the soul of one whose con- 



228 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



science is awakened, and who may fall into 
sin, but never without struggle and remorse. 
Often had he determined to live a holy life, — 
alone among his order, — in the world. But 
when he heard himself accused he would not 
Doast of exemption from sin. Accordingly he 
^rote to the canon Utinger. " With none to 
walk with me in the path of holiness (many 
even of those about me being offended at it,) 
1 did alas! fall; — and, as St. Peter says, 
turned again, like a dog, to my own vomit. 
God knows with what shame and anguish I 
have dragged forth into light these sins from 
the depths of my heart, and spread them be- 
fore that mighty God, to whom I, however, 
confess my wretchedness more freely than to 
mortal man." But while Zwingle acknow- 
ledged himself a sinner, he vindicated him- 
self from the odious charges brought against 
him, and affirmed that he had ever abhorred 
the thought of adultery, or the seduction of 
the innocent; -melancholy excesses ! then 
too common : — " I call to witness," he added, 
"all with whom I ever lived." 

On the 11th of December the election took 
place. Zwingle was chosen by a majority 
of seventeen out of twenty-four votes. The 
time had come for the Reformation to arise 
in Switzerland. The chosen instrument that 
Providence had been for three years preparing 
in the seclusion of Einsidlen was ready, and 
was to be transferred to another scene. God, 
who had made choice of the rising university 
of Wittemberg, situate in the heart of Ger- 
many, under the protection of the wisest of 
princes, there to call Luther, — made a choice 
of Zurich, esteemed the chief town of Hel- 
vetia, there to fix Zwingle. At Zurich he 
would be in communication not merely with 
the most intelligent and simple-minded, the 
most resolute and energetic, of the Swiss 
population, but also with the various cantons 
that lay around that ancient and influential 
state. The hand that had taken up a poor 
herdsman of mount Sentis, and placed him 
in a preparatory school, — now established 
him, mighty in word «md in deed, in the 
face of all his nation, that he might become 
the instrument of its regeneration. Zurich 
was to become the focus of illumination for 
the whole of Switzerland. 

To the inmates of Einsidlen, the day on 
which they received the tidings of Zwingle's 
nomination was a day of rejoicing and grief 
intermingled. The society which had been 
formed there was about to be broken up by 
the removal of its most valuable member; 
and who could tell whether superstition might 
not again assert her sway over that ancient 
haunt of the pilgrim'? The Council of Schwitz 
transmitted to Ulric an address, expressive of 
their sentiments, in which they styled him 
"their reverend, learned, and very gracious 
master and worthy friend." " Choose for us 
at least a successor worthy of yourself," said 
Geroldsek to Zwingle. " I have a little lion 
for you, he replied, who is both simple-hearted 
and wise; a man conversant with the mys- 
teries of Holy Writ." "I will have him," 



said the administrator immediately. This 
was Leo Juda, that mild yet intrepid »man, 
with whom Zwingle had contracted so close 
a fellowship at Bale. Leo Juda accepted a 
charge which brought him nearer to his be- 
loved Ulric. The latter, after embracing Ins 
friends, bade farewell to the solitude of Ein- 
sidlen, and pursued his journey to that de- 
lightful region, where the cheerful and goodly 
city of Zurich is seated, amidst an amphi- 
theatre of gentle hills, whose sides are 
clothed with vineyards, and their feet be- 
decked with meadows and orchards, while 
over their wooded crests are descried the 
lofty summits of the distant Albis. Zurich, 
the political centre of Switzerland, where the 
leading men of the nation were frequently as- 
sembled, was a point from which the Helvetic 
territory might be acted on, and the seeds of 
truth scattered over the whole of the cantons. 
Accordingly the friends of literature and of 
the Gospel hailed the election of Zwingle 
with their heartiest acclamations. At Paris, 
especially, the Swiss students, who were a 
numerous body there, were transported with 
joy at the tidings. But if at. Zurich, Zwingle 
had the prospect of a mighty victory opened 
to him, he had also to expect an arduous con- 
flict. Glareanus wrote to him from Paris : 
"I foresee that your learning will excite a 
bitter hostility against you ; but take courage, 
and, like Hercules, you will overcome all the 
monsters you have to encounter." 

It was on the 27th of December, 1518, that 
Zwingle arrived at Zurich; he alighted at the 
hotel of Einsidlen. His welcome was a cor- 
dial and honourable one The chapter im- 
mediately assembled to receive him, and he 
was invited to take his place among his col- 
leagues. Felix Frey presided ; the canons, 
whether friendly or hostile to Zwingle, were 
seated indiscriminately round their principal. 
There was a general excitement throughout 
the assembly; ever} 7 one felt, though proba- 
bly he knew not why, that this new appoint 
ment was likely to have momentous results 
As the innovating spirit of the young priest 
was regarded with apprehension, it was agreed 
that the most important of the duties attached 
to his new office should be distinctly pointed 
out to him. "You will use your utmost 
diligence," he was gravely admonished, "in 
collecting the revenues of the chapter — not 
overlooking the smallest item. You will ex- 
hort the faithful, both from the pulpit and in 
the confessional, to pay all dues and tithes, 
and to testify by their offerings the love which 
they bear to the Church. You will be care- 
ful to increase the income that arises from the 
sick, from masses, and in general from all 
ecclesiastical ordinances." The chapter add- 
ed : "As to the administration of the sacra- 
ments, preaching and personally watching 
over the flock, — these also are among the 
duties of the priest. But for the performance 
of Ihese, you may employ a vicar to act in 
your stead, — especially in preaching. You 
are to administer the sacraments only to 
persons of distinction, and when especially 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



229 



called upon: — you are not allowed to admin- 
ister them indiscriminately to people of all 
ranks." 

What regulations were these for Zwingle 
to subscribe to! Money! money! nothing 
but money ! Was it then for this that Christ 
had appointed the ministry ] Prudence, how- 
ever stepped in to moderate his zeal : he knew 
that it is impossible for the seed to be dropped 
into the earth, and the tree to grow up, and 
the fruit to be gathered all at once. Without 
offering any remarks on the charge that had 
been delivered to him, he modestly expressed 
the gratitude he felt for having been made the 
object of so honourable a choice, and then pro- 
ceeded to explain what were his intentions. 
"The history of Jesus," said he, "has been 
too long kept out of the people's view. It is 
my purpose to lecture upon the whole of the 
Gospel according to St. Matthew, drawing 
from the fountains of Scripture alone, sound- 
ing all its depths, comparing text with text, 
and putting up earnest and unceasing prayers, 
that I may be permitted to discover what is 
the mind of the Holy Spirit. It is to the 
glory of God, to the praise of his only Son, 
to the salvation of souls, and their instruction 
in the true faith, that I desire to consecrate 
my ministry." Language, so new to their 
ears, made a deep impression on their chap- 
ter. Some heard it with joy; but the greater 
part signified their disapproval of it. "This 
method of preaching is an innovation," cried 
they; "one innovation will soon lead to an- 
other; — and where can we stop?" The canon 
Hoffman, especially, thought it his duty to 
prevent the fatal effects of an appointment 
which he had himself promoted. "This ex- 
pounding of Scripture," said he, "will do the 
People more harm than good." — "It is no 
new method," replied Zwingle, "it is the old 
one. Recollect St. Chrysostom's homiles 
upon Matthew, ana St. Augustine's upon 
John. Besides, I will be cautious in all that 
I say, and give no one cause to complain." 

In abandoning the exclusive use of detach- 
ed portions of the Gospels merely, Zwingle 
was departing from the practice that had pre- 
vailed since the days of Charlemagne, and 
restoring the Holy Scriptures to their ancient 
rights ; he was connecting the Reformation, 
even in the beginning of his ministry, with 
the primitive times of Christianity, and pre- 
paring for future ages a deeper study of the 
t W"ord of God. But more than this: the firm 
and independent posture which he assumed 
in relation to the Church, gave intimation 
that his aim was extraordinary : his character 
as a Reformer began now to manifest itself 
distinctly to the eyes of his countrymen; and 
the Reformation consequently moved a step 
onward. 

Hoffman, having failed in the chapter, ad- 
dressed a written request to the principal, that 
he would prohibit Zwingle from disturbing 
the people in their faith. The principal sent 
for the new preacher, and spoke to him in a 
very affectionate tone. But no human power 
could seal his lips. On the 31st of December, 



he wrote to the Council of Glaris, that ho 
entirely relinqu shed the cure of souls, which, 
by their favour, he had hitherto retained ; and 
for the future he dedicated himself entirely to 
Zurich, and the work which God was prepar- 
ing for him in that city. 

On Saturday, the first of January, 1519, 
Zwingle, having on that day completed bis 
thirty-fifth year, ascended the pulpit of the 
cathedral. The church was filled by a nu- 
merous assemblage of persons desirous to 
see a man who had already acquired cele- 
brity, and to hear that new Gospel of which 
every one was beginning to speak. " It is to 
Christ," said Zwingle, " that I wish to guide 
you, — to Christ, the true spring of salvation. 
This divine word is the only food that I seek 
to minister to your hearts and souls." Ho 
then announced that on the following day, 
the first Sunday of the year, he would begin 
to explain the Gospel according to Saint 
Matthew. On the morrow, accordingly, the 
preacher, and a still more numerous audito- 
ry, were assembled in their places. Zwingle 
opened the Gospel, the book that had so long 
been sealed, and read the first page. Pass- 
ing under review the history of the Patriarchs 
and prophets (from the first chapter of Mat- 
thew,) he expounded it in such a manner, that 
all exclaimed in astonishment and delight— 
" We never heard the like of this before." 

He continued in this way to explain the 
whole of St. Matthew according to the Greek 
original. He showed how the explanation 
and the application of the Bible were both to 
be found in the very nature of man. Setting 
forth the sublimest truths of the gospel in fa- 
miliar language; his preaching adapted itself 
to every class, — to the wise and learned, as 
well as the ignorant and simple. He magni- 
fied the infinite mercies of God the Father, 
while he besought his hearers to put their 
trust in Jesus Christ as the only Saviour. At 
the same time that he called them to repent- 
ance by the most persuasive appeals, he com- 
bated the errors which prevailed among his 
countrymen by the most vigorous reasoning. 
He raised a fearless voice against luxury, in- 
temperance, extravagance in dress, injustice 
to the poor, idleness, mercenary service in 
war, and the acceptance of pensions from 
foreign princes. "In the pulpit," says one 
of his contemporaries, "he spared no one, 
neither Pope, nor Emperor, nor Kings, nor 
Dukes, nor Princes, nor Lords, not even the 
Confederates. All the strength and all the 
joy of his own heart were in God ; therefore 
he exhorted the whole city of Zurich to trust 
in none but Him." "Never before had any 
man been heard to speak with so much autho- 
rity," says Oswald Myconius, who watched 
the labours of his friend with joy and ardent 
hope. 

It was impossible that the Gospel could he 
proclaimed in Zurich without effect. A 
great and continually increasing multitude of 
every class, but especially of the low<>r orders, 
flocked to hear it. ' Many of the citizens of 
Zurich had ceased to aitend public worship. 



!30 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



" I derive no benefit from the discourses of 
these priests," was the frequent observation 
of Fiisslin, a poet and historian, as well as a 
councillor of state ; — "they do not preach the 
things pertaining to salvation ; for they un- 
derstand them not. Avarice and voluptuous- 
ness are the only qualities I discover in them." 
Henry Rauschlin, the state-treasurer, a dili- 
gent reader of the Scriptures, entertained the 
same sentiments. "The priests," said he, 
" gathered together by thousands at the Coun- 
cil of Constance .... to burn the best man 
among them all." These distinguished men, 
attracted by curiosity, came to hear Zwingle's 
first lecture. The emotions which the preach- 
er awakened in their minds, were successively 
depicted in their countenances. " Glory be to 
God," said they as they left the church ; "this 
is a preacher of the truth. He will be our 
Moses to lead us forth from Egypt. From 
that hour they became the intimate friends of 
the Reformer. " Ye rulers of this world," 
said Fiisslin, "cease to persecute the doctrine 
of Christ. After Christ the Son of God had 
been put to death, fishermen were raised up to 
publish his Gospel. And so now, if you 
destroy the preachers of the truth, you will 
see glass workers, and millers, and potters, 
and founders, and shoemakers, and tailors, 
starting up to teach in their stead." 

At first there was but one cry of admira- 
tion throughout Zurich, but when the first 
burst of enthusiasm had subsided, the enemy 
took heart again. Many well-meaning men, 
alarmed by the thought of a Reformation, 
gradually fell away from Zwingle. The vio- 
lence of the monks, which for a brief space 
had been suppressed, now broke out anew, 
and the college of the canons resounded with 
complaints. Zwingle remained immovable. 
His friends, as they contemplated his courage, 
recognised in their teacher the true spirit of 
the apostolic age. Among his enemies there 
were some who jeered and mocked at him, 
others who resorted to insulting threats; but 
he endured all with the patience of a Chris- 
tian; " If we would win souls to Christ," he 
often remarked, " we must learn to shut our 
eyes against many things that meet us in our 
way." An admirable sa3ang, which ought 
not to pass unnoted. 

His character, and his habitual deportment 
towards his fellow-men, contributed as much 
as his public ministrations to gain all hearts. 
He was at once a true Christian and a true 
republican. The equality of mankind was 
with him no unmeaning phrase; it was in- 
scribed ' on his heart, and his life was in 
accordance with it. He had neither that 
Pharisaical pride nor that monkish coarseness 
by which men of simple and of refined taste 
are alike disgusted; all acknowledged the 
attraction of his manner, and found themselves 
at ease in his society. Bold and energetic 
in the pulpit, he was affable to those whom 
he met in the streets or public walks ; he was 
often seen in the places where the civic com- 
panies or trading bodies held their meetings, 
explaining to the burghers the leading arti- 



cles of the Christian faith, or holding familiar 
conversation with them. He accosted peasants 
and patricians with the same cordiality. 
"He invited the country-folks to dinner," 
says one of his most violent enemies, "walked 
with them, talked to them about God, and 
often put the devil into their hearts, and his 
own writings into their pockets." His 
example had such weight, that even the 
town-councillors of Zurich would visit those 
rustic strangers, supply them with refresh 
ment, go about the city w T ith them, and pay 
them all possible attention. 

He continued to cultivate music, though 
" with moderation," as Bullinger assures us; 
nevertheless the adversaries of the Gospel 
took advantage of this, and called him " the 
evangelical lute-player and piper." Faber, 
on one occasion, Teproved him for indulging 
in this recreation. " My dear Faber," replied 
Zwingle, with manly frankness, " thou know- 
estnot what music is. I do not deny that I 
have learned to play the lute and the violin, 
and other instruments ; and at worst, they 
serve me to quiet little children when they 
cry; but as for thee, thou art too holy for 
music! — and dost thou not know, then, that 
David was a cunning player on the harp, and 
how he chased the evil spirit out of Saul 1 
Oh ! if thy ears were but awake to the notes 
of the celestial lute, the evil spirit of ambi- 
tion and greediness of wealth, by which thou 
art possessed, would in like manner depart 
from thee." Perhaps there was something of 
weakness in Zwingle's attachment to music; 
yet it was in a spirit of open heartedness, and 
evangelical liberty, that he cultivated an art 
which religion has always connected with her 
loftiest exercises. He composed the music 
of several of his Christian lyrics, and was not 
ashamed sometimes to touch his lute for the 
amusement of the little ones of his flock. He 
displayed the same kindly disposition in his 
demeanour towards the poor. "He ate and 
drank," says one of his contemporaries, "with 
all who invited him, he treated no one with 
disdain, — he was full of compassion for the 
poor, and always composed and cheerful in 
good or evil fortune. No calamity ever daunted 
him, his speech was ever hopeful, — his heart 
everstedfast." Thus did Zwingle continually 
enlarge the sphere of his influence, — sitting 
alternately at the poor man's scanty board, 
and the banquet table of the great, as his 
Master had done before him, — and never, in 
any situation, omitting an opportunity to fur- 
ther the work with which God had entrusted 
him. 

From the same motive he was indefatigable 
in study. From sun-rise until the hour of ten 
he employed himself in reading, writing, or 
translating; the Hebrew especially, during 
that portion of the day occupied much of his 
attention. After dinner he gave audience to 
those who had any communication to make to 
him, or stood in any need of his advice ; he 
walked out in company with his friends, and 
visited his people. At two o'clock he resumed 
his walk. He took a short turn after supper, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



231 



and then began writing letters, which often 
engaged him till midnight. He always read 
and wrote standing, and never allowed the 
customary allotment of his time to he dis- 
turbed, except for some very important cause. 

But the efforts of one man were not enough. 
He received a visit, about this time from a 
3tranger named Lucian, who brought him 
some of the works of the German Reformer. 
Rhenanus, a scholar then resident at Bale, 
and an unwearied propagator of Luther's 
writings in Switzerland, had sent this man to 
Zwingle. It had occurred to Rhenanus that 
the hawking of books might be made a pow- 
erful means of spreading the doctrines of the 
Gospel. " Ascertain, " said Rhenanus to 
Zwingle, " whether this Lucian possesses a 
sufficient share of discretion and address; if 
it shall appear that he does, let him go from 
city to city, from town to town, from village 
to village, nay from house to house, — all over 
Switzerland, carrying with him the writings 
of Luther, and especially the exposition of the 
Lord's Prayer, written for the laity. The 
more it is known, the more purchasers will it 
find. But be sure to let him take no other 
books in his pack, for if he have none but 
Luther's, he will sell them the faster." To 
this expedient was many a Swiss family 
indebted for the gleam of light that found an 
entrance into their humble dwelling. There 
was one book, however, which Zw T ingle should 
have caused to be circulated before any of 
Luther's — the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

An opportunity of displaying his zeal in a 
new field of service was soon afforded him. 
Samson, the famous dealer in indulgences, 
was journeying by slow stages toward Zurich. 
Ta'is vender of disreputable wares had arrived 
from Schwitz at Zug on the 20th of Septem- 
ber, 1518, and had remained at Zug three 
days. An immense crowd had gathered about 
him in that town. Those of the poorest class 
were the most eager of the throng, and thus 
prevented the rich from making their way to 
him. This did not suit the monk's purpose, 
and accordingly one of his attendants kept 
crying out to the populace: — ■" Good people, 
do not press forward so hard. Clear the way 
for those who have money. We will do our 
best afterwards to satisfy those who have 
none." From Zug, Samson and his company 
went on to Lucerne, — from Lucerne to Un- 
darwalden, — and thence, passing through a 
cultivated region of the Alps, with its rich 
interjacent villages, — skirting the everlasting 
snows of the Oberland, — and displaying their 
Romish merchandise for sale in every inhabit- 
ed spot ot the loveliest district of Switzerland, 
— they arrived at length in the neighbourhood 
of Berne. At first, the monk received an 
intimation that he would not be allowed to 
enter the city ; but eventually, by the aid of I 
some interested auxiliaries within, he sue- 
deeded in gaining admission, and spread out ! 
his stall in St. Vincent's church. He there > 
began to cry up his wares more loudly than 
ever. " Here," said he to the rich, " are 
indulgences on parchment, for one crown ! — ; 



There," addressing himself to the poor, "are 
absolutions on common paper, for two batz 
only !" One day, a knight of high name, 
Jacob von Stein, presented himself before him, 
mounted on a prancing dapple-grey charger. 
" Give me," said the knight, "an indulgence 
for myself; for my troop, which is five hun- 
dred strong; — for all the vassals on my 
domain of Belp; and for all my ancestors; 
and I will give you in return this dapple grey 
horse of mine." It was a high price to ask 
for a horse. Nevertheless, the charger pleased 
the barefooted Carmelite. The bargain was 
struck, the beast was led into the monk's 
stable, and all those souls w T e re duly declared 
to have been delivered forever from the pains 
of hell. On another occasion, a burgher ob- 
tained from him for thirteen florins an indul- 
gence, by virtue of which, his confessor was 
authorized to absolve him, among other 
things, from every kind of perjury. Samson 
was held in such reverence, that the council- 
lor, Von May, an old man of enlightened 
mind,havingdropped some expressions against 
him, was obliged to ask pardon of the haughty 
monk on his knees. 

The last day of his stay had now arrived. 
A deafening clamour of bells gave warning to 
the inhabitants of Berne that the monk was 
about to take his departure. Samson was in 
the church, standing on the steps of the high 
altar. The canon, Henry Lupulus, Zwingle's 
former master, officiated as his interpreter. 
" When the wolf and the fox come abroad 
together," said the canon Anselm, addressing 
the Schultheiss von Watteville, " the wisest 
plan for you, worshipful Sir, is to gather your 
sheep and your geese with all speed into a 
place of safety." But the monk cared little 
for such remarks as these, which, moreover, 
seldom reached his ears. " Fall on your 
knees," said he to the superstitious crowd ; 
" repeat three pater nosters and three ava 
marias, and your souls will instantly be as 
pure as they were at the moment of your 
baptism." The multitude fell on their knees 
forthwith. Then determined to outdo himself, 
Samson cried out, " I deliver from the tor- 
ments of purgatory and hell the souls of all 
the people of Berne who have departed this 
life, whatsoever may have been the manner or 
the place of their death." These mountebanks, 
like those who perform at fairs, always 
reserved their most astounding feat for the 
last. 

Samson, now heavily laden with coin, 
directed his course towards Zurich, through 
the Argan and Baden. As he "proceeded on 
his journey, this Carmelite, who had made so 
sorry a figure when he first crossed the Alps, 
displayed an increasing pomp and pride uf 
retinue. The bishop of Constance, having 
taken umbrage because he had not applied to 
him to legalize his bulls, had forbidden all the 
curates of his diocese to open their churches to 
him. At Baden, however, the curate did not 
venture to persevere in obstructing the holy 
traffic. The monk's effrontery rose to a high- 
er pitch. Pacing round the church-yard ax 



232 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the head of a procession, he used to fix his 
eyes on some object in the air, while his 
acolytes were chaunting the hymn for the 
dead, and pretending that he saw the liberated 
souls flying up from the church-yard towards 
heaven, to cry out: "Ecce volant! Behold! 
they fly !" One day a man, residing in the 
neighbourhood, found his way into the tower 
of the church and mounted to the belfry ; 
presently a quantity of white feathers floated 
in the air, and fell thickly on the astonished 
procession: "Behold! they fly!" cried the 
waggish citizen of Baden, from his lofty 
perch, still shaking more feathers, out of a 
pillow that he had unripped. Many of the 
bystanders laughed heartily at the jest. Sam- 
son, on the contrary, was greatly incensed, — 
norcould he be appeased until assurances were 
given him that the man was at times disorder- 
ed in his intellect. He left Baden quite 
crest-fallen. 

Pursuing his journey, he arrived about the 
end of February, 1519, at Bremgavten, whither 
he had been invited by the Schultheiss, and 
the second curate of the town, both of whom 
had seen him at Baden. The dean of Brem- 
garten, Bullinger, was a man, than whom 
none, in all that country, stood higher in 
public estimation. He was but ill-informed, it 
is true, as to the errors of the Church, and 
imperfectly acquainted with the word of God; 
— but his frank disposition, his overflowing 
zeal, his eloquence, his liberality to the 
poor, his willingness to do kind offices for his 
humble neighbours, made him universally 
beloved. In his youth he had formed a con- 
nection of a conscientious kind with the daugh- 
ter of a councillor of the same town. Such was 
the custom with those members of the priest- 
hood, who wished to avoid a life of profligacy. 
Anna had brought him five children, and his 
numerous family had in no degree diminished 
the consideration in which the Dean was held. 
There was not in all Switzerland a more hos- 
pitable house than his. Being much addicted 
to the chase, he was often seen, surrounded by 
ten or a dozen dogs, and accompanied by the 
lords of Hallwyll,the abbottof Mury, and the 
partricians of Zurich, scouring the fields and 
forests in his vicinity. He kept open house, 
and not one among all his guests was a blither 
man than himself. When the deputies, who 
were sent to the Diet, passed through Brem- 
garten, on their way to Baden, they never 
failed to take their seats at the Dean's table. 
" Bullinger," said they, "keeps court like 
some ppwerful baron." 

Strangers, when they visited the house, 
were sure to remark a boy of intelligent as- 
pect, whom they found among its inmates. 
This was Henry, one of the Dean's sons. The 
child in his earliest years passed through 
many imminent perils. He had been seized 
with the plague, and reduced to such extremi- 
ty, that he was thought to be dead, — and 
preparations were making for his burial, 
when, to the py of his parents, he gave signs 
tnat he was yet alive. At another time, a 
vagrant enticed him from the house, and was 



carrying him off, when some passers-by re- 
cognised and rescued him. At the age of 
three years, he already knew the Lord's 
prayer and the Apostles' creed ; and would 
often steal into the church, mount his father's 
pulpit, gravely stand up there, and repeat at 
the full pitch of his voice, " I believe in God 
the Father, &c, &c." When he was twelve 
years old, his parents sent him to the grammar 
school of Emmeric, — not without feelings of 
strong apprehension, for those were dangerous 
times for an inexperienced boy. Instances 
were frequent of students, to whom the disci- 
pline of a university appeared too severe, ab- 
sconding from their college in troops, carrying 
children along with them, and encamping in 
the woods, — whence they sent out the young- 
est of their party to beg, or else, with arms in 
their hands attacked travellers, plundered 
them, and then consumed the fruit of their ra 
pine in debauchery. Henry was happily pre- 
served from evil in his new and distant abode 
Like Luther, he gained his subsistence by 
singing at the doors of houses, for his father 
was resolved that he should learn to depend 
on his own resources. He had reached the 
age of sixteen when he first opened a New 
Testament. "I there found," said he, " all 
that is necessary for man's salvation, and from 
that hour I came to the conclusion that we 
must follow the Holy Scriptures alone, and 
reject all human additions. 1 neither trust the 
Fathers, nor myself; but I explain Scripture 
by Scripture, adding nothing, and taking 
nothing away." God was in this way train- 
ing up the youth, who was afterwards to be 
the successor of Zwingle. He is the author 
of that manuscript chronicle from which we 
so frequently quote. 

It was about this time that Samson arrived 
at Bremgarten, with all his train. The stout- 
hearted Dean, not in the least intimidated by 
this little army of Italians, gave notice to the 
monk that he must not vend his merchandise 
within his jurisdiction. The Schultheiss, the 
town-council, and the second pastor, all friends 
of Samson, were assembled in a room of the 
inn, where the latter had taken up his quar- 
ters, and clustered in much perplexity round 
the irritated monk. The Dean entered the 
chamber. "Here are the Pope's bulls ! " said 
the monk, " open your church to me ! " 

The Dean. "I will suffer no one, under 
colour of unauthenticated letters like these 
(for the bishop has not legalized them,) to 
squeeze the purses of my parishioners." 

The Monk, in a solemn tone. " The Pope 
is above the bishop. I charge you not to de- 
prive your flock of so marvellous a grace." 

The Dean. " Were it to cost me my life, 
— I will not open my church." 

The Monk, in great anger, " Rebellious 
priest ! in the name of our most holy lord, the 
Pope, I pronounce against thee the greater 
excommunication, — nor will 1 grant thee ab- 
solution until thou hast paid a penalty of three 
hundred ducats for this unheard of presump- 
tion." 

The Dean, turning to go out again. "I 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



233 



am prepared to answer for myself before j 
my lawful judges; as for thee, and thy ex- 
communication, I have nothing to do with 
either." 

The Monk, transported with rage —"Head- 
strong beast that thou art! I am going straight 
to Zurich, and there' I will lodge my com- 
plaint with the deputies of the Confederation." 

The Dean.— " I can show myself there as 
well as thou, and thither will I go." 

While these things were passing at Brem- 
garten, Zwingle, who saw the enemy gradu- 
ally draw nigh, was preaching with great 
vigour against indulgences. The vicar, Faber 
of Constance, encouraged him in this, and 
promised him the support of the bishop. "I 
know," said Sampson, on his road to Zurich, 
" that Zwingle will speak against me, but I 
will stop his mouth." Assuredly, Zwingle 
felt too deeply the sweetness of the pardoning 
grace of Christ to refrain from attacking the 
paper pardons of these presumptuous men. 
Like Luther, he often trembled on account of 
sin; but in the Saviour he found deliverance 
from his fears. Humble, yet strong-minded, 
he was continually advancing in the know- 
ledge of the Lord. " When Satan," said he, 
"attempts to terrify me, crying aloud: Lo ! 
this and that thou hast left undone, though 
God has commanded it ! — the gentle voice of 
the Gospel brings me instant comfort, for it 
whispers: What thou canst not do (and of a 
truth thou canst do nothing), — that Christ 
does for thee, and does it thoroughly." "Yes!" 
continued the pious evangelist, " when my 
heart is wrung with anguish by reason of my 
impotence, and the weakness of the flesh, my 
spirit revives at the sound of these joyful 
words: Christ is thy sinlessness! Christ is 
thy righteousness ! Christ is the Alpha and the 
Omega ; Christ is the beginning and the end ; 
Christ is all ; he can do all ! All created 
things will disappoint and deceive thee; but 
Christ, the sinless and the righteous, will ac- 
cept thee." — " Yes, it is He," exclaimed 
Zwingle, " who is our righteousness, and the 
righteousness of all those who shall appear as 
righteous forever before the throne of God !" 

Confronted by truths like these, the indul- 
gences could never stand : Zwingle, therefore, 
hesitated not to attack them. "No man," 
said he, " has power to remit sins, — except 
Christ alone, who is very God and very man 
in one. Go, if thou wilt, and buy indulgen- 
ces. But be assured, that thou art in nowise 
absolved. They who sell the remission of 
sins for money, are but companions of Simon 
the magician, the friends of Balaam, the am- 
bassadors of Satan." 

The worthy Dean Bullinger, still heated by 
his altercation with the monk, arrived before 
him at Zurich. He came to lay a complaint 
before the Diet against the shameless traffick- 
er, and his fraudulent trade. Deputies sent 
by the bishop on the same errand were already 
on the spot, with whom he made common 
cause. Assurances of support were proffered 
him on all hands. The same spirit which 
animated Zwingle was now breathing over 



the whole city. The council of state resolved 
to prohibit the monk from entering Zurich. 

Sampson had arrived in the suburbs, and 
alighted at an inn. Already he had his foot 
in the stirup to make his entry into the city, 
when he was accosted by messengers from 
the council, who offered him the honorary 
wine-cup, as an agent of the Pope, and at the 
same time intimated to him that he might 
forego his intention of appearing in Zurich. 
" I have somewhat to communicate to the 
Diet, in the name of his Holiness," replied 
the monk. This was only a stratagem. It 
was determined, however, that he should be 
admitted ; but as he spoke of nothing but his 
bulls, he was dismissed, after having been 
forced to withdraw the excommunication he 
had pronounced against the Dean of Brem- 
garten. He departed in high dudgeon; and 
soon after the Pope recalled him into Italy. 
A cart, drawn by three horses, and loaded 
with coin, obtained under fafee pretences from 
the poor, rolled before him over those steep 
roads of the St. Gothard, along which he had 
passed eight months before, indigent, unat- 
tended, and encumbered by no burden save 
his papers. 

The Helvetic Diet showed more resolution 
at this time than the Diet of Germany. The 
reason was, that no bishops or cardinals had 
seats in it. And accordingly the Pope, un- 
supported by those auxiliaries, was more 
guarded in his proceedings towards Switzer- 
land than towards Germany. Besides this, 
the affair of the indulgences, which occupies 
so prominent a place in the narrative of the 
German Reformation, forms but an episode 
in the history of the Reformation in Switzer- 
land. 

Zwingle's zeal overlooked all considera- 
tions of personal ease or health ; but continued 
toil at last rendered relaxation necessary. He 
was ordered to repair to the baths of Pfeffers. 
" Oh !" said Herus, one of the pupils resident 
in his house, who in this parting salutation 
gave utterance to a feeling which was shared 
by all to whom Zwingle was known, " had I 
a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths, and a 
voice of iron, as Virgil says — or rather, had I 
the eloquence of Cicero, never could I express 
how much I owe you, or how much pain I 
suffer from this separation." Zwingle, how- 
ever, was constrained to go. His journey to 
Pfeffers led him through the frightful gorge 
formed by the impetuous torrent of the Jarnina. 
He descended into that " infernal gulf," to use 
the phrase of Daniel the hermit, and reached 
the baths of which he was in quest, — a site 
continually shaken by the din of the tumbling 
torrent, and moistened by the cloud of spray 
that rises from its shattered waters. In the 
house in which Zwingle was lodged, it was 
necessary to burn torches at noonday ; and it 
was the belief of the neighbourhood that fear- 
ful spectres might sometimes be descried glid- 
ing to and fro amidst the darkness: and yet 
even here he found an opportunity of serving 
his Master. His affability won the hearts of 
many of the invalids assembled at the baths 



234 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Of this number was the celebrated poet, Philip 
Ingentinus, a professor of Friburg, in the Bris- 
gau, who from that time became a strenuous 
supporter of the Reformation. 

God was watching over his work, and it 
was his will to hasten it. The defect of 
Zwingle consisted in his strength. Strong in 
bodily constitution, strong in character, strong 
in talent, he was destined to see all his strength 
laid low in the dust, that he might become such 
an instrument as God loves best to employ. 
There was a baptism with which he yet need- 
ed to be baptized, — the baptism of adversity, 
infirmity, weakness, and pain. Luther had 
received it in that season of anguish when 
piercing cries burst forth from his narrow cell, 
and echoed through the long corridors of the 
convent at Erfurth. Zwingle was to receive 
it by being brought into contact with sickness 
and death. In the history of the heroes of 
this world, — of such men as Charles XII. or x 
Napoleon, — there is always a critical moment 
which shapes their career and ensures their 
future glory; it is that in which a conscious- 
ness of their own strength is suddenly impart- 
ed to them. And a moment not less decisive 
than this, — though stamped with an impress 
altogether different, — is to be found in the 
life of every heroic servant of God ,• — it is that 
moment in which he first recognises his abso- 
lute helplessness and nothingness; — then it is 
that the strength of God is communicated to 
him from on high. A work such as that which 
Zwingle was called to perform is never ac- 
complished in the natural strength of man; it 
would in that case come to naught, just as a 
tree must wither which is planted in its full 
maturity and vigour. The plant must be 
weak, or its roots will never strike; the grain 
must die in the earth, or it cannot bring forth 
much fruit. God was about to lead Zwingle, 
and with him the work which seemed to be 
dependent' on him for success, — to the very 
gates of the grave. It is from amidst the dry 
bones, the darkness and the dust of death, that 
God delights to raise His instruments, when 
He designs to scatter light and regeneration 
and vitality over the face of the earth. 

While Zwingle was buried among the stu- 
pendous rocks that overhang the headlong tor- 
rent of the Jamina, he suddenly received in- 
telligence that the plague, or the "great death" 
as it was called, had visited Zurich. This 
terrible malady broke out in August, on St. 
Lawrence's day, and lasted till Candlemas, 
sweeping away during that period no fewer 
than two thousand five hundred souls. The 
young people who resided under Zwingle's 
roof had immediately quitted it, according to 
the directions he had left behind him. His 
house w T as deserted therefore — but it was his 
time to return to it. He set out from Pfeffers 
in all haste, and appeared once more among 
his flock, which the disease had grievously 
thinned. His young brother Andrew, who 
would gladly have stayed to attend upon him, 
be sent back at once to Wildhaus, and from 
that moment gave himself up entirely to the 
victims of that dreadful scourge. It w T as his 



' daily task to testify of Christ and his conso 
lations to the sick.* His friends, while they 
rejoiced to see him still unharmed, while the 

j arrows of pestilence were flying thick around 
him, were visited nevertheless with many se- 
cret misgivings on his account. " Do good," 
was the language of a letter written to him 
from Bale, by Conrad Brunner, who himself 
died of the plague a few months afterwards ; 
— "but at the same time be advised to take 

' care of your own life." The caution came toe 
late; Zwingle had been seized by the plague. 

! The great preacher of Switzerland was stretch- 

1 ed on a bed from which it was probable he 
might never rise. He now turned his thoughts 
upon the state of his own soul, and lifted up 
his eyes to God. He knew that Christ had 
given him a sure inheritance; and pouring 
forth the feelings of his heart in a hymn fall 
of unction and simplicity, — the sense and the 
rhythm of which we will endeavour to exhibit, 
though we should fail in the attempt to copy 
its natural and primitive cast of language, - 
he cried aloud : 

Lo at my door 
Gaunt death I spy ; 
Hear, Lord of life, 
Thy creature's cry. 

The arm that hung 
Upon the tree, 
Jesus, uplift — 
And rescue me. 

Yet, if to quench 
My sun at noon 
Be thy behest, 
Thy will be done ! 

In faith and hope 
Earth I resign. 
Secure of heaven, — 
For I am thine ! 

The disease in the mean time gained ground ; 
his friends in deep affliction beheld the man on 
whom the hopes of Switzerland and of the 
Church reposed ready to be, swallowed up by 
the grave. His bodily powers and natural fa- 
culties were forsaking him. His heart was 
smitten with dismay; yet he found strength 
sufficient left him to turn towards God, and to 
cry : 

Fierce grow my pains : 

Help, Lord, in haste ! 

For flesh and heart 

Are failing fast. 

Clouds wrap my sight, 
My tongue is dumb, 
Lord, tarry not, 
The hour is come .' 

In Satan's grasp 
On hell's dark brink 
My spirit reels, 
Ah, must I sink ? 



* M. de Chateaubriand had forgotten this fact, 
and a thousand similar ones, when he remarked 
that ''the Protestant pastor abandons the helpless 
on the bed of death, and is never seen rushing 
into the grasp of the pestilence." (Essay on 
English Literature.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



235 



No, Jesus, no ! 
Him I defy, 
While here beneath 
Thy cross I lie. 

The Canon Hoffman, sincerely attached to 
the creed which he professed, could not bear 
the idea of seeing Zwingle die in the errors 
which he had inculcated. He waited on the 
principal of the chapter. " Think," said he, 
" of the peril of his soul. Has he not given 
the name of fantastical innovators to all the 
doctors who have taught for the last three 
hundred and eighty years and upwards — Al- 
exander of Hales, Saint Bonaventura. Al- 
bertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, and all the 
canonists 1 Does he not affirm that the doc- 
trines they have broached are no better than 
dreams into which they have fallen, with their 
hoods drawn over their eyes, in the gloomy 
corners of their cloisters'? Alas! it would 
have been better for the city of Zurich had he 
ruined our vintages and harvests for many a 
year ; and now that he is at death's door I be- 
seech you save his poor soul !" It would ap- 
pear that the principal, more enlightened than 
the canon, did not think it necessary to con- 
vert Zwingle to St. Bonaventura and Albertus 
Magnus. He was left undisturbed 

Great was the consternation that prevailed 
throughout the city. The believers cried to 
God night and day, earnestly entreating that 
He would restore their faithful pastor. The 
alarm had spread from Zurich to the moun- 
tains of Tockenburg. Even in that elevated 
region the plague had made its appearance. 
Seven or eight persons had fallen a prey to it 
in the village : among these was a servant of 
Nicholas, Zwingle's brother. No tidings were 
received from the Reformer. " Let me know," 
wrote young Andrew Zwingle, " what is thy 
state, my beloved brother ! The abbot, and 
all our brothers salute thee." It would seem 
that Zwingle's parents were already dead, 
since they are not mentioned here. 

The news of Zwingle's illness, followed by 
a report of his death, was circulated through- 
out Switzerland and Germany. " Alas !" ex- 
claimed Hedio, in tears, " the deliverer of 
our country, the trumpet of the Gospel, the 
magnanimous herald of the truth is stricken 
with death in the flower and spring-tide of his 
age!" When the intelligence reached Bale 
that Zwingle was no more, the whole city re- 
sounded with lamentations. 

But that glimmering spark of life which had 
been left unquenched, began now to burn 
more brightly. Though labouring still under 
greatbodily weakness, his soul was impressed 
with a deep persuasion that God had called 
him to replace the candle of His word on the 
deserted candlestick of the Church. The plague 
had relinquished its victim. With strong 
emotion Zwingle now exclaimed : — 

My Father God, 
Behold me whole ! 
Again on earth 
A living soul 1 



Let sin no more 
My heart annoy, 
But fill it, Lord, 
With holy joy. 

Though now delayed, 
My hour must come, 
Involved, perchance, 
In deeper gloom. * 

It matters not ; 

Rejoicing yet 

I'll bear my yoke 

To heaven's bright gate.t 

As soon as he was able to hold a pen, (it 
was about the beginning of November,) he 
wrote to his family. Unspeakable was the 
joy which his letter imparted to all his rela- 
tives, but especially to his younger brother 
Andrew, who himself died of the plague in 
the course of the following year, leaving Ulric 
to lament his loss with tears and cries, sur- 
passing the measure, — as he himself remarks, 
— even of a woman's passion. At Bale, Con- 
rad Brunner, Zwingle's friend, and Bruno 
Amerbach, the celebrated printer, — both young 
men, — had been carried to the grave after 
three days' illness. It was believed in that 
city that Zwingle also had perished. There 
was a general expression of grief throughout 
the university. " He whom God loves," said 
they, "ismadeperfectinthemorningoflife." 
But what was their joy when tidings were 
brought, first by Collinus, a student from Lu- 
cerne, and afterwards by a merchant of Zu- 
rich, that Zwingle kad been snatched from the 
brink of the grave. The vicar of the Bishop 
of Constance, John Faber. that early friend of 
Zwingle, who was afterwards his most violent 
opponent, wrote to him on this occasion :— 
44 Oh, my beloved Ulric ! what joy does it give 
me to learn that thou hast been delivered from 
the jaws of the cruel pestilence. When thy 
life is in jeopardy, the Christian common- 
wealth has cause to tremble. The Lord has 
seen it good by this trial to incite thee to a 
more earnest pursuit of eternal life." 

This was indeed the end which the Lord 
had in view in subjecting Zwingle to trial ; 
and the end was attained, but in another way 
than Faber contemplated. This pestilence of 
the year 1519, which committed such frightful 
ravages in the north of Switzerland, became 
an effectual agent in the hands of God for the 
conversion of many souls. But on no one did 
it exercise so powerful an influence as on 
Zwingle. The Gospel, which he had hereto- 
fore embraced as a mere doctrine, now became 
a great reality. He rose from the dark bor 

* These words were fulfilled in a remarkable 
manner, twelve years afterwards, on the bloody 
field of Cappel. 

t Although these three fragments of poetry have 
their respective date attached to them, " at the be- 
ginning. — in the middle, — at the end — of the sick- 
ness," and truly represent the feelings of Zwin- 
gle at the different epochs, it is probable that they 
were not thrown into the form into which we now 
find them, until after his recovery.- -(See Bulb'u- 
ger, MS.) 



236 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ders of the tomb with a new heart. His zeal 
became more ardent, his life more holy, his 
preaching more free, more Christian, more 
persuasive. This was the epoch of Zwingle's 
complete emancipation: henceforward he de- 
voted himself entirely to God. But, along 
with the Reformer, the Reformation, also, of 
Switzerland received new life. The scourge 
of God, " the great death," while it ranged 
over those mountains, and swept along those 
valleys, impressed a character of deeper holi- 
ness on the movement which was taking place 
within their bosom. The Reformation, as 
well as Zwingle, was immersed in the waters 
of sanctified affliction, and came forth endued 
with a purer and more vigorous vitality. It 
was a memorable season in the dispensations 
of God for the regeneration of the Swiss people. 
Zwingle derived an accession of that strength 
of which he stood so much in need, from his 
renewed communion with his friends. With 
Myconius especially he was united by the 
bonds of a strong affection. They walked 
side by side, each supporting the other, like 
Luther and Melancthon. Oswald was happy 
at Zurich. His position there was a constrained 
one, it is true ; but the virtues of his modest 
wife made him amends for all his discomforts. 
It was of her that Glareanus said, " Could I 
meet a young woman resembling her, I would 
prefer her to a king's daughter." The enjoy- 
ment which Zwingle and Myconius found in 
their reciprocal friendship was sometimes 
broken in upon, however, by the voice of a 
faithful monitor. That monitor was the canon 
Xyloctect, who was continually calling on 
Myconius to return to Lucerne, the place of 
his birth. " Zurich is not thy country," said 
he, "but Lucerne. Thou sayest that the Zu- 
richers are thy friends; I acknowledge it: but 
canst thou tell how it will fare with thee when 
the shadows of evening begin to fall on thy 
path] Remember thy duty to thy country: 
such is my desire, my entreaty, and, if I may 
so speak, my command!" Following up his 
words by acts, Xyloctect caused Myconius to 
be elected rector of the collegiate school of his 
native city. Oswald then hesitated no longer ; 
he saw the finger of God in this nomination, 
and, great as was the sacrifice demanded of 
him, he resolved to make it. Might it not be 
the will of the Lord to employ him as His in- 
strument in publishing the doctrine of peace 
in the warlike canton of Lucerne'? But how 
shall we describe the parting between Zwin- 
gle and Myconius] On either side, their 
farewell was accompanied with tears. "Thy 
departure," observed Ulric in a letter written 
to Oswald shortly afterwards, " has been such 
a discouragement to the cause which I defend, 
as can only be compared to that which would 
be felt by an army drawn up in order of battle, 
vere it suddenly deprivedof one of its wings. 
Alas! now I feel the value of my Myconius, 
and can perceive how often, when I dreamed 
not of it, he has upheld the cause of Christ." 
Zwingle felt the loss of his friend the more 
acutely, by reason of the debilitated state to 
which the plague had reduced him. "It has 



enfeebled my memory," he complains, in a 
letter dated 30th November, 1519, "and pros- 
trated my spirits." While he was yet scarcely 
convalescent, he had resumed all his labours. 
" But," said he, " I often, in preaching, lose 
the thread of my discourse. My whole frame 
is oppressed with languor, and I am little bet- 
ter than a dead man." Besides this, Zwin- 
gle's opposition to indulgences had aroused 
the animosity of those who supported them. 
Oswald encouraged his friend by the letters 
he wrote to him from Lucerne. Was not the 
Lord, at this moment, giving a pledge of his 
readiness to help, by the protection which he 
afforded in Saxony to the mighty champion 
who had gained such signal victories over 
Rome] " W T hat thinkest thou," said Myco- 
nius to Zwingle, "of the cause of Luther] 
For my part, I have no fear either for the 
Gospel or for him. If God does not protect 
his truth, by whom else shall it be protected ] 
All that I ask of the Lord is, that he will not 
withdraw his hand from those who have no- 
thing so dear to them as his Gospel. Go on 
as thou hast begun, and an abundant reward 
shall be bestowed upon thee in heaven." 

The arrival of an old friend at this time 
brought some comfort to Zwingle, in his grief 
for the removal of Myconius. Bunzli, who 
had been Ulric's master at Bale, and who had 
since succeeded the Dean of Wesen, the Re- 
former's uncle, arrived at Zurich in the first 
week of the year 1520, and Zwingle and he 
formed the resolution of taking a journey to 
Bale together, to see their common friends. 
Zwingle's visit to Bale was not unproductive 
of good. " 0, my dear Zwingle," wrote John 
Glother, at a later period, " never shall I 
forget thee. My gratitude is thy due for tho 
kindness displayed by thee during thy stay at 
Bale, in visiting me as thou didst, — me, a poor 
schoolmaster, a man without name, without 
learning, without merit, and in a low condition. 
My affections thou hast won by that elegance 
of manners, that indescribable fascination, by 
which thou subduest all hearts, — and, I might 
almost say, the very stones." But Zwingle's 
earlier friends derived still greater benefit from 
his visit. Capito and Hedio, with many 
others, were electrified by his powerful dis- 
courses; and the former, adopting the same 
course at Bale which Zwingle had pursued at 
Zurich, began to expound St. Matthew's Gos- 
pel to an auditory which continually increased 
in numbers. The doctrine of Christ manifested 
its power in searching and warming the heart. 
The people received it with joy, and hailed 
the revival of Christianity with eager acclama- 
tions. The Reformation had already dawned. 
A proof of this was soon se£n in a conspiracy 
of priests and monks, which was formed 
against Capito. Albert, the young Cardinal- 
archbishop of Mentz, w r ho was desirous to 
attach so learned a man to his person, took 
advantage of this circumstance, and invited 
him to his court. Capito, seeing the difficul- 
ties with which he was surrounded, accepted 
the invitation. The people thought themselves 
aggrieved, their indignation was roused against 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



237 



the priests, and the city was thrown into com- 
motion. Hedio was spoken of as Capito's 
successor; but some objected to his youth, 
and others said, " He is his disciple." " The 
truth," said Hedio, "is of too pungent a qua- 
lity. There are susceptible ears, which it 
cannot fail to wound, and which are not to be 
wounded with impunity. No matter; I will 
not be turned aside from the straight road." 
The monks redoubled their efforts. "Beware," 
was their language in the pulpit, "of giving 
credence to those who tell you that the sum 
of Christian doctrine is to be found in the 
Gospels, and in the Epistles of St. Paul. 
Scotus has rendered greater service to Chris- 
tianity than Paul himself. All the learning 
that has been preached and published has 
been stolen from Scotus. The utmost that 
certain persons have been able to achieve in 
their attempts to gain a reputation for them- 
selves, has been to mix up a few words of 
Greek and Hebrew with his matter, so as to 
perplex and darken the whole." 

The tumult continued to increase ; there 
was reason to fear that after Capito's depart- 
ure, the opposition would become still more 
powerful. "I shall be left almost alone, 
weak and insignificant as I am," said Hedio, 
" to struggle with those formidable monsters." 
In this emergency he betook himself to God 
for succour; — and in a letter to Zwingle, ex- 
pressed himself thus : — " Support my cou- 
rage by frequent letters. Learning and reli- 
gion are now between the hammer and the 
anvil. Luther has been condemned by the 
universities of Louvain and Cologne. If ever 
the Church was in imminent peril, she is so 
at this hour!" 

Capito quitted Bale for Mentz on the 28th 
of April ; and Hedio succeeded him. Not 
content with the public assemblies which 
were held in the church, where he continued 
the lectures on Saint Matthew, he resolved, 
as he wrote to Luther, to institute, in the en- 
suing month of June, private meetings in his 
own house, that he might impart more fami- 
liar instruction in the Gospel to such as 
should desire it. This powerful method of 
communicating religious knowledge, and awa- 
kening the concern and affection of believers 
for divine things, could not fail on this, as on 
every occasion, to excite the concurrent oppo- 
sition of worldly-minded laymen, and an ar- 
rogant priesthood, — classes which are equally 
inimical, though on different grounds, to every 
attempt to worship God anywhere but within 
the enclosure of certain walls. But Hedio 
was not to be driven from his purpose. 

About the period when he conceived this 
praiseworthy design at Bale, there arrived at i 
Zurich one of those characters, who, in revo- 
lutionary times, are often thrown up like a 
foul scum upon the agitated surface of soeiety. 

The senator Grebel, a man highly respect- 
ed at Zurich, had a son named Conrad, a 
young man of remarkable talents, a deter- 
mined enemy to ignorance and superstition, 
— which he assailed with the keenest satire; 
vehement and overbearing in his manners, 



sarcastic and acrimonious in his speech, de- 
stitute of natural affection, addicted to disso- 
lute habits, frequent and loud in professions 
of his own integrity, and unable to discover 
anything but evil in the rest of mankind. We 
mention him here because he was destined 
afterwards to a melancholy celebrity. Just 
at this time, Vadianus contracted a marriage 
with one of Conrad's sisters. The latter, 
who was then a student at Paris, where his 
own misconduct prevented him from making 
any progress, having a desire to be present 
at the nuptials, suddenly appeared about the 
beginning of June, in the midst of his family. 
The prodigal son was welcomed by his poor 
father with a gentle smile ; by his tender 
mother with many tears. The tenderness of 
his parents could not change that unnatural 
heart. Some time afterwards, on the recovery 
of his worthy but unfortunate mother from an 
illness which had nearly proved fatal, Conrad 
wrote to his brother-in-law Vadianus. " My 
mother is well again ; and has taken the 
management of the house once more into her 
own hands. She sleeps, rises, begins to 
scold, breakfasts, scolds again, dines, re- 
sumes her scolding, and never ceases to tor- 
ment us from morning to night. She bustles 
about, overlooking kettle and oven, gathering 
and strewing, toils continually, wearies her 
self to death, and will soon have a relapse." 
Such was the man who subsequently attempt- 
ed to lord it over Zwingle, and who acquired 
notoriety as the leader of the fanatical Ana- 
baptists. Divine providence may have per- 
mitted such characters to appear at the epoch 
of the Reformation, in order that the contrast 
furnished by their excesses might display 
more conspicuously the wise, Christian, and 
moderate spirit of the Reformers. 

Every thing indicated that the struggle be- 
tween the Gospel and the Papacy was about 
to commence. " Let us stir up the waver- 
ers," said Hedio, in a letter to Zwingle, 
"there is an end to peace; and let us fortify 
our own hearts; we have implacable enemies 
to encounter." Myconius wrote in the same 
strain ; but Ulric replied to these warlike ap- 
peals with admirable mildness. " I could 
wish," said he, "to conciliate those stubborn 
men by kindness and gentleness of demeanour, 
rather than to get the better of them in angry 
controversy. For if they call our doctrine 
(though ours it is not) a doctrine of devils, 
that is not to be wondered at ; I receive it as 
a token that we are the ambassadors of God. 
The devils cannot remain silent in Christ's 
presence." 

Desirous as he was to follow the path of 
peace, Zwingle was not idle. Since his ill- 
ness his preaching had become more spiritual 
and more fervent. More than two thousand 
of the inhabitants of Zurich had received the 
word of God into their hearts, — confessed the 
evangelical doctrine, — and were qualified to 
assist in its propagation. 

Zwingle's faith is the same as Luther's ; 
but it rests more upon argument than his. 
Luther is carried forward by the internal im- 



238 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pulse, Zwingle by the attraction of the light 
revealed to him. In Luther's writings we 
find a deeply seated personal conviction of 
the preciousness of the cross of Christ to his 
own soul ; and this earnest, unfaltering con- 
viction gives life and energy to all that he 
says. The same thing, undoubtedly, is found 
in the writings of Zwingle, but not in the 
same degree. His contemplations have been 
fixed rather on the Christian system as a 
whole ; he reveres it for its surpassing beauty, 
for the light which it sheds upon the soul of 
man, for the everlasting life which it brings 
into the world. In the one the affections are 
the moving power, — in the other the under- 
standing; and hence it happens that persons 
not experimentally acquainted with the faith 
which animated these two distinguished dis- 
ciples of the Lord, have fallen into a gross 
error, and represented the one as a mystic, 
the other as a rationalist. The one is more 
pathetic, it may be, in the exposition of his 
faith — the other is more philosophic ; but the 
same truths are embraced by both. Second- 
ary questions, perhaps, they do not always 
regard under the same aspect ; but that faith 
which is one, that faith which renews and 
justifies all who possess it, — that faith which 
no confession, no formulary of doctrine, qan 
ever adequately express, — is the property of 
each alike. The opinions of Zwingle have 
often been so erroneously stated, that it seems 
'necessary to give a summary of the doctrine 
which he then preached to the people who 
flocked in crowds to hear him in the cathedral 
of Zurich. 

Zwingle beheld in the fall of the first man 
a key to the entire history of themuman race. 
' Before the fall," said he, in one of his dis- 
2ourses, "man had been created with a free 
will, so that if he had been willing he might 
have fulfilled the law; his nature was pure; 
the disease of sin had not yet tainted it; — his 
life was in his own hands. But having de- 
sired to be 'as God,' — he died; — and not he 
alone, but all that are born of him. All men, 
then, being dead in Adam, must ever remain 
so, until the Spirit, which is God himself, 
raises them out of death."* 

The people of Zurich, who listened eagerly 
tc the impressive preacher, were overwhelmed 
with sorrow when their eyes were first opened 
to the sinful condition of mankind; but the 
word of consolation was next administered, 
and they were taught the remedy by which 
the life of man is renewed. " Christ, very 
man and very God,' said the eloquent de- 
scendant of the shepherds of the Tockenburg, 
" has purchased for us an everlasting delive- 
rance. He who died for us is the eternal God : 
his passion, therefore, is an eternal sacrifice, 
and has a perpetual efficacy; it satisfies the 



* These expressions and others which we have 
already quoted, or shall proceed to quote, are ex- 
tracted from a work published by Zwingle in I 
1523, in which he reduced into a compendium the 
doctrine which he had then bee.i preaching for 
several years. "Hie recensere ccspi," he says, 
"quae ex verbo Dei predicavi." ' , 



divine justice forever upon behalf of all who 
rely upon it with a firm and unshaken faith.' 1 
— " Where sin is," said the Reformer again, 
"death must needs follow. But Christ had 
no sin, neither was there guile found in his 
mouth ; nevertheless he suffered death. — 
Wherefore? but because he suffered it in Our 
stead. He was content to die, that he might 
restore us to life; and forasmuch as he had no 
sins of his own, the Father, in his infinite 
mercy, laid upon him the iniquity of us all." 
— "The will of man," argued the Christian 
orator, "had rebelled against the Most High ; 
it was necessary, therefore, for the re-establish- 
ment of the eternal order of things, and the 
salvation of man, that the human will should, 
in Christ, give place to the divine." It was a 
frequent remark of his that the expiatory death 
of Jesus Christ had taken place for the benefit 
of the faithful, or the people of God. 

The souls that hungered after salvation in 
the city of Zurich found comfort in these good 
tidings ; but there were some errors of ancient 
growth which their minds still harboured, and 
which it was needful to extirpate. Following 
out the great truth that salvation is the gift of 
God, Zwingle pleaded powerfully against the 
pretended merit of human works. "Since 
eternal salvation," said he, " proceeds solely 
from the merits and the death of Christ, the 
notion of merit in our works is no better than 
vanity and folly, — not to call it senseless im- 
piety. If we could have been saved by our 
own works, Christ's death would have been 
unnecessary. All who have ever come to 
God have come to him by the death of Jesus." 

Zwingle was not ignorant of the objections 
which this doctrine excited amongst a portion 
of his auditory. There were some who wait- 
ed on him for the purpose of stating those ob- 
jections. He answered them from the pulpit 
thus : " Some persons, rather speculative than 
pious, perhaps, object that this doctrine makes 
men reckless and dissolute. But what need 
We care for the objections and plans that may be 
conjured up by the speculations of men. All 
who believe in Christ are assured that whatever 
comes from God is necessarily good. If then 
the Gospel is of God, it is good. And whal 
other power is there that could bring in righte 
ousness, truth, and love among the children 
of men]" — "O God, most merciful, most 
righteous, Father of all mercies !" cried he in 
a transport of devotion, " with what marvel- 
lous love hast thou embraced us, — even us thy 
enemies. How great and how full is the hope 
thou hast imparted to us, who merited no 
other portion than despair 1 To what a height 
of glory hast thou vouchsafed, in thy beloved 
Son, to exalt our meanness and nothingness ! 
Surely it is thy purpose by this unspeakable 
Love, to constrain us to love i^ee in return." 

Pursuing this idea, he next showed that 
love to the Redeemer was a law more power- 
ful than the commandments. "The Christian," 
said he, "being delivered from the law, de- 
pends entirely on Christ. Christ is his rea- 
son, his counsel, his righteousness, his 
sanctification, his whole salvation. Christ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



239 



lives and moves in him. Christ alone leads 
him on his way, and he needs no other 
guide." Then making use of a comparison 
well adapted to the comprehension of his hear- 
ers, he added : " When a government forbids 
its citizens, under pain of death, to receive 
any pension or largess from the hands of fo- 
reigners, how gentle and easy is that law to 
those who, for the sake of their fatherland and 
liberty, would, of their own accord, abstain 
from so unworthy an act! But on the con- 
trary, how harsh and oppressive does it ap- 
pear to those who care for nothing but their 
selfish gains! Even so it is that the righte- 
ous man lives free and joyful in his love of 
righteousness, while the unrighteous man 
walks painfully under the burden of the law 
that condemns him." 

In the cathedral of Zurich, that day, there 
were many old soldiers who could appreciate 
the truth of these words ; — and can we deny 
that love is the most powerful of lawgivers ? 
Are not all its requisitions immediately fulfill- 
ed ? Does not the beloved object live in our 
hearts, and there enforce obedience to all that 
he has enjoined ? Accordingly ZwingJe, as- 
suming a still bolder tone as he proceeded, 
testified to the people of Zurich that love to 
the Redeemer was the only motive that could 
impel man to the performance of actions ac- 
ceptable to God. " Works done out of Christ 
are worthless," said the Christian teacher, 
"since every good work is done by him, — in 
him, — and through him, what is there that we 
can lay claim to for ourselves ? Wheresoever 
there is faith in God, there God himself abides, 
—■and wheresoever God is, there is awakened 
a zeal which urges and constrains men to good 
works. See to it, only, that Christ be in thee, 
and thou in Christ, — and fear not but he will 
work in thee. Of a truth the life of a Chris- 
tian man is but one continual good work, be- 
gun and carried forward and brought to com- 
pletion — by God alone." 

Deeply impressed with the greatness of that 
love of God which is from everlasting, the 
herald of grace adopted a strain of impassion- 
ed earnestness in the invitations which he ad- 
dressed to the irresolute and fearful. " How 
is it," said he, "that you fear to draw nigh to 
that tender Father who has chosen us ? Why 
has he chosen us of his free mercy 1 ? Why 
has he called us? Why has he drawn us to 
himself"? to this end only, think you, that we 
should shrink from approaching him?" 

Such was the doctrine put forth by Zwingle. 
It was the doctrine preached by Jesus Christ 
himself. "If Luther preaches Christ, he 
does what I do," said the preacher of Zurich. 
" He has led to Christ many more souls than 
I: — be it so. Yet will I bear no other name 
than that of Christ, whose soldier I am, and 
who alone is my head. Never has a single 
line been addressed by me to Luther, or by 
Luther to me. And why? — that it might be 
manifest to all how uniform is the testimony 
of the Spirit of God, — since we, who have had 
do communication with each other, agree so 
closely in the doctrine of Jesus Christ." 
17 



The success which attended on Zwingle's 
preaching corresponded to its fidelity. The 
spacious cathedral was too small to contain 
the multitude of his hearers. All believers 
united in praising God for the new life which 
had begun to quicken the inanimate body of 
the Church. Many strangers from every can- 
ton, who came to Zurich, either to attend the 
Diet, or for other purposes, embraced the new 
doctrines, and carried the precious seeds of 
truth into all the valleys of Switzerland. 
From populous cities and from hamlets hidden 
in the glen, one cry of rejoicing gratitude arose 
to heaven. "Switzerland," said Nicholas 
Hageus, in a letter written from Lucerne, " has 
heretofore given birth to many a Cgesar, and 
Scipio, and Brutus ; but scarcely could she 
number among her offspring one or two to 
whom Christ was truly known, and who had 
learned to nourish souls with the divine word 
instead of doubtful disputations. Now that 
Divine Providence has given to Switzerland 
Zwhigle for a preacher, and Oswald Myco- 
nius for a professor, religion and sacred litera- 
ture are reviving in the midst of us. O happy 
Helvetia, wouldst thou only rest from war, 
satisfied with the glory thou hast already 
won in arms, and cultivate in future that truer 
glory which follows in the train of righteous- 
ness and peace!" — " It was reported," said 
Myconius, in a letter to -Zwingle, "that thy 
voice could not be heard at the distance of 
three paces. But we find now how false a 
tale it was; for thou art heard over all Swit- 
zerland." " It is a noble courage with which 
thou hast armed thyself," said Hedio, writing 
from Bale; "I will follow thee as far as I 
have strength." — "I have listened to thy 
teaching," wrote Sebastian Hofmeister of 
Schaffhausen, in a letter dated from Con- 
stance: "God gra*ht that Zurich, the head 
of our confederacy, may be healed of its dis- 
ease, that so the whole body may be restored 
to soundness. 

But Zwingle met with adversaries as well 
as admirers. " Wherefore," said some, " does 
he concern himself with the political affairs 
of Switzerland?" — "Why," said others, 
" does he repeat the same things so often in 
his religious instructions?" In the midst of 
these conflicting judgments, the soul of 
Zwingle was often overcome with dejection. 
It seemed to him that a general confusion was 
at hand, and that the fabric of society was on 
the point of being overturned. He began to 
apprehend that it was impossible for good to 
make its appearance in one quarter, but evil 
must spring up to counteractit in another. If 
at one moment hope shone in his mind, it was 
instantly succeeded by fear. But he soon re- 
covered from his depression. " The life of 
man here below is a warfare," said he; " he 
who would inherit glory must f-ice the world 
as an enemy, and, like David, force the 
haughty Goliath, exulting in his strength, to 
bite the dust."— "The° Church," said he 
again, using the very expression which Lu- 
ther had employed, l> has been purchased by 
blood, and by blood must it be restored. I81 The 



•240 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



more numerous are the stains that defile it, 
the more numerous also must be the Hercu- 
lean arms employed to cleanse away that 
Augean filth I fear little for Luther," added 
he, "though he be assailed by the thunder- 
bolts of the Romish Jupiter." 

Zwingle had need of rest; he repaired to 
the waters of Baden. The curate of the place, 
who had been one of the Pope's body-guard, a 
man of good character, but destitute of learn- 
ing, had earned his benefice by carrying the 
halberd. Tenacious of his military habits, he 
passed the day and a portion of the night in 
jovial company, while Staheli, his vicar, was 
unwearied in performing all the duties of his 
calling. Zwingle sent for this young minis- 
ter. " I have need," said he, " of helpers in 
Switzerland;" — and from that moment, Sta- 
heli became his fellow-labourer. Zwingle, Sta- 
heli, and Luti, who was afterwards a pastor at 
Winterthur, lived under the same roof. 

Zwingle's self-devotion was not to miss its 
reward. The word of Christ, which he 
preached so diligently, was ordained to bring 
forth fruit. Many of the Magistrates had been 
converted ; they had found comfort and strength 
in God's holy word. Grieved to observe 
with what effrontery the priests, and especial- 
ly the monks, in their addresses from the 
pulpit, uttered anything that came uppermost 
in their minds, the Council issued an ordi- 
nance by which they were enjoined to " deliver 
nothing in their discourses but what they 
should have drawn from the sacred fountains 
of the Old and New Testaments." It was in 
1520 that the civil power thus interfered for 
the first time in the work of the Reformation, 
— fulfilling the duty of the Christian magis- 
trate, as some affirm; because the first duty 
of a magistrate is to uphold religion, and to 
protect the paramount and vital interests of 
the community; — depriving the Church of 
its liberty, say others, — bringing it under sub- 
jection to the secular power, and opening the 
way for that long train of calamities which 
has since been engendered by the union of 
Church and State. We will not here attempt 
to decide that great controversy by which more 
than one nation is agitated at the present day. 
Let it suffice us to have marked its origin at 
the epoch of the Reformation. But there is 
that in the fact itself which we must also 
mark ; — the act of those magistrates was itself 
an effect produced by the preaching of the 
word of God. The Reformation in Switzer- 
land was now emerging from the sphere of 
individual conversions, and becoming a na- 
tional 'work. It had first sprung up in the 
hearts of a few priests and scholars; it was 
now spreading abroad, and lifting itself on 
high, and assuming a station of publicity. 
Like the waters of the sea it rose by degrees, 
until it had overspread a wide expanse. 

The monks were confounded, —they were 
enjoined to preach only the word of God, and 
that word the majority of them had never read ! 
Opposition provokes opposition. This ordi- 
nance became the signal for more violent at- 
tacks against the Reformation. Plots were 



now formed against the curate of Zurich, and 
his life was in danger. One evening, when 
Zwingle and his assistants were quietly con- 
versing in their house, they were disturbed by 
the hasty entrance of some burghers, who in- 
quired : — " Have you strong bolts on youi 
doors?" and added, " Be on your guard to- 
night." — " We often had alarms of this kind," 
adds Staheli, "but we were well armed, and 
there was a watch set in the street for our 
protection." 

Elsewhere, however, measures of most atro- 
cious violence were resorted to : — an old inha- 
bitant of Schaff hausen, named Gaster, a man 
distinguished for his piety, and for an ardour 
few, at his age, possess, having himself derived 
much comfort from the light which he had 
found in the Gospel, endeavoured to commu- 
nicate it to his wife and children. In his zeal, 
which perhaps was not duly tempered with 
discretion, he openly attacked the relics, the 
priestcraft, and the superstition with which that 
canton abounded. He soon became an object 
of hatred and terror even to his own family. 
Perceiving at length that evil designs were 
entertained against him, the old man fled, 
broken-hearted, from his home, and betonk 
himself to the shelter of the neighbouring 
forest. There he continued for some days, 
sustaining life upon such scanty food as the 
wilds afforded him, when suddenly, on the 
last nigfet of the year 1520, torches flashed 
through the whole extent of the forest, while 
yells of infuriated men, mingled with the cry 
of savage hounds, echoed fearfully through its 
deepest recesses. The Council had ordered 
the woods to be scoured to discover his re- 
treat. The hounds caught scent of their prey, 
and seized him. The unfortunate old man was 
dragged before the magistrate, and summoned 
to abjure his faith ; steadfastly refusing to do 
so, he was beheaded. 

But a little while after the New Year's 
day that witnessed this bloody execution, 
Zwingle was visited at Zurich by a young 
man about twenty-eight years of age, tall of 
stature, and of an aspect which denoted can- 
dour, simplicity, and diffidence. He introduced 
himself by the name of Berthold Haller. 
Zwingle immediately recognised the celebra- 
ted preacher of Berne, and embraced him with 
that affability which rendered his address so 
fascinating. Haller, whose native place was 
Aldingen, in W 7 urtemberg, had studied first at 
Rotwell, under Rubellus, and subsequently at 
Pforzheim, where he had Simler for his mas- 
ter, and Melancthon for a fellow-pupil. The 
Bernese about that time manifested a desire to 
make their republic the seat of letters, as it 
was already powerful in arms. Rubellus and 
Haller, the latter of whom was then twenty- 
one years of age, repaired to Berne accordingly 
Hailer soon became a canon there, and was 
afterwards appointed a preacher of the cathe- 
dral. The Gospel proclaimed by Zwingle 
had found its way to Berne. Haller believed: 
and from that time he felt a wish to have per- 
sonal intercourse with the gifted man, whom 
he already revered as a father. His jonrnev 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



241 



to Zurich, undertaken with this view, had 
been announced by Myconius. Such were 
the circumstances of the meeting between 
Haller and Zwingle. Haller, whose charac- 
teristic was meekness of disposition, confided 
to Zwingle the trials with which he was beset ; 
and Zwingle who was eminently endowed 
with fortitude, communicated to Haller a por- 
tion of his own courage. " My spirit," said 
Berthold, '• is overwhelmed. I cannot endure 
such harsh treatment. I am resolved to give up 
my pulpit, seek a retreat with Wittembach, 
at Bale, and employ myself for the future in 
the private study of the Scriptures." — " Alas !" 
replied Zwingle, " a feeling of discouragement 
often takes possession of me likewise, when I 
am unjustly assailed. But Christ awakens 
my conscience by the powerful stimulus of 
his threatenings and promises. He rouses 
my fears by declaring: — Whosoever shall be 
ashamed of me before men, of him will I be 
ashamed before my Father ; — and then he gives 
me comfort by adding: — Whosoever shall con- 
fess me before men, him will I co?tfess before 
my Father. 0, my dear Berthold, be of good 
cheer ! Our names are written above in charac- 
ters that can never be effaced, as citizens of the 
heavenly city. Formypartlamready to die 
for Christ. Letthose wild bears' cubs of 
yours," he added, " only once give ear to the 
doctrine of Jesus Christ, and you will see how 
gentle they will become.* But, you must ad- 
dress yourself cautiously to the work, lest they 
turn and rend you." Haller's courage rose 
again. " My soul," said he to Zwingle, " has 
cast off her slumber. I must needs preach 
the Gospel. Christ must again be received 
within those walls from which he has so long 
been banished. Thus was Berthold's lamp 
kindled afresh by Ulric's, — and the timid 
Haller could now unshrinkingly encounter the 
savage brood of bears " that gnashed their 
teeth," says Zw 7 ingle, " and longed to devour 
him." 

But it w r as in another quarter that the per- 
secution was to begin in Switzerland. The 
warlike canton of Lucerne was about to take 
the field, like a champion sheathed in mail, 
and ready for the charge. The military spirit 
had full sway in this canton, which was 
much addicted to foreign alliances ; and the 
great men of the city would knit their brows 
if they heard so much as a pacific whisper 
breathed to damp the martial ardour of their 
country. It happened, however, that some of 
Luther's writings found their way into the 
city, and there were certain citizens who set 
themselves to peruse them. With what hor- J 
ror they were seized as they read on ! It | 
seemed to them that none but an infernal hand 
could have traced those lines; their imagina- ! 
tion was excited, their senses were bewildered, 
and they fancied that the room was filled with ] 
devils gathering thickly round them, and gla- ! 
ring on them with a sardonic leer. They shut 
the book, and cast it from them in affright. 

* The reader is aware, that a bear is the armo- j 
rial device of the Canton of Berne. 



Oswald, who had heard these singular visions 
related, never spoke of Luther except to his 
most intimate friends; contenting himself with 
I simply setting forth the gospel of Christ. 
The cry nevertheless was raised through the 
whole city: — "To the stake with Luther and 
the schoolmaster (Myconius!") — "I am as- 
sailed by my enemies," said Oswald to a 
friend of his, " as a ship is beaten by the tem- 
pest." One day, early in the year 1520, he 
was unexpectedly summoned to appear before 
the Council. "You are strictly enjoined," 
said the magistrates, "never to read Luther's 
writings to your pupils, — 'never to mention his 
name in their hearing, — never even to think 
of him yourself." The lords ofLucerne were 
disposed, we perceive, to confine their juris- 
diction within no narrow bounds. Shortly 
after this, a preacher delivered a fierce philip- 
pic against heresy from the pulpit. — A power- 
ful effect was produced upon the auditory ; all 
eyes were turned upon Oswald, for against 
whom else could the preacher have meant to 
direct his discourse ] Oswald remained quiet 
in his seat, as if the matter had not concerned 
him. But when he and his friend, the canon 
Xyloctect, amongst the rest of the congrega- 
tion, were retiring from the church, one of the 
councillors, came up to them, with an air that 
betrayed his internal discomposure, and said 
in an angry tone : — " How now, ye disciples 
of Luther, why do ye not defend your Mas- 
ter?" They made no reply. "I live," said 
Myconius, " in the midst of savage wolves ; 
but I have this consolation that the greater 
part of them have lost their fangs. They would 
bite if they could, and since they cannot bite 
they howl." 

The Senate was now convened, for the tu- 
mult among the people was increasing. " He 
is a Lutheran !" said one of the councillors. 
" He broaches new doctrines!" said another. 
" He is a seducer of youth !" said a third. 
"Let him appear! let him appear!" The 
poor schoolmaster appeared accordingly, and 
had to listen to fresh interdicts and threats. 
His guileless spirit was wounded and depress- 
ed. His gentle wife could only comfort him 
by the tears of sympathy which she shed. 
" Every one is against me," said he, in the 
anguish of his heart. " Whether shall I turn 
me in the storm, or how escape its fury 1 
Were it not for the help that Christ gives me, 
I should long since have sunk under this per- 
secution." — " What matters it," said Doctor 
Sebastine Hofmeister, waiting to him from 
Constance, "whether Lucerne will give you a 
home or not! The earth is the Lord's. The 
man whose heart is steadfast finds a home in 
every land- Were we even the vilest of men, 
our cause is righteous, for we teach the word 
of Christ." 

Whilst the truth was struggling against so 
much opposition at Lucerne, it was gaining 
ground at Zurich. Zwingle was unwearied 
in his labours. Desirous of studying the 
whole of the Scriptures in the original Inn- 
guages, he had applied himself diligently to 
the acquisition of the Hebrew under the di 



242 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rection of John Boscherstein, a disciple of 
Reuchlin. But in studying - the Scriptures, 
his object was to make their contents known. 
The peasants who brought their produce on 
Fridays to the market of Zurich showed great 
eagerness to become acquainted with the word 
of God. To meet their desire, Zwingle, in 
December, 1520, had commenced the practice 
of expounding every Friday a portion of the 
Psalms, previously making that portion the 
subject of his private meditations. The Re- 
formers always connected deep study with la- 
borious ministry; — the ministry was the end, 
the study was but the means. They were 
equally diligent in the closet and the public 
assembly. This union of learning with Chris- 
tian love is one of the characteristics of the 
period. In his Sunday exercises, Zwingle 
after having commented on St. Mathew's nar- 
rative of the life of our Saviour, proceeded to 
show in a course of lectures on the Acts of 
Jhe Apostles, how the doctrine of Christ had 
oeen published to the world. He next ex- 
olained the rules of the Christian life, as they 
■ire set forth in the Epistle to Timothy ; — he 
drew arguments for the refutation of errors in 
the doctrine from the Epistle to the Galatians, 
— and to this he joined the two Epistles of 
St. Peter, in order to prove to the despisers of 
St. Paul, that one and the same spirit ani- 
mated both the apostles; he ended with the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, that he might exhibit 
in their full extent the benefits which flow 
from the gift of Jesus Christ, as great high- 
priest of believers. 

But Zwingle devoted not his attention solely 
to men of mature age; he laboured also to 
kindle a holy fire in the bosom of the young. 
One day in the same year, (1521,) as he sat 
in his closet, occupied in studying the Fathers 
of the Church, the most striking passages of 
whose works he was collecting, and carefully 
classing them in a large volume, the door was 
opened by a young man, whose countenance 
and mien strongly prepossessed him in his 
favour. ThiswasHenry Bullinger, who had 
come to visit him on his way home from Ger- 
many, impelled by an earnest desire to form 
an acquaintance with a teacher of his native 
land, whose name was already celebrated in 
Christendom. The comely youth fixed his 
eyes by turns on the Reformer and his books; 
it seemed as though he felt an instant call* to 
follow his example. Zwingle received him 
with the cordiality that won the hearts of all 
who accosted him. This first visit had a 
powerful influence on the whole life of the 
student after he returned to his father's roof. 
Another young man had also attracted Zwin- 
gle's regard ; this was Gerold Meyer von 
Knonau. His mother, Anna Reinhardt. who 
afterwards filled an important part in Zwin- 
gle' s history, had been greatly admired for 
her beauty, and was still distinguished for her 
virtues. A youth of noble family, John Meyer 
von Knonau, who had been brought up at the 
court of the Bishop of Constance, his kinsman, 
had conceived an ardent affection for Anna ; 
but she was of plebeian birth. The elder 



Meyer von Knonau refused his consent to theu 
union ; and when he found that it had taken 
place, he disinherited his son. In 1513 Anna 
was left a widow with one son and two daugh- 
ters; and the education of her poor orpi.ans 
now became the sole object of her life. The 
grandfather was inexorable. One day, how- 
ever, the widow's maid-servant having taken 
out young Gerold, a graceful, lively child, 
just three years old, and having stopped with 
him in the fish-market, old Meyer, who was 
sitting at the window,* happened to observe 
him, followed his movements with his eyes, 
and asked whose child it was, so fresh, and 
beautiful, and joyous. " It is your own son's 
child !" was the reply. The old man's heart 
was moved ; its icy crust was melted in a 
moment : the past was forgotten, and he has- 
tened to clasp in his arms the bereaved wife 
and children of his son. Zwingle felt a fa- 
ther's love for the young, the noble, and cou- 
rageous Gerold, whose destiny it was to perish 
in his prime, at the Reformer's side, with, his 
hand upon his sword, and surrounded, alas! 
by the dead bodies of his enemies. Thinking 
that Gerold could not pursue his studies with 
advantage at Zurich, Zwingle, in 1521, sent 
him to Bale. 

The young von Knonau did not find Zwin- 
gle's friend Hedio at the University. Capito, 
being obliged to attend the Archbishop Albert 
to the coronation of Charles V., had sent for 
Hedio to take his place at Mentz. Bale had 
thus within a brief space been deprived of its 
two most faithful preachers; the church in 
that city seemed to be left desolate; but other 
men now came forward. The church of Wil- 
liam Roubli, the curate of St. Albans, was 
thronged by an auditory of four thousand per- 
sons. He inveighed against the mass, pur- 
gatory, and the invocation of saints ; but he 
was a man of a contentious spirit, greedy of 
popular admiration, — the antagonist of error 
rather than the champion of truth. On Cor- 
pus Christi day he joined the great procession; 
but, instead of the relics which it was the 
practice to exhibit, a magnificently decorated 
copy of the Holy Scriptures was carried before 
him, bearing this inscription in large letters : 
"The Bible: this is the true relic; all the 
rest are but dead men's bones." Courage 
adorns the servant of God, but ostentation ill 
befits him. The work of an Evangelist is to 
preach the Bible, not to make a pompous 
parade of it. The irritated priests laid a charge 
against Roubli before the Council. A crowd 
immediately assembled in the square of the 
Cordeliers. " Protect our preacher," was the 
cry cf the burghers, addressing the Council. 
Fifty ladies of distinction interceded' in his 



* Liiget dess Kindts grossvater zum fanster 
uss, und ersach das kind in der fischer branten, 

(Kufe.) so frach (frisch) und frolich sitzen 

(Archives des Meyer von Knonau. quoted in a 
biographical notice of Anna Reinhardt, Erlangen, 
1835, by M. Gerold Meyer von Knonau.) I am 
indebted to the kindness of this friend for ihe clu 
cidation of several obscure passages in Z winkle's 
history. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



243 



behalf; but Roubli was compelled to quit 
Bale. At a later period he was implicated, 
like Grebel, in the disorders of the Anabap- j 
tists. The Reformation, in the course of its 
development, never failed to cast out the chaff 
that was mingled with the good grain. 

But now, in the lowliest of chapels, an 
humble voice was heard, that distinctly pro- 
claimed the truths of the Gospel. It was the 
voice of the youthful Wolfgang Wissembur- 
ger, the son of a counsellor of state, and chap- 
lain to the hospital. Those of the inhabitants 
of Bale whose eyes were opened to their own 
spiritual necessities, were induced to gather 
round the meek-tempered chaplain, rather than 
the arrogant Roubli. Wolfgang began to read 
the mass in German. The monks renewed 
their clamours : but this time they failed, and 
Wissemburger was left free to preach the 
Gospel — " because," says an old chronicler, 
" he was a burgher, and his father was a coun- 
sellor." These early advantages, gained by 
the Reformation at Bale, gave token of greater 
success to follow. Moreover, they were of 
the utmost importance, as they affected the 
progress of the work throughout the whole of 
the confederated cantons. Zurich no longer 
stood alone. The enlightened city of Bale 
had begun to listen to the new doctrine with 
delight. The foundations of the renovated 
temple were widening. The Reformation in 
Switzerland had reached another stage of iis 
growth. 

Zurich, however, was still the centre of the 
movement. But, in the course of the year 
1521, events of political importance occurred, 
which brought bitter grief to the heart- of 
Zwingle, and in a measure distracted the at- 
tention of his countrymen from the preaching 
of the Gospel. Leo X. — who had proffered 
his alliance simultaneously to Charles V. and 
to Francis I. — had at length determined in 
favour of the Emperor. The war between 
the two rivals was about to break out in Italy. 
"We shall leave the Pope nothing but his 
ears," said the French general Lautrec. This 
sorry jest increased the anger of the Pontiff. 
The King of France claimed the assistance 
of the Swiss Cantons, which, with the excep- 
tion of Zurich, were all in alliance with him; 
it was afforded at his call. The Pope con- 
ceived the hope of engaging Zurich on his 
side; and the Cardinal of Sion, ever ready for 
intrigue, and relying on his own dexterity and 
eloquence, immediately visited the city, to 
procure a levy of soldiers for his master. But 
he had to encounter a vigorous opposition from 
his old friend Zwingle. The latter was indig- 
nant at the thought of the Swiss selling their 
blood to foreigners;' his imagination pictured 
to him the Zurichers on the plains of Italy, 
under the standard of the Pope and the Empe- 
ror, rushing with levelled pikes against the 
other confederates, who were gathered under 
the banners of France; and in the contempla- 
tion of that fratricidal scene, his patriotic and 
Christian soul was filled with horror. He 
lifted up his admonitory voice in the pulpit. 
" Will you rend asunder and destroy the con- 



federation ]" cried he. "We give chase to 
the wolves who ravage our flocks ; but we set 
no guard against such as prowl around us to 
devour our brethren ! ! there is good reason 
why their robes and hats are red : if you only 
twitch those garments of theirs, ducats and 
crowns will fall out 4 ; but if you grasp them 
tightly, you will find them dripping with the 
blood of your brothers, your fathers, your sons, 
your dearest friends." In vain did Zwingle 
[ record his energetic protest. The Cardinal 
with his red hat prevailed, and two thousand 
I seven hundred Zurichers marched out under 
the command of George Berguer. Zwingle 
was deeply afflicted. His efforts, however, 
were not wholly unproductive of good. A 
long period was to elapse before the banners 
of Zurich should again be unfurled and carried 
through the city gates at the call of a foreign 
prince. 

Mortified by the ill-success of the cause 
which he had espoused as a citizen, Zwingle 
devoted himself with renewed zeal to the 
diffusion of the Gospel. He preached with 
greater energy than ever. "I will never de- 
sist," said he, " from my labours to restore 
the primitive unity of the Church of Chris ." 
He opened the year 1522 with the first of a 
series of discourses in which he pointed out 
the difference between the precepts of the 
Gospel and those of men. When the season 
of Lent arrived, his exhortations assumed a 
still more impressive tone. Having laid the 
foundations of the new edifice, he was soli- 
citous to clear away the ruins of the old one. 
" For the space of four years," said he to the 
crowd assembled in the cathedral, '.' ye have 
gladly received the holy doctrines of the Gos- 
pel. The love of God has glowed within 
your bosoms, — ye have tasted the sweetness 
of the heavenly manna, — it is impossible that 
ye should now find savour or sustenance in 
human traditions." He proceeded to argue 
against the obligation to abstain from flesh at 
particular seasons. "There are some," he 
cried in a strain of unstudied eloquence, " who 
pretend that to eat flesh is a fault, — nay, a 
heinous sin, — though God has never forbidden 
it, — but who yet regard it as no sin at all to 
sell human flesh to the foreigner, and deliver 
their brethren to be butchered !" This bold 
language could not fail to awaken the indig- 
nation and anger of those among his auditory 
who supported the military compacts with 
foreign states ; they inwardly vowed that 
they would never forget it. 

While he preached thus fearlessly, Zwin- 
gle still continued to say mass ; he observed 
the rules established by the Church, and even 
abstained from flesh on the appoinied days 
He recognised the necessity of enlightening 
the minds of the people in the first place. 
But there were some turbulent spirits who 
acted with less prudence. Roubli, who hail 
found an asylum at Zurich, allowed himself 
to be hurried blindly along by the impulse of 
an overcharged zeal. He, but lately the 
curate of Saint Albans, — a Bernese captain, — ■ 
and Conned Huber, a member of the (nrvAi 



244 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Council, — were accustomed to meet together 
at Huber's house, for the express purpose of 
eating flesh on Fridays and Saturdays, an ex- 
ploit in which they greatly prided themselves. 
The question of abstinence began to engross 
the public attention. A native of Lucerne, 
who was on a visit in Zurich, said to a citi- 
zen with whom he was familiar: — "You do 
wrong, — you worthy confederates of Zurich, 
— to eat flesh during Lent." The Zuricher : 
" But you also, good folks of Lucerne, take 
the liberty of eating it on days when it is for- 
bidden." The Lucernese : " We purchased 
our license from the Pope." The Zuricher: 
" And we ours from the butcher. ... If 
it is an affair of money, the one, surely, is as 
good as the other." The Council having 
been called upon to punish those who trans- 
gressed the ecclesiastical ordinances, request- 
ed the opinion of the curates on this matter. 
Zwingle replied that the practice of eating 
flesh on all days alike was in itself harmless ; 
but that it was right to abstain from adopting 
it, until the question should have been de- 
cided by some competent authority. The 
other members of the clerical body concurred 
in the same opinion. 

The enemies of the truth took advantage 
of this fortunate circumstance. Their influ- 
ence was fast declining, — Zwingle's ascen- 
dancy becoming paramount, — it was neces- 
sary to, strike a prompt and vigorous blow. 
They addressed an urgent appeal to the Bishop 
of Constance. " Zwingle," cried they, " is the 
destroyer, not the pastor, of theLord'sfioek." 

The ambitious Faber, Zwingle's former 
friend, had recently undertaken a journey to 
Rome, and returned full of zeal for the Pa- 
pacy. To the notions which he had imbibed 
during his sojourn in that imperious court, we 
must, ascribe the first outbreak of the religious 
troubles in Switzerland. The time had now 
arrived for a decisive struggle between gos- 
pel-truth and the retainers of the Roman Pon- 
tiff. Until the truth has been exposed to 
hostile efforts, its innate power is never fully 
elicited. It was under the cold shadow of 
opposition and persecution that Christianity 
in its earlier growth acquired the strength by 
which its enemies were eventually discom- 
fited. And at the epoch of the great revival 
which forms the subject of this history, it 
was the will of God that His truth should 
march onward in the same rugged and thorny 
track. The high-priests then, as in the days 
of the Apostles, set themselves against the 
new doctrine. But for these assaults, it 
might,, perhaps, have remained concealed in 
the secret chamber of a few believing hearts. 
But God's purpose was to manifest it to the 
world. Opposition had the effect, of clearing 
new avenues for its passage, launching it on 
a new career, and fixing on it the eyes of the 
entire nation. It operated like the gust of 
wind that scatters the seed to a distance, 
which otherwise, perhaps, might have lain 
inert and unprofitable in the spot, where it 
fell. The tree under whose salutary foliage 
the tribes of Helvetia were to find rest and 



shelter had been planted, indeed, in the deptlia 
of her valleys; but the storm was needed to 
give its roots a firmer hold of the soil, and to 
enlarge the covert of its branches. The par- 
tisans of the Papacy no sooner caught a 
glimpse of the flame that had been kindled at 
Zurich, than they hastened, while it was yet 
smouldering, to stifle it; but their efforts 
served only to fan it into vigour. 

On the 7th of April, 1522, in the after part 
of the day, three ecclesiastics intrusted with 
a mission from the Bishop of Constance, 
entered the walls of Zurich. Two of them 
had an austere and angry cast of countenance, 
the third was of gentler aspect. These per- 
sons were Melchior Battli, the bishop's coad- 
jutor, Doctor Brendi, lastly John Vanner, the 
preacher of the cathedral, a man of evangelic 
piety, who was silent throughout the whole 
affair.* It was already late in the evening 
when Luti ran to Zwingle to tell him the 
new ? s. " Officers have arrived from the- 
bishop," said he, " some great blow is to be 
struck ; all who favour the old customs are in 
commotion. A notary is now going round to 
give notice of an assembly of the clergy to be 
held at an early hour to-morrow in the Chap- 
ter-house." 

The assembly was held accordingly on the 
following morning ; when the Coadjutor rose 
and delivered a speech, which his opponents 
characterized as violentand arrogant; hestu- 
diously refrained, however, from mentioning 
Zwingle by name. Some priests who had 
lately been won over to the Gospel, and who 
were yet weak in their faith, were overawed : 
— their paleness, their silence, their sighs tes- 
tified that they had lost all courage. Zwingle 
stood up and delivered a speech which his ad- 
versaries made no attempt to answer. At 
Zurich, as in the other cantons, the most vio- 
lent enemies of the new doctrine were to be 
found in the smaller Council. The deputies 
having been baffled in the meeting of the 
clergy now carried their complaint before the 
magistrates ; Zwingle was absent ; they had 
therefore no reply to fear. The result appear- 
ed decisive. The Gospel and its champion 
were on the point of being condemned without 
a hearing. Never was the Reformation in 
Switzerland in more imminent peril. It 
seemed destined to be smothered in its cradle. 
In this emergency, the councillors who were 
friendly to Zwingle appealed to the jurisdic- 
tion of the Great Council, — it was their only 
remaining resource, and God was pleased to 
make it availing for the preservation of the 
Gospel. The Two Hundred were convened. 
The partisans of the Papacy used every en- 
deavour to exclude Zwingle from that assem- 
bly. Zwingle struggled hard to obtain ad- 



* (Zw. Opp. p. S.)— J. J. Hottinger (iii. 77.) 
Rucfiat (i. 134, 2d edition,) and others say. that 
Faber was at the head of the deputation. Zwin- 
gle gives the names of the three deputies, and 
makes no mention of Faber. The authors first 
cited have no doubt confounded two distinct of- 
fices of the Roman hierarchy, — the coadjutor and 
the vicar -general. 



HISTORY Of THE REFORMATION. 



245 



mission. He knocked at every door, as he 
himself tells us, and left not a stone unturned; 
— hut all in vain. "It is impossible!" said 
the Burgomasters : " The Council has signed 
an order to the contrary." — " Thereupon," 
says Zwingle, " I desisted, and with heavy 
sighs laid the matter 'before Him who hears 
the groanings of the prisoner, beseeching him 
to succour his Gospel." The patient and 
submissive expectation of a servant of God is 
never disappointed. 

On the ninth of April the Two Hundred 
were assembled. " We must have our pas- 
tors here," said those members at once, who 
were friendly to the Reformation. The smaller 
Council objected ; but the great Council de- 
termined that the pastors should be present at 
the accusation, and might even reply to it, if 
they should think fit. The deputies from 
Constance were ushered in first, — and then 
the three curates of Zurich, Zwingle, Engel- 
hard, and the aged Roeschli. 

After the adverse parties who were thus 
brought face to face had regarded each other 
for a while with scrutinizing glances, the Co- 
adjutor rose to speak. "If his heart and his 
head had only been matched with his voice," 
says Zwingle, " he would have excelled 
Apollo and Orpheus in sweetness, and the 
Gracchi and Demosthenes in power." 

"The civil constitution," said the cham- 
pion of the Papacy, "and the Christian reli- 
gion itself are threatened with ruin. Men 
have appeared amongst us teaching newly- 
invented doctrines, that are equally abomina- 
ble and seditious." He went on for some 
time in the same strain, and then fixing his 
eyes on the assembled senators before whom 
he stood : " Continue in the Church," said 
he, "continue in the Church. Out of the 
Church none can be saved. The ceremonies 
of the Church alone can bring unlearned 
Christians to the knowledgeof salvation: and 
the pastors of the flock have nothing to do but 
to explain the signification of these ceremo- 
nies to the people." 

When the Coadjutor had finished his speech 
and resumed his seat for a moment, he again 
rose, and was preparing with his colleagues 
to leave the council-hall, when Zwingle earn- 
estly addressed him. — "Reverend Coadjutor!" 
said he, " and you, Sirs, who bear him com- 
pany ! I beseech you to stay until I have 
answered this charge." 

The Coadjutor. — "It is not oui commis- 
sion to dispute with any one." 

Zwingle. — " I wish not to dispute, but to 
state unreservedly what my doctrine has been 
up to this hour." 

The Boukgomaster Roust, addressing the 
deputies from Constance : "I pray you listen 
to what the curate has to say in reply." 

The Coadjutor. — " I know too well the 
man I have to deal with. Ulric Zwingle is 
too violent for any discussion to be held with 
him." 

Zwingle. — " Was there ever ah instance 
before of an innocent man being so vehemently 
attacked, and then denied a hearing] In the 



! name of that faith which we all profess, — in 
I the name of the baptism which each of us has 
received, — in the name of Christ, the author 
^of salvation and eternal life, — ladjureyou to 
j listen to me ! If you cannot as deputies, — do 
so, at least, as Christians !" 

After having discharged her idle volley, 
Rome was hastily retreating from the field of 
battle. The Reformer was anxious only to 
be heard ; the Papal envoys thought, but of 
escaping. A cause thus advocated was already 
gained by the one party, and lost by the other. 
The Two Hundred could no longer contain 
their indignation; — a murmur ran through the 
whole assembly ; again the Burgomaster re- 
monstrated with the deputies. A last, abashed 
and silenced, they returned to their seats. 
Then Zwingle spoke as follows : — 

"The Reverend Coadjutor talks of doc- 
trines that are seditious and subversive of 
civil authority. Let him learn that Zurich is 
more tranquil and more obedient to the laws 
than any city in Switzerland, — a blessing 
which all good Christians attribute to the 
Gospel. What influence so powerful as that 
of Christianity to maintain good order in a 
community "? As for ceremonies, what pur- 
pose do they serve but to disfigure the linea- 
ments of Christ and his followers'? No, — it 
is not by vain observances like these that the 
unlearned multitude can be brought to the 
knowledge of the truth. There is another 
and abetter way. It is the way that Christ 
and his apostles have marked out for us, — 
even the Gospel itself. Let us not be toid 
that the people cannot understand the Gospel. 
Whosoever believes must needs understand. 
The people can believe ; therefore they can 
understand. This is an operation of the 
Holy Spirit, — not of the human intellect. 
With regard to abstinence, let him who thinks 
forty days insufficient, — fast, if he will, all the 
year round : — it concerns not me ! All that 
I contend for is, that no one should be com- 
pelled to fast; and that the Zurichers ought 
not, for the neglect of this petty observance, 
to be accused of withdrawing themselves 
from the communion of Christians . . ." 

" I never said that!" cried the Coadjutor. 
" No !" said his colleague, Doctor Brendi, 
" he did not say that." But the Senate 
unanimously confirmed the assertion of Zwin- 
gle. 

" Worthy fellow-citizens," continued Zwin- 
gle, " let not this accusation move you. The 
foundation of the Church is the same rock, 
the same Christ — that gave Peter his name, 
because he confessed him faithfully. In every 
nation whosoever believes with all his heari 
in the Lord Jesus is accepted of God. Here, 
truly, is the Church, out of which no one can 
be saved. To explain the Gospel, and to obey 
it, — such is the sum of our duty as the minis- 
ters of Christ." 

" Let those who live upon ceremonies 
make it their business to explain them!" — 
This was probing the wound to the quick. 

A flush passed over the Coadjutor's fare. 
but he remained silent. The assembly of tho 



•24G 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Two Hundrei broKe up. On the same day 
they came to the resolution, that the Pope and 
the cardinals should be requested to explain 
the controverted point, and that in the mean 
time abstinence from flesh should be observed 
during Lent. This was leaving the matter 
as it stood, and meeting the bishop by an ex- 
pedient to ga*in time. 

The effect of this controversy was to for- 
ward the work of the Reformation. The 
champions of Rome, and those of the new 
doctrines, had encountered each other, in the 
presence, it might be said, of the whole peo- 
ple, and the issue had not been to the advan- 
tage of the former. This was the first con- 
flict in a warfare which was destined to be 
long and difficult, and marked by many vicis- 
situdes of humiliation and rejoicing. But 
victory won at the commencement of a contest 
inspires an army with courage, and strikes 
terror into the enemy. The Reformation had 
gained a vantage-ground, from which it was 
not to be dislodged. The Council, indeed, 
found it necessary to proceed with caution ; 
but the people loudly proclaimed the defeat 
of Rome. " Never," said they, in the exulta- 
tion of the moment, " never again can she 
rally her scattered forces." "You have shown 
the spirit of St. Paul himself," said one of 
Zwingle's correspondents, "in this manful 
attack on those whited walls, — those false 
apostles and their Ananias. The servants of 
Antichrist can now only gnash their teeth 
against you !" — From the heart of Germany 
there came voices that hailed him — " the glo- 
ry of regenerated theology !" 

But in the mean time the enemies of the 
truth were collecting all their strength. If the 
Gospel was to be suppressed at all, there was 
no time to be lost, for it would soon bid defi- 
ance to their efforts. Hoffman impeached the 
Reformer in a written discourse of great length, 
which he addressed to the chapter. " Even 
though the curate," said he, "could bring for- 
ward witnesses to prove that certain offences 
.or disorders had been committed by ecclesi- 
astics in such and such a convent, or street, or 
tavern, it would be a breach of duty to name 
the delinquents! Why does he insinuate — 
(it is true I have scarcely ever heard him my- 
self) that he alone derives his doctrine from 
the fountain-head, while others draw theirs 
from puddles and kennels'? Is it not impos- 
sible, — seeing the difference of men's minds 
— that all preachers should preach alike]" 

Zwingle defended himself in a full assem- 
bly of the chapter, scattering his adversary's 
charges, " as a bull with his horns scatters a 
wisp of straw to the wind ." The affair which 
had appeared so serious, ended in a peal of 
laughter at the canon's expense. But Zwin- 
gle did not stop here; — on the 17th of April 
he published a treatise "on the free use of 
meals.'''' 2 ' 23 

The Reformer's unconquerable firmness was 
a cause of rejoicing to all who loved the truth, 
and particularly to the evangelical Christians 
of Germany, afflicted as they were by the long 
imprisonment at Wartburg, of that eminent 



apostle who had first appeared in the bosom 
of the Church. Already there were instances 
of pastors and believing laymen who had been 
driven into exile by the rigorous edict which 
Charles, under the influence of the Papacy, 
had issued at Worms, — and who had found 
an asylum at Zurich. " Oh, how it gladdens 
m,y heart!" was the language of a letter writ- 
ten to Zwingle by Nesse, the professor of 
Frankfort, whom Luther had visited on his 
way to the Diet : — " how it gladdens my heart 
to hear with what boldness you are preaching 
Christ Jesus! Strengthen by your exhorta- 
tions, I beseech you, those whom the cruelty 
of unworthy prelates has banished from our 
bereaved churches." 

But it was not in Germany alone that the 
friends of the Reformation were exposed to the 
deadly machinations of their adversaries. Not 
a day passed but secret meetings were held at 
Zurich, to devise some method of getting rid 
of Zwingle. One day he received an anony- 
mous letter, which he immediately communi- 
cated to his two vicars. " You are beset with 
snares on every side," said the writer; "a 
potent poison has been prepared to deprive you 
of life. Partake of no food but in your own 
house; eat no bread but what your own cook 
has baked. There are those within the walls 
of Zurich who are leagued for your destruction. 
The oracle which has revealed -this to me, is 
better entitled to credit than that of Delphi. 
I am your friend ; my name you shall know 
hereafter." 

On the morning following the day on which 
Zwingle received this mysterious epistle, just 
as Staheli was entering the W^ater-church, a 
chaplain stopped him and said — " Leave 
Zwingle's house with all speed ; a catastro- 
phe is at hand !" Some unknown fanatics, 
who despaired of seeing the Reformation 
checked by words, had betaken themselves to 
the dagger. When mighty revolutions are in 
progress, and the foul dregs of society are 
heaved upon its agitated surface, we often see 
the assassin playing a conspicuous part. 
Zwingle was preserved however, for God 
watched over him. 

But while the plots of the murderers were 
baffled, the legitimate engines of the Papacy 
were again put in motion. The bishop and 
his counsellors were determined to renew the 
war. Tidings to this effect reached Zwingle 
from every quarter. The Reroimer, still lean- 
ing on the word of God, replied with high- 
minded intrepidity; "I fear them as a lofty 
crag fears the roaring waves that dash against 
the base" . . ovv tu> ^fcT. " God being my 
helper," added he. On the 2nd of May, the 
Bishop of Constance issued a mandate, in 
which, without any mention of Zurich, or of 
Zwingle, he complained that evil-disposed 
persons were reviving doctrines which had 
long since been condemned, and that learned 
and unlearned men were alike everywhere 
irreverently discussing the most exalted mys- 
teries. John Vanner, preacher of the cathe- 
dral of Constance, was the first w r ho was in- 
dividually attacked. " I choose," said he, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



•247 



"rather to be a Christian, though I incur the 
hatred of many, than to purchase the friend- 
ship of the world by forsaking Christ!" 

But it was at Zurich that the death-blow must 
be dealt against the infant heresy. Faber and 
the bishop knew that Zwingle had many ene- 
mies among the canons. They resolved to take 
advantage of this circumstance. Towards the 
end of May a letter from the bishop was re- 
ceived at Zurich, addressed to the principal 
and chapter. " Sons of the Church," said 
the prelate, "let those perish who will perish ! 
but let none entice you to abandon theChurch." 
At the same time, the bishop charged the ca- 
nons to prevent those pernicious doctrines 
which were giving birth to dangerous sects 
from being preached among them, or made 
the subject of discussion either in private or 
in public. When this letter was read in the 
chapter, all eyes were turned upon Zwingle. 
He could not but know what that look implied. 
"You think," said he, "I perceive, that this 
letter has reference to me; be pleased to de- 
liver it to me then, and, by God's help, I will 
answer it." 

Zwingle's answer was imbodied in a work, 
bearing the title of Archeteles, which signifies 
the " beginning and the end ;" " for," said 
he, " I hope that this my first reply will also 
be my last." In this production, he speaks 
in a very respectful manner of the bishop, and 
ascribes all the hostility of which he had to 
complain to the malevolence of a few design- 
ing men. " What, after all, is my offence'?" 
he asks. " I have endeavoured to open men's 
eyes to the peril of their souls ; I have la- 
boured to bring them to the knowledge of the 
only true God, and Christ Jesus his Son. To 
this end I have employed no subtle arguments, 
but the word of truth and soberness, such as 
my brethren cf Switzerland could understand." 
Then exchanging his defensive posture for 
that of an assailant, he significantly adds : 
" Julius Caesar, when he felt that he had 
received a mortal wound, exerted his remain- 
ing strength to gather his robe around him, 
that he might fall with dignity. The down- 
fall of your ceremonies is at hand ; be it your 
care to give their fate what decency you may, 
— and to speed the inevitable transition from 
darkness to light." 

This was all the effect produced by the 
bishop's letter to the chapter of Zurich. Since 
every mHder expedient proved ineffectual, it 
became necessary now to strike a vigorous 
blow. Faber and Landenberg cast their eyes 
around them, and fixed them at last on the 
Diet, the Council of the Helveticnation. De- 
puties from the bishop presented themselves 
before that assembly ; they stated that their 
master had issued a mandate forbidding the 
priests of his diocese to attempt any innova- 
tion in matters of doctrine; that his injunction 
had been set at naught; and that he conse- 
quently appealed to the heads of the Confede- 
ration to aid him in reducing the rebels to 
obedience, and in maintaining the true and 
ancient faith. The enemies of the Reforma- 
tion had the ascendancy in this supreme as- 



sembly of the nation. But a little before, it 
had issued a decree by which all priests were 
required to desist from preaching, on the 
ground that their discourses tended to stir up 
dissensions among the people. This decree 
of the Diet, its first act of interference with 
the Reformation, had not hitherto been en- 
forced ; but now, being bent on rigorous mea- 
sures, the assembly summoned before it Urban 
Weiss, the pastor of Fislispach, near -Baden, 
who was accused by public report of preach- 
ing the new doctrine and rejecting the old. 
The proceedings against Weiss were suspend- 
ed for a while, at the intercession of a nume- 
rous body of citizens, security having first 
been exacted from him to the amount of a 
hundred florins, which were collected by his 
parishioners. 

But the Diet had taken aside in the contest; 
this was evident, and the monks and priests 
began to recover their courage. At Zurich 
they had assumed a haughtier aspect imme- 
diately on the promulgation of the first decree. 
Several members of the Council were accus- 
tomed to visit the three convents every morn- 
ing and evening, and even to take their meals 
there. The monks lectured their well-mean- 
ing guests, and urged them to procure an or- 
dinance from the government in their favour. 
"If Zwingle will not hold his peace," said 
they, " we will cry out louder than he." The 
Diet had openly espoused the cause of the 
oppressors : the Council of Zurich knew not 
how to act. On the 7th of June it published 
an ordinance forbidding any one to preach 
against the monks; but no sooner had this 
ordinance been voted, than "a sudden noise 
was heard in the council-chamber," says Bul- 
linger's Chronicle, " so that all present looked 
at each other in dismay." Tranquillity was 
not restored ; on the contrary, the contest 
which was carried on in the pulpits grew 
warmer every day. The Council appointed 
a committee before whom the pastors of Zu- 
rich and the readers and preachers of the con- 
vents were respectively summoned to appear 
in the Principal's dwelling-house. After a 
keen debate, the Burgomaster enjoined both 
parties to refrain from preaching any thing 
that might breed discord. "I cannot submit 
to this injunction," said Zwingle; " I claim 
the right of preaching the Gospel freely, with- 
out any condition whatsoever, agreeably to the 
former ordinance. I am bishop and pastor of 
Zurich ; it is to me that the care of souls has 
been confided. I am under the obligation of 
an oath, from whieh the monks are exempt. 
They are the party who ought to give way, — 
not I. If they preach what is false, I will 
contradict them, were it even in the pulpit of 
their own convent. If I myself preach any 
doctrine contrary to the Holy Gospel, then 1 
desire to be rebuked, not only by the chapter, 
but by any private citizen, and, moreover, to 
be punished by the Council." —"And we," 
said the monks, "on our part, demand permis- 
sion to preach the doctrines of St. Thomas." 
The committee of the Council, after mature 
deliberation, determined "that Thomas Aqui 



248 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



nas, Scotus, and the other doctors should be 
laid aside, and that preachers should confine 
themselves to the Holy Gospel." Again, 
therefore, the truth was triumphant. But the 
anger of those who supported the Papacy was 
inflamed to a higher pitch. The Italian ca- 
nons could not conceal their fury. They cast 
insulting glances at Zwingle in the chapter, 
and seemed to be thirsting for his blood. 

These tokens of hostility could not intimi- 
date Zwingle. There was one place in Zurich 
where, thanks to the Dominicans, no ray ot 
light had hitherto entered ; this was the nun- 
nery of Oetenhach. The daughters of the first 
families of Zurich were accustomed to take 
the veil there. It seemed unjust that these 
poor females, shut up within the walls of their 
convent, should alone be debarred from hear- 
ing the word of God. The Great Council 
ordered Zwingle to visit them. The Reformer 
accordingly mounted the pulpit which none 
but the Dominicans had hitherto occupied, and 
delivered a sermon " On the clearness and 
certainty of the word of God." Heafterwards 
published this remarkable discourse, which 
produced a great effect, and still further con- 
tributed to exasperate the monks. 

An event now occurred which enlarged the 
sphere of this religious animosity, and com- 
municated it to many a heart which had as 
yet been a stranger to its influence. The 
Swiss, under the command of Stein and Win- 
kelried, had suffered a bloody defeat at Bicocca. 
They had made a gallant attack on the enemy ; 
but the artillery of Pescara and the lanzknechts 
of that same Freundsberg whom Luther had 
encountered at the door of the Council-hall at 
Worms, had overthrown officers and stand- j 
ards, and whole companies at once had been 
mowed down and exterminated. Winkeiried 
and Stein, with many inferior chiefs, who bore 
the illustrious names of Mulinen, and Dies- 
bach, and Bonstetten, and Tschudi, and Pfyf- 
fer, had been left on the field of battle. Schwitz, 
in particular, had been bereft of the bravest of 
her sons. The mangled remnant of that dis- 
astrous conflict returned to Switzerland, car- 
rying mourning in their train. A cry of un- 
mingled lamentation resounded from the Alps 
to the Jura, from the Rhone even to the Rhine. 

But no one felt this calamity more keenly 
than Zwingle. He immediately addressed a 
letter to the canton of Schwitz, to dissuade the 
citizens of that state from engaging again in 
foreign service. " Your ancestors," said he, 
with all the warmth of a true-hearted Switzer, 
"contended with their enemies in defence of 
their liberties ; but never did they imbrue their 
hands in Christian blood. These foreign wars 
bring upon our country incalculable evils. 
The anger of God descends upon the States, 
and Swiss liberty is almost lost between the 
interested caresses and mortal hatred of foreign 
Princes." Zwingle gave the right hand to 
Nicolas von Flue, and supported the appeal 
of that friend of peace. This remonstrance, 
being presented at a general assembly of the 
people of Schwitz, produced such an impres- 
sion, that it was decreed that provisionally the 



state would decline any alliance for ihe next 
twenty-five years. But it was not long before 
the French party procured the revocation of 
this noble resolution ; and from that time 
Schwitz was, of all the cantons, the most op- 
posed to Zwingle and his efforts. Even the 
disgraces that the same party drew upon their 
country served but to increase their hatred of 
the bold preacher who was striving to avert 
them. A violent opposition was formed 
against Zurich and Zwingle. The usages of 
the Church, and the recruiting services, at- 
tacked at the same moment, mutually sup- 
ported each other against the rising wind 
which threatened both with downfall. Mean- 
while enemies were multiplying from with- 
out. It was no longer the Pope alone, but 
the other foreign princes, who vowed irrecon- 
cilable hatred to the Reformation. Its effect 
went to deprive them of those Swiss halberds 
which had added so many triumphs to their 
ambition ... On the side of the Gospel there 
remained — God — and the excellent of the 
earth : — it was more than enough. Divine 
Providence was besides bringing to its sup- 
port men of different countries who were per- 
secuted for their faith. 

On Saturday the 12th of July, the inhabit- 
ants of Zurich witnessed the arrival in their 
streets of a monk, of tall, thin, and gaunt 
stature, habited in the gray frock of the Cor- 
deliers, of foreign appearance and mounted on 
an ass; his bare feet almost touching the 
ground. In this manner he arrived from the 
road leading to Avignon, not knowing a word 
of German. However, by means of Latin he 
contrived to make himself understood. Fran- 
cis Lambert (for that was his name) inquired 
for Zwingle, and handed to him a letter from 
Berthold Haller : " The Franciscan father who 
is the bearer of this," wrote the Bernese cu- 
rate, "is no other than apostolic preacher to 
the convent-general at Avignon. For the last 
five years he has been teaching the true Chris- 
tian doctrine ; he has preached in Latin to our 
clergy at Geneva, at Lausanne, before the 
bishop, at Friburg, and latterly at Berne, 
touching the church, the priesthood, the sacra- 
ment of the mass, the traditions of the Roman 
bishops, and the superstitions of religious 
orders. To me, such teaching from a Corde- 
lier, and a Frenchman, (both characters that, 
as you know, suppose a host of superstitions.) 
seemed a thing unprecedented." TheFrench- 
man himself recounted to Zwingle that the 
writings of Luther having been discovered in 
his cell, he had been obliged to leave Avignon 
at a moment's warning; how he had first 
preached the Gospel in the city of Geneva, 
and afterwards at Lausanne, on the banks of 
the same lake. Zwingle, quite overjoyed, 
threw open to him the church of our Lady. — 
assigning him a seat in the choir, before the 
high altar. There Lambert delivered four ser- 
mons, in which he attacked with vigour the 
errors of Rome; but in his fourth discourse 
he defended the invocation of the saints and 
of Mary. 

" Brother -' Brother ! } 7 ou are mistaken." 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



243 



exclaimed a loud voice. It was Zwingle's. I 
Canons and chaplains leaped for joy on see- 
ing a dispute arising between the Frenchman 
and the heretical curate : " He has publicly 
attacked you," said they to Lambert; "re- 
quire of him a public discussion." The monk 
of Avignon did so ; — and on the 22d of July, 
at ten o'clock, the two disputants met in the 
conference-hall of the canons. Zwingle opened 
the Old and New Testament in Greek and La- 
tin. He discussed and expounded until two 
o'clock, when the Frenchman, clasping his 
hands together and raising them towards hea- 
ven, broke forth in these words: "I thank 
thee, O God, that by this thy gifted minister, 
thou hast granted to me so clear a discovery 
of the truth." — " Henceforth," he added, 
turning to the assembly, " in all my trials I 
will invoke none but God alone, and throw 
aside my beads. To-morrow I purpose to 
continue my journey. I am going to Bale to 
see Erasmus of Rotterdam, and thence to 
Wittemberg to see the Augustine Martin Lu- 
ther." Accordingly he took his departure on 
his ass. We shall meet with him again. 
This man was the first who went forth from 
France for the sake of the Gospel into Swit- 
zerland and Germany; the humble forerunner 
of many thousands. 

Myconius had no such consolations. On 
the contrary, it was his lot to see Sebastian 
Hofmeister, who had come from Constance to 
Lucerne, and had there preached the Gospel 
boldly,— compelled to quit the city. On this, 
Oswald's melancholy increased — a fever con- 
sumed him ; the physicians gave their opinion 
that if he did not remove he would die. " No- 
where do I more wish to be than with you," 
wrote he to Zwingle, " and nowhere have I 
less wish to be than at Lucerne. Men torment 
me, and the climate destroys me. People 
say that my disease is the punishment of 
my iniquity. It is in vain to speak or do any 
thing, they turn every thing to poison. .... 
There is One above, on whom alone my hope 
rests." 

This hope was not delusive. — It was about 
the end of March, and Annunciation-day was 
approaching. The day before its eve a solemn 
fast was observed, in memory of a conflagra- 
tion that in 1340 had reduced to ashes the 
greater part of the city. A crowd of people 
from the environs were collected together at 
Lucerne, and several hundred priests were as- 
sembled. A noted preacher usually preached; 
and on this occasion Conrad Schmid, of Kus- 
nacht, commander of the Johannites, arrived 
to take the duty. A great crowd filled the 
ehurch, — but what was their astonishment, 
when the commander, abandoning the cus- 
tomary Latin oration, spoke in plain German, 
that all could understand; declared with au- 
thority and holy zeal the love of God in send- 
ing His Son into the world, and eloquently 
showed that our works cannot save us, and 
that God's promises are in truth the essence 
of the Gospel. " God forbid," cried the com- 
mander, in the hearing of the astonished con- 
gregation, " that we should 1 ;cognise a hand 



so full of sin as the Roman bishop, and there 
by reject Jesus Christ. If the Bishop of 
Rome dispenses the bread of the Gospel, let 
us acknowledge him as a pastor — not as our 
head; and if he does not dispense it, let us 
in no way whatever recognise him." Oswald 
could not restrain his joy. 

" What a man !" he exclaimed, — " What a 
discourse ! — what majesty and authority ! — 
how full of the spirit of Christ!" The effect 
was almost universal. To the agitation which 
pervaded the town succeeded a solemn si- 
lence ; but all this was transient, — if a nation 
closes the ear to God's call, his calls are 
every day less frequent, and ere long they are 
altogether withdrawn. This was the fate of 
Lucerne. 

While truth was there proclaimed from the 
pulpit, — at Berne, the Papacy was assailed in 
the festive meetings of the people. A lay man 
of reputation, Nicolas Manuel, famed for his 
talents, and afterwards promoted to high of- 
fice in the state, indignant at seeing his coun- 
trymen mercilessly plundered by Sampson, 
composed some carnival dramas, in which he 
keenly satirized the extortion, haughtiness, 
and pomp of the Pope and clergy. . . On the 
mardi gras, or Shrove-Tuesday of their lord- 
skips, (their lordships were then the clergy, 
and the clergy usually began their Lent eight 
days before other people,) nothing was talked 
of in Berne but a drama or mystery, called- — 
the Feeders upon the Dead, which some young 
folks were to act in the Rue de la Croix. The 
people flocked to the spot. — As literary pro- 
ductions, these dramatic sketches of the early 
part of the sixteenth century possess some in- 
terest, — but it is in a very different point of 
view that we recal them: we would prefer 
doubtless not to have to adduce on the part 
of the Reformation attacks of this nature; as 
truth triumphs by far different weapons : his- 
tory, however, does not create, but faithfully 
transmits what she finds. 

And now the acting begins, much to the 
satisfaction of the impatient crowd gathered 
together in the Rue de la Croix. The Pope 
appears, attired in splendid habiliments, and 
seated on a throne. Around him stand his 
courtiers and body-guard, and a mixed assem- 
blage of dignified and inferior clergy; — be- 
yond them are nobles, laymen, and beggars. 
Shortly after, a funeral procession appears; — 
it is a wealthy farmer whom they are carry- 
ing to his grave. Two of his kinsmen walk 
slowly in front of the coffin, with handker- 
chiefs in their hands. The procession being 
arrived in the Pope's presence, the bier is 
lowered, the acting begins : — 

FIRST RELATIVE. 

The noble army of saints, 
Take pity on our lot ; 
Alas ! our cousin is dead, 
In the prime of his life. 

ANOTHER RELATIVE. 

No cost will we spare 
For priests, friars, or nuns, 
Though a hundred crowns we should drain; 



250 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Determined are we ; 
His spirit to free, 
From dire purgatorial pain. 

The Sacristan coming out of the crowd near 
the Pope, and hurrying to the curate, Robert 
Ne'er-Enough : 

My Lord curate, let me drink your health; 
A rich farmer is just dead ! 

THE CURATE. 

One, say you. One is not enough. 
One dead ! 'tis for ten that I call ; 
The more die off", the more blithely we live, 
This death is the best trick of all ! 

THE SACRISTAN. 

Ah ! if I had but my heart's desire, 
I'd pass my time in tolling of knells ; 
For unlike field labour the dead never tire, 
But pay well, and tell no tales. 

i 

THE CURATE. 

If tolling a bell opes the gate of heaven, 

I know not — but what does that matter ? 

It brings me in barbel, pike, salmon, and trout; 

And my larder grows, day by day, fatter. 

THE CURATE'S NIECE.* 

'Tis all very well — but I put in my claim, 

And this soul must to-day me provide 

With a comely new gown of white, black, pink, 

or green, 
A.nd a neat pretty kerchief beside. 

Cardinal Loftylook, — wearing the red hat, 
and standing near the Pope — 
Did we not love the bloody prize of Death, 
Would we have led to slaughter, in their prime, 
Those armed trains, 
On battle plains, 
In wars our pride has kindled in our time ? 
The blood of Christians yields to Rome her 
wealth ! 
Hence do I wear a hat of sanguine red, 
Made fat with pomp and riches by the dead ! 

BISHOP WOLFS-BELLY. 

Ey papal right I mean to live and die. 

I wear rich silks, and spend luxuriously ; 

I lead in battle, or I hunt at will ! 

If we in the first church were living still, 

My cloak were what a peasant round him flings! 

But we were shepherds then, andnowwe're kings! 

Yet 'mongst the shepherds I to pass intend. 



How so ? 



BISHOP WOLFS-BELLY. 



At the sheep-shearing time, my friend! 
Shepherds and wolves are we to our fat flocks, 
They must feed us, or fall beneath hard knocks. 
Marriage to curates doth the Pope deny : 
'Tis well : — but who among them will comply ? 
Not e'en the best of them. That's better still! 
Whai matter scandals? — Bribes my coffers fill. 
Thus shall I better sport a princely train: 
The smallest coin indeed I ne'er disdain. 
A priest with money takes a wife discreetly : 
Four florins yearly . . . seal my eyes completely. 
Brings she him children, — he must bleed again . . . 
Two thousand florins in a year I gain : 
If they were virtuous I should starve, be sure. 
Thanks to the Pope! him kneeling I adore. 
'Tis in his faith I'll live, — his church defend, 
And ask no other God till life shall end ! 



* In the German the term is more gross, Pfaf- 
fenmetze. 



Men think that to a haughty priest 'tis given 
T' unclose or shut at will the gate of heaven. 
— Preach well the conclave's chosen one's decree, 
And we are kings — and laymen slaves shall be : 
But if the Gospel standard be displayed, 
All's over with us! — for 'tis nowhere said 

That men should give their money to the priest. 
Perhaps too, if the Gospel were obeyed, 
We should pass life in poverty and shade . . . 
Instead of these caparisoned proud steeds, 
With these rich carriages my household needs, 
, My holiness would ride a duller beast. 
No, — We'll find means to guard the goodly gains 
Our predecessors left, — and quell rash aims. 
'Tis ours to will, and the world's part to bow; 
To me as to a God its nations vow ; 
Crushed by my weight when I ascend its throne, 
I give its good things to my pack alone. 
And unclean laymen must not touch our treasure ; 
Three drops of holy water '11 fill his measure ! 

We will not follow out this literal rendering 
of Manuel's dramatic effusion. The vexation 
of the clergy on learning' these efforts of the 
Reformers, their anger against those who 
would thus put a stop to these disorders, — is 
painted in vivid colours. The dissoluteness 
the mystery brought prominently forward was 
too general for each one not to be struck by 
the truth of the picture. The people Mere in 
commotion. Many were the satirical jests of 
the spectators as they broke up from the specta- 
cle in the Rue de la Croix; but some were 
more gravely affected, and these spoke of the 
liberty of the Christian, and the Pope's des- 
potism, — contrasting the simplicity of the 
Gospel with Romish pageantry. Rapidly the 
popular contempt broke forth in the public 
streets. On Ash-Wednesday the people pa- 
raded the indulgences through the city, ac- 
companying them with satirical songs. A 
heavy blow had been struck, in Berne, and 
throughout Switzerland, at the ancient edifice 
of Popery. 

Shortly after this dramatic representation, 
another comedy took place at Berne; but in 
this last invention had no share. The clergy, 
the council, and the burghers, had assembled 
before the upper gate, expecting the skull of 
St. Ann, which the celebrated knight Albert 
von Stein, had gone to fetch from Lyons. 
After waiting some time, Stein arrived, bear- 
ing the precious relic, wrapped in a covering 
of silken stuff. On its passage through Lau- 
sane, the bishop of that place had fallen on 
his knees before it. The holy trophy was 
carried in procession to the church of the Do- 
minicans. Bells were rung, — the procession 
entered, and the skull of the Virgin's mother 
was solemnly deposited on the altar dedicated 
to her, beneath a screen of costly lattice-work. 
But in the height of the rejoicing, came a let- 
ter from the Abbot of the convent at Lyons, 
(where the remains of the saint were pre- 
served,) announcing that the monks had trick- 
ed the. knight, by imposing on him an unclean 
skull picked up from among the bones of the 
cemetery. This imposition on the celebrated 
city of Berne deeply offended its inhabi- 
tants. 

The Reformation was making progress in 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



251 



other parts of Switzerland. In 1521, Walter 
Klarer, a young- man of Appenzel, returned 
from the university of Paris to his own canton. 
The. writings of Luther fell into his hands, 
and in 1522 he preached the Gospel with all 
the fervour of a young Christian. An innkeep- 
er named Rausberg, a member of the Council 
of Appenzel, threw open his house to the 
friends of truth. A famous captain Bartholo- 
mew Berweger, who had fought in the ranks 
for Julius II. and Leo X. being lately returned 
from Rome, instantly set about persecuting 
the new doctrine. But recollecting one day that 
he had seen much that was wrong at Rome, 
he began to read his Bible and hear the 
preachers ; — his eyes were opened, and he 
embraced the Gospel. Observing that the 
crowds that came could no longer find room 
in the churches : " Why not preach in the 
open fields and in the public squares]" said 
he — in spite of much opposition, the hills, 
meadows, and mountains of Appenzel, from 
that time often resounded with the tidings of 
saivation. 

This doctrine, ascending the course of the 
Rhine, even reached as far as ancient Rhetia. 
One day a stranger coming from Zurich, 
passed the* river, and presented himself at the 
door of a saddler of Flasch, the first town in 
the Grisons. Christian Anhorn listened with 
amazement to the conversation of his guest. 
" Preach then," said the whole village to the 
stranger, w r hose name was James Burkli; — 
and Burkli took his stand before the altar. A 
body of armed men, with Anhorn at their 
head, surrounded him to protect him from any 
sudden attack ; and thus he proclaimed the Gos- 
pel. The report of his preaching spread abroad, 
and on the next Sunday an immense crowd 
assembled. Very soon a great number of the 
inhabitants of that country desired to partake 
of the Lord's supper, according to Christ's 
appointment. But one day the tocsin was 
suddenly heard in Mayenfield ; — the people 
ran together in alarm, the priests depicted the 
dangers that threatened the Church, and — fol- 
lowed by this fanatic population, — hurried to 
Flaseh. Anhorn, who was working in the 
fields surprised by the ringing of bells at so 
unusual an hour, returned home in haste, and 
secreted Burkli in a deep pit that had been 
dug in his cellar. The house was already 
surrounded; the doors were burst open, and 
strict search made for the heretical preacher; 
but in vain. At length they left the place. 

The word of God had spread through the 
ten jurisdictions of the league. The curate of 
Mayenfield, on returning from Rome, (whither 
he had fled in indignation at the progress of 
the Gospel,) exclaimed — " Rome has made 
an evangelist of me!" and became from that 
time a zealous Reformer. Ere long, the Re- 
formation extended itself in the league of what 
was called "the house of God." "Qh, if 
you could but see how the inhabitants of the 
Rhetian Alps cast away from them the yoke 
of. Babylon !" wrote Salandronius to Vadian. 

Revolting disorders hastened the day when 
Zurich and its neighbouring country should 



finally throw oflfthe yoke. A married school- 
master desiring to take priest's orders obtained 
his wife's consent and was separated from her. 
The new curate finding himself unable to ful- 
fil his vow of celibacy quitted the place of his 
wife's residence from regard to her, and set- 
tling himself in the diocese of Constance, 
there formed a criminal connection. His wife 
hearing of it went to him. The poor priest 
was melted at the sight of her, and dismissing 
the woman who had usurped her rights, took 
home his lawful wife. Instantly the procu- 
rator-fiscal made out his report, — the Vicar- 
general was in motion, — the councillors of the 
consistory met in deliberation, and .... en- 
joined the curate to renounce his wife, or his 
benefice ! The poor wife left her husband's 
house in tears ; her rival resumed her place in 
triumph. The church was satisfied, and from 
that moment left the adulterous priest undis- 
turbed. 

Shortly after a curate of Lucerne seduced a 
married woman, and cohabited with her. The 
husband repairing to Lucerne availed himself 
of the opportunity afforded by the priest's ab- 
sence to recover his wife. As he was return- 
ing, the seducer met them in the way ; — he in- 
stantly fell upon the injured husband, and in- 
flicted a wound, of which the latterdied. All 
good men saw the necessity of re-establishing 
the law of God, which declares marriage 
"honourable to all." (Heb. xiii. 4.) The 
ministers of the Gospel had discovered that 
the law of celibacy was altogether of human 
authority, imposed by the Popes, contrary to 
God's word, which in describing a faithful 
bishop, represents him as a husband and a 
father. (1 Tim. iii. 2 — 4.) They also saw 
that of all the corruptions which had gained 
a footing in the church, not one had led to 
more profligacy and scandals. Hence they 
not only thought it lawful, but even a part of 
their duty to God to reject it. Several among 
them at this period returned to the apostolic 
usage. Xyloctect was already a husband. 
Zwingle also married about this time. Among 
the women of Zurich none was more respected 
than Anna Reinhardt, widow of Meyer von 
Knonau, mother of Gerold. From Zwingle's 
coming among them, she had been constant 
in her attendance on his ministry ; she lived 
near him, and he had remarked her piety, 
modesty, and maternal tenderness. Young 
Gerold, who had become almost like a son to 
him, contributed further to bring about an in- 
timacy with his mother. The trials that had 
already befallen this Christian woman, — 
whose fate it was to be, one day, more severe- 
ly tried than any woman whose history is on 
record, — had formed her to a seriousness which 
gave prominency to her Christian virtues. 
She was then about thirty-five, and her whole 
fortune consisted of 400 florins. It was on 
her that Zwingle fixed his eyes for a compa- 
nion for life. He felt the sacredness and inti 
mate sympathy of the marriage tie; and term- 
ed it "a most holy alliance." —"AsChrist," 
said he, "died for' those who are His, and 
give himself entirely for them, so should thosa 



252 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



who are united together by marriage, do and 
suffer all things one for the other." But 
Zwingle, when he took Anna Reinhardt to 
wife, did not make his marriage public. This 
was beyond doubt a blameable weakness in 
one who in other things was so resolute. The 
Jight he and his friends possessed on the sub- 
ject of celibacy was by no means general. 
The weak might have been stumbled. He 
feared lest his usefulness in the church might 
be destroyed by makingknown his marriage, 
and he sacrificed much of his happiness to 
these fears — excusable, perhaps, but such as 
he ought to have disregarded.* 

Meanwhile, interests of a higher kind were 
engaging the thoughts of the friends of truth. 
The Diet, as we have seen, urged on by the 
enemies of the Reformation, had enjoined the 
preachers of the Gospel to abstain for the fu- 
ture from preaching doctrines that disturbed 
the people. Zwingle felt that the moment for 
a?tion had arrived, and with characteristic en- 
ergy he invited such ministers of the Lord as 
were favourable to the Gospel, to meet him at 
Einsidlen. The strength of Christians is 
neither in force of arms, flames, scaffold, party 
policy, or man's power. It is found in a sim- 
ple but unanimous and courageous confession 
of the great truths which must one day pre- 
vail over the world. Those who serve God 
are specially called on to hold up these heaven- 
ly truths, in presence of all the people, unawed 
by the clamours of enemies. These truths 
carry in themselves the assurance of their 
triumph, and idols fall before them as before 
the ark of God. The time had come when 
God would have the great doctrine of salvation 

* The most respectable biographers, and those 
who have followed them, place Zwingle's mar- 
riage two years later, namely, in April, 1524. 
Without intending here to state all the reasons 
which have satisfied me that this is an error, I will 
notice the most conclusive. A letter from Zwin- 
gle's intimate friend, Myconius, bearing date 22d 
July, 1522, has these words : Vale cum uxore quam 
felicissime. Another letter from the same friend, 
written toward ihe end of that year, has likewise 
the words : Vale cum uxore. That the date oi 
these letters is quite correct is proved by the very 
contents of them. But what is still stronger, a letter 
written from Strasburg by Bucer at the moment 
when Zwingle's marriage was made public, the 
14th of April, 1524, (the date of the year is want- 
ing, but it is evident that this letter i-3 of that 
year,) contains several passages which show 
Zwingle to have been married a considerable time 
before ; the following are some of these, besides 
what is cited in the preceding note. Professum 
valam te maritum legi. Unum hoc desiderabam 
in te. — Quae multo facilius quam connubii tuicon- 
fessionem Antichristus posset ferre. — Ayofiov, ab 
eo, quod cum fratribus . . . episcopo Constantiensi 
congressus es, nullus credidi. — Qua ratione id 
tarn diu celares . . . non dubitarim, rationibus hue 
adductum, quae apud virum evangelicum non 
queant omnino repudiari . . . &c. (Zw. Epp. 335.) 
Zwingle, then, did not marry in 1524. but he then 
made public his marriage contracted two years 
before. The learned editors of Zwingle's letters 
observe — Num forte jam Zwinglius Annam Rein- 
hardam clandestino in matrimonio habebat ? (p. 
210,) which appears to me to be not a doubtful 
point, but a fact sufficiently established. 



thus confessed in Switzerland ; it was fit that 
the gospel standard should be planted on an 
elevated spot. Providence was on the point 
of drawing forth from their unknown seclusion 
humble but intrepid men, and causing them to 
give a noble testimony in the face of the whole 
nation. 

Towards the end of June and beginning of 
July, 152-2, pious ministers were seen from 
every side journeying to the famous chapel 
of Einsidlen, on a new pilgrimage. From 
Art in the canton of Schwitz, came its curate, 
Balthasar Trachsel ; from Weiningen near 
Baden, the curate Staheli; from Zug. Wer- 
ner Steiner ; from Lucerne, the canon Kilch- 
meyer ; from Uster, the curate Pfister ; from 
Hongg, near Zurich, the curate Sturnpff; 
from Zurich itself, the canon Fahricius, the 
chaplain Schmid, the preacher of the hospi- 
tal, Grosmann, and Zwingle. Leo Juda, 
curate of Einsidlen, joyfully received these 
ministers of Christ into the ancient abbey. 
Since Zwingle's residence, the place had be- 
come a kind of citadel of truth, — a refuge foi 
the righteous. So in the solitary field of 
Grutli, two hundred and fifteen years before, 
had gathered together three-and -thirty patriots, 
fearlessly determined to burst asunder the 
yoke of Austria. At Einsidlen the great aim 
was to cast away the yoke of man's autho- 
rity in the things of God ! Zwingle proposed 
to his friends to address an urgent petition to 
the cantons and the bishop ; claiming a free 
preaching of the Gospel, and also the aboli- 
tion of compulsory celibacy, the source of so 
many disorders. AH agreed in his sugges- 
tions. Ulric had himself prepared addresses. 
That to the bishop was first read. It was on 
the 2d of July, 1522. All signed it. A hearty 
affection united the preachers of the Gospel. 
Many others there were who sympathized 
with those who had met at Einsidlen ; such 
were Haller, Myconius, Hedio, Capito, (Eco- 
lampadius, Sebastian Meyer, Hoffmeister, 
and Vanner. This brotherly unity is one of 
the loveliest features of the Swiss Reforma- 
tion. The excellent men we have mentioned 
ever acted with one heart, and their mutual 
affection lasted till death. 

The men assembled at Einsidlen saw 
plainly that nothing but the energy of faith 
could combine in one work the members of 
the confederation divided by the foreign capi- 
tulations. But their views rose above this. 
" The heavenly teaching, said they to theii 
ecclesiastical superior in their address, dated 
2d July, "that truth which God the Creatoi 
has made known in his Son to mankind im- 
mersed in sin, has long been veiled from out 
eyes by the ignorance, not to say the evil in- 
tentions, of a handful of men. But Almighty 
God has decreed to reinstate it in its primitive 
purity. Join then with those who desire that 
! the great body of Christians should return to 
j their Head, that is Christ . . . For our 
! parts we are resolved to proclaim his Gospel 
with unwearied perseverance* and yet with ^ 
prudence that shall leave no ground of com- 
plaint against us. Favour this undertaking; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



253 



startling, perhaps, but not rash. Take your 
stand like Moses, in the way, at the head of 
the people getting up out of Egypt, and by 
your own hands overturn all obstacles to the 
triumphant march of truth." 

After this spirit-stirring appeal, the minis- 
ters of the Gospel assembled at Einsidlen 
came to the subject of celibacy. Zwingle 
bad for himself nothing to seek on that head : 
— he had as his partner such a minister's wife 
as Saint Paul has sketched, " grave, sober, 
faithful in all things." (1 Tim. iii. 2.) But 
his thoughts were for those of his brethren 
whose consciences were not, as his, set free 
from human ordinances. He longed for that 
time when those servants of God might live 
openly and without fear in the circle of their 
families, ''having their children in subjection 
with all gravity."- — " You are not ignorant," 
said the men of Einsidlen, "how deplorably 
hitherto the laws of chastity have been vio- 
lated by the clergy. When in the consecra- 
tion of ministers to the Lord, the question is 
put to him who speaks on behalf of the rest: 
— Are the persons you present to us righteous 
men] — he answers : — They are righteous. 
Are they well instructed ? — They are well 
instructed. But when he is asked: are they 
chaste? His answer is: As far as man's 
weakness permits." — "TheNew Testament 
everywhere condemns illicit intercourse, while 
it everywhere sanctions marriage." Here 
follow a great number of citations from Scrip- 
ture. — " It is for this reason we entreat you, 
by the love of Christ, by the liberty he has 
obtained for us, by the distress of weak and 
unstable souls, by the wounds of so many 
ulcerated consciences, — by every motive, di- 
vine and human, to consent that what has 
been enacted in presumption may be annulled 
in wisdom ; lest the noble fabric of the Church 
crumble into dust with frightful crash, spread- 
ing ruin far and wide. Look around you. 
Behold how many storms threaten society. 
If prudence does not come to our rescue, the 
fate of the clergy is decided." 

The petition addressed to the Confederation 
was at greater length. "^Worthy Sirs !" thus 
spoke the allies of Einsidlen : " We are all 
Swiss, and acknowledge you as our fathers. 
Some among us have given proof of our j 
fidelity in the field of battle, in pestilence, and ! 
other calamities. It is in the name of chastity I 
that we address you. W 7 hich of you does 
not know that we should better consult the I 
lust of the flesh by declining to subject our- 
selves to the conditions of lawful wedlock. 
But it is indispensable to put an end to the 
scandals which afflict the Church of Christ. 
If the tyranny of the Roman Pontiff should 
persist in oppressing us, — O ! noble heroes, j 
fear nothing ! The authority of God's word, I 
the rights of Christian liberty, and the sove- | 
reign power of grace, will- encompass and j 
protect us. We are of one land and of one I 
faith; we are Swiss; and the virtue of our j 
race has ever displayed its power in un- 
flinching defence of all who are unjustly 
oppressed." 



Thus did Zwingle and his friends boldly 
uplift the standard of the truth and freedom in 
Einsidlen itself, that ancient bulwark of su- 
perstition, which even in our days is still one 
of the most noted sanctuaries of Roman obser- 
vances. They appealed to the chiefs of the 
State and of the Church. Like Luther, they 
publicly placarded their theses; — but it was 
at the doors of the episcopal palace and of the 
council of the nation. The friends at Einsid- 
len separated : calm, joyous, and full of con- 
fidence in that God to whom they had com- 
mitted their cause; and passing, some by the 
way of the field of battle of Morgarten, others 
over the chain of the Albis, and the rest by 
other valleys or mountain paths, they re- 
turned each one to his post. " Truly there 
was something sublime for those times," says 
Henry Bollinger, "that these men should 
have thus dared to step forward, and taking 
their stand around the Gospel, expose them- 
selves to every kind of danger. But God has 
preserved them all, so that no evil has hap- 
pened unto them, for God ever protects those 
who are his." And in truth there was a sub- 
limity in this proceeding. It was a decisive 
step in the progress of the Reformation, one 
of the most brilliant days of the religious re- 
generation of Switzerland. A holy bond was 
compacted at Einsidlen. Humble and brave 
men had taken " the sword of the Spirit, 
which is the word of God, and the shield of 
faith." The gauntlet had been thrown down, 
— and the challenge given, not by one man 
only, — but by men of different cantons, — pre- 
pared to peril their lives on the issue. 

The battle was evidently approaching. 
Every thing betokened that it would be vigor- 
ously contested. As early as the 7th of July, 
the magistrate of Zurich, willing to do the 
Romanists a pleasure, summoned before him 
Conrad Grebel and Claus Hottinger, two in- 
temperate men, who seemed desirous to over- 
pass the limit of a prudent reformation. " We 
prohibit you," said the burgomaster Roust, 
"from speaking against the monks, or on the 
points in controversy." At that moment a 
loud clap was heard in the room, says an old 
chronicle. The work of God was so manifest 
in events, that men saw in every thing the 
sign of His intervention. Every one, in asto- 
nishment, looked round the apartment, with- 
out being able to discover the cause of the 
mysterious sound. 

But it was in the convents that indignation 
was at its height. Every meeting held therein 
for discussion or amusement witnessed some 
new attack. One day, on occasion of a grand 
festivity in the convent of Fraubrunn, the wine 
mounting to the heads of the guests, they be- 
gan to break out in bitter speeches against 
the Gospel. That which chiefly irritated 
these friars and priests was the evangelic 
doctrine, that in the Christian Church there 
can properly be no priestly caste raised above 
other believers. Among the guests, there 
was but one who was a favourer of the Refor- 
mation, and he was a layman named Macrin, 
schoolmaster of Soleure. At first he took no 



254 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



part in the discourse, but changed his seat 
from one table to another. At length, unable 
to endure the shouts of the guests, he arose 
and said aloud, — "Well: all true Christians 
are priests and sacrificers, according to that 
word of St. Peter, (1 Pet. ii. 9. Rev. i. 6:) 
ye are kings and priests. 1 ' At this speech 
the Dean of Burgdorff, one of the loudest in 
company, a huge man of powerful lungs and 
sonorous voice, burst into a loud laugh, and 
mingling jest with insult, — " So then," said 
he, "you Greeklings and accidence-mongers 
are the royal priesthood ] . . . Noble sacri- 
ficers!* beggar kings! . . , priests without 
prebends or livings!" And all with one ac- 
cord turned against the presumptuous lay- 
man. 

It was, however, at Lucerne that the bold 
measure of the men at Einsidlen was to pro- 
duce the greatest sensation. The Diet had 
met in that town, and from all sides came 
complaints against the over-zealous preachers 
who obstructed the regular sale of Swiss 
blood to foreign nations. On the 22d July, 
1522, as Oswald Myconius sat at dinner in 
his house in company with the canon Kilch- 
meyer, and several favourers of the Gospel, a 
young lad, sent by Zwingle, came to the door. 
He was the bearer of the two famous petitions 
of Einsidlen, together with a letter from 
Zwingle, in which he desired Oswald to cir- 
culate them in Lucerne. " My advice is," 
added the Reformer, "that it should be done 
quietly and gradually, rather than all at once, 
for we need to learn every thing, — even our 
wives, — for Christ's sake." 

The critical moment for Lucerne was ap- 
proaching; — the bomb had fallen; the shell 
was about to burst. The friends read the 
petition, "May God bless this beginning!" 
exclaimed Oswald, raising his eyes to hea- 
ven. He then added: "This prayer should 
from this moment be the constant burden of 
our hearts." The petitions were forthwith 
circulated, — perhaps more actively than Zwin- 
gle desired. But the moment was without 
example. Eleven men, the elite of the clergy, 
had placed themselves in the breach ; — it was 
requisite to enlighten men's minds, to decide 
the wavering and carry with them the co-op- 
eration of the most influential members of the 
Diet. 

Oswald, in the midst of his exertions, did 
not forget his friend. The young messenger 
had told of the attacks that Zwingle had to 
endure from the monks of Zurich. " The 
words of the Holy Ghost are invincible," 
wrote Myconius in reply, the same day. 
" Armed with the shield of the Holy Scrip- 
tures, you have overcome, not in one conflict 
only, or in two, but in three; and now a 
fourth is commencing. Hold fast those mighty 
weapons, whose edge is harder than a dia- 



* Estote ergo Graeculi ac Donatistse regale sa- 
cerdotium . . . (Zw. Epp. 230.) DonatistGR, from 
Donatus, the author of the Latin Grammar then 
in use in the schools. 



mond. Christ needs for the defence of those 
who are his, nothing but his word. Your 
conflicts communicate unconquerable courage 
to all who have devoted themselves to Jesusv 
Christ." 

The two petitions did not produce the 
effect expected from them in Lucerne. Some 
men of piety approved them, — but they were 
few in number. Many, fearing to compromise 
themselves, would neithercommend nor blame 
them. Others said, "These people will 
make nothing of it." The priests murmured 
against them, and the populace broke forth in 
open hostility. The passion for military ad- 
venture had again shown itself in Lucerne, 
after the bloody defeat of Bicocca, and no- 
thing but war was thought of. Oswald, who 
attentively watched these varying impres- 
sions, felt his resolution fail. The reign of 
Gospel light in Lucerne and Switzerland, 
which his hopes had dwelt upon with joy, 
seemed to vanish. " Our countrymen are 
blind as to heavenly things;" said he, fetch- 
ing a deep sigh, " there is nothing to be hoped 
from the Swiss for the glory of Christ." 

In the Council and at the Diet, exaspera- 
tion was at its height. The Pope, France, 
England, the Empire, were all in motion 
round Switzerland, since the defeat of Bicocca. 
and the retreat of the French under command 
of Lautrec from Lombardy. Was it because 
the political interests of the moment were not 
sufficiently complicated that these eleven men 
must bring forward their petitions, thereby 
adding controversies of religion? The depu- 
ties of Zurich alone inclined to favour the 
Gospel. The canon Xyloctect, trembling for 
the safety of himself and his wife, — for he 
had married into one of the chief families of 
the neighbourhood, — had with tears declined 
the invitation to Einsidlen to sign the address. 
The canon Kilehmeyer had evinced more 
courage, and ere long he had need of it.— . 
" Sentence is impending over me," he wrote 
on the 13th of August, to Zwingle. " I await 
it with firmness . ." As he was writing, the 
officer of the Council entered his apartment, 
and delivered him a summons to appear on 
the following morning. " If I am cast into 
prison," said he, continuing his letter, " I 
claim your help ; but it will be easier to trans- 
port a rock from our Alps, than to move me 
as much as a hand's breadth from the word 
of Jesus Christ." Regard to his family, and 
the resolution that had been come to, that trie 
storm should be directed against Oswald, — 
saved the canon ! 

Berthold Haller had not signed the peti- 
tions, perhaps because he was not a Swiss by 
birth. But, without flinching, he, as Zwin- 
gle had done, expounded the Gospel of St. 
Matthew. A great crowd thronged the cathe- 
dral church of Berne. The word of God 
wrought more mightily than Manuel's dramas 
had done on the people. Haller was sum- 
moned to the town-hall, — the people escorted 
him thither, and continued collected in the 
great square. Opinions were divided in *ho 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



255 



Council. " Tt is a matter that concerns the 
hishops," said the most influential persons; 
" we must hand over the preacher to my Lord 
Bishop of Lausanne." Haller's friends were 
alarmed at these words, and sent him word to 
retire with all possible despatch. The peo- 
ple gathered round and bore him company, 
end a considerable number of burghers re- 
mained in arms in front of his dwelling-, ready 
to form a rampart for their humble pastor, 
with their bodies. The Bishop and Council 
drew back at the aspect of this bold demon- 
stration, and Haller was saved ! But he was 
not the only champion of truth at Berne. 
Sebastian Meyer refuted the Bishop of Con- 
stance's pastoral letter, and more especially 
the charge that the disciples of the Gospel 
taught a new doctrine, and that the ancient 
only is the true. " To have gone wrong for 
a thousand years," said he, " cannot make us 
right for a single hour: otherwise it would 
have been the duty of the heathen to continue 
in their religion. And if the most ancient 
doctrines are to be preferred, then fifteen hun- 
Ired years are more than five centuries, — and 
he Gospel is more ancient than the decrees 
of the Popes." 

At this time the magistrates of Friburg in- 
tercepted certain letters addressed to Haller 
and Meyer, by a canon of Friburg, named 
John Hollard, a native of Orbe. They pro- 
ceeded to throw him into prison, stripped him 
of his appointment, and finally banished him. 
One John Vannius, a chorister of the cathe- 
dral, shortly after declared himself in favour 
of the Gospel ; for in this war as soon as one 
soldier falls, another steps forward to occupy 
his place in the ranks. "How is it possi- 
ble," asked Vannius, " that the muddy water 
of the Tiber should flow side by side with 
the pure stream that Luther has drawn from 
St. Paul's source"?" But the chorister also 
had his mouth shut. " Among all the Swiss," 
said Myconius, writing to Zwingle, " there 
are hardly any more averse from sound doc- 
trine than the people of Friburg." 

There was nevertheless one exception, 
namely, Lucerne, — and Myconius experienced 
this. He had not signed the celebrated peti- 
tions; but if not he, his friends did so; — and 
a victim was required. The ancient literature 
of Greece and Rome, thanks to his efforts, 
was beginning to shine upon Lucerne; — from 
various quarters, people* resrfted thither to 
hear the learned professor ; and the peacefully 
disposed listened with delight to softer sounds 
than those of halberds, swords, and cuirasses, 
which previous to this time had been the only 
sounds in that warlike city. Oswald had 
sacrificed every thing for his country ; he had 
quitted Zurich and Zwingle; he had injured 
his health ; his wife was infirm, and his son 
of tender years; — if Lucerne should reject 
him, nowhere could he hope for an asylum ! 
But these considerations had no power over 
the merciless spirit of party, — and the things 
that should have moved them to compassion, 
inflamed their anger. Hurtenstein, buroro- 
18 



master of Lucerne, an old and brave soldier, 
who had acquired distinction in the wars of 
Suabia and Burgundy, urged the Council to 
dismiss the schoolmaster from his post,— -and 
wished, together with the master, to expel 
his Greek and Latin, and his preaching, froiu 
the canton. He succeeded. On leaving the 
Council, in which it had been decided to dis- 
miss Myconius, Hurtenstein encountered Ber- 
guer, the deputy of Zurich : — " We send you 
back your schoolmaster," said he, ironically ; 
"get ready a comfortable lodging for him." 
" We will not let him lie in the streets," in- 
stantly replied the courageous deputy. But 
Berguer promised more than he could per- 
form. 

The words dropped by the burgomaster 
were too true, and they were soon confirmed 
to the distressed Myconius. He is deprived 
of his occupation, — banished : — and the only 
crime laid to his charge is that he is a disci- 
ple of Luther. He turns his eyes on the right 
hand and on the left, and nowhere does he 
discern shelter. He beholds himself and his 
wife and child, weak and ailing, driven from 
their home, — and all around him, his country 
rocked by a violent tempest that is rending and 
destroying whatever ventures to stand against 
it, — " Here," said he to Zwingle, "is your 
poor Myconius discharged by the Council of 
Lucerne. Where shall I go 1 ? ... . I know- 
not .... Assailed as you yourself are, how 
can you shelter me 1 .... I look, therefore, 
in my tribulation to God, as my only hope. 
Ever abounding, ever merciful, he suffers none 
who make their prayer to Him to go empty 
away. — May he supply my wants !" 

So spake Oswald. — He waited not long 
before a word of consolation came to him. 
There was one man in Switzerland who had 
been schooled in trials of faith. Zwingle 
hasted to raise and cheer his friend. " So 
rude are the blows by which the enemy would 
level God's house," said Zwingle, "and so 
repeated the assaults, that it is no longer the 
rains descending, and the wind blowing, ac- 
cording to the Lord's prediction, (Matt. vii. 
27.) but hail and thunder-storm. If I did not 
discern the Lord keeping the vessel, I should 
long since have let go the helm ; — but I see 
him in the height of the tempest, strengthen- 
ing the cordage, shifting the yards, spreading 
the sails, nay more, commanding the very- 
winds. W 7 ould it not then be the action of a 
faint heart, and unworthy of a man, were I 
to abandon my post and seek in flight a death 
of shame 1 ? I commit myself entirely to his 
sovereign goodness. Let him govern all. — 
let him remove impediments, — let him appear 
or delay, hasten or stay, — rend, swallow up, 
or plunge us-tothe bottom of the deep ; we will 
not fear. We are vessels that belong to Him. 
He can make us to honour or to dishonour, 
according to his pleasure!" After these 
i breathings of lively faith, Zwingle continued : 
I " My advice to you is to present yourself be- 
I fore the Council, and there pronounce a speech 
| worthy cf Christ, and of yourself — that is tc 



256 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



say. suited to melt and not to irritate the 
hearers. Deny that you are a Lutheran, but 
profess yourself a disciple of Jesus Christ. 
Let your pupils accompany you, and speak for 
you: — and if this does not prevail, come to 
your friend, come to Zwingle, and look upon 
our city as your own hearth." 

Oswald, emboldened by these words, fol- 
lowed the noble counsel of the Reformer; but 
all his efforts were fruitless. The witness for 
truth was doomed to quit his country, and 
they of Lucerne were so active in decrying 
him, that everywhere the magistrates opposed 
the offering him an asylum : " Nothing re- 
mains for me," said the confessor of Jesus 
Christ, heart-broken at the aspect of so much 
enmity, " but to beg the support of my misera- 
ble existence from door to door." The day 
soon arrived when the friend of Zwingle, and 
his most effective fellow-labourer, the first 
among the Swiss who united the office of in- 
structor in learning with the love of the Gos- 
pel, the Reformer of Lucerne, and afterwards 
one of the chiefs of the Helvetic church, was 
compelled with his feeble partner, and infant 
child, to leave that ungrateful city where, out 
of all his family, only one of his sisters had 
received the love of the Gospel. He passed 
its ancient bridge. He caught sight of those 
mountains which seemed to rise from the bo- 
som of lake Waldstetten to the clouds. The 
canons Xyloctect and Kilchmeyer, the only 
friends the Reformation could as yet number 
among his countrymen, followed close behind 
him. And in the moment when this poor 
man, in company with the helpless sufferers 
dependent upon him for support, turned to- 
wards the lake, and, shedding tears for his 
infatuated country, bade adieu to the sublime 
natural grandeur of his birthplace, — the Gos- 
pel itself departed from Lucerne, and there 
Rome reigns unto this day. 

The Diet itself, then sitting at Baden, 
stimulated by the severity resorted to against 
Myconius, — irritated by the petitions from 
Einsidlen, which, being printed and circulated, 
produced everywhere a strong sensation, — 
and persuaded by the bishop of Constance, 
who urged them to strike a final blow at their 
innovators, had recourse to persecution, en- 
joined the authorities of the baillages to 
" give information against all, whether priests 
or laymen, who should impugn the established 
faith," and in blind haste proceeded to arrest 
the preacher who happened to be nearest, 
namely, Urban Weiss, pastor of Fislispach, 
(who had before this been released on bail,) 
and sent him to Constance, to the bishop, 
who kept him a long while in confinement. 
"In this manner," says Bullinger's Chroni- 
cle, " began the confederate states' persecu- 
tion of the Gospel, and all this happened at the 
instigation of the clergy, who in all ages 
have dragged Jesus Christ before the judg- 
ment seats of Herod and Pilate." 

Zwingle was not destined to escape trial, — 
and he was at this time wounded in the ten- 
derest point. A rumour of his doctrine and 



his struggles had passed the Santis, pene 
trated the Tockenburg, and reached the 
heights of Wildhaus. The family of herds- 
men from which he sprang were deeply 
moved by what they heard. Of Zwingle's 
five brothers some had not ceased to follow 
their mountain occupations; while others, to 
the great grief of their brother, had at times 
taken up arms, left their flocks, and served 
foreign princes. All were in consternation at 
the reports brought to their chalets. In ima- 
gination they beheld their brother seized, 
dragged before his bishop at Constance,. and 
a pile of fagots lighted for his destruction, 
on the spot where John Huss had perished. 
The high-spirited shepherds could ill brook 
the thought of being called the brothers of a 
heretic. They wrote to Ulric, communicating 
their distress and alarm. Zwingle answered 
them : " As long as God shall enable me, I 
will perform the task that he has assigned 
me, without fearing the world and its proud 
tyrants. I know all that may befall me. 
There is no danger, no evil, that I have not 
long and carefully considered. My strength 
is weakness itself, and I know the power of 
my enemies; but I likewise know that I can 
do all things through Christ that strengthen- 
eth me. Were I to hold my peace, another 
would be raised up and constrained to do what 
God is doing by my means, — while I should 
be judged by God ! O, my dear brethren, 
banish far from your thoughts all these appre- 
hensions. If I have a fear, it is that I have 
been more gentle and tractable than suits the 
times we live in. ' What shame,' say you, 
' will fall upon all our family, if you are 
burnt or in any other way put to death]' O, 
my beloved brethren, the Gospel derives from 
the blood of Christ this wondrous property, 
that the fiercest persecutions, far from arrest- 
ing its progress, do but hasten its triumph ! 
They alone are faithful soldiers of Christ who 
are not afraid to bear in their own bodies the 
wounds of their Master. All my efforts have 
no other end than to make known to men the 
treasures of blessedness that Christ has pur- 
chased for us; that all men may turn to the 
Father, through the death of his Son. If this 
doctrine should offend you, your anger cannot 
stop my testimony. You are my brothers, 
yes, my own brothers, sons of my father, who 
have hung on the same breasts . . . but if you 
were not my l^rethren in Christ, and in the 
work of faith, then would my grief be so 
overpowering that nothing would exceed it. 
Farewell. I will never cease to be your at- 
tached brother, if you will not cease to be the 
brethren of Jesus Christ." 

The confederated Swiss seemed to rise as 
one man against the Gospel. The petitions 
from Einsidlen had been the signal of that 
movement. Zwingle, affected at the fate of 
his beloved Myconius, saw, in his misfor- 
tunes, but the beginning of sorrows. Ene- 
mies within and without the city, — a man's 
foes, 'those of his own house,' — furious op- 
position from monks and priests, — strong mea- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



257 



suies of repression by the Diet and Councils, 
— riotous, perhaps murderous assaults, from 
partisans of the foreign service, — the upper 
valleys of Switzerland, the cradle of the Con- 
federation, pouring forth phalanxes of invinci- 
ble soldiers, to reinstate Rome, and quench 
the nascent revival of faith at the risk of their 
lives ! Such was the prospect the prophetic i 
mind of the Reformer beheld with trembling, j 
And what a prospect ! was indeed this revival j 
to be crushed in its very beginning? Then it J 
was that Zwingle, anxious and troubled in ! 
mind, spread before his God the deep anguish | 
of his soul. " O Jesus," he exclaimed, ! 
" thou seest how the wicked and the bias- ] 
phemer stun thy people's ears with their cla- 
mours. Thou knowest how from my youth j 
«ap I have abhorred controversy, and yet, , 



against my will, thou hast never ceased to 
impel me to the conflict. Therefore, do I 
call upon Thee with confidence to finish what 
thou hast begun ! If in any thing I have 
builded unwisely, let thy hand of power cast 
it down. If I have laid any other foundation 
beside Thee, let thy mighty arm oven urn it. 
O thou vine full of all sweetness to whom the 
Father is the husbandman, — and we are 
branches, abandon not thy suckers. ' Hast 
thou not promised to be with us unto the end 
of the world ?" 

It was on the 22d of August, 1522, that 
Ulric Zwingle, the Swiss Reformer, beholding 
the thunder-cloud descending from the moun- 
tains on the frail bark of the Faith, thus 
poured forth to God the troubles and desires 
of his soul. 



358 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK IX. 

Aspect of the Church — Effects of Luther's Teaching — Wisdom of God — Agitation of the People- 
Luther and Melancthon — Tidings of Luther's Safety — The Imperial Edict powerless — The 
" Knight George" — A safe Solitude — Luther's Sickness — Alarm of his Friends — The Confession 
al — Luther's Health — Feldkirchen's Marriage — Marriage of Priests — And of Friars — Monkery — 
Luther on Monastic Vows — Dedication to his Father — Sale of Indulgences resumed — Luther's 
Letter to Spalatin — Luther to the Cardinal Elector — Effect of the Reformer's Letter — Albert to 
Luther — Joachim of Brandenburg — " The Last shall be First" — Luther's Fitness for the Work — 
Of Translating the Scriptures — Luther and Satan — 'Luther quits the Wartburg — The Sorbonne — 
Luther's visit to Wittemberg — Progress of the Reformation — The Monk Gabriel — Interference 
of the Elector — 'Frederic's Caution — Attack on Monkery — Thirteen Monks quit the Convent- 
The Cordeliers threatened — Decision of Monastic Vows — Carlstadt's zeal — The Lord's Supper- 
Town Council of Wittemberg — Errors of Popery — Fanatics of Zwickau — The new Prophet — Ni 
colas Hussman — Melancthon and Stubner — Melancthon's Perplexity — Carlstadt's Zeal — Contempt 
of Learning — Occupations of the Elector — Luther's Dejection — His test of Inspiration — Edict of 
the Diet — Luther leaves the Wartburg — Primitive Church — Two Swiss Students — A strange 
Knight — Supper at the Inn — Luther on his Journey — Letter to the Elector — Reception at Wittem- 
berg — Meditation — Luther preaches — Faith and Love — God's Way — Luther on the Lord's Sup- 
per — Effect of Luther's Sermons — Luther's Moderation and Courage — Stubner and Cellarius — 
Order restored — Scripture and Faith — The Visionary Pen — Publication of the New Testament — 
Effects of Luther's Translation — -The " Loci Communes" — Original Sin — Free Will — Knowledge 
of Christ — Effect of Melanc '.hon's Tract — Henry VIII. — Catherine of Arragon — Bishop Fisher and 
Sir Thomas More — Cardinal Wolsey — Henry VIII. writes against Luther — Royal Theology — 
The King's Vanity — Luther's Indignation — His Reply to Henry VIII. — Literary Courtesy — More's 
Attack upon Luther — Henry's Attachment to More — Henry's Letter — Spread of the Reformation 
— The Augustine Monks — The Franciscans — The People and the Priests — The new Preachers 
— Power of the Scriptures — Religion and Literature — The Press — Spread of Luther's Writings — 
Luther at Zwickau — Duke Henry. — Ibach at Rome — ■Diffusion of the Light- University of Wit- 
temberg — Principles of the Reformation — Transition State of the Church. 



It was now four years since the Church had 
heard again proclaimed a Truth which had 
formed part of her earliest teaching. The mighty 
worn, ot a Salvation by Grace, — once " fully 
preached" throughout Asia, Greece, and Italy, 
by Paul and his companions, and discovered 
many ages after, in the pages of the Bible, by 
a monk of Wittemberg, — had resounded from 
the plains of Saxony, as far as Italy, France, 
and England ; and the lofty mountains of 
Switzerland had echoed its inspiring accents. 
Tne springs of truth, liberty, and life were 
again opened : multitudes had drunk gladly 
of the water; but those who had freely partaken 
of them had retained the same external appear- 
ance, and while all within was new, every 
thing without remained unchanged. 

The constitution of the Church, its ritual, 
and its discipline had undergone no alteration. 
In Saxony — even at Wittemberg — and wher- 
ever the new opinions had spread, the papal 
ceremonies held on their accustomed course ; 
the priest before the altar offering the host to 
God was believed to effect a mysterious tran- 
substantiation ; friars and nuns continued to 
present themselves at the convents to take 
upon them the monastic vows ; pastors lived 
single ; religious brotherhoods herded to- 
gether ; pilgrimages were undertaken ; the 
faithful suspended their votive offerings on 
the pillars of the chapels; and all the accus- 
tomed ceremonies, down to the minutest ob- 
servances, were celebrated as before. A voice 
had been heard in the world, but as yet it was 
not embodied forth in action. The language 
of the priest accordingly presented the most 
striking contrast with his ministrations. From 
his pulpit he might be heard to thunder against 



the mass as idolatrous, and then he might be 
seen to come down to the altar, and go scru- 
pulously through the prescribed form of the 
service. On every side, the recently recover- 
ed Gospel sounded in the midst of the ancient 
rites. The officiating priest himself was un- 
conscious of his inconsistency, and the popu- 
lace, who listened with avidity to the bold dis- 
courses of the new preachers, continued de- 
voutly observant of their long established cus- 
toms, as though they were never to abandon 
them. All things continued unchanged at the 
domestic hearth, and in the social circle, as in 
the house oi God. A new faith was abroad, 
but new works were not yet seen. The vernal 
sun had risen, but winter still bound the earth ; 
neither flower, nor leaf, nor any sign of vege- 
tation was visible. But this aspect of things 
was deceptive ; a vigorous sap was secretly 
circulating beneath the surface, and was about 
to change the face of the world. 

To this wisely-ordered progress, the Re- 
formation may be indebted for its triumphs. 
Every revolution should be wrought out in 
men's minds before it takes the shape of 
action. The contrast we have remarked did 
not at first fix Luther's attention. He seemed 
to expect that while men received his writings 
with enthusiasm, they should continue devout 
observers of the corruptions those writings 
exposed. One might be tempted to believe 
that he had planned his course beforehand, 
and was resolved to change the opinions of 
men before he ventured to remodel their forms 
of worship. But this would be ascribing to 
Luther a wisdom, the honour of which is due 
to a higher Intelligence. He was the appoint- 
I ed instrument for a purpose he had no power 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



259 



to conceive. At a later period he could dis- 
cern and comprehend these things, but he dicT 
not devise or arrange them. God led the way : 
the part assigned to Luther was to follow. 

If Luther had begun by external reforma- 
tion — if he had followed up his words by an 
attempt to abolish monastic vows, the mass, 
confession, the prescribed form of worship, — 
assuredly he would have encountered the 
most formidable resistance. Mankind need 
time to accommodate themselves to great 
changes. But Luther was not the imprudent 
and daring innovator that some historians* 
have depicted. The people, seeing no change 
in their daily devotions, followed undoubting- 
ly their new leader — wondering at the assaults 
directed against a man who left unquestioned 
their mass, their beads, and their confessor; 
and disposed to ascribe such enmity to the 
petty jealousy of secret rivals, or to the hard 
injustice of powerful enemies. And yet the 
opinions that Luther put forth fermented in 
the minds of men, moulded their thoughts, 
and so undermined the stronghold of preju- 
dice that it, ere long, fell without being at- 
tacked. Such influence is, indeed, gradual. 
Opinions make their silent progress, like the 
waters which trickle behind our rocks, and 
loosen them from the mountains on which they 
rest: suddenly the hidden operation is re- 
vealed, and a single day suffices to lay bare 
the work of years, if not of centuries. 

A new era had dawned upon the Reforma- 
tion : already truth was recovered in its teach- 
ing; henceforward the teaching of the truth is 
to work truth in the Church and in society. 
The agitation was too great to allow of men's 
minds remaining at their then point of attain- 
ment ; on the general faith in the dogmas so 
extensively undermined, customs had been 
established which now began to be disregard- 
ed, and were destined, with them, to pass 
away. 

There was a courage and vitality in that 
age, which prevented its continuing silent in 
presence of proved error. The sacraments, 
public worship, the hierachy, vows, constitu- 
tional forms, domestic and public life, all 
were on the eve of undergoing modification. 
The bark, slowly and laboriously constructed, 
was on the point of being lowered from the 
stocks, and launched on the open sea. It is 
for us to follow its progress through many 
shoals. 

The captivity of Luther in the castle of 
Wartburg separates these two periods. That 
Divine Providence which was about to give a 
mighty impulse to the Reformation, had pre- 
pared the means of its progress, by leading 
apart into profound seclusion the man chosen 
to effect it. For a while, the work was as 
much lost sight of as the instrument of it : but 
the seed must be committed to. the earth, if it 
is to bring forth fruit; and from this captivity, 
which might have seemed to close the Reform- 
er's career, the Reformation was destined to go 

* Hume, &c. 



forth to new conquests, and spread rapidly 
through the world. 

Until this period, the Reformation had in- 
deed centered in the person of Luther. His 
appearance before the Diet of Worms was un- 
questionably the sublimest hour of his life. 
His character at that time seemed almost 
without a blemish ; and this it is that has led 
some to the remark, that if God, who hid the 
Reformer for ten months within the walls of 
the Wartburg, had at that moment forever re- 
moved him from the eyes of men, his end 
would have resembled an apotheosis. But 
God designs no apotheosis for His servants, — 
and Luther was preserved to the Church, that 
in him, and by his errors, the Church micjht 
learn that the faith of Christians should rest 
only on the word of God. He was hurried 
away and placed at a distance from the stage 
on which the great revolution of the sixteenth 
century was going on. The truth which he 
had for years so energetically proclaimed, con 
tinued to produce its effect upon Christendom ; 
and the work of which he had been the weak 
instrument, bore thenceforward the impress, 
not of man — but of God himself. 

All Germany was moved by the news of 
Luther's captivity. Rumours, the most con- 
tradictory, were circulated in the provinces. 
Men's minds were more agitated by the ab- 
sence of the Reformer than they could possi- 
bly have been by his presence. On one side, 
it was affirmed that some of his friends, pass- 
ing from the French territory, had carried him 
off, and lodged him in safety beyond the 
Rhine. In another place, it was said that 
assassins had taken his life. Even in the 
smallest villages, inquiries were heard con- 
cerning Luther. Travellers were questioned, 
and groups of the curious assembled in the 
market-places. Sometimes a stranger, pass- 
ing through, recounted how the Reformer had 
been carried off; depicting the brutal horse- 
men hastily tying their prisoner's hands be- 
hind him, dragging him after them on foot, 
till his strength was spent, and deaf to his 
cries, though the blood forced its way from 
his fingers. His body, said some, has been 
seen pierced through and through. Such 
narratives drew forth exclamations of grief 
and horror. " Never more shall we behold 
him!" said the gathered crowds; "never 
again shall we hear that bold man whose 
voice stirred the depths of our hearts !" Lu- 
ther's partisans, moved with indignation, 
swore to avenge his death. Women and child- 
ren, men of peace, and aged people, foreboded 
new disturbances. The alarm of the Romish 
party was altogether unexampled. The priests 
and friars, who had been at first unable to con- 
ceal their joy, believing their own triumph 
secured by the death of one man, and had car- 
ried themselves haughtily, would now will- 
ingly have hid themselves from the threaten- 
ing anger of the populace. Those who had 
given free vent to their rage, so long as Lu- 
ther was at large, now trembled with alarm, 
though Luther was in- captivity. Aleandw, 
especially, was as if thunderstruck. " i'ne 



2G0 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



only way of extricating 1 ourselves," wrote a ' 
Roman Catholic to the Archbishop of Mentz, ; 
"is to light our torches, and go searching- 
through the earth for Luther, till we can re- j 
store him to the nation that willh&ve him." 
It might have been thought that the pallid 
ghost of the Reformer, dragging his chain, 
was spreading terror around, and calling for 
vengeance. Luther's death, it was predicted, 
would occasion the effusion of torrents of 
human blood. 

Nowhere was there a stronger feeling dis- 
played than in Worms itself. Bold remon- 
strances were heard both from nobles and 
people. Ulric Hiitten and Hermann Busch 
filled the air with their plaintive lamentations 
and calls to war. Loud accusations were 
brought against Charles V. and the Nuncios. 
The entire nation had espoused the cause of 
the monk whose energy of faith had made 
him its leader. 

At Wittemberg, his colleagues and friends, 
and especially Melancthon, were at first lost 
in sadness. Luther had been the means of 
communicating to the young student the trea- 
sures of that divine knowledge which from 
that hour had taken possession of his whole 
soul. It was Luther who had given sub- 
stance and life to that intellectual culture 
which Melancthon brought with him to Wit- 
temberg. The depth of the Reformer's doc- 
trine had impressed the young Grecian, and 
his bold advocacy of the claims of the un- 
changing Word against human traditions had 
called forth his enthusiasm. He had asso- 
ciated himself with him in his labours, and 
taking up the pen, with that finished style 
which he had imbibed in the study of ancient 
literature, he had made the authority of 
Fathers and of Councils to bend before the 
sovereignty of God's W 7 ord. 

The prompt decision that Luther displayed 
in the trying occasions of life, Melancthon 
manifested in his pursuit of learning. Never 
were two men more strongly marked with di- 
versity and agreement. " Scripture," said 
Melancthon, " satisfies the soul with holy and 
wondrous delight — it is a heavenly ambrosia!" 
"The word of God," exclaimed Luther, " is 
a sword — an instrument of war and destruc- 
tion, — it falls on the children of Ephraim like 
the lioness that darts from the forest." Thus 
one saw in Scripture chiefly its power to com- 
fort ; — and the other, a mighty energy opposed 
to the corruption of the world. But to both 
it was the sublimest of themes. In so far, 
there was a perfect agreement in their judg- 
ment. "Melancthon," observed Luther, " is 
a miracle in the estimation of all who know 
him. He is the most dreaded enemy of Satan 
and the schoolmen, for he knows all their 
' foolishness, and he knows Christ as the 
rock.' That young Grecian goes beyond me 
even in divine learning, — he will do you more 
good than many Luthers !" And he went on 
to say he was ready to give up an opinion if 
Philip disapproved it. Melancthon, on his 

ftart, full of admiration for Luther's know- 
edg^ of Scripture, ranked him far above the 



Fathers. He took pleasure in excusing thh 
jesting which Luther was reproached for re- 
sorting to, and would, on such occasions, 
compare him to an earthen vase which holds 
a precious treasure in an unsightly vessel. 
"I would be careful how I blame him," said 
he. 

But behold the two friends so intimately 
united in affection, now parted one from the 
other. The two fellow-soldiers no longer 
march side by side to the rescue of the Church. 
Luther is absent, — and lost perhaps forever! 
The consternation at Wittemberg was ex- 
treme: — as that of an army, gloomy and 
dejected, at sight of the bleeding corpse of 
the general who was leading it on to victory. 

Suddenly news arrived of a more cheering 
character. "Our well-beloved father still 
lives," exclaimed Philip, exultingly, " take 
courage and stand firm." But ere long me- 
lancholy prognostications returned. Luther 
was indeed living, but in close imprisonment. 
The edict of Worms, with its menacing 
proscriptions, was circulated by thousands 
throughout the empire, and even in the Tyro- 
lese mountains. Was not the Reformation 
on the very eve of destruction by the iron 
hand impending over hi The gentle spirit 
of Melancthon recoiled with a thrill of horror. 

But above the hand of man's power, a 
mightier hand was making itself felt, and 
God was rendering powerless that dreaded 
edict. The German princes, who had long 
sought occasion to reduce the authority which 
Rome exercised in the empire, tqpk alarm at 
the alliance between the Emperor and the 
Pope, lest it should work the ruin of their 
liberty. Whilst, therefore, Charles, in jour- 
neying in the Low Countries, might see with 
a smile of irony the bonfires in which flatter* 
ers and fanatics consumed the writings of 
Luther in the public squares, — those writings 
were read in Germany with continually in- 
creasing eagerness, and numerous pamphlets 
in favour of the Reformation every day attack- 
ed the papal authority. 

The Nuncios could not control themselves 
when they found that the edict, which it had 
cost them so much to obtain, produced so 
feeble an effect. " The ink of the signature," 
said they, " has scarcely had time to dry, 
when, behold, on all sides, the imperial de- 
cree is torn to pieces." The populace were 
more and more won to the cause of the extra- 
ordinar) r man who, without heeding the thun- 
derbolts of Charles and of the Pope, had made 
confession of his faith with the courage of a 
martyr. It was said, " Has he not offered to 
retract if refuted ? and no one has had the 
hardihood to undertake to refute him. Does 
not that show that he has spoken the truth ?" 
Thus it was that the first emotions of fear 
were followed at Wittemberg and throughout 
the empire by a movement of enthusiasm. 
Even the Archbishop of Mentz, beholding the 
burst of national sympathy, durst not give 
permission to the Cordeliers to preach against 
the Reformer. The university, which might 
have been expected to yield to the storm, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



261 



raised its head. The new doctrines had taken 
too deep root to suffer by Luther's absence, 
and the halls of the academies were crowded 
with auditors. 

Meanwhile, the Knight George, for this was 
the name of Luther so long as he was in the 
Wartburg, was living solitary and unknown. 
" If you were to see me," wrote he to Melanc- 
thon, "truly you would take me for a knight; 
even you would scarcely know me again." 
Luther, on his arrival, passed a short time in 
repose enjoying a leisure which had not yet 
been allowed him. He was at large within 
the fortress ; but he was not permitted to pass 
outside it. All his wishes were complied 
with, and he had never been better treated. 
Many were the thoughts that occupied his mind, 
but none of them had power to disturb him. 
By turns he looked down upon the forests that 
surrounded him, and raised his eyes to hea- 
ven — " Strange captivity !" he exclaimed, — 
" a prisoner by consent, and yet against my 
will." " Pray for me," he wrote to Spalatin : 
— "I want nothing save your prayers: don't 
disturb me by what is said or thought of me 
in the world. At last I am quiet." This 
letter, like many of that period, is dated from 
the island of Patmos. Luther compared the 
Wartburg to the island celebrated as the scene 
of the banishment of St. John by the Emperor 
Domitian. 

After the stirring contests that had agitated 
his soul, the Reformer enjoyed repose in the 
heart of the gloomy forests of Thuringen. 
There he studied evangelic truth, — not for dis- 
putation, but as the means of regeneration 
and of life. The Reformation, in its begin- 
ning, was of necessity polemic; — other cir- 
cumstances required new labours. After eradi- 
cating with the hoe the thorns and brambles, 
the time was arrived for peaceably sowing the 
word of God in men's hearts. If Luther had 
been all his life called to wage conflicts, he 
would not have effected a lasting work in the 
Church. By his captivity he escap.ed a dan- 
ger which might have ruined the cause of the 
Reformation, — that of always attacking and 
demolishing, without ever defending or build- 
ing up. 

This secluded retreat had one effect, per- 
haps still more beneficial. Lifted by his na- 
tion, like one raised upon a shield, he was but 
a hand's breadth from the abyss beyond, and 
the least degree of intoxication might have 
precipitated him headlong. Some of the fore- 
most promoters of the Reformation in Germa- 
ny, as well as in Switzerland, had made ship- 
wreck on the shoals of spiritual pride and 
fanaticism. Luther was a man very subject 
to the weaknesses of our nature ; and, as it 
was, he did not entirely escape these be- 
setting dangers. Meanwhile, the hand of 
the Almighty, for a while,- preserved him 
from them, by suddenly removing him from 
the intoxication of success, and plunging him 
in the depth of a retirement unknown to the 
world ! There his soul gathered up itself to 
God,- there it was again tempered by adversi- 



ty; — his sufferings, his humiliation, obliged 
him to walk, at least, for a time, with the 
humble; — and the principles of the Christian 
life thenceforward developed themselves in 
his soul with fresh energy and freedom. 

Luther's tranquillity was not of long dura- 
tion. Seated in solitude on the walls of the 
Wartburg, he passed whole days lost in medi- 
tation. At times, the Church rose before his 
vision, and spread out all her wretchedness; 
at other times, lifting his eyes to heaven, he 
would say, " Canst Thou have made all men 
in vain ?" Then letting go his confidence, he 
would add, dejectedly, " Alas ! there is no one 
in this closing day of wrath to stand as a wall 
before the Lord, and save Israel !" 

Then recurring to his own lot, he dreaded 
being charged with having deserted the field 
of battle; the thought was insupportable. 
" Rather," exclaimed he, " would I be stretch- 
ed on burning coals than stagnate here half 
dead." Transported in thought to W T orms — 
to Wittemberg — into the midst of his adver- 
saries — he regretted that, yielding to his 
friends' entreaties, he had withdrawn himself 
from the world. "Ah," said he, "nothing 
on earth do I more desire than to face my 
cruel enemies." 

Some gentler thoughts, however, brought a 
truce to such complainings. Luther's state 
of mind was not all tempest; his agitated 
spirit recovered at times a degree of calm and 
comfort. Next to the assurance of the Divine 
protection, one thing consoled him in his grief 
—it was the recollection of Melancthon. " If 
I perish," he wrote, " the Gospel will lose 
nothing — 3 r ou will succeed me as Elisha suc- 
ceeded Elijah, with a double portion of my 
spirit." But calling to mind the timidity of 
Melancthon, he ejaculated — " Minister of the 
Word ! keep the walls and towers of Jerusa- 
lem till our enemies shall strike you down. 
We stand alone on the plain of battle ; after 
me they will strike you down." 

This thought of the final onset of Rome on 
the infant Church threw him into renewed 
anxieties. The poor monk, — a prisoner and 
alone, — had many a struggle to pass through 
in his solitude; but suddenly he seemed to 
get a glimpse of his deliverance. He thought 
he could foresee that the assaults of the papal 
power would rouse the nations of Germany ; and 
that the soldiers of the Gospel, victorious over 
its enemies, and gathered under the w 7 alls of 
the Wartburg, would give liberty to its cap- 
tive. " If the Pope," said he, " should stretch 
forth his hand against all who are on my side, 
there will be a violent commotion ; the more 
he urges on our ruin, the sooner shall we see 
an end of him and his adherents ! And as for 
me .... I shall be restored to your arms. 
God is awakening many, and He it is who 
impels the nations. Only let our enemies 
take up our affair and try to stifle it in their 
arms, — and it will grow by their pressure, 
and come forth more formidable than ever." 

But sickness brought him down from these 
lofty heights to which his courage and faiik 
would at times rise. He had already, when 



262 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



at Worms, suffered much ; and his disorder 
had increased in solitude. The food of the 
Wartburg was altogether unsuited to him ; it 
was rather less ordinary in quality than that 
of his convent, and it was found needful to 
give him the poor diet to which he had been 
accustomed. He passed whole nights with- 
out sleep; anxieties of mind were added to 
pain of body. No great work is accomplish- 
ed without struggle and suffering. Luther, 
alone on his rock, endured in his vigorous 
frame a suffering that was needed, in order to 
the emancipation of mankind. " Sitting, at 
night, in my apartment," says he, "I utter- 
ed cries like a woman in travail." Then, 
ceasing to complain, and touched with the 
thought that what he was undergoing was 
sent in mercy from God, he broke forth in ac- 
cents of love: "Thanks to Thee, O Christ, 
that thou wilt not leave me without the pre- 
cious relics of thy holy cross !" But soon, 
feeling indignation against himself wrought, in 
his soul, he exclaimed, " Hardened foci that 
I am ; wo is me ! my prayers are few ; I 
wrestle but little with the Lord ; I bewail not 
the state of the Church of God; instead of be- 
ing fervent in spirit, my passions take fire : I 
sink in sloth, in sleep, and in indolence." 
Then not knowing to what to ascribe his feel- 
ings, and accustomed to expect blessings 
through the affectionate remembrance of his 
friends, he exclaimed, in the bitterness of his 
soul, "0, my friends, do you then forget to 
pray for me? that God can thus leave me to 
myself." 

Those who were about him, as also his 
Wittemberg friends, and those at the Elec- 
tor's court, were anxious and alarmed at his 
mental suffering. They trembled in the pros- 
pect of the life that had been snatched from 
the fires of the Pope, and the sword of Charles, 
so sadly sinking and expiring. The Wart- 
burg then would be Luther's tomb ! " I 
fear," said Melancthon, "lest his grief for the 
condition of the Church should bring him 
down to the grave. He has lighted a candle 
in Israel ; if he dies, what hope is left us? 
Would that by the sacrifice of my worthless 
life, I could retain in this world one who is 
surely its brightest ornament. 0, what a 
man!" he exclaimed, (as if already standing 
beside his grave,) " surely we never valued 
him as we ought." 

What Luther termed the shameful indo- 
lence of his prison life was, in reality, dili- 
gence beyond the strength of ordinary mortals. 
" Here am I," said he, on the 14th of May, 
'* lapped in indolence and pleasures. [He 
doubtless refers to the quality of his food, 
which was at first less coarse than what he 
had been used to.] I am going through the 
Bible in Hebrew and Greek. I mean to 
write a discourse in German, touching auri- 
cular confession; also to continue the trans- 
lation ol the Psalms, and to compose a col- 
lection of sermons, as soon as I have received 
what I want from Wittemberg. My pen is 
never idle." Even this was but a part of 
Lather's labours. 



] His enemies thought that, rf not dead, at 
least he was effectually silenced ; but their 
exultation was short, and, ere long, no doubt 
could exist that he still lived. A multitude 
of tracts, composed in the Wartburg, followed 
each other in rapid succession ; and every- 
where the w r ell-known voice of the Reformer 
was enthusiastically responded to. Luther, 
at the same moment, put forth such writings 
as were adapted to build up the Church, and 
controversial tracts which disturbed his oppo- 
nents in their fancied security. For nearly a 
whole year, he, by turns, instructed, exhorted, 
rebuked, and thundered from his mountain 
height, and his astonished adversaries might 
well inquire whether indeed there was not 
something supernatural in so prodigious an 
activity — " He could not have allowed him- 
self any rest," says Colchseus. But the solu- 
tion of the whole mystery was to be found in 
the rashness of the Romish party. They 
were in haste to profit by the decree of 
Worms, to put an end to the Reformation ; 
and Luther, sentenced — placed under the ban 
of the empire, — and a prisoner in the Wart- 
burg, stood up in the cause of sound doctrine, 
as if he were still at large and triumphant. 
It was especially at the tribunal of penance 
that the priests strove to rivet the fetters of 
their deluded parishioners; — hence it is the 
Confessional that Luther first assails. "They 
allege," says he, '• that passage in St. James, 
' confess your sins to one another;' a strange 
confessor this — his name is 'one another /' 
Whence it would follow that the confessors 
ought also to confess to their penitents ; that, 
every Christian should in his turn be pope, 
bishop, and priest, and that the pope himself 
should make confession before all." 

Scarcely had Luther finished this tract, 
when he commenced another. A divine of 
Louvain, named Latomos, already known by 
his opposition to Reuchlin and Erasmus, had 
impugned the Reformer's statements. Twelve 
days after, Luther's answer was ready, and 
it is one of his masterpieces. He first defends 
himself against the charge of want of modera- 
tion. " The moderation of this age," says 
he, " consists in bending the knee before sa- 
crilegious pontiffs and impious sophists, and 
saying, ' Gracious Lord, most worthy master.' 
Then, having so done, you may persecute who 
you will to the death; you may convulse the 
world, — all that, shall not hinder your being 
a man of moderation ! Away with such mo- 
deration, say I. Let me speak out, and delude 
no one. The shell may be rough, perhaps, 
but the nut is soft and tender." 

The health of Luther continued to decline ; 
he began to think of leaving the Wartburg. 
But what to do; to appear in open day at the 
risk of his life? In the rear of the mountain 
on which the fortress was built, the country 
was intersected by numerous footpaths, bor- 
dered by tufts of wild strawberries. The 
massive gate of the castle was unclosed, and 
the prisoner ventured, not without fear, to 
gather some of the fruit. Gradually, he be- 
came more venturesome, and, cJothed in hi9 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



263 



knight's disguise, and attended by a rough- 
mannered but faithful guard from the castle, 
he extended his excursions in the neighbour- 
hood. One day, stopping to rest at an inn, 
Luther laid aside his sword, which encum- 
bered him, and took up some books that lay 
near. His natural disposition got the better 
of his prudence. His attendant took the 
alarm lest an action so unusual in a man of 
arms, should excite a suspicion that the doc- 
tor was not really a knight. Another time, 
the two companions descended the mountain, 
and entered the convent of Reichardsbrunn, 
in which, but a few months before, Luther 
had rested for a night, on his way to Worms.* 
Suddenly, one of the lay-brothers uttered an 
exclamation of surprise — Luther had been 
recognised. His keeper, seeing how the 
matter stood, hurried him away, and it was 
not till they were galloping far from the 
cloisters, that the monk recovered from his 
astonishment. 

The life of the Doctor of Wittemberg, in 
his assumed character of knight, had, indeed, 
at times, a something about it truly theologi- 
cal. One day, the snares were made ready — 
the fortress gates thrown open — the sporting 
dogs let loose. Luther had expressed a wish 
to partake of the pleasures of the chase. The 
huntsmen were in high spirits ; the dogs 
scoured the hills, driving the hares from the 
brushwood ; but as the tumult swelled around 
him, the Knight George, motionless in the 
midst of it, felt his soul fill with solemn 
thoughts. Looking round him, his heart 
heaved with sorrow. " Is it not," said he, 
" the very picture of the Devil, setting his 
dogs, the bishops, those messengers of Anti- 
christ, and sending them out to hunt down 
poor souls'?" A young leveret had been 
snared : rejoicing to liberate it, Luther wrap- 
ped it in his mantle, and deposited it in the 
midst of a thicket ; but scarcely had he left the 
spot, when the dogs scented it, and killed it. 
Drawn to the place by its cry, Luther uttered 
an exclamation of grief — " O Pope ! and 
thou, too, O Satan! it is thus that ye would 
compass the destruction of the souls that have 
been rescued from death !" 

Whilst the Doctor of Wittemberg, dead to 
the world, was seeking to recruit his spirits 
by these occupations in the vicinity of the 
Wartburg, the great work was progressing, as 
if by its own power. The Reformation, in 
fact, was beginning to take effect. It was no 
longer limited to teaching; it now began to 
affect and mould the life. 

Bernard Feldkirchen, the pastor of Kem- 
berg, and the first, under Luther's direction, 
to expose the errors of Rome,fwas also the 
first to throw off the yoke of her institutions: 
— he married ! 

There is, in the German character, a strong 
love of family and domestic enjoyments : — 
hence, of all the injunctions of the Papal au- 
thority, none had had more lamentable results 



* See page 196. t p. 60. 



than the imposition of celibacy. Made ooli- 
gatory on the heads of the clergy, this prac- 
tice had prevented the fiefs of the church from 
passing into hereditary possessions. But ex 
tended by Gregory VII. to the inferior orders, 
its effects had been indeed deplorable. Many 
of the priests, in evading the obligation im- 
posed upon them, by shameful disorders, had 
drawn down hatred and contempt on their pro- 
fession; while those who had submitted to 
Hildebrand's law, were indignant that the 
Church, which lavished power, riches, and 
earthly possessions on its higher dignitaries, 
should impose on its humbler ministers, who 
were ever its most useful supporters, a denial 
so opposed to the Gospel. 

" Neither the Pope, nor the Councils," said 
Feldkirchen, and another pastor, named Seid- 
ler, who followed his example, "can have a 
right to impose on the Church a command 
that endangers soul and body. The obliga- 
tion to observe God's law compels us to throw 
aside traditions of men." The re-establish- 
ment of marriage was, in the sixteenth centu- 
ry, a homage paid to the moral law. The 
ecclesiastical power, in alarm, instantly issued 
its mandates against the two priests. Seidler, 
who lived in the territory of Duke George, 
was given up to his superiors, and died in 
prison. But the Elector Frederic refused to 
surrender Feldkirchen to the Archbishop of 
Magdeburg. " His Highness," said Spalatin, 
" declines to act the part of a police-officer." 
Feldkirchen, therefore, continued to preside 
over his flock, though a husband and a father ! 

The first emotion of the Reformer, on re- 
ceiving intelligence of these events, was one 
of joy. " I am all admiration," says he, " of 
the new bridegroom of Kemberg, who moves 
on fearlessly in the midst of all this hubbub." 
Luther was satisfied that priests ought to 
marry. But this question led duectly to ano- 
ther — the marriage of friars — and on this point 
Luther had to pass through one of those in- 
ternal struggles, of which bis life was full ; 
for every reform was of necessity to be wrought 
out by a mental conflict. Melancthon and 
Carlstadt, — the one a layman, the other in 
priest's orders, — thought that the liberty of 
contracting the marrmge bond ought to be as 
free to the friars as to the priests. Luther, 
himself a monk, did not at first agree with 
them in judgment. One day, when the com- 
mandant of the Wartburg had brought him 
some theses of Carlstadt, touching celibacy, 
"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "will out 
Wittemberg friends allow wives even to 
monks'?" The thought overwhelmed him, 
and disturbed his spirit. For himself, he put 
far from him the liberty he claimed for others. 
"Ah," said he indignantly, "at least they will 
not make me take a wife." This expression 
is doubtless unknown to those who assert that 
Luther's object in the Reformation was that 
he might marry. Bent upon the truth, not 
from any desire of self-pleasing, but with up- 
right intentions, he undertook the defence of 
tnat which appeared to nim to be r;gl '. al- 
though it might be at variance with the gene- 



264 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



lal tendency of his doctrine. He worked his 
way through a mingled crowd of truths and 
errors, until the errors had altogether fallen, 
and truth alone remained standing in his 
mind. 

There was indeed a broad distinction dis- 
cernable between the two questions. The 
marriage of priests did not draw after it the 
downfall of the priesthood; on the contrary, it 
was of itself likely to win back popular respect 
to the secular clergy: but the marriage of 
friars involved the breaking up of the monastic 
institutions. The question then really was, 
whether it was right to disband the army that 
acknowledged themselves the soldiery of the 
Pope. "The priests," said Luther, writing 
to Melancthon, "are ordained by God, and 
therefore they are set above the command- 
ments of men ; but the friars have of their 
own accord chosen a life of celibacy, — they 
therefore are not at liberty to withdraw from 
the obligation they have laid themselves 
under." 

The Reformer was destined to advance a 
step further, and by a new struggle to carry 
also this post of the enemy. Already he had 
trampled under his feet many Romish corrup 
tions ; nay, even the authority of Rome her 
self. But monkery was still standing — monk- 
ery, which had in early times carried the spark 
of life to many a desert spot, and, passing 
through successive generations, now filled so 
many cloisters with sloth and luxury, seemed 
to find a voice and advocate in the castle of 
Thuringen, and to depend for life or death 
upon the agitated conscience of one man ! 
Luther struggled for a while : at one moment 
on the point of rejecting it, — at another dis- 
posed to acknowledge it. At last, no longer 
able to support the contest, he threw himself 
in prayer at the feet of Christ, exclaiming, 
" Do thou teach us — do thou deliver us — es- 
tablish us with thy free spirit, in the liberty 
thou hast given us! for surely we are thy 
people!" 

And truly there was no long tarrying ; a 
great change took place in the Reformer's 
thoughts, and again it was the great doctrine 
of Justification by Faith which gave victory. 

This weapon, which had put down indul- 
gences, baffled Romish intrigues, and humbled 
the Pope himself, dethroned monkery also 
from the place it held in the mind of Luther 
and of all Christendom. Luther was led to 
see that the monastic institutions were in fla- 
grant opposition to the doctrines of Free Grace, 
and that the life led by the monks was entire- 
ly grounded on the assertion of human merit. 
Convinced, from that instant, that the glory of 
Christ was at stake, his conscience incessant- 
ly repeated — " Monkery must yield." So long 
as Justification by Faith is clearly held by the 
Church, not one of her members will become 
a monk. This persuasion continued to gain 
strength in his mind, and as early as the be- 
ginning of December, he addressed to the 
bishops and deacons of the Church of Wit- 
temberg, the following theses — his declara- 
tions of war against monkery: — 



" Whatsoever is not of faith, is sin. — Rom 
xiv. 23. 

"Whoever binds himself by a vow of celi 
bacy, of chastity, of service to God — without 
faith — vows, profanely andidolatrously,a vow 
to the devil himself. 

" To make such vows is worse than to be 
priests of Cybele, or vestals of Pagan wor- 
ship ; for the monks make their vows in the 
thought that they shall be justified and saved 
by them ; and that which should be ascribed 
to the alone mercy of God is thus ascribed to 
human deservings. Such convents ought to 
be razed to the foundation, as being abodes of 
the devil. There is but one Order that is 
holy, and makes men holy, and that is — 
Christianity or Faith. 

"To make the religious houses really useful, 
they should be converted into schools, where- 
in children might be brought up to manhood; 
instead of which, they are establishments 
where grown men are reduced to second child- 
hood for the rest of their lives." 

We see that Luther at this period would 
have tolerated the convents as houses of edu- 
cation ; but, ere long, his attack upon them 
became more unsparing. 

The immorality and shameful practices that 
disgraced the cloisters recurred forcibly to 
his thoughts. " It is my great aim," he wrote 
to Spalatin, on the 11th of November, "to 
rescue the young from the hellish fires of celi- 
bacy;" and he proceeded to compose a tract 
against monastic vows, which he dedicated to 
his father. "Do you desire," said he, in his 
dedication to the old man at Mansfeld, "do 
you still feel a desire to extricate me from a 
monk's life! You have the right to do so, 
for you are still my father, and I am still your 
son. But it is not needed : God has been be- 
forehand with you, and has himself delivered 
me from it by his mighty arm. What does 
it matter if I should lay aside the tonsure or 
the cowl 1 Is it the cowl, — is it the tonsure 
that constitutes a monk 1 ' All things are 
yours,' said St. Paul, 'and you are Christ's.' 
I belong not to the cowl, but the cowl to me ; 
I am a monk, and yet no monk; I am a new 
creature, not of the Pope, but of Jesus Christ! 
Christ, alone, and no mere go-between, is my 
bishop, my abbot, my prior, my lord, my mas- 
ter, — and I acknowledge no other! What 
matters it to me if the Pope should sentence 
and put me to death; he cannot summon me 
from the grave, and take my life a second time. 
That great day is nigh when the kingdom of 
abominations shall be overthrown. Would 
to God the Pope would do his worst, and put 
us all to death ; our blood would cry to hea- 
ven against him, and bring down swift de- 
struction on him and his adherents." 

Luther himself was already transformed : 
he felt himself no longer a friar. It was no 
outward circumstances, no human passions, 
no haste of the flesh that had brought about 
the change. A struggle had been gone 
through : Luther had at first sided with 
monkery, but truth had descended into the 
arena, and monkery was overthrown. The 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



265 



triumphs of human passion are short-lived, 
but those of truth are decisive and durable. 

Whilst Luther was thus preparing the way 
for one of the greatest changes which the 
Church was destined to pass through, and 
the Reformation was beginning to manifest 
its effects on the lives of Christians, — the 
partisans of Rome, with that blind infatuation 
common to those who have long held power, 
were pleasing themselves with the thought, 
that because Luther was in the Wartburg, 
the Reformation was forever at an end. They 
thought, therefore, quietly to resume their 
former practices, which had been for an in- 
stant interrupted by the monk of Wittemberg. 
Albert, the Archbishop and Elector of Mentz, 
was one of those weak persons who, when 
things are nearly balanced, are found on the 
side of truth ; but whenever their own interest 
is concerned, are quite willing to take up with 
error. His great aim was that his court should 
equal in splendour that of any of the German 
princes, that his equipages should be as rich, 
and his table as well served : the trade in in- 
dulgences was to him an admirable resource 
for the promotion of his favourite object. Ac- 
cordingly, no sooner was the decree against 
Luther issued from the Imperial Chancellor's 
court, than Albert, who was then at Halle, 
attended by his courtiers, called together the 
vendors of indulgences, whose activity had 
been paralysed by the Reformer's preaching, 
and endeavoured to encourage them by such 
words as — -" Do not fear, we have silenced 
him ; go shear the flock in peace ; the monk 
is in prison, under bolts and bars; and this 
time he will be clever indeed if he disturbs us 
at our work." The market was again opened, 
the wares spread out for sale, and again the 
churches of Halle resounded with the ha- 
rangues of the mountebanks. 

But Luther still lived; and his voice had 
power to pass beyond the walls and gratings 
behind which he was concealed. Nothing 
could have roused him to a higher pitch of 
indignation. "What!" thought he, "violent 
discussions have taken place, I have braved 
every danger, the truth has triumphed, and 
now they dare to trample it in the dust, as if 
it had been refuted. They shall again hear 
that voice which arrested their guilty traffic." 
" I will take no rest," wrote Luther to Spa- 
latin, " till I have attacked the idol of Mentz, 
and its whoredoms at Halle." He went in- 
stantly to work, caring little for the mystery 
in which some sought to envelope his seclu- 
sion in the Wartburg. He was like Elijah 
in the desert, forging new thunderbolts to 
hurl against the impious Ahab. On the 1st 
of November, he completed a tract " Against 
the new Idol of Halle." 

The Archbishop had received information 
of Luther's intentions. Urged by his appre- 
hensions, he, toward the middle of December, 
despatched two of his attendants, Capito and 
Auerbach, to Wittemberg, to ward off the 
blow.- "It is indispensable," said they to 
Melancthon, who received them courteously, 



"it is quite indispensable that Luther should 
moderate his impetuosity." But Melancthon, 
though himself of gentler spirit, was not of 
the number of those who imagine wisdom to 
consist in perpetual concession, retracting, 
and silence. " God is making use of him," 
he replied, " and this age requires a bitter and 
pungent salt." On this, Capito, addressing 
himself to Jonas, endeavoured, through him, 
to influence the Elector's councils. 

The report of Luther's design had already 
spread thither, and produced great consterna- 
tion. "What!" said th# courtiers, "rekin- 
dle the flame that it cost so much trouble to 
subdue! The only safety for Luther is to 
withdraw into the shade; and see how he 
exalts himself against the greatest prince in 
the empire." "I will not suffer Luther to 
write against the Archbishop of Mentz, to 
the disturbance of the public tranquillity," 
said the Elector. 

When these words were reported to Luther, 
he was indignant. It is not enough, then, to 
confine his body, they would enchain his 
spirit, and the truth itself. Do they imagine 
he hides himself from fear"? or that his retreat 
is a confession of defeat] On the contrary, 
he contends that it is a victory gained. Who 
then in Worms had dared to rise up against 
him, in opposition to the truth 1 Accordingly, 
when the captive of the Wartburg had finished 
reading Spalatin's letter, apprizing him of the 
Elector's intention, he threw it aside, resolv- 
ing to return no answer. But he. could not 
contain his feelings ; he again took it in hand. 
" And so, the Elector will not suffer, &c. !" 
wrote Luther in reply, "and I on my part 
will not suffer that the Elector should not al- 
low me to write. Rather will I be the utter 
ruin of yourself, the Elector, and the whole 
world. If I have stood up against the Pope, 
who created your Cardinal, is it fitting that 1 
should give way to his creature? Truly, it 
is very fine to hear you say we ought not to 
disturb the public peace, while you permit the 
disturbance of the Peace that is from God. It 
shall not be so, Spalatin ! O Prince it shall 
not stand ! I send, with this, a tract I had 
written against the Cardinal, before I re- 
ceived your letter; — please to hand it to Me- 
lancthon." 

The reading of this manuscript alarmed 
Spalatin; — he again urged on the Reformer 
the imprudence of a publication that would 
oblige the Imperial government to lay aside 
its affected ignorance of what had become of 
him, and to proceed to punish a prisoner wh« 
assailed the chief dignitary of the Church 
and Empire. If Luther persisted, the general 
tranquillity would be disturbed, and the cause 
of the Reformation endangered. Luther, 
therefore, consented to delay the publication, 
and even gave Melancthon leave to strike 
out the more severe passages. But growing 
indignant at bis friend's timidity, he wrote to 
Spalatin, — "The Lord still lives — He reigns, 
— the Lord whom you counsellors of the court 
cannot trust, unless He so shapes his work, 
as that there be nothing left to trust Him in !' 



266 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



— and he forthwith resolved to write direct to 
the Cardinal. 

It is the Episcopal authority itself that 
Luther calls to the bar of judgment in the 
person of the German primate. His words are 
those of a bold man, burning with zeal in be- 
half of truth, and feeling that he speaks in the 
name of God himself. 

" Your Electoral Highness," wrote he, 
from the depth of his retirement, " has seen 
fit again to set up at Halle the idol that en- 
gulfs the treasure and the souls of poor Chris- 
tians. You think, perhaps, that I am dis- 
abled, and that the power of the Emperor 
will easily silence the protest of a feeble monk. 
.... But know this, — I will fearlessly dis- 
charge the duty that Christian charity lays 
me under, dreading not the gates of hell ! — 
and much less, popes, bishops, or cardinals. 

44 Therefore, I humbly implore your Elec- 
toral Highness to call to remembrance the 
origin of this business, and how from one little 
spark came so fearful a conflagration. Then 
also, the w r orld reposed in fancied security, 
4 That poor mendicant friar,' thought they, 
4 who, unaided, would attack the Pope, has 
undertaken a task above his strength.' But 
God interposed his arm, and gave the Pope 
more disturbance and anxiety than he had 
known since first he sat in the temple of God, 
and lorded it over God's church. That same 
God still lives — let none doubt it. He will 
know how to bring to nothing the efforts of a 
Cardinal of Mentz, though he should be back- 
ed by four emperors — for it is His pleasure to 
bring down the lofty cedars, and humble the 
pride of the Pharaohs. 

44 For this cause I apprize your Highness 
that if the idol is not removed, it will be my 
duty, in obedience to God's teaching, publicly 
to rebuke your Highness, as I have done the 
Pope himself. Let not your Highness neglect 
this notice. I shall wait fourteen days for an 
early and favourable answer. Given in my 
wilderness retreat, on Sunday after St. Cathe- 
rine's day, 1521. Your Highness' devoted 
and humble, Martin Luther." 

This letter was forwarded to Wittemberg, 
and from thence to Halle, where the Cardinal 
Elector was then resident; for no one dared 
venture to intercept it, foreseeing the storm 
such an act of audacity would have called 
forth. But Melancthon accompanied it by a 
letter to the prudent Capito, wherein he la- 
boured to give a favourable turn to so unto- 
ward a step. 

It is not possible to describe the feelings of 
the young and pusillanimous Archbishop on 
the receipt of the Reformer's letter. The forth- 
coming work against the idol of Halle was 
like a sword suspended over his head. And 
yet what must have been, at the same, the ir- 
ritation produced by the insolence of the low- 
born and excommunicated monk, who dared 
address such language to a prince of the 
house of Brandenburg, and a primate of the 
German Church. Capito besought the Arch- 
bishop to comply with Luther's advice. Fear, 
pride, and conscience, which he could not sti- 



fle, struggled long in Albert's soul. At length, 
dread of the threatened writing, joined, per- 
haps, to a feeling of remorse, prevailed. He 
stooped to humble himself, and put together 
such an answer as seemed likely to appease 
the man of the Wartburg, and scarcely had the 
fourteen days expired, when Luther received 
the following letter, more surprising even than 
his own terrifying epistle. 

44 My dear Doctor, — I have received and read 
your letter, and have taken it in good part, as 
being well intended : but I think the cause 
that has induced you to write to me in such a 
strain has for a long time past had no exist- 
ence. It is my desire, by God's help, to com- 
port myself as a pious bishop, and a Christian 
prince; and I confess that for this, God's 
grace is necessary to me. I deny not that 1 
am a sinful man, liable to sin, and apt to be led 
astray, and even sinning and going astray 
every day of my life. I know that, without 
God's grace, I am but worthless and loath- 
some mire, like others; if not worse. In re- 
plying to your letter, I would not omit to ex- 
press the favour I bear you ; for it is my most 
earnest desire, for Christ's sake, to show you 
all kindness and favour. I know how to re- 
ceive the rebuke of a Christian and a brother. 
By my own hand. Albert." 

Such was the strain in which the Elector 
Archbishop of Mentz and Magdeburg, com- 
missioned to represent and maintain in Ger- 
many the constitution of the Church, wrote to 
the excommunicated prisoner of the Wart- 
burg ! In thus replying, did Albert obey the 
better dictates of his conscience, or was ha 
swayed by his fears] On the former suppo- 
sition, it is a noble letter; on the latter it is 
contemptible. We would rather suppose it 
to have proceeded from a right motive. How- 
ever that may be, it at least shows the vast 
superiority of the servant of God above the 
greatness of this world. Whilst Luther, soli- 
tary, a captive, and under sentence, derived 
from his faith an unconquerable courage, the 
Cardinal-archbishop, surrounded on all sides 
with the power and favour of the world, trem- 
bled in his chair. Again, and again, does this 
reflection present itself, and it affords the solu- 
tion of the strange enigma offered by the his- 
tory of the Reformation. The Christian is not 
called to calculate his resources, and count the 
means of success. His one concern is to 
know that his cause is the cause of God ; — 
and that he himself has no aim but his Mas- 
ter's glory. Doubtless he has an inquiry to 
make, but it has reference only to his motives; 
the Christian looks in upon his heart, — not 
upon his arm : he regards right, — not strength. 
And that question once well settled, — his 
path is clear. It is for him to go boldly for- 
ward, though the world and all its armies 
should withstand his progress ; in the firm 
persuasion that God himself will fight against 
the opposers. 

Thus did the enemies of the Reformation 
pass at once from the harshest measures to pi- 
tiable weakness : they had done this at 
Worms, and these sudden changes are con- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



267 



tinually recurring in the conflict between 
truth and error. Every cause destined to suc- 
cumb, carries with it an internal malaise, 
which occasions it to stagger and fluctuate be- 
tween opposite extremes. Steadiness of pur- 
pose and energy could not sanctify a bad 
cause, but they might serve at least to gild its 
fall with what the world calls glory. 

Joachim I., Elector of Brandenburg, Al- 
bert's brother, was an example of that decision 
of character so rare in our own times. Im- 
movable in his principles, decisive in action, 
knowing when needful how to resist the en- 
croachments of the Pope, he opposed an iron 
hand to the progress of the Reformation. Long 
before this, when at Worms, he had urged 
that Luther should be refused a hearing, and 
brought to punishment, notwithstanding the 
safe-conduct with which he was furnished. 
Scarcely was the edict of Worms issued, 
when he directed that it should be rigorously 
enforced in his states. Luther could appre- 
ciate so decided a character, and, drawing a 
distinction in favour of Joachim, when, speak- 
ing of his other adversaries, remarked, "we 
may still pray for the Elector t f Brandenburg." 
This disposition in the prince seemed to commu- 
nicate itself to his people. Berlin and Branden- 
burg long continued closed to the reformed doc- 
trines. But that which isslowly received is firm- 
ly held ; whilst countries, which then hailed the 
Gospel with joy, as Belgium and Westphalia, 
were ere long seen to abandon it. Branden- 
burg, — which was the latest of the German 
states to enter on the way of faith, — was des- 
tined, at a later period, to stand foremost in 
the cause of the Reformation. 

Luther was not without suspicion that the 
Cardinal's letter was dictated by some insi- 
dious design suggested by Capito. He re- 
turned no answer; he declared to the latter, 
that so long as the Archbishop, unequal as he 
was to the care of a petty parish, should hold 
to his pretensions as Cardinal, and his episco- 
pal state, instead of discharging the humble 
duty of a minister of the Gospel, he could not 
be in the way of salvation. Meanwhile, and 
at the very time that Luther contended against 
error, as if he were still in the thick of the 
conflict, he was at work in his retirement as 
though regardless of all that was happening 
outside its walls. The time had arrived when 
the Reformation was to pass from the closet 
of divines into the private life of nations ; and, 
nevertheless, the great engine by which this 
advance was to be effected was not yet brought 
forth. This mighty and wonder-working en- 
gine, from whence a storm of missiles was to 
be discharged against Rome, battering down 
its walls, — this engine, which was to upheave 
the burden under which the Papacy then 
held down the almost stifled Church, and to 
communicate to mankind an impulse which, 
ages after, would still be felt, was ordained 
to go forth from the old castle of the Wart- 
burg, and enter, with the Reformer, on the 
world's stage on the same day that closed his 
captivity 

The further the Church was removed from 



the days in which Jesus, its true light, walked 
on this earth, the more did it need the candle 
of God's word to transmit to after times the 
unclouded knowledge of Jesus Christ. But 
that Divine Word was unknown to that age. 
Some fragments of translations from the Vul- 
gate, made in 1477, 1490, and 1518, had been 
but coldly received, and were almost unin» 
telligible, as well as, from their high price, 
beyond the reach of the common people. The 
giving the Scriptures to the Church in Ger- 
many in the vernacular tongue, had even been 
prohibited. Added to which, the number of 
those who could read, became considerable, 
only when there existed in the German lan- 
guage a book of strong and general interest. 

Luther was ordained to present his nation 
with the written word. That same God who 
had relegated St. John in Patmos, that he 
might there write what he had seen, had shut 
up Luther in the Wartburg, that he should 
there translate his Word. The great labour, 
which it would have been difficult for him tc 
take in hand in the distracting occupations of 
Wittemberg, was to set the new edifice on 
the solid rock, and, after the lapse of so many 
ages, recall Christians from scholastic sub- 
tleties to the pure and unadulterated fountains 
of redemption and salvation. The wants of 
the Church loudly called for this service, and 
Luther's deep experience had fitted him to 
render it. In truth, he had found, in the faith, 
that rest for his own soul, which his fluctu- 
ating conscience and monkish prejudice had 
so long sought in merits and holiness of his 
own. The ordinary teaching of the Church, 
the theology of the schools knew nothing of the 
consolations which faith gives: but the Scrip- 
tures set them forth powerfully, — and it was 
in the Scriptures that he had discovered them. 
Faith in God's tvord had given him liberty ! 
By faith he felt himself freed from the dog- 
matic authority of Church, hierarchy, tradi- 
tion, the notions of the schools, the power of 
prejudice, and commandments of men ! These 
manifold bonds which had for ages chained 
down and silenced all Christendom, were 
burst asunder, and he could raise his head 
freed from all authority save that of the Word. 
This independence of man, — this subjection 
to God, which he had learned in the Holy 
Scriptures, — he was anxious to communicate 
to the Church. But for this purpose it was 
needful that he should give to it God's own 
Revelations. There was a necessity that 
some strong hand should unclose the portals 
of that arsenal whence Luther had drawn his 
weapons, and that its recesses, which had for 
ages been unexplored, should be laid open to 
all Christian people against the day of trial. . 

Luther had, before this time, translated 
some fragments of the Holy Scripture. The 
seven penitential psalms* had first occupied 
his pen. John the Baptist, — Jesus Christ, — 
and the Reformation — alike commenced by 
calling men to repentance. It is, indeed, the 
principle of every regeneration in human na* 



* Ps. 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, 147. 



268 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



ture. These earlier essays had been eagerly 
bought up, and had awakened a general de- 
mand for more ; and the desire on the part of 
the people was by Luther regarded as a call 
from God. He resolves to meet it. He was 
a captive enclosed within lofty walls ; but 
what of that! he would devote his leisure to 
render the Word of God into the language of 
his nation. Soon shall we see that Word 
descending with him from the Wartburg — 
circulating among the families of Germany, 
and enriching them with spiritual treasure, 
that had hitherto been shut up within the 
hearts of a few pious persons. " Would that 
that book alone," he exclaimed, " were in all 
languages — before the eyes — in the ears — and 
in the hearts of all." Admirable words, 
which a well-known society * engaged in 
translating the Bible into the vernacular dia- 
lect of every nation under heaven, has* after 
a lapse of three centuries, undertaken to re- 
alize. " Scripture," says he again, " Scrip- 
ture 'without comment' is the sun whence all 
teachers receive their light." 

Such are the true principles of Christianity 
and of the Reformation. Adopting these 
memorable words, we are not to seek light 
from the Fathers to interpret Scripture, — but 
to use Scripture to interpret the writings of 
the Fathers. The Reformers, as also the 
Apostles, hold forth the alone word of God as 
light, whilst they exhalt the one offering of 
Christ as the only righteousness. To mingle 
commandments of men with this supreme au- 
thority of God, or any righteousness of man's 
own, with this perfect righteousness of Christ, 
is to corrupt the two great fundamental truths 
of the Gospel. Such were the two leading 
heresies of Rome : and the doctrines that cer- 
tain teachers would introduce into the bosom 
of the Reformation, though not carried to 
such a length, have the same tendencies. 

Luther, taking up the Greek originals of the 
inspired writers, entered on the difficult task 
of rendering them into his native tongue. Im- 
portant moment in the history of the Refor- 
mation ! thenceforth it was no longer in the 
hands of the Reformer. The Bible was 
brought forward — and Luther held a secondary 
place. God showed himself; and man was 
seen as nothing. The Reformer placed the 
Book in the hands of his contemporaries : 
thenceforward, each could hear God speaking 
to him, — and, as for himself, he mingled in 
the crowd, placing himself among those who 
came to draw from the common fountain of 
light and life. 

In translating the Holy Scriptures, Luther 
had found that consolation and strength which 
met his need. Weak in body — solitary — de- 
pressed in spirit by the machinations of his 
enemies, and sometimes by the indiscretions 
of his friends — and sensible that his life was 
wasting in the gloom of the old castle, he 
had, at times, to pass through awful strug- 
gles. In those days, men were much disposed 
to ca'ry into the visible world the conflicts 

* The Bible Society. 



that the soul sustains with its spiritual ene 
mies. Luther's vivid imagination easily gave 
bodily shape to the emotions of his soul, and 
the superstitions of the middle ages had still 
some hold upon his mind, so that it might be 
j said of him, as was said of Calvin, in refer- 
! ence to his judgment in regard to heretics, 
! that he had in him the remains of Porery. 
I To Luther, Satan was not simply an invisi- 
! ble, though really existing, being ; he thought 
I that adversary of God was accustomed to 
i appear in bodily form to man, as he had ap- 
! peared to Jesus Christ. Although we may 
! more than doubt the authenticity of the de- 
tails given on such topics in his Table Talk 
and elsewhere,* history must yet record this 
weakness in the Reformer. Never had these 
gloomy imaginations such power over him as 
in his seclusion in the Wartburg. At Worms, 
when in the days of his strength, he had 
braved the power of the devil, — but now, that 
strength was broken, and his reputation tar- 
nished. He was thrown aside : Satan had 
his turn — and in bitterness of soul, Luther 
imagined he saw him rearing before him his 
gigantic form — lifting his ringer as if in 
threatening, grinning triumphantly, and grind- 
ing his teeth in fearful rage. One day, in par- 
ticular, as it is reported, whilst Luther w 7 as 
engaged in translating the New Testament, 
he thought he saw Satan, in detestation of his 
work, tormenting and vexing him, and moving 
round him like a lion ready to spring upon his 
prey. Luther, alarmed and aroused, snatch- 
ing up his inkstand, threw it at the head of 
his enemy. The apparition vanished, and the 
ink-bottle was dashed to pieces against the 
wall.f 

His stay at the Wartburg began now to be 
insupportable to him. He was indignant at 
the timidity of his protectors. Sometimes 
he remained all day lost in silent and deep 
meditation, and, awakening from it, he would 
utter the exclamation — " Ah ! would I were 
at Wittemberg !" At length, he could no 
longer restrain himself: — " Enough," thought 
he, "enough of policy." He must again see 
his friends — hear from their lips how things 
were going on, and talk over all with them. 
True, he risked falling into the power of his 
enemies; but nothing could deter him. To- 
ward the end of November, he secretly quitted 
the Wartburg, and set out for Wittemberg. 

A storm had just then burst forth against 
him. The Sorbonne had at length spoken 
out. This celebrated school of Paris — next 
in authority in the Church to the Pope him- 
self — the ancient and venerable source whence 
theological teaching had gone forth, had just 
issued its verdict against the Reformation. 
The following were among the propositions 
it condemned : — Luther had said, " God ever 
pardons sin freely, and requires nothing from 



* M. Michelet, in his memoirs of Luther, de- 
votes no less than thirty pages to the various ac- 
counts of this incident. 

t The keeper of the Wartburg regularly points 
out to travellers the mark made by Luther's ink- 
stand. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



269 



us In return, save that for the time to come we 
live according to righteousness." He had 
added — " The most mortal of all mortal sins 
is this : to wit, that a man should think that he 
is not guilty of damnable and mortal sin in the 
sight of God." He had also declared, that 
the practice of burning heretics was contrary 
to the will of the Holy Ghost. To these seve- 
ral propositions, as well as to many others 
which it quoted, the Faculty of Theology, in 
Paris, had replied by the word, " Heresy — let 
it be accursed." 

But there was a youth, a stripling of twen- 
ty-fcnr years of age, of diffident and retiring 
manners, who ventured to take up the gaunt- 
let that the first college in Europe had thrown 
down. It was no secret at Witteinberg, what 
was to be thought of those lofty censures: — 
it was known that Rome had allowed free 
course to the machinations of the Dominicans, 
and that the Sorbonne had been misled by the 
influence of two or three fanatical teachers 
who_ were designated in Paris by satirical 
nicknames. Accordingly, in his apology, 
Melancthon did not confine himself to defend- 
ing Luther, but with the fearlessness which 
characterizes his writings, he carried the war 
into his adversaries' camp. " You say, ' he 
is a Manichean' — 'he is a Montanist:' you 
call for fire and fagot to repress his madness. 
And who, I pray you, is Montanist ] Luther, 
who would have men believe Scripture only ] 
or yourselves, who would claim belief for the 
thoughts of men rather than for the word of 
God V 

And truly the attaching more importance to 
man's teaching than to God's word was in 
substance the heresy of Montanus, as it is the 
real character of the Pope, and, indeed, of all 
who rank church authority or mystical im- 
pulses above the plain words of the Sacred 
Writings. Accordingly, the young master of 
arts, who had been heard to sa} r — " I would 
rather die than relinquish the faith of the Gos- 
pel," did not stop there. He charged the 
doctors of the Sorbonne with having darkened 
the light of the Gospel, — put out the doctrine 
of Faith, — and substituted a vain philosophy 
in place of true Christianity. The publica- 
tion of this writing of Melancthon changed the 
position of the parties. He proved unanswera- 
bly that the heresy was in Paris and in Rome, 
and the Catholic truth at Witteinberg. 

All this while, Luther, little regarding the 
censures of the Sorbonne, was journeying in 
his disguise as a knight toward the university 
city. Various rumours reached him in his 
journey, of a spirit of impatience and insubor- 
dination having manifested itself among cer- 
tain of his adherents. He was deeply grieved 
at it. At last he arrived at Witteinberg with- 
out having been recognised on the road thither, 
and stopped at the door of Amsdorff. Imme- 
diately his friends were secretly called to- 
gether. Among the first was Melancthon, 
who had so often said, " I would rather die 
than be separated from him." They met. 
What an interview ! what joy ! The captive 
of the Wartburg, surrounded by his friends, 



enjoyed the sweets of Christian friendship. He 
learned the spread of the Reformation, — the 
hopes of his brethren, — and, delighted with 
what he saw and heard, he kneeled down and 
prayed, gave thanks, and then, with brief de- 
lay, set forth and returned to the Wartburg. 

His joy was well founded. The work of 
the Reformation made, just then, a prodigious 
advance. Feldkirchen, ever in the van, had 
mounted the breach; the whole body of those 
who held the new doctrines were in motion, 
and the energy which carried the Reforma- 
tion from the range of teaching into the pub- 
lic worship, to private life, and the constitu- 
tion of the Church, revealed itself by another 
explosion — more threatening to the papal 
power than that which had already happened. 

Rome, having rid herself of the Reformer, 
thought she had extinguished the new heresy ; 
but it was not long before a great change took 
place. Death removed the Pontiff" who had 
put Luther under ban. Troubles broke out in 
Spain, and compelled Charles V. to recross 
the Pyrenees. War was declared between 
that prince and Francis the First; and (as if 
this were not enough to engross the Empe- 
ror's attention) Solyman invaded Hungary. 
Charles, thus attacked on all sides, found him- 
self compelled to leave unmolested the monk 
of Worms and his religious novelties. 

It was about this time, that the bark of the 
Reformed Faith, which, driven in every di- 
rection by the winds, had been well nigh 
swamped, righted itself, and rode above the 
waters. 

It was in the convent of the Augustines, at 
Wittemberg, that the Reformation showed 
itself. We cannot wonder at this : the Re- 
former, it is true, was not within its walls, but 
no human power could expel from it the spirit 
that had animated him. 

Strange doctrines had for some time been 
occasionally heard in the church where Lu- 
ther had so often preached. A zealous monk, 
who filled the office of college preacher, loud- 
ly urged on his hearers the necessity of a Re- 
formation. As if Luther, whose name was on 
every one's lips, had reached too commanding 
an elevation and esteem, God seemed to be 
making choice of men no way known -for any 
strength of character or influence to bring in 
the Reformation, for which the renowned doc- 
tor had opened a way. " Christ," said the 
preacher, " instituted the Sacrament of the 
.Altar, in remembrance of his death, and not 
to make it an object of worship. To bow down 
to it is idolatry. The priest who communi- 
cates alone or in private is guilty of a sin. No 
prior has the right to require a monk to say 
mass alone. Let one, two, or three officiate, 
and all the rest receive the Lord's Sacrament 
under both kinds." 

Such was the change called for by the monk 
Gabriel ; and his bold words were heard with 
approbation by his brother monks, particularly 
those who came from the Low Countries. As 
disciples of the Gospel, why should they not 
conform in everything to its directions? Had 
not Luther himself, in writing to Melancthon, 



270 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



in the imnth of August, remarked — "Hence- 
forth, I will say no more private masses?" 
Thus the friars, the very soldiers of the hier- 
archy, when made free by the Word of God, 
boldly took part against Rome. 

In Wittembergthey encountered an unbend- 
ing resistance from the Prior, and here they 
yielded, — at the same time protesting that to 
support the mass was to oppose the Gospel of 
God. 

The Prior had carried the day. One man's 
authority had prevailed over all the rest. It 
might have been thought that this stir among 
the Augustines was but a capricious act of in- 
subordination, such as was often occurring in 
the convents ; but in reality the Spirit of God 
itself was then moving Christian hearts. A 
single voice proceeding from the seclusion of 
a monastery, found a thousand echoes ; and 
that which men would have confined to the 
knowledge of the inhabitants of the convent 
spread beyond its walls, and began to show 
itself in the heart of the city. 

Rumours of the differences among the 
monks were soon circulated in the town : the 
burghers and students sided some with, and 
others against the mass. The Elector's court 
interposed. Frederic, in some surprise, de- 
spatched his Chancellor, Pontanus, to Wit- 
temberg, w r ith orders to reduce the monks to 
obedience, putting them, if necessary, upon 
bread and water; and on the 12th October, 
a deputation of Professors, among whom was 
Melancthon, repairing to the convent, exhort- 
ed the monks to desist from all innovations, 
or at least to wait the course of events. This 
did but rekindle their zeal ; and all, with ex- 
ception of their Prior, being of one mind in 
their faith, they appealed to Scripture, to the 
spiritual discernment of believers, and to the 
impartial judgment ofdivines, — and two days 
after handed in a declaration in writing. 

The Professors proceeded to examine the 
question more closely, and perceived that the 
monks had truth on their side. Having come 
to convince others, they were convinced them- 
selves! What was to be done 1 Conscience 
pleaded — their perplexity was continually in- 
creasing; and at last, after long hesitation, 
they came to a courageous decision. 

On the 20th of October, the university re- 
ported to the Elector, after setting forth the 
abuses of the mass: "Let your Electoral 
Highness," said they, " put an end to all cor- 
ruptions ; lest, in the day of judgment, Christ 
should apply to us the rebukes he once pro- 
nounced upon Capernaum." 

Thus, it was no longer a handful of obscure 
monks who spoke, — it was the university, 
accredited by the most judicious, as having, 
for years past, been the great school of na- 
tional instruction: and thus, the very agency 
employed to quell the spirit of the Reforma- 
tion was about to diffuse it far and wide. 

Melancthon, with that decision which he 
carried into learning, put forth fifty-five pro- 
positions calculated to enlighten the minds of 
inquirers. 

"Just," said he, " as gazing on a cross is 



no good work, but the bare contemplation of 
a sign that reminds us of Christ's death." 

"Just as to behold the sun is not to do any 
good work, but merely to look upon that 
which reminds us of Christ and his Gospel." 

"So, to partake of the Lord's Supper is 
not to do a good work, but merely to make 
use of a sign which recalls to remembrance 
the grace bestowed upon us through Christ." 

" But here is the difference ; namely, that 
the symbols invented by men do only remind 
us of what they signify — whilst the signs 
given by God, not merely recall the things 
themselves, but assure our hearts in the will 
of God." 

" As the sight of a cross does not justify, 
so the mass cannot justify." 

" As the gazing on a cross is no sacrifice 
for our own or others' sins, just so trie mass 
is no sacrifice." 

" There is but one sacrifice, — but one satis- 
faction, — Jesus Christ. Beside him there is 
none other." 

" Let such bishops as do not withstand the 
profanations of the mass be anathema." 

Thus spake the pious and gentle-spirited 
Philip. 

The Elector was astounded. His intention 
had been to restore order among a few refrac- 
tory friars, and lo! the entire university, with 
Melancthon at their head, stand up to defend 
them. To wait the course of events, was 
ordinarily, in his view, the most, eligible 
course. He had no relish for abrupt changes, 
and it was his wish that all opinions should 
be left to work their own way. " Time 
alone," thought he, "throws light upon all 
things, and brings all to maturity." And 
yet the Reformation was advancing in spite 
of all his caution with rapid strides, and 
threatened to carry all before it. Frederic 
made indeed some efforts to arrest it. His 
authority, — the influence of his personal cha- 
racter, — and such arguments as appeared to 
him most conclusive, were all called into ex- 
ercise: " Do not be hasty," said he, to the 
divines, " you are too few in number to effect 
such a change. If it is well founded in Scrip- 
ture, others will be led to see it, and you will 
have the whole Church with yon in putting 
an end to these corruptions. Speak of these 
things, — discuss and preach them as much as 
you will, but keep up the established ser- 
vices." 

Such was the war waged relative to the 
mass. The monks had boldly mounted to the 
assault; — the divines, after a moment of in- 
decision, had supported them. The prince 
and his counsellors alone defended the citadel. 
It has been said that the Reformation was 
brought about by the power and authority of 
the Elector; but so far from this being the 
case, we see the assailants drawing off their 
forces, in deference to the voice of the revered 
Frederic, and the mass, for a while, continu- 
ing to hold its place. 

The heat of battle was already beginning 
to rage in another part of the field. The 
monk Gabriel did not relax in his fervid ap 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



271 



peals irom the pulpit of the Augustines. It 
was against the condition of monkery itself 
he now dealt his powerful strokes; and if the 
strength of Romish doctrines was principally 
in the mass, the monastic order formed the 
main support of her priestly hierarchy. Hence, 
these two posts were the first to be stormed. 
" No one," exclaimed Gabriel, according to 
the Prior's report, " not even a single inmate 
of a convent, keeps God's commandments." 

"No one who wears a cowl can be saved. 
Whoso enters a- cloister enters into the ser- 
vice of the Devil. Vows of chastity, poverty, 
and obedience to a superior, are contrary to 
the spirit of the Gospel." 

These strange expressions were reported to 
me Prior, who took care not to be present in 
church to hear them. 

" Gabriel," said his informants, " Gabriel 
insists that every possible means should be 
taken to clear out the cloisters ; that when the 
friars are met in the street, they should be 
twitched by the cloak, and pointed out to ridi- 
cule; and that if that does not rout them from 
their convent, they should be expelled by 
main force. He cries, ' Break open the mo- 
nasteries, destroy them, raze them to their 
foundations, that no trace of them may re- 
main, and that on the ground they cover not 
one stone may be left of walls that have shel- 
tered such sloth and superstition.' " 

The friars were astonished; their consci- 
ences whispered that the charge brought 
against them was but too true ; — that the life 
of a monk was not agreeable to the will of 
God ; — and that no man could have a claim, 
to their implicit and unlimited obedience. 

In one day, thirteen Augustine monks 
quitted the convent, and throwing aside the 
habit of their order, assumed the dress of the 
laity. Such of them as had the advantage of 
instruction, continued their course of study, 
in the hope of being one day useful to the 
Church; and such as had profited little by 
6tudy, sought a livelihood by working with 
their own hands, according to the precept of 
the Apostle, and after the example of the 
worthy burghers of Wittemberg. One, who 
had some knowledge of carpentry, applied for 
the freedom of the city, resolving to marry 
and settle. 

.If Luther's entrance into the convent of the 
Augustines at Erfurth had laid the seeds of 
the Reformation, the departure of the thirteen 
monks from the convent of the Augustines of 
Wittemberg was the signal of its taking 
possession of the nations of Christendom. 
For a period of thirty years, Erasmus had 
exposed the unprofitableness, fatuity, and vices 
of the friars; and all Europe had gone with 
him in his ridicule and contempt. Thirteen 
men of resolute character returned to their 
place in society ; — and there, in service to 
their fellow men, sought to fulfil' God's com- 
mandments. The marriage of Feldkirchen 
was one of humiliation to the hierarchy; — 
the emancipation of these thirteen Augustines 
followed close upon it, as a second. Monkery, 
which had established itself in the day when 
19 



the Church entered on her long period of 
bondage and error, was doomed to fall when- 
ever the time came which should restore 
liberty and truth. 

This bold step occasioned a general feiment 
in Wittemberg. All marvelled at the men 
who thus carne forward to share the labours 
of the common people, and welcomed them 
as brethren : — at the same time, cries were 
heard against those who obstinately clung to 
their indolent seclusion within the walls oi 
their monastery. The monks, who adhered 
to the prior, trembled in their cells, and the 
prior himself, carried away by the general 
feeling, suspended the performance of private 
masses. 

In a moment so critical, the least concession 
necessarily precipitated the course of events. 
The order issued by the prior caused a strong 
sensation in the town and in the University, 
and produced an unforeseen explosion. Among 
the students and burghers of Wittemberg 
were some of those turbulent spirits whom 
the least excitement inflames, and urges to 
criminal excesses. These men were indig- 
nant that the same masses, which were sus- 
pended by the devout Prior, should still be 
performed in the parish church ; and on the 
3d December, as mass was about to be chant- 
ed, they suddenly made their way to the altar, 
bore oft the books, and compelled the officiat- 
ing priests to seek safety in flight. The 
Council and the University assembled to take 
severe measures against the authors of these 
disturbances. But the passions, once roused, 
are not easily calmed. The Cordeliers had 
taken no part in the Reformation that had be- 
gun to show itself among th.e Augustines. 
Next day the students alfixed to the gates of 
their monastery a threatening placard. Soon 
after, forty of their number forced their way 
into the chapel, and without proceeding to 
violence, gave such free expression to their 
ridicule, that the monks dared not to pro- 
ceed with the mass. In the evening, notice 
came advising the friars to be on their guard. 
"The students," it was said, "have planned 
to break into the monastery." The monks, in 
alarm, and seeing no way of defence against 
these real or supposed attacks, sent in haste 
to ask protection of the Council. Soldiers 
were placed on guard, but the enemy did not 
make his appearance. The University arrest- 
ed the students who had taken part in these 
disturbances. They were found to be from 
Erfurth, and already noted for their insubordi- 
nation. The penalty annexed to their offence 
.by the laws of the University was imposed 
upon them. 

Nevertheless, it was felt that a necessity 
had arisen for a careful examination of the 
lawfulness of monastic vows. A chapter, 
composed of the Augustine monks of Thurin- 
gen and Misnia assembled at Wittemberg in 
December following. Luther's judgment was 
acquiesced in. They declared, on the one 
hand, that monastic vows were not sinful, but. 
on the other hand, that they were not obliga- 
tory. " In Christ," said they, "there is nei 



27*3 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



her layman nor monk, — each one is free to I 
leave the monastery or to abide in it. Let 
whoever leaves it, beware how he abuses his 
liberty ; let him who abides in it, obey his su- 
periors, — but with the obedience of love ;" and 
they proceeded to prohibit mendicity, and the 
saying masses for money: they also determined 
that the more instructed monks should devote 
themselves to teaching the Word of God, and 
that the rest should labour with their own 
hands for the support of their brethren.* 

Thus the question of Vows seemed to be 
settled, but that of the Mass was still unde- 
cided. The Elector continued to oppose trie 
stream, and to defend an institution which he 
saw T still standing in every nation where Chris- 
tianity was professed. The moderation of 
this mild sovereign could not, however, for 
any length of time, hold in the public mind. 
Carlstadt, above all, took part in the general 
ferment. Zealous, upright, and fearless ; 
prompt, like Luther, to sacrifice every thing 
for the truth ; he had not the Reformer's wis- 
dom and moderation: he was not free from 
vanity, and with a disposition that led him to 
go deeply into every question, he yet had but 
little power of judgment, and no great clear- 
ness of ideas. Luther had delivered him from 
the teaching of the schools, and had led him 
to study the Scriptures; but Carlstadt had 
not had patience to acquire a knowledge of the 
original languages, and had not, as his friend 
had done, acknowledged the sufficiency of 
God's word. Hence he was often taking up 
with singular interpretations. As long as 
Luther was at his side, the influence of the 
master restrained the disciple within due 
bounds; but Carlstadt was freed from this 
wholesome restraint. In the university, — in 
the chapel, — throughout Wittemberg, — the 
little tawny-complexioned Carlstadt, who had 
never excelled in eloquence, gave utterance to 
thoughts, at times, profound, but often enthu- 
siastic and exaggerated. " What infatuated 
folly !" he exclaimed, " for men to think that 
the Reformation must be left to God's work- 
ing. A new order of things is opening. The 
strength of man must be brought in, and wo to 
him who shall hold back instead of mounting 
the breach in the cause of the mighty God !" 
The Archdeacon's speech communicated 
his own impatience to his auditory. " What- 
ever the Pope has set up is impious," ex- 
claimed some men of sincere and upright 
minds, under the influence of his harangues. 
"Let us not make ourselves accomplices in 
these abominations by allowing them to exist. 
That-which God's word condemns ought to be 
swept from the face of Christendom, without 
regarding the commandments of men. If the 
heads of the state and of the church will not 
do their duty, let us at least do ours. Let us 
leave thinking of negotiation, conferences, 
theses, and discussions, and let us apply the 
true remedy to so many evils. We want a se- 
cond Elijah to throw down the altars of Baal !" 

* Corp. Ref. i. p. 456. — The editors assign to 
this decree the date of October, before the monks 
nad forsaken their convent. 



The restoration of the Supper of the Lord 
in this moment of ferment and enthusiastic 
excitement, could not, doubtless, wear that 
character of solemnity and sacredness which 
was given to it by the Son of God in his in- 
stitution of it "the night that he was betrayed." 
But if God was now using the weakness ana 
passions of men, it was, not the less, His own 
hand which was engaged in re-establishing in 
the midst of His church the feast of His own 
love. 

As early as the October previous, Carlstadt 
had privately celebrated the Lord's Supper, 
according to Christ's appointment, with 
twelve of his friends. On the Sunday before 
Christmas Day, he announced from the pulpit 
that, on New Year's Day, he would distribute 
the elements under the two kinds, bread and 
wine, to all who should come to the altar; 
that he intended to omit all unnecessary cere- 
monies, and should perform the service with- 
out cope or chasuble. 

The Council, in perturbation, requested the 
counsellor Bergen to interfere, and prevent so 
disorderly a proceeding, whereupon Carlstadt 
resolved not to w T ait the time fixed. On 
Christmas Day, 1521, he preached, in the 
parochial church, on the duty of abandoning 
the mass, and receiving the sacrament under 
both kinds. The sermon being ended/' he 
came down, took his place at the altar, and 
after pronouncing, in German, the words of 
institution, said solemnly, turning towards the 
people, — " If any one feels the burden of his 
sins, and is hungering and thirsting for the 
grace of God, let him draw near, and receive 
the body and blood of the Lord." Then, with- 
out elevating the host, he distributed to each 
one the bread and wine, saying, " This is the 
cup of my blood, the blood of the new and 
everlasting covenant." 

Conflicting feelings reigned in the assembly. 
Some, in the sense that a further grace of God 
was given to the Church, drew near the altar 
in silent emotion. Others, attracted princi- 
pally by the novelty of the occasion, approach- 
ed in some confusion, and with a kind of im- 
patience. Not more than five communicants 
had presented themselves in the confessional ; 
the rest took part only in the public confession 
of sins. Carlstadt gave to all the general 
absolution, laying upon them no other penance 
than this, " Si?i no more" In conclusion, the 
communicants sang the Agnus Dei. 

Carlstadt met with no opposition. The 
changes we are narrating had already ob- 
tained general concurrence. The Archdeacon 
administered the Lord's Supper again on New 
Year's day, and also on the Sunday following, 
and from that time the regular observance of 
it was kept up. Einsidel,one of the Elector's 
council, having rebuked Carlstadt for seeking 
his own exaltation, rather than the salvation 
of his hearers — "Njble Sir," answered he, 
" I would meet death in any form rather than 
desist from following the Scripture. The 
word has come to me so quick and powerful . . . 
I wo is me if I do not preach." Soon after this, 
] Carlstadt married. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



273 



In the month of January, the town-council 
of Wittemberg issued regulations for the cele- 
oration of the Supper according to the amend- 
ed ritual. Steps were also taken to restore j 
the influence of religion upon public morals; j 
for it was the office of the Reformation to j 
re-establish, simultaneously, faith, Christian | 
worship, and general morality. It was decreed j 
that public beggars should be no longer tole- 
rated, whether friars or others; and that in j 
each street some man, well reported of for 
piety, should be commissioned to take care of 
the poor, and to summon before the University 
or Council such as were guilty of disorders. 

So fell that grand bulwark of Romish do- 
minion, the Mass. Thus it was that the Re- 
formation passed beyond the sphere of teach- 
ing, into that of public worship. For three 
centuries the mass and the doctrine of transub- 
stantiation had been regularly established.* 
Throughout that long period, all things within 
Lhe Church had a new tendency impressed 
upon them, and every thing conspired to favour 
the pride of man and the honour paid to the 
priest. The holy sacrament had been adored ; 
regular festivals had been instituted in honour 
of the most stupendous of miracles; the wor- 
ship of Mary had risen high in the scale of 
public estimation ; the priest, who, in the 
consecration of the elements, was supposed 
to receive mysterious power to change them 
into the very body of Christ, had been sepa- 
rated from the class of laity, and, to use the 
words of Thomas Aquinas, had become a 
"mediator between God and man;" celibacy 
had been proclaimed as an inviolable law ; 
auricular confession was enforced upon the 
people, and the cup of blessing denied them ; 
for how, indeed, should common people be 
ranged on the same line with priests, honoured 
with the most solemn of all ministrations. 
The Mass cast reproach upon the Son of God ; 
it was opposed to the perfect remission through 
his cross, and the spotless glory of his ever- 
lasting kingdom: but, .whilst it disparaged 
the glory of the Lord, it exalted the priest, 
whom it invested with the inconceivable power 
of reproducing, in hand, and at will, the So- 
vereign Creator of all things! Thenceforward 
the Church seemed to exist — not to preach the 
Gospel, but only to reproduce Christ in the 
flesh ! The Roman Pontiff, whose obedient 
vassals, at their pleasure, created the body of 
God himself, took his seat as God, in the tem- 
ple of God, and asserted his claim to a spirit- 
ual treasury, from whence to draw forth at 
will indulgences for the pardon of men's 
sins. 

Such were the gross errors which, for a 
period of three centuries, had established 
themselves in the Church in connection with 
the mass. The Reformation, by abolishing 
this thing of man's setting up, swept away all 
the abuses blended with it. The proceeding 
of the Archdeacon was therefore full of im- 
portant results. The costly shows that amused 
the people, the worship of the Virgin, the pride 



* By the Council of Lateran, in 1215. 



of the clergy, and the papal authority, were 
all shaken. The glory was withdrawn from 
the priests, and returned to rest on Jesus, and 
the Reformation advanced a step farther. 

Nevertheless, prejudiced observers might 
have seen nothing in all that was going on, 
but what might be deemed the effect of pass- 
ing enthusiasm. Facts were needed, that 
should give proof of the contrary, and demon- 
strate that there was a deep and broad distinc- 
tion between a Reformation based on God's 
word and any mere fanatical excitement. 

Whenever a great ferment is working in 
the Church, some impure elements are sure 
to mingle with the testimony given to truth ; 
and some one or more pretended reforms arise 
out of man's imagination, and serve as evi- 
dences or countersigns of some real reforma- 
tion in progress. Thus, many false Messiahs, 
in the first century of the Church, were an 
evidence that the true Messiah had already 
come. The Reformation of the sixteenth cen- 
tury could not run its course without present- 
ing the like phenomenon, and it was first ex- 
hibited in the little village of Zwickau. 

There were dwelling at Zwickau a few men, 
who, being deeply moved by the events pass- 
ing around them, looked for special and direct 
revelations from the Deity, instead of desiring, 
in meekness and simplicity, the sanctification 
of their affections. These persons asserted 
that they were commissioned to complete that 
Reformation which, in their view, Luther had 
but feebly begun. " What is the use," asked 
they, " of such application to the Bible 1 No- 
thing is heard of but the Bible. Can the 
Bible preach to us] Can it suffice for our 
instruction ] If God had intended to instruct 
us by a book, would he not have given us a 
Bible direct from heaven ] It is only the 
Spirit that can enlighten! God himself 
speaks to us, and shows us what to do and 
say." Thus did these fanatics, playing into 
the hands of Rome, impugn the fundamental 
principle on which the whole Reformation is 
based : namely, the perfect sufficiency of the 
word of God. 

Nicolas Storch, a weaver, publicly declared 
that the angel Gabriel had appeared to him 
by night, and after revealing to him matters 
he was not allowed to divulge, had uttered the 
words, "Thou shalt sit on°my throne!" A 
senior student of Wittemberg, named Mark 
Stubner, joined Storch, and forthwith aban- 
doned his studies; for, according to his own 
statement, he had received immediately from 
God the ability to interpret Holy Scripture. 
Mark Thomas, also a weaver, associated him- 
self with them"; and another of the initiated, by 
name Thomas Munzer, a man of fanatical turn 
of mind, gave to the new sect a regular organ- 
ization. Resolving to act according to the 
example of Christ, Storch chose from among 
his followers twelve apostles and seventy dis- 
ciples. All these loudly proclaimed, as we 
have lately heard it asserted by a sect of out 
own days, that Apostles and Prophets were 
at last restored to the Church. 

Ere long, the new prophets, in accordance 



274 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



with this plan of adhering to the example of 
those of holy writ, began to declare their mis- 
sion. "Wo, wo!" they exclaimed; "a church 
under human governors, corrupted like the 
bishops, cannot be the church of Christ. The 
ungodly rulers of Christendom will soon be 
east down. In five, six, or seven years, a 
time of universal desolation will come upon 
the earth. The Turk will get possession of 
Germany; the clergy, not even excepting 
those who have married, shall be slain. The 
ungodly sinners shall all be destroyed ; and 
when the earth shall have been purified by 
blood, supreme power shall be given to Storch, 
to install the saints in the government of the 
earth. Then shall there be one Faith and one 
Baptism. The day of the Lord draweth nigh, 
and the end of all things is at hand. Wo ! 
wo ! wo !" Then publicly declaring that in- 
fant baptism was of no avail, the new prophets 
called upon all to draw near, and receive at 
their hands a true baptism, in token of their 
entrance into the new Church of God. 

Such preaching made a deep impression on 
the popular mind. Not a few devout persons 
were startled by the thought that prophets 
were again given to the Church, and those on 
whom the love of the marvellous had most 
power, threw themselves into the open arms 
of the eccentric preachers of Zwickau. 

But scarcely had this heresy, which had 
shown itself of old in the days of Montanism, 
and again in the middle ages, drawn together 
a handful of separatists, when it encountered 
in the Reformation a strong opposing power. 
Nicolas Haussman, to whom Luther gave that 
noble testimony — " What we ttachJieacU?'' 
was at this time the pastor of Zwickau. This 
good man was not led away by the pretensions 
of the false prophets. Supported by his two 
deacons, he successfully resisted the innova- 
iions Storch and his followers were seeking to 
introduce. The fanatics, repelled by the pas- 
tors of the church, fell into another extrava- 
gance : they formed meetings in which doc- 
trines subversive of order were publicly 
preached. The people caught the infection, 
and disturbances were the consequence; a 
priest, bearing the sacrament, was pelted with 
stones, and the civil authority interfering com- 
mitted the most violent of the party to prison. 
Indignant at this treatment, and intent upon 
justifying themselves and obtaining redress, 
Storch, Mark Thomas, and Stubner, repaired 
to Wittemberg. 

They arrived on the 27th December, 1521. 
Storch,. leading the way with the port and 
bearing of a Lanzknecht, and Mark Thomas 
and Stubner following behind. The disorder 
that reigned in Wittemberg was favourable to 
their designs. The youth of the academies, 
and the class of citizens already r.bused and 
excited, were well prepared to give ear to the 
new teai hers. 

Making sure of co-operation, they waited 
upon the University Professors, to receive 
their sanction : "We," said they, " are sent 
by God to teach the people. The Lord has 
favoured us with special communications from 



I Himself; we have the knowledge of things 
which are coming upon the earth. In a word, 
we are Apostles and Prophets, and we appeal, 
for the truth of what we say, to Doctor Lu- 
ther." The Professors were amazed. 

" Who commissioned you to preach ?" en- 
quired Melancthon of Stubner, who had for- 
merly studied under him, and whom he now 
received at his table — "The Lord our God." 
— " Have you committed anything to writ- 
ing 1 — "The Lord our God has forbidden me 
to do so." Melancthon drew back, alarmed 
and astonished. 

" There are indeed spirits of no ordinary 
kind in these men," said he ; " but what 
spirits ] . . . none but Luther can solve the 
doubt. On the one hand let us beware of 
quenching the Spirit of God, and on the other, 
of being seduced by the spirit of the devil." 

Storch, who was of a restless disposition, 
soon left Wittemberg; Stubner remained be- 
hind. Actuated by an ardent desire to make 
proselytes, he went from house to house, con- 
versing with one and another, and persuadmg 
many to acknowledge him as a prophet, of 
God. He especially attached himself to Cel- 
larius, a Suabian, a friend of Melancthon, and 
master of a school attended by a considerable 
number of young persons. Cellarius admitted, 
with blind confidence, the claims of the new 
Apostles. 

Melancthon's perplexity and uneasiness 
continued to increase. It was not so much 
the visions of the prophets of Zwickau, as 
their doctrine concerning Baptism that dis- 
turbed him. To him it seemed agreeable to 
reason, — and he thought it deserved to be ex- 
amined into, — "for," observed he, "nothing 
should be lightly received or rejected." 

Such was the spirit of the Reformation. In 
this hesitation and struggle of Melancthon, 
we have an evidence of his uprightness, which 
does him more honour than a determined op- 
position could have done. 

The Elector himself, whom Melancthon 
termed the light of Israel," had his doubts. 
" Prophets and Apostles in the electorate of 
Saxony, as of old time in Jerusalem ! It is a 
solemn question," said he, " and as a layman, 
I cannot decide it. But rather than fight against 
God, 1 would take to my staff, and descend 
from my throne !" 

On reflection, he intimated by his counsel- 
lors, that Wittemberg had quite sufficient 
trouble in hand : that it was most likely the 
claims of the men of Zwickau were a tempta- 
tion of the devil, and that the wisest course 
appeared to be to allow the whole matter to 
settle down, — that nevertheless whenever his 
Highness should clearly perceive what was 
God's will, he would not confer with flesh and 
blood, but was ready to endure every thing in 
the cause of truth. 

Luther received in the Wartburg intelli- 
gence of the ferment at the court of Wittem- 
berg. His informants apprized him of. ! 
strange persons having made their appear- 
ance, and that, as to their message, it was 
not known from whence it came. The 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



275 



thought instantly occurred to him, that God 
had permi^.ed these deplorable events in order 
to humble his servants, and to rouse them to 
seek higher degrees of sanctification. " Your 
Highness," said he, in a letter to the Elector, 
"your Highness for many a year collect- 
ed reliques far and wide ; God has heard 
your prayers, and sent you, at no cost or trou- 
ble of your own, a whole cross, with nails, 
spears and scourges. God prosper the newly 
acquired relic. Only let your Highness spread 
out your arms, and endure the piercing of the 
nails in your flesh. I always expected that 
Satan would send us this plague. 1 ' 

Nevertheless, there was nothing, according 
to his judgment, more urgent than to secure 
to others the 4iberty he claimed for himself. 
He would have no divers weights or measures : 
*•* Pray, let them alone ; don't imprison them," 
wrote he to Spalatin ; " let not our prince em- 
brue his hands in the blood of the prophets 
that have risen up." Luther was far beyond 
the .age in which he lived, and even beyond 
many of the Reformers in the matter of tolera- 
tion. 

Affairs were daily growing more serious in 
Wittemberg. 

Carlstadtdid not receive many things taught 
by the new teachers, and especially their 
anabaptist doctrine ; but there is something 
contagious in religious enthusiasm, which a 
head like his could with difficulty withstand. 
From the time the men of Zwickau arrived in 
Wittemberg, Carlstadt had accelerated his 
movements in the direction of violentchanges : 
" It is become necessary," cried he, " that we 
should exterminate all the ungodly practices 
around us. He brought forward all the texts 
against image worship, and with increased 
vehemence declaimed against Romish idolatry 
— "People kneel," said he, " and crawl be- 
fore those idols; burn tapers before their 
shrines, and make offerings to them. Let us 
arise, and drag the worshippers from their al- 
tars!" 

Such appeals were not lost upon the popu- 
lace. They broke into churches, carried off 
the images, breaking them in pieces, and 
burning them. Better would it have been to 
have awaited their abolition by authority ; but 
the cautious advances of the leaders of the 
Reformation were thought to compromise its 
security. 

It was not long before one who listened to 
these enthusiasts might have thought there 
were no real Christians in all Wittemberg, 
save only those who refused to come to con- 
fession, persecuted the priests, and ate meat 
on fast days. The- bare suspicion that he 
did not reject, one and all, the ceremonies of 
the Church, as inventions of the devil, was 
enough to subject a man to the charge of be- 
ing a worshipper of Baal. " We must form 
a church," they exclaimed, "that shall con- 
sist of the Saints alone !" 

The burghers of Wittemberg presented to 
the Council certain regulations which it was 
compelled to sanction. Several of these regu- 
lations were conformable to Christian morals. 



The closing of places of amusement was par- 
ticularly insisted upon. 

But soon after this, Carlstadt went still 
greater lengths ; he began to pour contempt 
upon human learning ; and the students heard 
their aged tutor advising them, from his ros- 
trum, to return to their homes, and resume the 
spade, or follow the plough, and cultivate the 
earth, because man was to eat bread in the 
sweat of his brow ! George Mohr, master of 
the boys' school of Wittemberg, carried away 
by a similar madness, called from his win- 
dow to the burghers outside to come and re- 
move their children. Where, indeed, was the 
use of their pursuing their studies, since Storch 
and Stubner had never been at the University, 
and yet were prophets'? A mechanic was 
just as well, nay perhaps better, qualified than 
all the divines in the world to preach the 
Gospel ! 

Thus it was that doctrines were put forth 
directly opposed to the Reformation. The re- 
vival of letters had opened a way for the re- 
formed opinions. Furnished with theological 
learning, Luther had joined issue with Rome ; 
— and the Wittemberg enthusiasts, similar to 
those fanatical monksexposed by Erasmus and 
Reuchiin, pretended to trample under foot all 
human learning! Only let Vandalism once 
establish its sway, and the hopes of the world 
were gone; and another irruption of barba- 
rians would quench the light which God had 
kindled among Christian people. 

It was not long before the results of these 
strange lessons began to show themselves. 
Men's minds were diverted from the Gospel, 
or prejudiced against it: the school was al- 
most broken up, the demoralized students 
burst the bands of discipline, and the states 
of Germany recalled such as belonged to their 
several jurisdictions. Thus the men who 
aimed at reforming and infusing new vigour 
into every thing had brought all to the brink 
of ruin. "One more effort," thought the 
partisans of Rome, who, on all sides were again 
lifting their heads, "and all will be ours!" 

The prompt repression of these fanatical 
excesses was the only means of saving the 
Reformation. But who should undertake the 
task 1 Melancthon] He was too young, too 
deficient in firmness, too much perplexed by 
this strange conjuncture of circumstances. 
The elector] He was the most pacific man 
of his age. To build his castles of Alten- 
burg, Weimar, Lochau, and Coburg, to adorn 
the churches with fine pictures by Lucas Cra- 
nach, to improve the chantings in his cha- 
pels, to advance the prosperity of his uni- 
versity, and promote the happiness of his sub- 
jects; to stop in his walks and distribute 
little presents to playful children, — such were 
the tranquil occupations of his life; and now, 
in his declining years, to engage in conflict 
with fanatics, and oppose violence to violence, 
how could the gracious and pious Frederic 
take such a step ] 

The evil, therefore, was gaining ground, 
and no one stept forward to arrest its progress. 
Luther was absent far from Wittembero. C jd- 



276 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fusion and ruin impended over the city. The 
Reformation beheld, proceeding, as it were, 
from its own bosom, an enemy more to be 
dreaded than Popes and Emperors. It was as 
if on the brink of an abyss. 

"Luther! Luther !" was the cry from one 
end of Wittemberg to the other. The burgh- 
ers were clamorous for his reappearance. Di- 
vines felt their need of the benefit of his judg- 
ment; even the prophets appealed to him. 
All united in entreating him to return. 

We may guess what was passing in the 
Reformer's mind. The harsh usage of Rome 
seemed nothing when compared with what 
now wrung his heart. It is from the very 
midst of the Reformation that its enemies have 
gone forth. It is preying upon its own vitals ; 
and that teaching, which, by its power, had 
sufficed to restore peace to his troubled heart, 
he beholds perverted into an occasion of fatal 
dissensions in the Church. 

"If I knew," said Luther, at an earlier pe- 
riod, " that my doctrine had injured one human 
being, however poor and unknown, — which it 
could not, for it is the very Gospel, — I would 
rather face death ten times over than not re- 
tract it. Andlo! now, a whole city, and that 
city Wittemberg itself, is sinking fast into li- 
centiousness." True, indeed, the doctrine he 
had taught had not been the cause of all this 
evil ; but from every quarter of Germany 
voices were heard that accused him as the 
author of it. Some of the bitterest feelings 
he had ever known oppressed his spirit at this 
juncture, and his trial was of a different kind. 
Was this then, he asked himself, to be the 
issue of the great work of Reformation 1 Im- 
possible ! he utterly rejected the doubts that 
presented themselves. God has begun the 
work — God will fulfil it. "I prostrate my- 
self in deep abasement before the Eternal," 
said he, "and I implore of Him that His 
name may rest upon this work, and that if 
any thing impure has mingled in the doing of 
it, He will remember that I am but a sinful 
man." 

The letters written to Luther, conveying 
reports of the inspiration of the" pretended 
prophets and their exalted communiun with 
the Lord, did not occasion a moment's hesita- 
tion. He well knew the deep struggles and 
prostrations of the spiritual life ; at Erfurth 
and at Wittemberg, he had had experience of 
the mighty power of God, which rendered him 
but little disposed to credit the statement that 
God had appeared visibly and discoursed with 
his creature. 

" Ask them," said he, in writing to Me- 
lancthon, "if they have known those spiritual 
heavings, those pangs of God's new creation, 
those deaths and hells which accompany a 
real regeneration. And if they speak only 
of soft and tranquil impressions, piety, and 
devotion as they phrase it, don't believe them ; 
not even though they should assert that they 
have been caught up into the third heaven ! In 
order that Christ should enter into his glory, 
it behoved him to pass through the suffering 
of death : thus the believer must pass through 



the tribulation of his sin before he enters into 
his Peace. Would you learn when, where, 
and how, God speaks to men 1 Listen to the 
word. '■As a lion He has broken all my bones, 
— I am cast out from before His face, arid my life 
is brought down to the gates of death.'' No, no, 
the Divine Majesty (as they term Him) does 
not speak face to face with man, for ' no man, 1 
says He, ' can see my face and live. 1 " 

But his firm conviction that the prophets 
were under a delusion did but aggravate Lu- 
ther's grief. The solemn truth of Salvatior 
by Grace seemed to have quickly lost its at- 
traction, and men were turning aside after fa- 
bles. He began to understand that the work 
was not so easy as he had once fondly thought. 
He stumbled at this first stone placed in his 
path by the fickleness of the human heart. 
Grief and anxiety weighed heavily on his spi- 
rit. He desired, though at the hazard of his 
life, to remove the stumbling-block out of the 
way of the people, and he resolved to return 
to Wittemberg. 

It was a moment of considerable danger. 
The enemies of the Reformation thought 
themselves on the very eve of destroying it. 
George of Saxony, who would neither con- 
nect himself with Rome nor with Wittem- 
berg, had written, as early as the loth Octo- 
ber, 1521, to Duke John, the Elector's b -other, 
to induce him to side with those who opposed 
the progress of the Reformation. " Some," 
wrote he, "deny the immortality of the soul, 
others, and those friars too ! drag the relics 
of St. Anthony through the streets, and throw 
them into the gutters. All this comes of Lu- 
ther's teaching. Entreat your brother either 
to make a public example of the impious 
authors of these disorders, or, at least, pub- 
licly to declare his opinion of them. Our 
gray hairs warn us that we are near the end 
of our course, and that we ought speedily to 
put an end to such evils." 

After this, George took his departure to be 
present at the sittings of the Imperial Govern- 
ment at Nuremberg. On arriving, he used 
every means to procure the adoption of severe 
measures. The result was, that, on the 21st 
of January, the Diet published an edict, in 
which they complained bitterly that the priests 
were accustomed to say mass without being 
habited in priest's garments, — that they pro- 
nounced the words of consecration in German, 
— administered it to such as nad not confessed 
themselves, — passed it into the hands of lay- 
men, without even' troubling themselves to 
ascertain whether the communicant came to 
it fasting. 

The Imperial Government directed the 
Bishops, accordingly, to look after and punish 
severely the innovators within their respect- 
ive dioceses; and the Bishops were not slow 
in following these directions. 

It was just at this moment that Luther de- 
cided to appear again upon the stage. He 
clearly saw the critical position of affairs, and 
foreboded wide-spreading calamity. " A time 
of trouble," said he, "is coming upon the 
empire, which will sweep before it princes 




luther and the swiss students, 
luther's departure from wartburg. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



277 



magistrates, and bishops. People's eyes are 
opened ; they cannot be driven by main force; 
Germany will be deluged with blood. Let 
us take our stand as a wall of defence to our 
country in the day of God's anger." 

So thought Luther: but he perceived a 
danger yet more imminent. At Wittemberg, 
the fire, instead of expiring, was burning 
every day more fiercely. From the summits 
of the Wartburg, Luther might discern in the 
horizon the lurid glare that gives notice of 
devastation flashing at intervals through the 
gloom. Who but himself can apply a remedy 
in the crisis? What should prevent his 
throwing himself into the heat of the confla- 
gration, and exerting his influence to arrest 
its progress 1 ? He foresees his enemies pre- 
paring to strike him down, but his purpose is 
not shaken. Nor is he deterred by the Elec- 
tor's entreaty that he would keep within the 
Wartburg, and there quietly prepare his jus- 
tification at the approaching Diet. A more 
urgent necessity is pressing upon his soul; 
and it is to justify the Gospel itself. " The 
news from Wittemberg," wrote he, " is every 
day becoming more alarming. I am on the 
point of setting out. That state of things 
absolutely requires it." 

Accordingly, on the 3d of March, he finally 
decided on leaving the W T artburg. He bade 
farewell to its gray turrets and gloomy forests. 
He passed beyond those walls, within which 
the anathemas of Leo and the sword of 
Charles were alike powerless. He trod the 
path that wound to the foot of the mountain. 
The world which lay stretched before him, 
and on which he was once more about to 
appear, would soon perhaps ring with the 
clamours of those who sought his life. It 
matters not. On he goes rejoicing; for it is 
in the name of the Lord that he is bending his 
steps towards the haunts of men. 

Time had been busy. Luther was leaving 
the Wartburg for another cause and in a dif- 
ferent character from that in which he had 
first entered it. He had arrived there as one 
who had attacked the received tradition, and 
its established teachers. He was quitting it 
for the defence of the doctrine of the Apostles 
against a new class of adversaries. He had 
entered the Wartburg as an innovator who 
had assailed the ancient hierarchy, — he was 
leaving it in the spirit of a conservator, that 
he might defend the faith of Christians. Until 
this period, Luther had seen in the success of 
his efforts but the triumph of the great truth 
of Justification by Faith ; and, armed with 
this single W'eapon, he had beat down long- 
standing superstitions. But if there had been 
a time for removing that which had encum- 
bered the soil, a season must needs come for 
building up. Hidden under the ruins with 
which his assaults had strewed the plain, 
behind discredited letters of indulgence, bro- 
ken tiaras and trampled cowls, beneath the 
many Romish errors and corruptions that his 
mind surveyed as the slain upon a battle-field, 
he discerned and brought forth to light the 
primitive Catholic Church, reappearing still 



1 the same, and, as it were, emerging from a 
protracted struggle, with unchangeable doc- 
trine and heavenly accents. He could appre- 
I ciate the vast difference between Rome and 
j that true Church which he hailed and em- 
braced with joy. Luther wrought no new 
thing on the earth, as has been falsely charged 
upon him ; he did not build for his own age 
an edifice that had no associations with the 
past; he discerned and let in the light upon 
those earlier foundations which w r ere then 
overrun with thorns and brambles ; while he 
persevered in reconstructing the temple, he 
did but build on the fundamental truths taught 
by the Apostles. Luther was aware that the 
ancient and primitive Apostolic Church must, 
on one hand, be restored and opposed to that 
papal power which had so long oppressed it, 
— and, on the other hand, be defended against 
enthusiasts and unbelievers, who affected to 
disown it, and were seeking to set up some 
new thing, regardless of all that God had 
done in past ages. Luther was, from that 
hour, no longer the representative of a single 
great truth — that of Justification by Faith, 
though, to the last, he gave to it the highest 
place; the whole theology of Christianity now 
occupied his thoughts: — and while he believ- 
ed that, in its essence, the Church is the Con- 
gregation of Saints, he was careful not to de- 
spise the visible Church, and he therefore re- 
cognised those who were outwardly called, 
as constituting, in a certain sense, the king- 
dom of God. Accordingly, a great change 
took place in Luther, and in his entrance into 
divine truth, and in that regenerative process 
which God was carrying on in the world. 
The hierarchy of Rome, acting upon him, 
might have goaded the Reformer to one ex- 
treme, had not the sects, which, at this time, 
lifted their heads so daringly, recalled him to 
just and moderate views. His residence in 
the Wartburg divides these two periods of 
the history of the Reformation. 

Luther rode slowly on in the direction of 
Wittemberg. It was Shrove Tuesday, and 
the second day of his journey. Towards even- 
ing, a terrific storm came on, and the roads 
were flooded. Two young Swiss, who were 
travelling the same way, were hastening for 
shelter to the city of Jena. They had studied 
at Bale, and were attracted to Wittemberg by 
the renown of its university. Journeying on 
foot, tired, and wet through, John Kessler, of 
Saint Gall, and his comrade, quickened their 
steps. The town was in all the bustle and 
buffoonery of the carnival; dances, masquer- 
ades, and tumultuous feasting engrossed the 
thoughts of the inhabitants; and the two tra- 
vellers, on arriving, could find no room in any 
of the inns. - After a while, they were directed 
to the Black Bear, outside the city gate. Ha- 
rassed and depressed, they repaired thither. 
The landlord received them kindly. Ashamed 
of their appearance, they sat down near the 
open door of the public room, unwilling to go 
further. Seated at one of the tables, was a 
solitary man in the habit of a knight, his head 
covered with a red cap, and wearing small 



278 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



■slothes, over which hung down the skirts of 
his doublet. His right hand rested on the 
pommel of his sword ; his left grasped the 
hilt; a book lay open before him, and he 
seemed to be reading attentively. At the 
noise made by their entrance, the stranger 
raised his head and saluted them courteously, 
inviting them to approach and take a seat with 
him at the table; then, offering them a glass 
of beer, he said, alluding to their accent, 
"You are Swiss, I perceive; but from which 
of the Cantons?"— "From St. Gall."— "If 
you are going to Wittemberg, you will there 
meet one of your countrymen, Doctor Schurff." 
Encouraged by so much affability, they in- 
quired, " Could you kindly inform us where 
Martin Luther now is ?" " I know for certain," 
answered the knight, " that Luther is not at 
Wittemberg, but probably he will be there 
shortly. Philip Melancthon is there. If 
you'll be advised by me, apply yourselves tc 
the Greek and Hebrew, that you may under- 
stand the Holy Scriptures." "If our lives 
are spared," observed one of the Swiss, " we 
will not return without seeing and hearing 
Doctor Luther; it is for that purpose we have 
made the journey. We hear he wants to abo- 
lish the clergy and the mass; and as our pa- 
rents always intended to bring us up to the 
Church, we should like to know on what 
grounds he is acting." The knight was silent 
for a moment, and then inquired, " W^here 
have you been studying hitherto?" — "At 
Bale." — "Is Erasmus still there? What is 
he doing?" They answered his questions, 
and a pause ensued. The two Swiss knew 
not. what to make of their new acquaintance. 
" How strange," thought they, " that the con- 
versation of a knight should be all about 
Schurff, Melancthon, and Erasmus, and the 
advantage of knowing Greek and Hebrew!" 
"Tell me, my friends," said the stranger, sud- 
denly breaking silence, " what is said of Lu- 
ther in Switzerland ?" — " Sir," replied Kess- 
ler, " opinions concerning him are greatly 
divided, as is the case everywhere. Some 
extol him, and others pronounce him an abo- 
minable heretic." — " Ay, ay, the priests, no 
doubt," remarked the stranger. 

The knight's cordiality had put the students 
completely at their ease. Their curiosity was 
excited to know what book he had been read- 
ing when they came . in. The knight had 
closed the volume. Kessler's comrade ven- 
tured to take it up; what was his surprise at 
rinding it to be the Hebrew Psalter! Laying 
it down, he said, as if to divert attention from 
this freedom, " Gladly would I give my little 
ringer to understand that language." — "You 
will surely have your wish," was the stranger's 
reply, " if you will take the pains to ac- 
quire it." 

A few minutes after, the landlord's voice 
was heard calling Kessler. The poor Swiss 
began to fear something was amiss; but the 
host whispered, "I hear you want to see Lu- 
ther; well.it is he who is seated beside you." 
Kessler's first thought was that he was jest- 
ing. " You surely would not deceive me," 



said he. "It is he himself," replied the land- 
lord ; "but don't let him see that you know 
him." Kessler made no answer; butreturned 
to the room and resumed his seat, eager to 
communicate the information to his companion. 
To do this was not easy; at last he leaned 
forward, as if looking towards the door, and, 
stooping close to his friend's ear, whispered, 
"The landlord says it is Luther himself." — 
" Perhaps," returned his companion, " he said 
Hiitten." — "Probably so," said Kessler; "1 
may have mistaken the one*name for the other, 
for they resemble each other in sound." 

At that moment the trampling of horses' 
feet was heard outside: two travelling mer- 
chants, asking a night's lodging, entered the 
room, laid aside their spurs, and threw off their 
cloaks; and one of them deposited near him, 
on the table, an unbound book, which attracted 
the knight's notice. " What book may that 
be?" asked he. "It is a commentary on the 
Gospels and Epistles, by Doctor Luther," 
was the traveller's answer; " it has only just 
appeared." — "I shall get it shortly," remarked 
the knight. 

Conversation was interrupted by the land- 
lord's announcing that supper was ready. 
The two students, not wishing to incur the 
expense of a meal in company with the knight 
Ulric Hiitten and two thriving merchants, took 
the landlord aside, and asked him to serve 
them with something apart. " Come along, 
my friends," said the innkeeper of the Black 
B.ear; "sit ye down beside this gentleman; 
I will let you off easy." — " Come, come," 
said the knight, "I'll pay the score." 

Duringsupper,the mysterious stranger made 
many striking and instructive remarks. Both 
merchants and students listened in silence, 
more attentive to his words than to the dishes 
before them. In the course of conversation, 
one of the merchants exclaimed, " Luther must 
be either an angel from heaven or a devil from 
hell!" and he followed up his exclamation 
by the remark, " 1 would give ten florins for 
an opportunity of meeting him and confessing 
to him." 

Supper being over, the merchants rose from 
their seats; the two Swiss remained in com- 
pany with the knight, who, taking up a large 
glass of beer, and raising it to his lips, said 
gravely, after the custom of the country, — 
"Swiss, one glass more, for thanks." And 
as Kessler was about to take the glass, the 
stranger, replacing it, handed him one filled 
with wine: — "You are not used to beer," 
said ne. 

This said, he rose from his seat, threw over 
his shoulders a military cloak, and, extending 
his hand to the students, said, " When you 
reach Wittemberg, salute Doctor Jerome 
Schurff from me." — " With pleasure," replied 
they; " but whose name shall we give?" — 
" Do you tell him only, that he who is coming 
sends him greeting." With these words he 
departed, leaving them delighted with his 
condescension and kindness. 

Luther — for he it was — continued his jour- 
ney. It will be remembered that he had been 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



279 



placed under ban of the Empire ; whoever met 
him might therefore seize his person. But in 
that critical moment, engaged, as he was, in 
an enterprise replete with dangers, he was 
calm and serene, and conversed cheerfully 
with those whom he met with on his way. 

It was not that he deceived himself as to 
immediate results. He saw the horizon black 
with storms. " Satan," said he, " is enraged ; 
and all around me are plotting death and de- 
struction. But I go forward to throw myself 
in the way of the Emperor and the Pope, with 
no protector but God above. Go where I will, 
every man is at perfect liberty to put me to 
death wherever he may find me. Chris^is 
Lord of all : if it be His will that my life 
should be taken, even so let it be." 

That same day, being Ash Wednesday, 
Luther arrived at Borne, a small town in the 
neighbourhood of Leipsic. He felt that it 
became him to acquaint his prince with the 
bold step he was about to take, and accord- 
ingly wrote as follows, from the inn at which 
he had alighted : 

" Grace and peace from God our Father, 
and from our Lord Jesus Christ ! Most serene 
Elector, gracious Prince, the reproach brought 
upon the Gospel by the events that have taken 
place at Wittemberg have so deeply grieved 
me, that I should have lost all hope, were I 
not assured that our cause is that of the truth. 

"Your Highness knows full well, — or, if 
not, be it known to you, — I received the Gos- 
pel, not from man, but from heaven, by our 
Lord Jesus Christ. It was not from any doubt 
as to the truth, that I formerly requested pub- 
lic discussions ; I did so in humility, and in 
the hope to win over others. But, since my 
humility is taken advantage of, to the hinder- 
ance of the Gospel, my conscience urges me, 
at this time, to change my course of action. 
I have sufficiently shown my deference to your 
Highness, by withdrawing from the public 
gaze for a whole year. Satan knows that it 
was not from cowardice that I did so. I would 
have entered Worms, though there had been 
as many devils in the town as there were tiles 
upon its roofs. Now, Duke George, whom 
your Highness mentions as if to scare me, is 
much less to be dreaded than a single devil. 
If what is passing at Wittemberg were occur- 
ring at Leipsic, (the Duke's usual place of 
residence,) I would instantly mount my horse 
and repair thither, even though — your High- 
ness will, I trust, pardon the expression — it 
should rain Dukes George for nine days toge- 
ther, and every one should be nine times as 
fierce as he ! What can he be thinking of in 
attacking me 1 Does he suppose that Christ, 
my Lord, is a man of straw] May God avert 
from him the awful judgment that hangs over 
him ! 

" Be it known to your Highness, that I am 
repairing to Wittemberg, under a protection 
more powerful than that of an Elector. I have 
no thought of soliciting the aid of your High- 
ness ; and am so far from desiring your pro- 
tection, that it is rather my purpose to protect 
your Highness. V I knew that your High- 



ness could or would take up my defence, I 
would not come to Wittemberg. No secular 
sword can advance this cause: God must do 
all, without the aid or co-operation of man. 
He who has most faith is the most availing 
defence ; but, as it seems to me, your High- 
ness is as yet very weak in faith. 

" But since your Highness desires to know 
what to do, I will humbly answer: Your 
Electoral Highness has already done too much, 
and should do nothing whatever; God neither 
wants nor will endure that you or I should 
take thought or part in the matter. Let your 
Highness follow this advice. 

" In regard to myself, your Highness must 
remember your dut}^ as an Elector, and allow 
the instructions of his Imperial Majesty to be 
carried into effect in your towns and districts, 
offering no impediment to any who would 
seize or kill me ; for none may contend against 
the powers that be, save only He who has or- 
dained them. 

" Let your Highness accordingly leave the 
gates open, and respect safe-conducts, if my 
enemies in person, or by their envoys, should 
come to search for me in your Highness's 
states. Every thing may take its course, 
without trouble or prejudice to your Highness. 

" I write this in haste, that you may not 
feel aggrieved by my coming. My business 
is with another kind of person from Duke 
George, one who knows me, and whom I know 
well. 

" Written at Borne, at the inn of the Guide, 
on Ash Wednesday, 1522. 

" Your Electoral Highness's 

" Very humble servant, 

" Martin Luther." 

In this way, Luther made his approach to 
Wittemberg : he wrote to his prince, but not, 
as we have seen, to excuse the step he had 
taken. An unshaken confidence animated his 
heart. He saw God's hand engaged in the 
cause, and that sufficed him. The heroism 
of faith was perhaps never more fully acted 
out. In one of the editions of Luther's works, 
we read opposite this letter, the remark — 
"This is a wonderful writing of the third and 
latest Elias." 

It was on Friday, the 7th of March, that 
Luther re-entered Wittemberg, having been 
five days on his journey. Doctors, students, 
burghers, broke forth in rejoicings, for they 
had again among them the pilot who could 
best extricate the vessel from the reefs by 
which it was encompassed. 

The Elector, who was then at Lochau, at- 
tended by his court, was much affected by the 
perusal of the Reformer's letter. In his desire 
to exculpate him before the diet, he wrote tt 
Schurff: "Let Luther write to me, explain 
ing his reasons for returning to Wittemberg 
and introduce the statement that he came with 
out my consent." Luther complied. 

" Behold me ready to bear your Highness's 
disapprobation, and the anger of the whole 
world. Are not the Witteinbergers my own 
sheep ? Has not God committed them to my 
care "? and ought I not, if need be, to lay down 



280 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



my life for them? Besides, I dread lest we 
should see, throughout Germany, a revolt by 
which God shall punish our nation. Let your 
Highness be well assured, the decrees of hea- 
ven are not like those of Nuremberg."* This 
setter was written on the same day that Lu- 
ther reached Wittemberg. 

The followingday, being Easter Eve, Luther 
/isited Jerome Schurff. He found Melanc- 
thon, Jonas, Amsdorff, , Augustin Schurtf, 
Jerome's brother, assembled. Luther put 
many questions to them, and while they re- 
counted all that had taken place in his ab- 
sence, two foreigners entered the room. The 
Swiss drew back timidly, on rinding them- 
selves in the midst of this company of learned 
Doctors ; but they soon recovered their self- 
possession when they saw in the centre of the 
group, the knight whom they had met at the 
Black Bear. The latter, advancing, accosted 



them as 
pointed 
Philip 
you." 



old friends, and said, smiling, as he 



to one of the company, — " That is 
Melancthon, whom I mentioned to 
The two Swiss spent that day in the 
society of the assembled friends, on the strength 
of the meeting at Jena. 

One absorbing thought engrossed the Re- 
former's mind, and damped the pleasure he 
would otherwise have felt at finding himself 
once more surrounded by his friends. Doubt- 
less, the stage on which he had chosen to ap- 
pear was an obscure one. He was about to 
raise his voice in a petty towm of Saxony ; and 
yet his object was, in reality, so important as 
to influence the destinies of the world, and be 
felt in its effects by many nations and people. 
The question to be decided was, — whether 
the teaching which he had derived from God's 
Word, and which was destined to produce so 
mighty an effect, would, in the trial, prove 
stronger than those disorganizing principles 
which threatened its extinction. It was now 
to be seen whether it was possible to reform 
without destroying, — to open a way to new 
developments without losing such as had 
already been evolved. To reduce to silence 
fanatics in the energy of the first bursts of 
enthusiasm, — to arrest the headlong course of 
a thoughtless multitude, — to calm their spirits, 
and restore order, peace, and reason, — to break 
the force of the torrent that beat against the 
as yet unsettled edifice of the Reformation, — 
such was the object of Luther's return to Wit- 
temberg. But would his influence accomplish 
all this ? Time must show. 

The Reformer's heart thrilled at the thought 
of the struggle he was about to enter upon. 
He raised his head, as the lion shakes his 
brindled mane when roused to the fight. "The 
hour," said he, "is arrived, when we must 
trample under foot the power of Satan, and 
contend against the spirit of darkness. If our 
adversaries do not flee from us; — Christ will 
know how to compel them. We who put our 
trust in the Lord of life and death are lords 
both of life and of death?" 



* L. Epp. ii. p. 143. Luther altered this ex- 
pression at the Elector's request. 



But at the same time the impetuous Reform. 
er, as if restrained by a higher power, refused 
to employ the anathemas and thunders of the 
Word, and set about his work in the spirit of 
an humble pastor — a tender shepherd of souls. 
" It is with the Word we must contend," ob- 
served he, " and by the Word we must refute 
and expel what has gained a footing by vio- 
lence. I would not resort to force against 
such as are superstitious ; — nor even against 
unbelievers! Whosoever believeth let him 
draw nigh, and whoso believeth not stand afar 
off. Let there be no compulsion. Liberty is 
of the very essence of Faith." 

The next day was Sunday. That day the 
Doctor, whom the lofty walls of the Wartburg 
had for nearly a year hidden from the public 
eye, is to appear in the pulpit of the church 
of Wittemberg. " Luther is come back." 
" Luther is to preach to-day." The news, re- 
peated from one to another, had of itself no 
slight effect in giving a turn to the thoughts 
by which the multitude were deluded. Peo- 
ple hurried to and fro in all directions; and 
on Sunday morning the church was filled to 
overflow with an attentive and impressed con- 
gregation. 

Luther could comprehend the disposition of 
his hearers' minds. He ascended the pulpit. 
Behold him surrounded by the flock which 
had formerly followed him with one heart as 
a docile sheep, but which has broken from 
him in the spirit of an untamed heifer. His 
address was simple and noble, — energetic and 
persuasive ; breathing the spirit of a tender 
father returning to his children, and inquiring 
into their conduct, while he communicates the 
reports that have reached him concerning them. 
He frankly commended their progress in the 
faith, and having thus prepared and gathered 
up their thoughts, he proceeded as follows: — 

" But we need a something beyond Faith ; 
and that is Love. If a man who carries a 
sword is alone, it matters not whether he draw 
it or keep it sheathed; but if he is in a crowd 
let him have a care lest he wound any of 
those about him. 

" Observe a mother with her babe. She 
first gives it nothing but milk ; and then the 
most easily digestible food. What would be 
the consequence were she to begin by giving 
it meat or wine? 

" In like manner should we act toward out 
brother. — Have you been long at the breast"? 
— If so, well ; — only let your brother suck as 
long! 

" Observe the Sun. He dispenses two gifts, 
— namely — light and warmth. The mightiest 
monarch cannot turn aside his rays : — they 
come straight on, arriving upon this earth by 
a direct course. Meanwhile his warmth goes 
out and diffuses itself in ever) 7 direction. So 
it is that Faith, like light, should ever be 
simple and unbending; — whilst Love, like 
warmth, should beam forth on all sides, and 
bend to every necessity of our brethren." 

Having thus engaged his hearers' atten- 
tion, he proceeded to press them more closely : 

" It is agreeable to Scripture, say you. tc 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



281 



abolish the Mass. Be it so. But what order, 
what decency have you observed ] It became 
you to offer up earnest prayers to God; to ap- 
ply to the authorities ; then, indeed, every 
one might have acknowledged that the thing 
was of the Lord." 

Thus spake Luther. The fearless man who, 
at Worms, had stood forth against the princes 
of this world, made a deep impression on 
men's minds by these accents of wisdom and 
peace. Carlstadtand the prophets of Zwickau, 
from being extolled and all-powerful for a few 
weeks, and ruling to the disturbance of the 
public peace, had shrunk into insignificance 
beside the prisoner escaped from the Wart- 
burg. 

"The Mass," he continued, "is a bad 
thing. God is opposed to it. It ought to be 
abolished, and I would that everywhere the 
Supper of the Gospel were established in its 
stead. But let none be torn from it by force. 
We must leave results to God. It is not we 
that- must work, — but His Word. And why 
so ? you will ask. Because the hearts of 
men are not in my hand as clay in the hand 
of the potter. We have a right to speak, but 
none whatever to compel. Let us preach ; — 
the rest belongs to God. If I resort to force, 
what shall I gain 1 Grimace, fair appearances, 
apeings, cramped uniformity, and hypocrisy. 
But there will be no hearty sincerity, — no 
faith, — no love. Where these are wanting, — 
all is wanting; and I would not give a straw 
for such a victory ! 

" Our first aim must be to win the heart ; 
and to this end we must preach the Gospel. 
Then we shall find the Word impressing one 
to-day, another the next day ; and the result 
will be, that each one will withdraw from the 
Mass, and cease to receive it. God does more 
by the simpler power of His word than you 
and I and the whole world could effect by all 
our efforts put together ! God arrests the 
heart, and that once taken, — all is won ! 

" I say not this that you should restore the 
Mass. Since it is done away with, in God's 
name, let it not be revived. But was it right 
to goaboutit in such a manner 1 ? Paul, coming 
one day to the famous city of Athens, found 
there the altars of such as were no gods. He 
passed on from one to the other, observing 
them without touching one of them ; but he 
made his way to the market-place, and testi- 
fied to the people that all their gods were 
naught but images, graven by art and man's 
device. And that preached Word took pos- 
session of their hearts, and the idols fell, with- 
out his so much as touching them ! 

" I am ready to preach, argue, write, — but 
I will not constrain any one: for faith is a 
voluntary act. Call to mind what I have al- 
ready done. I stood up against Pope, in- 
dulgences, and Papists; but without violence 
©r tumult. I brought forward God's Word ; 
I preached and wrote, and there I stopped. 
And whilst I laid me down and slept, or chat- 
ted with Amsdorff and Melancthon over our 
tankard of Wittemberg beer, the word I had 
preached brought down the power of the Pope 



to the ground, so that never prince or emperor 
had dealt it such a blow. For my part, I did 
next to nothing: the power of the Word did 
the whole business. Had I appealed to force, 
Germany might have been deluged with blood 
But what would have been the consequence'? 
Ruin and destruction of soul and body. Ac- 
cordingly, I kept quiet, and let the Word run 
through the length and breadth of the land. 
Know you what the devil thinks when he 
sees men resort to violence to spread the Gos- 
pel through the world? Seated behind the 
fire of hell, and folding his arms, with a ma- 
lignant glance and horrid leer, Satan says, 
'How good it is in yonder madmen to play 
into my hands.' But only let him see the 
Word of the Lord circulating, and working its 
way unaided on the field of the world, and at 
once he is disturbed at his work, his knees 
smite each other, he trembles, and is ready to 
die with fear." 

On the Tuesday following, Luther again 
ascended the pulpit, and his powerful exhorta- 
tion was once more heard, in the midst of an 
attentive audience. He preached again on 
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and 
Sunday. He took a review of the destruction 
of images, the distinction of meats, the insti- 
tution of the Supper, the restoration of the 
cup to the laity, and the abolition of the con- 
fessional. He showed that these points were 
of much less consequence than the Mass, and 
that the prime movers of the disorders of which 
Wittemberg had been the scene, had grossly 
abused their liberty. He passed by turns from 
accents of true Christian charity to bursts of 
holy indignation. 

He especially declared himself against those 
who ventured lightly to partake of the Supper 
of the Lord. "It is not the mere pressing with 
the teeth" said he, " it is the inward and spiritual 
partaking realized by faith which makes us 
Christians, and without which all outward 
acts are but show and grimace. But that faith 
consists in the firm belief that Jesus is the 
Son of God ; that having himself borne our 
sins and our iniquities on the cross, he is, him 
self, the alone and all-sufficient expiation ; 
that he now appears continually in the pre- 
sence of God, reconciling us to the Father; 
and has given to us the sacrament of his body 
for the strengthening of our faith in this un- 
speakable mercy. Only let me believe this, 
and God is my defence; with Him for my 
buckler, I defy sin, death, hell, and devils : 
they cannot harm me, nor even so much as 
ruffle a hair of my head ! That spiritual bread 
is comfort to the afflicted, health to the sick, 
life to the dying, food to the hungry, and a 
treasury for the poor! The man who does 
not feel the burden of his sins, ought, there- 
fore, to abstain from approaching the altar. 
What can he have to do there] Ah! let con- 
science be heard; let our hearts be broken 
with the sense of our sins, and we shall not 
come to that holy sacrament in a spirit of pre- 
sumption." 

Crowds continually filled the church ; many 
came even from the neighbouring towns and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



villages to hear this new Elijah. Amongothers 
Oapito passed two days at Witternberg, and 
heard the doctor preach twice. Never before J 
had Lather and the cardinal's chaplain been 
so entirely agreed. Melancthon, magistrates, 
professors, and the whole population were j 
overjoyed. Schurff, delighted with such a | 
termination of so unpromising a state of 
things, hastened to communicate the intelli- 
gence to the Elector. He wrote to him on 
Friday, the 15th of March, after hearing Lu- 
ther's sixth discourse. " Oh, what joy has 
Doctor Martin's reappearance diffused among 
us ! His words, through divine mercy, every 
day bring back into the way of truth our poor, 
deluded people. It is manifest that the Spirit 
of God is with him, and that his coming to 
Witternberg is by His special providence." 

In truth, these sermons are models of popu- 
lar eloquence ; but not such as, in the days of 
Demosthenes, or even in those of Savonarola, 
had led captive the hearts of the people. The 
task of the preacher of Witternberg was one 
of greater difficulty. It is far easier to rouse 
the fury of a wild beast than to charm it 
down. What was needed was to soothe a fana- 
tic multitude, and to tame unruly passions ; and 
in this Luther succeeded. In his first eight 
sermons, he allowed not a word to escape him 
against the originators of these disorders; no 
allusion likely to give pain, — not so much as 
a word by which their feelings could be 
wounded. But his moderation was his 
strength ; and the more tenderly he dealt 
with the souls that had gone astray, the more 
perfectly did he vindicate that truth that was 
aggrieved. There was no withstanding the 
power of his eloquence. Men usually ascribe 
to timidity and cowardly compromise, exhor- 
tations that inculcate moderation. Here, how 
different was the case ! In publicly standing 
forth before the inhabitants of Witternberg, 
Luther braved the Pope's excommunication 
and the Emperor's proscription. He reap- 
peared, notwithstanding the Elector's prohi- 
bition, who had intimated that he could not 
protect him. Even at Worms his courage 
had not heen so signally proved. He was 
exposing himself to the most imminent dan- 
gers ; and hence his call was responded to. 
The man who braved the scaffold might 
claim to be listened to when he inculcated 
submission. None better qualified to urge on 
his hearers the duty of obedience to God, than 
he who, in order that he might himself render 
such obedience, defied the most violent per- 
secution of man. At Luther's appeal, dif- 
ficulties' disappeared — tumult subsided — se- 
dition was silenced, and the burghers of 
Witternberg returned quietly to their dwell- 
ings. 

Gabriel Didymus who, of all the Augus- 
tine monks, had manifested most enthusiasm, 
hung upon the Reformer's words. " Don't 
you think Luther a wonderful teacher ?" in- 
quired one of his hearers, who was himself 
deeply affected. " Ah !" replied he, " I seem 
to be listening to the voice of an angel rather 
than a man." Didymus, soon after this, 



publicly confessed he had b ;en deceived 
" He is quite a changed man, "said Luther. 

It was not so at first with Carlstadt. 
Abandoning his studies, and frequenting thp 
workshops of artisans, that he might there 
receive the true interpretation of the Scrip 
tures, he was mortified at beholding his party 
losing ground on the reappearance of Luther. 
In his view it was arresting the Reformation 
in the midst of its career. Hence, his coun- 
tenance wore a constant air of dejection, sad- 
ness, and dissatisfaction. Nevertheless, ho 
sacrificed his self-love for the sake of peace, 
restrained his desire to vindicate his doctrine 
was reconciled, at least in appearance, to hia 
colleague, and soon after resumed his studies 
in the university. 

The most noted of the prophets were not at 
Witternberg when Luther arrived there. Ni- 
colas Storch was on a progress through the 
country. Mark Stubner had quitted the hos- 
pitable roof of Melancthon. Perhaps their 
spirit of prophecy had left them without 
" voice or answer," from the first tidings 
brought them that the new Elijah was turn- 
ing his steps toward their Mount Carmel. 
Cellarius, the old schoolmaster, alone remain- 
ed. Meanwhile, Stubner, hearing that his 
sheep were scattered, returned in haste to 
Witternberg. Those who had remained faith- 
ful to " the heavenly prophecy" gathered 
round their master, repeated the substance of 
Luther's sermons, and pressed him with anx- 
ious inquiries as to what they ought to think 
and do. Stubner exhorted them to stand firm. 
"Let him come forth," interposed Cellarius; 
" let him give us the meeting; let him only 
afford us opportunity to declare our doctrine, 
and then we shall see . . . ." 

Luther had but little wish to meet them. 
He knew them to be men of violent, hasty, 
and haughty temper, who would not endure 
even kind admonitions, but required that every 
one should, at the very first summons, sub- 
mit to them as to a supreme authority. Such 
are enthusiasts in every age. Nevertheless, 
as an interview was requested, Luther couid 
not decline it. Besides, it might be doing 
service to the weak of the flock to unmask 
the imposture of the prophets. Accordingly 
the meeting took place. Stubner opened the 
conversation. He showed how he proposed 
to restore the Church and reform the world. 
Luther listened to him with great calmness. 
" Of all you have been saying," replied he, 
at last, gravely, " there is nothing that I see 
to be based upon Scripture. It is a mere tis- 
sue of fiction." At these words Cellarius 
lost all self-possession. Raising his voice 
like one out of his mind, he trembled from 
head to foot, and striking the table with his 
fist, in a violent passion, exclaimed against 
Luther's speech as an insult offered to a man 
of God. On this Luther remarked, " Paul 
declared that the signs of an apostle were 
wrought among the Corinthians, in signs ana 
mighty deeds. Do you likewise prove your 
apostleship by miracles." — " We will do so," 
rejoined the prophets. "The God whom 1 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



serve," answered Luther, "will know how to 
bridle your gods." Stubner, who had hith- 
erto preserved an imperturbable silence, now 
fixing his eyes on the Reformer, said, in a 
solemn tone, " Martin Luther, hear me while 
1 declare what is passing at this moment in 
your sor.l. You are beginning to see that 
my doctrine is true." Luther was silent for 
a few moments, and then replied, " The Lord 
rebuke thee, Satan." Instantly the prophets 
lost all self-command. They shouted aloud, 
"The Spirit, the Spirit." The answer of 
Luther was marked by the cool contempt and 
cutting homeliness of his expressions: "I 
slap your spirit on the snout !" said he. 
Hereupon their outcries redoubled. Cellarius 
was more violent than the rest. He stormed 
till he foamedatthe mouth, -and their voices 
were inaudible from the tumult. The result 
was that the pretended prophets abandoned 
the field, and that very day they left Wittem- 
berg. 

Thus did Luther achieve the object for 
which he had left his retirement. He had 
taken his stand against fanaticism, and ex- 
pelled from the bosom of the church the 
enthusiasm and disorder which had invaded 
it. If the Reformation with one hand dashed 
to the earth the dusty decretals of Rome, with 
the other it put away from it the pretensions 
of the mystics, and established on the terri- 
tory it had acquired the living and sure Word 
of God. The character of the Reformation 
was thus distinctly seen. Its mission was to 
keep constantly a middle course between 
these extremes, remote alike from fanatical 
distortions and from the death-like slumber 
of the papal rule. 

Here was an instance of a Whole popula- 
tion passionately excited, and misled to such 
a degree as to have cast off all restraint, at 
once listening to reason, recovering calmness, 
and returning to their accustomed submis- 
sion, so that the most perfect quiet again 
reigned in that very city which, but a few days 
before, had been like the troubled ocean. 

The most absolute liberty was forthwith 
established at Wittemberg. Luther continued 
to reside in the convent, and to wear the mo- 
nastic habit; but every one was free to lay it 
aside. In coming to the Lord's Supper, per- 
sons might either receive only the general 
absolution or they might apply for a special 
one. It was recognised as a principle to re- 
ject nothing but what contradicted a clear 
and express declaration of Scripture. It was 
no indifference that dictated this course. On 
the contrary, religion was recalled to its es- 
sential principle. Piety only withdrew from 
the accessary forms in which it had been 
wellnigh lost, that it might rest on its true 
basis. Thus was the Reformation itself pre- 
served, and the church's teaching progres- 
sively developed in love and .truth. 

No sooner was order re-established, when 
the Reformer turned to his beloved Melanc- 
thon, and requested his co-operation in the final 
revision of the translation of the New Testa- 
ment, which he had brought with him from 



the Wartburg. As early as the year 1519, 
Melancthon had laid down the grand principle 
that the Fathers must be explained conforma- 
bly to the Scripture, and not Scripture accord- 
ing to the Fathers. Meditating daily on the 
books of the New Testament, he felt at once 
charmed by their simplicity, and solemnly 
impressed by the depth of their import. " In 
them, and them only," affirmed this adept in 
ancient philosophy, " do we find the true ' food 
of the soul.' " Gladly, therefore, did he com- 
ply with Luther's desire, and many were the 
hours the two friends, from that time, spent 
together, studying and translating the inspired 
Word. Often would they pause in their la- 
bours to give free expression to their wonder. 
"If Reason could speak," said Luther, "it 
would say, 0, that I could once hear the voice 
of God ! I should think it worth a journey 
to the very uttermost parts of the earth ! Give 
ear, then, my fellow man — God, the creator 
of heaven and earth, now speaks to thee !" 

The printing of the New Testament was 
begun and carried on with an activity beyond 
all example. One might have thought the 
very printers felt the importance of the work 
in hand. Three presses were constantly em- 
ployed, and ten thousand sheets were struck 
off every day. 

At last, on the 21st of September, appeared 
the complete edition of three thousand copies 
in two volumes, with the brief title, " The 
New Testament in German ; — at Wittem- 
berg." It bore no name of man. From that 
hour every German might obtain the Word 
of God at a small pecuniary cost.* 

The new translation, written in the tone 
of the sacred books, in a language that was 
as yet in its virgin simplicity, and now first 
opening its full beauty, interested and de- 
lighted all classes, from the highest to the 
lowest. It was a national work — the peo- 
ple's book — nay, much more, it was the book 
of God. Even enemies could not withhold 
their commendation of this wonderful pro- 
duction, and there were some incautious par- 
tisans of the Reformation so carried away by 
the beauty of the new version, as to imagine 
they could recognise in it a second inspira- 
tion. It, indeed, served more than all Lu- 
ther's own writings to diffuse a spirit of 
Christian piety. The great work of the six- 
teenth century was now placed on a rock 
whence nothing could dislodge it. The Bible, 
restored to the people, recalled the mind of 
man, which had for ages wandered in the 
endless labyrinths of scholastic teaching, to 
the heavenly springs of salvation. Hence, 
the success that attended this step was pro 
digious. All the copies were quickly dis- 
posed of. In December following, a second 
edition appeared ; and by the year 1533, no 
' less than seventeen editions had issued from 
the presses of Wittemberg; thirteen from, 
Augsburg; twelve from Bale; one from Er- 
furth ; one from Grimma ; one from Leipsic; 
thirteen from Strasburg. 



* A florin and a half, about a haif-crown. 



284 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Even while the first edition of the New 
Testament was passing through the press, 
Luther was already at work on a translation 
of the Old Testament. This labour, begun 
in 1522, was continued without intermission. 
He issued it in detached portions, as he finish- 
ed them, in order to gratify the impatience of 
the public demand, and to make the purchase 
easy to the poor. 

From Scripture and Faith, two streams 
issuing from one and the same spring, the life 
of the Gospel has flowed, and still diffuses 
itself through the world. They bore directly 
against two established errors. Faith was 
met by the opposing Pelagian tendency of 
Catholicism. Scripture, in like manner, 
found arrayed against it the theory of tradi- 
tion and the authority of Rome. Scripture 
led its reader to Faith, and Faith made him 
the disciple of the Word. "Man can do no 
meritorious work : the free grace of God, re- 
ceived through faith in Christ, alone saves 
him." Such was the doctrine proclaimed 
throughout Christendom. But this teaching 
must needs bring Christendom to the study of 
the Scripture. In truth, if faith in Christ is 
every thing in Christianity, and if the obser- 
vances and ordinances of the Church are no- 
thing, it is not to the Church's teaching, but 
to Christ's word that we must adhere. The 
bond that unites to Christ will be every thing 
to the believing soul. What signifies the out- 
ward link that connects him with a visible 
church, enslaved by the commandments of 
men? . . Thus, as the doctrine of the Bible 
had impelled Luther's contemporaries toward 
Jesus Christ, their love for Jesus Christ, in 
its turn, impelled them towards the Bible. It 
was not, as some in our days have supposed, 
from a philosophic necessity, or from doubt, 
or a spirit of inquiry that they reverted to 
Scripture, it was because they found there 
the words of Him they loved. "You have 
preached Christ," said they to the Reformer, 
" let us now hear him himself." And they 
caught at the sheets given to the world, as a 
letter coming to them from heaven. 

But if the Bible was thus joyfully wel- 
comed by such as loved the Lord Jesus Christ, 
it was scornfully rejected by such as preferred 
the traditions and ordinances of men. This 
publication by Luther was the signal of vio- 
lent persecution. Rome trembled at the re- 
port brought thither. The pen which tran- 
scribed the sacred oracles was in truth that 
visionary pen which Frederic had beheld in 
his dream, reaching to the seven hills, and 
discomposing the Pope's tiara. The monk 
in his cell, the prince upon his throne, uttered 
a cry of anger. The ignorant priests were 
dismayed at the thought that burghers, and 
even rustics would now be able freely to dis- 
cuss with them the precepts of the Lord. 
The King of England denounced the work to 
the Elector Frederic and to Duke George of 
Saxony. But before this, and as early as the 
November previous, the Duke had commanded 
all his subjects to deliver up every copy of 
Luther's New Testament into the hands of 



the magistrate. Bavaria, Brandenburg, Aus- 
tria, and all the states in the interest of Rome 
passed similar decrees. In some parts, a 
sacrilegious bonfire, composed of the sacred 
books., was lighted in the public squares. 
Thus did Rome, in the sixteenth century, 
renew the efforts by which heathenism had 
attempted to uproot the religion of Jesus 
Christ, at the period when the reins were 
escaping from the hands of the Priests of Idol- 
worship. But what power can stay the tri- 
umphant progress of the Gospel? "Even 
after I had prohibited the sale," wrote Duke 
I George, " many thousand copies were sold 
and read in my states." 

God even used, for the purpose of making 
known His word, the very hands that were 
essaying to destroy it. The Romish divines, 
seeing they could not stop the circulation of 
the Reformer's work, themselves put forth a 
translation of the New Testament. It was 
no other than Luther's here and there altered 
by the new editors. No hinderance was of- 
fered to the reading of it. Rome had not yet 
experienced that wherever the Word of God 
took root, its own power began to totter. 
Joachim of Brandenburg gave license to his 
subjects to read any translation of the Bible, 
in Latin or in German, provided it were not 
from the presses of Wittemberg. The Ger- 
man nations, and more especially the people 
of Brandenburg, made, in this way. a decided 
advance in the knowledge of the truth. 

The publication of the New Testament in 
the vernacular tongue, is among the memo- 
rable epochs of the Reformation. If the mar- 
riage of Feldkirchen had been the first step 
in the progress of its influence from the 
sphere of teaching to that of social life ; — if 
the abolition of monastic vows had been the 
second, and the establishment of the Supper 
of the Lord a third stage of this transition, 
the publication of the New Testament was, 
perhaps, even more important than all the 
rest. It wrought an entire change in the 
aspect of society — not alone in the priest's 
presbytery — not merely in the monk's cell 
and the noble's closet, but more than this, 
in the interior of the dwellings of the nobles, 
citizens, and peasantry. When Christians 
began to read the Bible in their families, Chris- 
tianity itself underwent a palpable change. 
Thence ensued changed habits, — improved 
morals, — other conversations, — in short, a 
new life. With the publication of the New 
Testament, it seemed as if the Reformation 
passed the threshold of the College, and took 
its proper place at the hearths of the people. 
The effect that followed was incalculable. 
The Christianity of the Primitive Church was, 
by the publication of the Holy Scriptures, pre- 
sented full before the eyes of the nation, reco- 
vered from the oblivion in which for centuries 
it had lain hid ; and the sight was, of itself, 
enough to justify the charges that had been 
I brought against Rome. The least instructed, 
! provided they did but know how to read, wo- 
men, artisans, (we are quoting from one of 
that age who was bitterly opposed to the lie- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



285 



formation.) studied the New Testament with 
eager delight. They carried it about with 
them, learned portions by heart, and saw in 
its precious pages the proof of the perfect ac- 
cordance of that Reformation which was Lu- 
ther's aim, with the revelation that God had 
given. 

Meanwhile, it was in detached portions 
only that the teaching of the Bible and of the 
Reformation had till then been set forth. A 
certain truth had been declared in one tract — 
a certain error exposed in another. The field 
of the Church presented the appearance of a 
plain, on which, here and there, were seen, 
without order or arrangement, the ruins of the 
old, and the materials of a new structure ; but 
as yet the new edifice was wanting. True it 
is, that the publication of the New Testament 
met this want. The Reformation might say, 
with that book in its hand, " Behold my sys- 
tem." But, as each individual may contend 
that his system is none other than that of the 
Bible, the Reformation seemed called to set 
forth in order what it found in Holy Scripture. 
This was a work Melancthon now contributed 
in its name. 

In the development of his theology, Melanc- 
thon's steps had been deliberate; but they 
were taken with firmness, and the result of 
his inquiries was courageously made known 
to all. As early as 1520, he had declared that 
some of the seven sacraments were, in his 
judgment, mere imitations of Jewish feasts; 
and that he considered the asserted infallibi- 
lity of the Pope as a proud pretension, directly 
at variance with Scripture and sound judg- 
ment. "We want more than a Hercules/" 
remarked he, " to make a stand against such 
doctrines." Here we see that Melancthon 
had been led to the same conclusion as Luther 
by a more studious and calm process of con- 
viction. The time had now come that he in 
his turn should publicly confess his faith. 

In 1521, during his friend's captivity in the 
Wartburg, his celebrated " Loci Communes" 
had presented to Christian Europe a body of 
doctrine, based on solid grounds, and admira- 
bly compacted. The tracings of a simple and 
majestic outline appeared before the wonder- 
ing minds of that generation. As the transla- 
tion of the New Testament had justified the 
Reformation to the people, so Melancthon's 
Loci Communes served to justify it in the judg- 
ment of the learned. 

For fifteen centuries the Church had existed 
on the earth without having seen such a work. 
Relinquishing the common argumentation of 
scholastic theology, the friend of Luther had 
at last given to Christendom a system of di- 
vinity derived entirely from Scripture. In it 
the reader was conscious of a breath of life, a 
quickness of understanding, a force of convic- 
tion, and a simplicity of statement, which 
strikingly contrasted with the subtle "and pe- 
dantic method of the schools. The coolest 
judgments and the most exact divines were 
alike impressed with admiration. 

Erasmus designated this work a wondrous 
army, ranged in order of battle against the 



j pharisaic tyranny of false teachers; and while 
he confessed that on some points he did not 
agree with the author, he nevertheless added, 
that, having always loved him, he had never 
loved him so much as after reading this work. 
"So beautiful is the proof that it affords," 
said Calvin, when presenting it, at a subse- 
quent period, to the French people, " that the 
most perfect simplicity is the noblest method 
of handling the Christian doctrine." ' 

But no one experienced a finer joy than 
Luther; to the last this work was to him a 
theme of wonder. The occasional sounds his 
trembling hand had drawn, in the deep emo- 
tion of his soul, from the chords of prophets 
and apostles, were here blended together in 
entrancing harmony. Those solid masses of 
truth which he had hewn from the quarry of 
Holy Scripture, were here raised and com- 
pacted together in one majestic edifice. He 
was never tired of commending the work to 
the attention of the youths who came to study 
at Wittemberg. " If you would wish to be- 
come divines," said he, "read Melancthon." 

In Melancthon's judgment, a deep sense of 
the wretched state to which man is reduced 
by sin, is the foundation on which we must 
build the teaching of Christian theology. This 
universal evil is the primary fact, the leading 
truth whence the science takes its departure; 
and it is this which forms the peculiar distinc- 
tion of theology from the sciences which work 
their own advancement by the powers of 
reason. 

The Christian divine, diving into the heart 
of man, revealed its laws and mysterious 
motions, as the philosopher in later times has 
disclosed the laws and attractions of material 
bodies. " Original sin," said he, " is an in- 
clination born with us — an impulse which is 
agreeable to us — a certain influence which 
leads us into the commission of sin, and which 
has passed from Adam upon all his posterity. 
Just as there is found in fire a native energy 
which mounts upward ; just as in the load- 
stone we observe a natural power of attracting 
steel, just so do we find in man a primary im- 
pulse impelling him to that which is evil. 
I admit freely that in Socrates, Xenocrates, 
Zeno, were seen temperance and chastity; 
these exterior virtues were found in men whose 
hearts were unpurified, and they proceeded 
out of the love of self; hence we should regard 
them, in reality, not as virtues, but as vices." 
Such language may sound harsh, but not so 
if we enter into Melancthon's real meaning. 
None more prompt than he to acknowledge 
virtues in the great men of antiquity, which 
entitled them- to the esteem of men ; but he 

! laid down the solemn truth, that the highest 
law given by God to all his creatures is to 
love Him above all things. If, then, man is 
doing that which God commands, — does it, 
not from love to God, but from love of self, — 
can we think that God will accept him, thus 
daring to substitute self in place of His own 
infinite Majesty] And must it not be enough 
to vitiate any action, that it involves in it a 
direct rebellion against the sovereignty of God 1 



286 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The Wittemberg divine proceeded to show 
how man is rescued from this wretched state. 
"The Apostle," said he, "invites thee to con- 
template, at the Father's right hand, the Son 
of God. our great Mediator, ever living to make 
intercession for us; and he calls upon thee to 
believe assuredly that thy sins are pardoned, 
and thyself counted righteous and accepted by 
the Father, for the sake of that Son who died 
upon the cross." 

A peculiar interest attaches to this first edi- 
tion of the Loci Communes, from the manner 
in which the German divine speaks concern- 
ing Free Will. We find him recognising, 
even more clearly than had been done by Lu- 
ther, (for he was more of a theologian,) that 
this doctrine could not be separated from that 
which constituted the very essence of the Re- 
formation. Man's justification in the sight of 
God is by Faith alone, was the first point. 
This faith wrought in man's heart by the 
alone Grace of God, was the second. Me- 
lancthon saw clearly that to allow any ability 
in the natural man to believe, would, in this 
second point, entirely set aside that grand doc- 
trine of Grace which is asserted in the first. 
He was too discerning, too deeply instructed 
in the Scriptures, to be misled on so important 
a question. But he went too far : instead of 
confining himself to the religious bearing of 
the question, he entered upon metaphysics. 
He laid down a sort of fatalism, which might 
lead his readers to think of God as the author 
of evil, and which consequently has no foun- 
dation in Scripture. "Since whatever hap- 
pens," said he, " happens by necessity, agree- 
ably to the divine foreknowledge, it is plain 
that our will hath no liberty whatever." 

But the principal object Melancthon had in 
view, was to present theology as a system of 
devotion. — The schools had so dried up the 
generally received creed, as to leave it desti- 
tute of life. The office of the Reformation 
was t'o reanimate this lifeless creed. In suc- 
ceeding editions, Melancthon felt the necessi- 
ty for great clearnessin doctrinal statements. 
In 1 52 1 , however, it was not so much the case. 
"The knowledge of Christ," said he, "is 
found in the knowledge of the blessings deriv- 
ed through him. Paul, writing to the Ro- 
mans, and desiring to sum up the Christian 
doctrine, does not set about treating philoso- 
phically of the Trinity, the Incarnation, Crea- 
tion, active or passive. W T hat, then, are his 
themes 1 — the Law, Sin, Grace. On our in- 
struction in these, depends our knowledge of 
Christ." 

The publication of this treatise was of sin- 
gular service to the cause of truth. Calumnies 
stood refuted — prejudices were dissipated. 
Among the religious, the worldly, and the 
learned, the genius of Melancthon was admi- 
red, and his character esteemed and loved. 
Even such as had no personal knowledge of 
the author were conciliated to his creed by 
this work. The vigour and occasional violence 
of Luther's language had offended many ; but 
in Melancthon, an elegance of composition, a 
discriminating judgment, and a remarkable 



clearness and arrangement were seen engaged 
in the exposition of those mighty truths that 
had aroused the slumbering world. The work 
was rapidly bought up, and read with avidity. 
His gentleness and modesty won all hearts, 
while his elevation of thought commanded 
their respect ; and the higher classes, who had 
been hitherto so undecided, were captivated by 
a wisdom which had at last found so noble an 
utterance. 

On the other hand, such of the opposers of 
the truth as had not been humbled by the en- 
ergy of Luther, were, for a while, silenced 
and disconcerted by the appearance of Me- 
lancthon's tract. They had found another 
man as worthy as Luther to be a mark for their 
hatred. " Alas !" they exclaimed, "alas, for 
Germany ! to what new extremity shall we be 
brought by this last birth !" 

The Loci Communes passed through sixty- 
seven editions between 15-21 and 1595, with- 
out including translations. Next to the Bible, 
this work may have mainly contributed to the 
establishment of the evangelical doctrine. 

Whilst the " grammarian," Melancthon, 
was by this happy co-operation aiding the 
efforts of Luther, schemes of a violent charac- 
ter were again planning by his formidable ene- 
mies. At the news that he had effected his 
escape from the Wartburg, and appeared aaain 
on the world's stage, the rage of his former 
adversaries returned. 

Luther had been rather more than three 
months at Wittemberg, when a rumour, re- 
peated by common fame, brought him the in- 
telligence that one of the greatest monarchs 
of Christendom had risen up against him. 
Henry VIII. head of the house of Tudor, a 
prince descended from the families of York 
and Lancaster, and in whom, after torrents of 
bloodshed, the red and white roses were at 
length united, the puissant king of England, 
who boldly advanced the obsolete authority of 
his crown over the continent, and more par- 
ticularly over France — had put forth an an- 
swer to the poor monk of W 7 ittemberg. " I 
hear much commendation of a little treatise by 
the king of England," wrote Luther to Lange, 
on the 26th of June, 1522. 

Henry the Eighth was then in his thirty- 
first year, — "tall, strong-built and proportion- 
ed, and had an air of authority and empire," 
and a countenance that expressed the vivacity 
of his mind. Vehement in his temper, bear- 
ing down whatever stood in the way of his 
passions, and thirsting for distinctions, the 
defects of his character, were, for a time, mis- 
taken for the impetuosity of youth — and there 
was no lack of flatterers to confirm him in 
them. Often would he resort, accompanied 
by his favourite companions, to the house of 
his chaplain, Thomas Wolsey, the son of a 
butcher of Ipswich. This man, who was 
gifted with great abilities, of excessive ambi- 
tion, and unbounded audacity, being patroni- 
sed by the Bishop of Winchester, the king's 
chancellor, had rapidly risen in his master's 
favour. He would often allure the \oung 
prince to his residence by the attraction of 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



187 



riotous pleasures,* in which he would not have 
ventured to indulge within the walls of his 
own palace. This is recorded by Polydore 
Vergil, then sub-collector of the pope's reve- 
nues in England. In these orgies, the chap- 
lain outdid the licentiousness of the younger 
courtiers. He sang, danced, laughed, played j 
the buffoon, took part in indecent conversation, 
and fenced. He soon attained the highest j 
seat at the council board, and the whole king- 
ly power passing into his hands, he was ena- 
bled to stipulate with foreign princes for are- 
ward for his influence in affairs. 

Henry passed whole days in balls, ban- 
queting, and justing — thus squandering the 
treasure which the avarice of his father had 
accumulated. Splendid tournaments succeed- 
ed each other without intermission. On these 
occasions, the, king, who was easily distin- 
guished from the other ' combatants by his 
manly beauty, took the lead."f- If the contest 
seemed for a moment doubtful, his expertness 
or strength, or else the skilful policy of his 
antagonist decided the victory in his favour, 
and the arena resounded with shouts of ap- 
plause. .Such easy triumphs inflated the 
vanity of the young prince, and there was no 
pinnacle of earthly grandeur to which he 
would not have aspired. The Queen was 
often present on such occasions. Her grave 
deportment, melancholy look, and constrained 
and depressed manner, presented a marked 
contrast to the tumultuous glitter of such fes- 
tivities. Kenry VIII., soon after his acces- 
eion, had, from political considerations, con- 
tracted marriage with Catherine of Arragon, 
five years older than himself, widow of his 
brother Arthur, and aunt to Charles V. While 
her husband followed his pleasures, the virtu- 
ous Catherine, whose piety was such as Spain 
has been noted for, was accustomed to leave 
her bed in the dead of the night to take a silent 
part in the prayers of the monks. She would 
kneel without cushion or carpet. At five, 
after taking a little rest, she would again rise, 
and assume the habit of St. Francis ; for she 
had been admitted into the third order of that 
saint. Then, hastily throwing over her the 
royal garments, she was in church at six, to 
join in the holy offices. 

Two beings, living in such different atmo- 
spheres, could not long continue united. 

Catherine, however, was not the only repre- 
sentative of Romish devotion at the court of 

* Domi suae voluptatum omnium sacrarium 
fecit, quo reg-em frequenter ducebat. (Polyd. 
Vergilius, Angl. Hist. Bale, 1570, fol. p. 633.)— 
Polvdore Vergil seems to have been a sufferer by 
Wolsey's pride, and to have been, perhaps, in- 
clined, on that account, to exaggerate that minis- 
ter's errors. 

t Eximia corporis forma praeditus, in qua etiam 
regiae majeslatis augusra quaedam species elucebat. 
(Sanderus de Schismate Anglicano, p. 4 ) — The 
work of Sanders, the Pope's Nuncio, must be 
read with much suspicion, for unfounded and 
calumnious statements are not wanting in it — as 
has been remarked by Cardinal Quirini and the j 
Roman Catholic doctor Lingard. — (See the His- ' 
tory of England, by this last, vol. vi. c. 17? ) 
20 



Henry VIII. John Fisher, bishop of Ro- 
chester, then nearly seventy years of age, and 
distinguished alike for his learning and strict 
morals, was the object of universal veneration. 
He had been, for a long period, the oldest 
counsellor of Henry VII., and the Duchess of 
Richmond, grandmother to Henry VIII., had, 
on her death-bed, confided to him the youth 
and inexperience of her grandson. The kingf, 
in the midst of his excesses, long continued 
to revere the aged bishop as a father. 

A much younger man than Fisher, a layman 
and civilian, had, at this time, attracted gene- 
ral attention by his genius and noble charac- 
ter. His name was Thomas More. He was 
the son of one of the judges of the Court of 
King's Bench. In poor circumstances, of 
temperate habits, and unwearied application, 
he, at the age of twenty, had sought to mortify 
the passions of ) r outh by wearing a hair-shirt, 
and by self-inflicted scourgings. One day, 
w T hen summoned to the presence of Henry 
VIII., at a moment when he was attending 
mass, he replied — "The king's service must 
give way to the service of God." Wolsey 
introduced him to Henry, who employed him 
in various embassies, and lavished on him 
much kindness. He would often send for 
him to converse with him on astronomy, and 
at other times concerning Wolsey, or on dis- 
puted points of theology. 

The king was, to say the truth, not alto- 
gether unacquainted with the doctrines of 
Rome. It even appears, that, had Prince 
Arthur lived to ascend the throne, Henry was 
destined to the archiepiscopal see of Can- 
terbury. In bis mind and life were strange- 
ly blended Tnornas Aquinas — St. Bonaven- 
tura — tournaments — banquetings — Elizabeth 
Blount, and others of his mistresses. Masses 
set to music by himself were chanted in his 
chapel. 

From the time Henry VIII. first heard ol 
Luther, his indignation broke forth ; and nc 
sooner did the decree of the Diet of Worms 
reach England than he gave orders that the 
Pontiff's bull against the Reformer's writings 
should be carried into execution. On the 12th 
of May, 1521, Thomas Wolsey, who,togethei 
with the rank of Chancellor of England, held 
that of Cardinal and Roman Legate, repaired 
in solemn procession to St. Paul's Church. 
Swollen by excess of pride, he assumed to 
rival the pomp of royalty itself. He was 
accustomed to seat himself in a gold chair, 
slept in a golden bed, and dined on a table 
covered with cloth of gold. On this occasion 
he displayed his utmost state. His house 
hold, to the number of 800 persons, compris- 
ing barons, knights, sons of the first families, 
who had entered his service as a step towards 
the service of the state, attended the haughty 
prelate. His garments shone with gold and 
silk, (he was the first ecclesiastic who had 
ventured to assume such sumptuous apparel.) 
Even the horse-cloths and harness were of the 
like costly materials. Before hirn walked a 
priest of lofty stature, bearing a silver pillar, 
surmounted by a cross. Behind him, another 



28& 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



stately ecclesiastic, holding in his hand the 
archiepiscopal crozier of York ; a nobleman at 
his side, carried his cardinal'shat. Others of 
the nobility — the prelates — the ambassadors 
of the Pope and of the Emperor joined the 
cavalcade, and were followed by a long line 
of mcues, bearing chests overhung with rich 
and brilliant stuffs; and in this pompous pro- 
cession the several parties that composed it 
were carrying to the pile the writings of the 
poor monk of Wittemberg. On reaching the 
church, the proud priest deposited his cardi- 
nal's hat on the altar itself. The virtuous 
Bishop of Rochester took his place at the foot 
of the cross, and with accents of strong emo- 
tion, preached earnestly against heresy. After 
this, the attendants drew near bearing the 
writings of the heresiarch, and they were 
devoutly consumed in the presence of a vast 
concourse of spectators. Such was the first 
public announcement of the Reformation to the 
people of England. 

Henry did not rest there. This prince, 
whose sword was ever uplifted against his 
adversaries, his wives, and his favourites, 
wrote to the Elector Palatine — "Surely, it is 
no other than the devil, who, by the agency 
of Luther, has kindled this wide-spreading 
conflagration. If Luther will not retract, let 
himself and his writings be committed to the 
flames." 

But this was not all. Convinced that the 
progress of heresy was mainly ascribable to 
the extreme ignorance of the German princes, 
Henry conceived that the moment had arrived 
for the exhibition of his own learning. The 
recollection of the triumphs of his battle-axe 
did not permit him to doubt of the victory he 
should gain by his pen. But another passion, 
vanity, — ever large in little minds, — spurred 
on the royal purpose. He was mortified by 
the circumstance, that he had no title to set 
against that of Most Christian and Catholic, 
borne by the kings of France and Spain, and 
had for a long time solicited from the court of 
Rome a similar distinction. What course 
more likely to obtain it than an attack upon 
heresy! Henry, then, laid aside his royal 
dignity, and descended from his throne into 
the arena of theological dispute. He pressed 
into his service Thomas Aquinas, Peter Lom- 
bard, Alaxander of Hale, and Bonaventura, 
and gave to the world his " Defence of the 
Seven Sacraments, against Martin Luther, by 
the most Invincible King of England and of 
France, Lord of Ireland, Henry, the Eighth 
of that name" . 

"I will put myself in the forefront of the 
Church, to save her," said the king of Eng- 
land in this book — "I will receive into my 
bosom the poisoned darts of her assailant; 
what I hear constrains me to this. All the 
servants of Jesus Christ, whatever be their 
age, sex or rank, should rise up against the 
common enemy of Christendom. 

" Let us be doubly armed : with the hea- 
venly armour to conquer with the arms of 
truth, him who fights with those of error; 
but also an earthly armour, so that, should he 



show himself obstinate in maLce, the hand of 
the executioner may silence him ; and thus, 
for once at least, he may be useful to the 
world, by the terrible exampleof his death." 

Henry VIII. could not conceal the con- 
tempt which he entertained for his feeble 
adversary. "This man," says the royal 
theologian, " seems to be in pains of labour ; 
he travails in birth ; and lo ! he brings forth 
but wind. Take away the audacious cover- 
ing of proud words, with which he clothe s 
his absurdities, — as an ape is clothed with 
purple, — and what remains 1 — a wretched and 
empty sophism." 

The king defends, successively, the mass, 
penance, confirmation, marriage, orders, and 
extreme unction. He is not sparing of hard 
epithets towards his adversary; styling him 
sometimes an infernal wolf, at others a vene- 
mous serpent, or a limb of the devil, and even 
casts doubts on Luther's sincerity. In short, 
Henry VIII. crushes the mendicant monk 
with his royal anger, "and writes," says 
an historian, "as it were with his sceptre." 

It must, however, be confessed, that the 
book was not ill written, considering the au- 
thor and the age in which he wrote. The 
sty T le is not altogether devoid of force. The 
public of the day set no bounds to its praises. 
The theological treatise of the powerful king 
of England, was received with a profusion of 
adulation. "The most learned work that 
ever the sun saw," is the expression of some. 
"It can only be compared with the works of 
Saint Augustine," said others. " He is a 
Constantine, a Charlemagne, — nay more," 
echoed others, "he is a second Solomon." 

These flattering reports soon reached the 
continent. Henry had desired his ambassa- 
dor at Rome, John Clarke, dean of Windsor, 
to present his book to the Sovereign Pontiff. 
Leo X. received the ambassador in full con- 
sistory. Clarke presented the royal work to 
him with these words, "The king my master 
assures you, now that he has refuted the er- 
rors of Luther with the pen, he is ready to 
combat his adherents with the sw T ord." Leo, 
touched with this promise, answered, that the 
king's book could not have been composed 
but by the aid of the Holy Spirit, and con- 
ferred upon Henry The title of "Defender of 
the Faith" — still borne by the Sovereigns of 
England ! 

The reception which the work met with at 
Rome contributed not a little to attract the 
general attention. In a few months, many 
thousand copies, from different presses, got 
into circulation; so that, to use the words of 
Cochlaeus, " the whole Christian world was 
filled with wonder and joy." 

Such extravagant praises served to augment 
the already insufferable vanity of the head of 
the race of Tudor. He seemed himself to en- 
tertain no doubt, that he was inspired bv the 
Holy Spirit.* Henceforward he could not 
endure contradiction. Papal authority was in 

* He was brought to fane)' it was written with 
some degree of inspiration. (Burnet in praei.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



2S9 



his view, no longer at Rome, but at Green- 
wich, — and infallibility was vested in his own 
person. This proud assumption served great- 
ly to promote, at a later period, the Reforma- 
tion in England. 

Luther read Henry's book with a smile, 
mingled with disdain, impatience, and indig- 
nation. The falsehoods and insults it con- 
tained, but above all the air of pity and con- 
tempt which the king affected, irritated the 
doctor of Wittemberg to the highest degree. 
The thought that the Pope had publicly ap- 
proved the book, and that on all sides the en- 
emies of the Gospel, were triumphing over the 
Reformation and the Reformer, as already 
overthrown, increased his indignation: — and 
why indeed, thought he, should he temporise 1 
Was he nor. contending in the cause of One 
greater than all the kings of this earth 1 ? The 
gentleness that the Gospel inculcates seemed 
to him out of place. An eye for an eye, a 
tooth for a tooth. And indeed he went be- 
yond all bounds: — persecuted, railed at, hunted 
down, wounded, — the furious lion turned upon 
his pursuers, and set himself determinedly to 
crush his enemy. The Elector, Spalatin, 
Melancthon, Bugenhagen, essayed in vain to 
appease him. They tried to dissuade him 
from replying; but nothing could stop him. 
" I won't be gentle toward the king of Eng- 
land," said he: "I know it is useless to hum- 
ble myself, to compromise, entreat and try 
peaceful methods. I will show these wild 
beasts, who are every day running at me with 
their horns, how terrible I can be ; I will turn 
upon my pursuers, I will provoke, and exas- 
perate my adversary, until exl.austing all his 
&uength he falls and is for ever annihilated. 
'If this heretic does not retract,' says the new T 
Thomas, Henry VIII., 'he must be burnt!' 
Such are the weapons which are now employed 
against me : the fur) 7 and the faggots of stu- 
pid asses and hogs of the Thomas Aquinas 
brood.* Well, then, be it so ! Let these 
swine come on, if they dare ; aye, let them 
even burn me — here I am, awaiting them. — 
My ashes, after death, though cast into a thou- 
sand seas, shall rise up in arms, and pursue, 
and swallow up their abominable troop. Liv- 
ing, I will be the enemy of the Papacy, — and 
burnt, I will be its ruin ! Go then, swine of 
St. Thomas, do what you will. Ever will 
yon find Luther, like a bear upon your road, and 
like a lion upon your path. He will fall upon 
you from all sides, and give you no rest until 
he shall have ground your iron brains, and 
pulverized your brazen foreheads ! " 

Luther begins by reproaching Henry VIII. 
with having supported his statements merely 



by decrees and doctrines of man. " As to 
me," says he, "I do not cease my cry of ' The 
Gospel ! the Gospel ! — Chiist ! Christ ! ' — and 
my enemies are as ready with theh answer, — 
' Custom ! custom ! — Ordinances ! ordinances ! 
— Fathers ! fathers ! ' — ' That your faith 
should not stand in the vnsdom of men, but in 
the power of God,' says St. Paul. And the 
Apostle, by this thunder-clap from heaven, at 
once overturns and disperses, as the wind 
scatters the dust, all the foolish thoughts of 
such a one as this Henry ! Alarmed and con- 
founded, the Aquinases, Papists, Henrys, fall 
prostrate before the power of those words." 

He proceeds to refute in detail the king's 
book, and exposes his arguments one after the 
other, with remarkable clearness, energy, and 
knowledge of the Scriptures, and of Church 
history; but also with a boldness and con- 
tempt, and at times a violence, which need 
not surprise us. 

Towards the end, Luther's indignation is 
again aroused, that his adversary should only 
have drawn his arguments from the Fathers ; 
for on them was made to turn the whole con- 
troversy : "To all the decisions of Fathers, cf 
men, of angels, of devils, I oppose," says 
he, " not the antiquity of custom, not the hab- 
its of the many, but the word of the Eternal 
God, — the Gospel, — which they themselves 
are obliged to admit. It is to this book that 
I keep, — upon it I rest, — in it I make my 
boast, — in it I triumph, and exult over Papists, 
Aquinases, Henrys, sophists, and all the swine 
of hell. The King of Heaven is on my side, 
— therefore I fear nothing, though even a thou- 
sand Augustines, a thousand Cyprians, and a 
thousand such churches as that of which this 
Henry is Defender, should rise up against me. 
It is a small matter that I should despise and 
revi'le an earthly king, since he himself has 
not feared, by his waitings, to blaspheme the 
King of Heaven, and profane his holy name 
by the most daring lies." 

" Papists ! " he exclaims in conclusion, 
" will you never have done with your vain at- 
tempts 1 Do, then, what ye list. Notwith- 
standing, it must still come to pass, that popes, 
bishops, priests, monks, princes, devils, death, 
sin, — and all that is not Jesus Christ, or 
in Jesus Christ, — must fall and perish before 
the power of this Gospel, which I, Martin 
Luther, have preached." 

Thus spake an unfriended monk. His vio- 
lence certainly cannot be excused, if w*e judge 
of it according to the rule to which he himself 
was ever appealing, namely, God's Word. — 
It cannot even be justified, by pleading in ex- 
tenuation, the grossness of the age, — (for 
Melancthon knew how to observe courtesy 
of language in his writings,) — nor can we 
plead the energy of his character, if something 
is allowed for this, more must, be ascribed to 
the violence of his passions. It is better, 



* Tgnis et iuror insulsissimorum asinorum et 
Thomistieorum porcorum. (Contra Henricum 
Regem, Opp. Lat. ii. p. 331.) There is some- 
thing in this way of speaking which recalls to our . 
mind the language of the great agitator of Ireland, i then, that we should give our judgment against 



except that there is more force and nobility of ! it< Nevertheless, justice requires the remark, 
thought in the orator of the sixteenth century, than ;,,... • 4 , • . X , ' ,- . , , „« 
in htm ot the nineteenth (See Revue Briton- \ hat ln lhe sixteenth century this extravagant 
mque, Nov. 1835 : ' The Reign of O' Connell '— I language was not so strange as it would be at 
Soaped swine of civilised society," &c. p. 30.) \ this time. The learned were, like the nobies. 



290 



HISTORY OF TEE REFORMATION. 



a kind of estate. Henry, in attacking Luther, 
had put himself in the rank of a man of let- 
ters. Luther replied to him according to the 
law which obtained in the republic of letters; 
viz. that the truth of what is stated is to be 
considered, and not the condition in life of 
him who states it. Let it be added, also, 
that when this same king turned against the 
p ope, the insults heaped upon him by the Ro- 
mish writers, and by the Pope himself, far ex- 
ceeded all that Luther had ever fulminated 
against him. 

Besides, — if Luther did call Doctor Eck an 
ass, and Henry VIII. a hog, he indignantly 
rejected the intervention of the secular arm ; 
at the time that the former was writing a dis- 
sertation to show that heretics ought to be 
burned, and the latter was erecting scaffolds 
that he might follow out the precepts of the 
chancellor of Ingolstadt. 

Great was the emotion at the king's court, 
when Luther's reply arrived. Surrey, Wol- 
sey, and the rest of the courtiers put a stop to 
the fetes and pageantry at Greenwich, to vent 
their indignation in sarcasms and abuse. The 
aged Bishop of Rochester, who had looked on 
with delight at the young prince, formerly 
confided to his care, breaking a lance in de- 
fence of the Church, was stung to the quick 
by the monk's attack. He replied to it at the 
moment. His words gave a good idea of the 
age, and of the Church: — " Take us the little 
foxes that spoil the vines, says Christ in Sol- 
omon's Song; from this we learn," said Fish- 
er, " that we ought to lay hands upon heretics, 
before they grow big. Luther is become a 
large fox, so old, so cunning, so mischievous, 
that it is very difficult to catch him. What 
do I say, a fox 1 ? He is a mad dog, a raven- 
ing wolf, a cruel she-bear; or rather, all these 
put together, for the monster includes many 
beasts within him." 

Thomas More also descended into the arena 
to engage with the monk of Wittemberg. — 
Although a laic, his zeal against the Refor- 
mation amounted to fanaticism, if it would 
not have led him even to the shedding of blood. 
When young men of family take up the cause 
of the Papacy, they often, in their violence, 
outdo the clergy themselves. "Reverend 
brother, father tippler, Luther, apostate of the 
order of St. Augustine, (misshapen bacchana- 
lian) of either faculty, unlearned doctor of sa- 
cred theology." Thus it is the Reformer is 
addressed by one of the most illustrious men 
of the age. Then he goes on to say, in ex- 
planation of the way in which Luther had 
composed his book against Henry VIII. : — 
" He assembled his companions, and bid them 
go each his own way to pick up scurrilities 
and insults. One frequented the public car- 
riages and barges ; another the baths and gam- 
bling houses; this one, the barber's shops and 
low taverns; that one, the manufactory and 
the house of ill fame. They took down in 
their pocket-books all that they heard of inso- 
lence, of filthiness, of infamy, and bringing 
back all these insults and impurities, they 
filled with them that dirty sink which is called 



j ' Luther's wit. 1 " Then he continues : " If he 
I retracts these lies and calumnies, if he puts 
away these fooleries and this rage, if he swal- 
lows down his excrements again, ... he 
will find one who will soberly discuss with 
him. But if he continues as he has begun, 
; joking, taunting, fooling, calumniating, vcm- 
j iting out sinks and sewers ... let others dc 
what they choose; for ourselves we preiii 
leaving the little man to his own anger and 
dirtiness."* Thomas More would have done 
better to restrain his own coarseness; Luther 
never descended to such a style, neither did 
he return it any answer. 

This work increased Henry's attachment to 
More. He even used to go and visit him at 
his humble residence at Chelsea. After din- 
ner, — his arm leaning on the shoulder of his 
favourite, the king would walk round the gar- 
den with him, while the astonished wife of his 
flattered host, concealed behind a lattice, with 
her children, could not but keep her eyes fixed 
on them. After one of these walks, More, 
who well knew the man he had to deal with, 
said to his wife, " If my head could gain for him 
a single castle in France, he would not hesi 
tate a moment to take it off." 

The king, thus defended by the Bishop of 
Rochester, and by his future chancellor, need- 
ed not any more to resume his pen. Con- 
founded at the thought of being treated, in 
the face of Europe, as any common writer, 
Henry VIII. abandoned the dangerous posi- 
tion he had taken, and laying aside the pen 
of the theologian, had recourse to the more 
effectual measures of diplomac) 7 . 

An ambassador was despatched from his 
court at Greenwich, with a letter to the Elect- 
or, and to the Dukes of Saxony. "The true 
serpent cast down from heaven, even Luther," 
says Henry, "casts out a flood of poison upon 
the earth. He excites revolt in the Church 
of Jesus Christ, he abolishes its laws, insults 
the authorities, inflames the laity against the 
priesthood, both of these against the Pope, 
the people against kings, and asks nothing 
better than to see Christians fighting against, 
and destroying one another, and the enemies 
of our faith enjoying, with a savage grin, the 
scene of carnage. 

"What is this doctrine, which he calls 
evangelical, other than the doctrine of Wick- 
lif? Now, most honoured uncles, I know 
how your ancestors have laboured to destroy 
it; they pursued it, as a wild beast, in Bohe- 
mia, and driving it, till it fell into a pit, they 
shut it in there, and barricaded it. You will 
not, I rni sure, let it escape through your 
negligence, lest, making its way into Saxony, 



* Cum sui? et stercorihus . . . relinquere, 

(Coehlaeus, p. 63.) Cochla?us indeed glories in the 
citation of these passages, choosing what aecordu g 
to his taste, he 'hinks the finest parts of the work o? 
Thomas More. M. Nisard, on the contrary-, con- 
fesses in his book on More, whose detence he 
undertakes with so much warmth and learning 
that, in this writing, the expressions dictated by 
the anger of the Catholic are such that the, trans- 
lation of them is impossible. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



2D1 



it should become master of the whole of Ger- 
many, and, with smoking nostrils, vomiting 
forth the fire of hell, spread that conflagration 
far and wide, which your nation has so often 
wished to extinguish in its blood. 

"Therefore it is, most worthy lords, I feel 
obliged to exhort you, and even to beseech 
you, by all that is most sacred, promptly to 
extinguish the cursed sect of Luther. Shed 
no blood, if it can be avoided ; but if this 
heretical doctrine lasts, shed it without hesi- 
tation, in order that this abominable sect may 
disappear from under the heaven." 

The Elector and his brother referred the 
king to the approaching council. Henry 
VIII. was thus as far as ever from his object. 
" So renowned a name mixed up in the dis- 
pute," says Paolo Sarpi, "■ served to give it a 
greater zest, and to conciliate general favour 
towards Luther, as is usually the case in 
combats and tournaments, where the spec- 
tators have always a leaning to the weakest, 
and" delight to exaggerate the merit of his ac- 
tions." 

In fact, an immense movement was in 
progress. The Reformation, which, after the 
Diet of Worms, had been thought to be con- 
fined, together with its great teacher, in the 
turret-chamber of a strong castle, was break- 
ing forth on all sides in the empire, and even 
throughout Christendom. The two parties, 
until now, mixed up together, were beginning 
to separate, and the partisans of a monk, who 
had nothing on his side but the power of his 
words, were fearlessly taking their stand in 
the face of the followers of Charles V. and 
Leo X. Luther had only just left the Wart- 
burg, — the Pope had excommunicated all 
his adherents, — the Imperial Diet had just 
condemned his doctrine,-— the princes were 
active in putting it down throughout the 
greatest part of the German states, — the Ro- 
mish priests were setting the public against 
it by their violent invective, — foreign nations 
were requiring that Germany should sacrifice 
a man whose attacks were formidable even at 
a distance, — and yet. this new sect, few in 
number, and among whose numbers there 
was no organization, no acting in concert, 
nothing, in short, of concentrated power, was 
already, by the energy of the faith engaged 
in it, and the rapidity of its conquests of the 
minds of men, beginning to cause alarm to 
the vast, ancient, and powerful sovereignty 
of Rome. Everywhere was to be seen, as in 
the first appearance of spring-time, the seed 
bursting forth from the earth, spontaneously 
and without effort. Every day some pro- 
gress might be remarked. Individuals, vil- 
lage populations, country towns, nay, large 
cities, joined in this new confession of the 
name of Jesus Christ. It was met by strong 
opposition and fierce persecution, but the mys- 
terious power which animated these people 
was irresistible ; and, though persecuted, they 
still went forward, facing the terrors of exile, 
imprisonment, or the stake, and were every 
where more than conquerors over their perse- 
cutors. 



The monastic orders, which Rome had 
planted over the whole of Christendom, like 

i nets for catching souls and retaining them in 

j their meshes, were among the first to burst 
their fetters, and to propagate the new doc- 

| trine in every part of the Western Church. 

! The Augustines of Saxony had gone along 
with Luther, and, like him, formed that inti- 
mate acquaintance with the Word of. Truth, 
which, making God their portion, disabused 
their minds from the delusions of Rome and 
its lofty pretensions. But in other convents 
of this order, the light of the Gospel had 
also shone forth : sometimes, among the aged, 
who, like Staupitz, had preserved, in the midst 
of a leavened Christianity, the sound doc- 
trines of truth, and were now asking of God 
that they might depart in peace, since their 
eyes had seen his salvation ; sometimes, 
among the young, among those who had 
imbibed Luther's instructions with the cha- 
racteristic eagerness of their years. At Nu- 
remberg, Osnabruck, Dillingen, Ratisbon, in 
Hesse, in Wirtemburg, at Strasburgh, at Ant- 
werp, the convents of the Augustines were 
returning to the faith of Christ, and by their 
courageous confession exciting the indigna- 
tion of Rome. 

But the movement was not confined to 
the Augustines. Men of decided character 
among the other orders followed their exam- 
ple; and, notwithstanding the clamours of 
their fellow-monks, who were unwilling to 
abandon their carnal observances, and unde- 
terred by their anger and contempt, or by cen- 
sure, discipline, and claustral imprisonment, 
they fearlessly lifted up their voices in favour 
of that holy and precious truth, which, after 
so many toilsome researches, so many dis- 
tressing doubts, and inward conflicts, they 
had at last found. In the majority of the 
cloisters, the most spiritual, devout, and in- 
structed monks declared themselves in favour 
of the Reformation. Eberlin and Kettenbach 
attacked, from the convents of the Franciscans 
at Ulm, the service of bondage of monkery, and 
the superstitious practices of the Church, with 
an eloquence that might have drawn a whole 
nation after it. They introduced in their pe- 
tition, in the same sentence, a request for the 
abolition of the houses of the monks, and of 
those of prostitution. Another Franciscan, 
Stephen Kempe, preached the Gospel at 
Hamburg, and, though alone, set his face 
like a flint against the hatred, envy, threats, 
cunning, and violence of the priests,- — enraged 
to see the congregations forsake their altars, 
and flock with enthusiasm tohis preaching's. 

Sometimes it was the superiors themselves 
who were first won over to the Reformation. 
The Priors at Halberstadt, at Neuenwerk. at 
Halle, at Sagan, set the example, in this 
respect, to those under their authority; at 
least, they declared that if a monk felt his 
conscience burdened by his monastic vows, 
so far from insisting on his remaining in the 
convent, they would -themselves carry him 
out on their shoulders. 

In fact, in all parts of Germany might be 



292 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



seen monks leaving, at the gates of their 
monastery, their frock and cowl. Of these, 
some had been expelled by the violence of 
their fellows, or of their superiors ; others, of 
a gentle and peaceable spirit, could no longer 
endure the continually recurring disputes, in- 
sults, recriminations, and animosities, which 
pursued them from morning till night. Of 
all these, the greater number were convinced 
that the monastic vows were inconsistent 
with the will of God and the Christian life. 
Some had gradually been led to this convic- 
tion ; others had reached it at once by consi- 
dering a single text. The indolent, heavy 
ignorance which generally marked the men- 
dicant orders communicated a feeling of dis- 
gust to men of more intelligent minds, who 
could no longer endure the society of such 
associates. A Franciscan, begging his way, 
one day presented himself, box in hand, at a 
blacksmith's shop, in Nuremberg. "Why 
don't you get your bread by working with 
your own hands?" inquired the blacksmith. 
Fhgis invited, the sturdy monk, tossing from 
him his habit, lifted the hammer, and brought 
it down again with force upon the anvil. 
Behold the useless mendicant transformed 
into the industrious workman ! The box and 
monk's gown were sent back to the monas- 
tery. 

It was not, however, the monks only, who 
ranged themselves under the standard of evan- 
gelical truth : a far greater number of priests 
proclaimed the new doctrine. But it needed 
not to be promulgated by human organs; it 
often acted upon men's minds and aroused 
them from their deep slumber, without the 
instrumentality of a preacher. 

Luther's writings were read in the bo- 
roughs, cities, and hamlets; even the vil- 
lage schoolmaster had his fire-side audience. 
Some persons in each locality, impressed 
with what they had heard, consulted the 
Bible to relieve their uncertainty, and were 
struck with the marked contrast between the 
Christianity of Scripture and that which they 
had imbibed. Fluctuating for a while be- 
tween Romanism and Holy Writ, they ere 
long took refuge in that living Word which 
had beamed into their minds with such new 
and cheering lustre. While these changes 
were passing in their minds, an evangelical 
preacher — he might be a priest, or, perhaps, 
a monk — would appear. He speaks with 
eloquence and authority, proclaiming that 
Christ has fully atoned for the sins of his 
people and proves from the sacred Word the 
vanity of human works and penance. Such 
preaching excited terrible opposition ; the 
clergy, in numerous instances, aided by the 
magistrates, used every effort to bring back 
those whose souls were escaping from bond- 
age. But there was in the new preaching an 
accordance with Scripture, and a secret, but 
irresistible energy, which won the heart and 
subdued the most rebellious. Risking the 
loss of property, and, if needful, the loss of 
life itself, men deserted the barren fanatical 
preachers of the Papacy, and enrolled them- 



selves under the Gospel banner. Sometimes 
the people, irritated at the thought how long 
they had been duped, drove away the priests; 
but more frequently these latter, forsaken by 
their flocks, without tithes or offerings, went 
off, with desponding hearts, to earn a liveli- 
hood in distant places. Whilst the defenders 
of the ancient hierarchy withdrew in suller. 
dejection, pronouncing maledictions as they 
took leave of their former flocks, — the people, 
whom truth and liberty filled with transports 
of joy, surrounded the new preachers with 
acclamations, and in their eagerness to heai 
the W T ord, bore them, as in triumph, into the 
churches and pulpits. 

A word of Power from God himself, was 
remoulding society. In many instances, the 
people, or the principal citizens, wrote to a 
man whose faith they knew, urging him to 
come and instruct them ; and he, for the love 
of the truth, would, at their call, at once leave 
his worldly interests, his family, friends, and 
country. Persecution often compelled the 
favourers of the Reformation to abandon their 
dwellings; — they arrive in a place where the 
new r doctrines have never yet been heard of; 
they find there some hospitable roof, offering 
shelter to houseless travellers ; there they 
speak of the Gospel, and read a few pages to 
the listening townsmen, and perhaps, by the 
intercession of their new acquaintances, ob- 
tain leave to preach a sermon in the church. 
Immediately, the Word spreads like fire 
through the town, and no efforts can stay its 
progress. If not permitted to preach in the 
church, the preaching took place elsewhere, 
and every place became a temple. At Husum 
in Holstein, Herman Tast, then on his way 
from Wittemberg, and to whom the parochial 
clergy denied the use of the church, preached 
to an immense multitude, under the shade of 
two large trees adjoining the churchyard, nol 
far from the spot where, seven centuries be- 
fore, Anschnr had first proclaimed the Gospel 
to a Heathen auditory. At Armstadt, Gas- 
pard Gittel, an Augustine friar, preached in 
the market-place. At Dantzic, the Gospel 
was proclaimed from an eminence outside the 
city. At Gosslar, a student of Wittembers: 
opened the new doctrines, in a plain planted 
with lime-trees, from which circumstance the 
evangelical Christians there obtained the ap- 
pellation of the Lime-tree Brethren. 

Whilst the priests were exposing, before 
the eyes of the people, their sordid avidity, 
the new preachers, in addressing them, said : 
" Freely we have received — freely do we 
give." The observation often dropt by the 
new preachers in the pulpit, that Rome had 
of old given to the nations a corrupted Gos- 
pel, so that Germany now first heard the 
Word of Christ in its divine and primitive 
beauty, made a deep impression upon all; 
and the grand thought of the equality of all 
men in the universal brotherhood of Jesus 
Christ, elevated the souls which had so long 
borne the yoke of the feudality and papacy 
of the middle ages. 

Simple Christians were often seen with the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



293 



New Testament in hand, offering to justify 
the doctrine of the Reformation. The Catho- 
lics, who adhered to Rome, drew back in dis- 
inny; for the study of Holy Scripture was 
teserved to the priests and monks alone. 
The latter being thus compelled to come j 
forward, discussion ensued; but the priests \ 
find monks were soon overwhelmed with I 
the Scriptures quoted by the laity, and at a 
loss how to meet them. " Unhappily," says 
Cochleeus, "■Luther had persuaded his fol- 
lowers that their faith ought only to be given 
to the oracles of Holy Writ." Often cla- 
mours were heard in the crowd, denouncing 
the shameful ignorance of the old theologians, 
who had till then been regarded by their own 
party as among the most eminentlylearned. 

Men of the humblest capacity, and even 
the weaker sex, by the help of the knowledge 
of the Word, persuaded, and prevailed with 
many. Extraordinary times produced extra- 
ordinary actions. At Ingolstadt a young wea- 
ver read the works of Luther to a crowded 
congregation, in the very place where Doctor 
Eck was residing. The university council of 
the same town, having resolved to oblige a 
disciple of Melanethon to retract, — a woman, 
named Argula de Staufen, volunteered to de- 
fend him, and challenged the doctors to a 
public disputation. Women, children, arti- 
sans, and soldiers, had acquired a greater 
knowledge of the Bible than learned doctors 
0( surpliced priests. 

Christianity was presented in two-fold ar- 
ray, and under aspects strikingly contrasted. 
Opposed to the old defenders of the hierarchy, 
who had neglected the acquirement of the lan- 
guages and the cultivation of literature, (we 
have it on the authority of one of themselves) 
were generous-minded youths, most of them 
devoted to study and the investigation of the 
Scriptures, and acquainted with the literary 
treasures of antiquity. Gifted with quickness 
of apprehension, elevation of soul, and intre- 
pidity of heart, the.-e youths soon attained 
such proficiency that none could compete with 
them. It was not only the vigour of their 
faith which raised them above their contem- 
poraries, but an elegance of style, a perfume 
of antiquity, a sound philosophy, and a know- 
ledge of the world, of which the theologians, 
ceteris farinse (as Cochlaeus himself terms 
them) were altogether destitute. So that on 
public occasions, on which these youthful de- 
fenders of the Reformation encountered the 
Cornish doctors, their assault was carried on 
with an ease and confidence that embarrassed 
the dulness of their adversaries, and exposed 
them before all to deserved contempt. 

The ancient structure of the Church was 
thus tottering under the weight of superstition 
and ignorance, while the new edifice was 
rising from its foundations of faith and learn- 
ing. The elements of a new life were diffused 
amang the general body of the people. List- 
less dulness was every where succeeded by 
an inquiring disposition and a thirst for infor- 
mation. An active, enlightened and living 
faith, took the place 01 superstitious piety and | 



ascetic meditations. Works of true devoted- 
ness, superseded mere outward observance 
and penances. The pulpit prevailed over the 
mummeries of the altar, and the ancient and 
supreme authority of God's word, was at 
length, re-established in the Church. 

The art of printing, that mighty engine, the 
discovery of which marks the fifteenth centu- 
ry, came to the assistance of the efforts we are 
now recording; and its weighty missiles were 
continually discharged against the enemy's 
walls. 

The impulse which the Reformation gave 
to popular literature, in Germany, was prodi- 
gious. Whilst the year 1513 saw only thirty- 
five publications, and 1517 but thirty-seven, 
the number of books increased with astonish- 
ing rapidity after the appearance of Luther's 
theses. We find, in 1518, seventy-one vari- 
ous publications recorded; in 1519, one 
hundred and eleven; in 1520, two hundred 
and eight; in 1521, two hundred and eleven ; 
in 1522, three hundred and forty-seven; and 
in 1523, four hundred and ninety-eight. And 
where were all these books published ? Al- 
most invariably at Wittemberg. And who 
was the author of them ? For the most part, 
Luther. The year 1522, saw one hundred 
and thirty publications from the pen of the 
Reformer alone; and the following year, ona 
hundred and eighty-three; whilst in this lat- 
ter year, the total number of Roman Catholic 
publications amounted to but twenty. Thus, 
the literature of Germany was formed in the 
din of controversy, as its religion arose in the 
midst of conflicts. Already it gave evidence 
of that learned, profound, bold, and stirring 
spirit that latter times have seen in it. The 
genius of the nation now, for the first time, 
displayed itself without mixture, and in the 
very hour of its birth it received a baptism of 
fire from christian enthusiasm. 

Whatever Luther and his friends composed, 
others disseminated far and wide. Monks, 
who had been led to see the unlawfulness of 
the monastic obligations, and desirous of ex- 
changing a life of indolence for one of activity, 
but too ignorant to be able themselves to pro- 
claim the Word of God, traversed the pro- 
vinces, and, visiting the hamlets and cottages, 
sold the writings of Luther and his friends. 
Germany was, ere long, overrun with these 
enterprising colporteurs. Printers and book- 
sellers eagerly received whatever writings 
were directed to the defence of the Reforma- 
tion, but would not look at those of the oppo- 
site party, as savouring generally of ignorance 
and barbarism. If any of these men, however 
ventured to "sell a book in favour of Papacy, 
or to offer it for sale at Frankfort, or elsew hei e, 
he drew upon himself a torrent of ridicule ana 
sarcasm from dealers, publishers. and scholars. 
Vainly had the Emperor and the reigning 
princes fulminated severe edicts against ihe 
writings of the Reformers. As soon as an 
inquisitorial visit was determined on, the deal- 
ers, (who secretly obtained information of it) 
would conceal the books which it was intended 
to proscribe ; and the people, ever eager to pos- 



•>04 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



sess that of which authority would deprive 
them, would afterwards buy them up, and read 
iiem with redoubled ardour. It was not alone 
Germany that was the theatre of such inci- 
dents, the writings of Luther were translated 
into French, Spanish, English, and Italian, 
and were circulated among those nations. 

If instruments so despised could yet inflict 
such disaster on the power of Rome, what was 
it when the monk of Wittemberg was heard 
to raise his voice? Shortly after the discom- 
fiture of the strange prophets, Luther traversed 
the territory of Duke George, in a wagon, 
attired in plain clothes. His gown was 
carefully concealed, and the Reformer wore 
the disguise of a countryman. Had he been 
recognised, and so fallen into the hands of the 
exasperated Duke, it had, perhaps, been all 
over with him. He was on his way to preach 
at Zwickau, the birth-place of the pretended 
prophets. Scarcely was it known at Schne- 
berg, Annaberg, and the neighbouring towns, 
when numbers flocked to hear him. Fourteen 
thousand persons arrived in the town, and as 
there was no edifice which could contain so 
great a multitude, Luther preached from the 
balcony of the Town-hall to twenty -five thou- 
sand auditors, who thronged the market-place, 
—and of wmom several had climbed to the top 
of some stones that lay heaped together near 
the hall. The servant of Jesus Christ was 
expatiating with fervour on the election of 
grace, when suddenly a shriek proceeded from 
the midst of the rivetted auditory. An old 
woman of haggard mien, who had stationed 
herself on a large block of stones, was seen 
motioning with her lank arms as though she 
would control the multitude just about to fall 
prostrate at the feet of Jesus. Her wild yells 
interrupted the preacher. "It was the devil," 
says Seckendorf, "who took the form of an 
old woman, in order to excite a tumult." But 
vain was the effort; the Reformer's word put 
the evil spirit to silence ; an enthusiasm com- 
municated itself from one to another, looks and 
warm greetings were exchanged, the people 
pressed each other by the hand, and the friars, 
not knowing what to make of what they saw, 
and unable to charm down the tempest, soon 
found it necessary to take their departure from 
Zwickau. 

In the castle of Freyberg resided Duke 
Henry, brother of Duke George. His wife 
the Princess of Mecklenburg, had, the prece- 
ding year, presented him with a son, who was 
christened Maurice. Duke Henry united the 
bluntness and course manners of the soldier 
to a passion for the pleasures of the table, 
and the pursuits of dissipation. He was, 
withal, pious after the manner of the age in 
which he lived; he had visited the Holy 
Land, and had niso gone on a pilgrimage 
to the shrine of St. James at Compostella. 
He would often say, "When I was at Com- 
postella, I deposited a hundred golden florins 
on the altar of the Saint, and I said to him, — 
1 O ! St. James, it is to gain your favour 1 have 
made this journey. I make you a present of 
this money ; but if those knaves (the priests) 



steal it from you, I can't help it; so take you 
care of it.' " 

Two friars, (a Franciscan and a Dominican) 
disciples of Luther, had been for some time 
preaching the Gospel at Freyberg. The 
Duchess, whose piety had inspired her with a 
, horror of heresy, attended their sermons, and 
! was all astonishment at discovering that what 
she had been taught so much to dread, was 
the gracious word of a Saviour. Gradually, 
j her eyes were opened ; and she found peace 
i in Jesus Christ. The moment Duke George 
' learned that the Gospel was preached at 
Freyberg, he begged his brother to resist the 
introduction of such novelties. The Chan- 
cellor Stehelin and the canons seconded these 
representations with their fanatical zeal. A 
violent explosim took place at the court of 
Freyberg. Duke Henry sternly reprimanded 
and reproached his wife, and more than once 
the pious Duchess was known to shed tears 
| over the cradle of her babe. By slow de- 
grees, however, her gentle entreaties melted 
! the heart of her husband. This man, so 
j stern by nature, softened down. A sweet 
j harmony was established between them : at 
I length "they were enabled to join in prayer 
beside their infant son. Great and untold 
| destinies hovered above that son; and from 
| that cradle, where the christian mother had so 
often poured out her sorrows, was to come 
I forth one whom God in his own time would 
i use as a defender of the Reformation. 

The intrepidity of Luther had made a deep 
impression on the inhabitants of "Worms. 
The Imperial Decree overawed the magis- 
trates; the churches were all closed; but a 
preacher, taking his stand on a rudely con- 
j strncted pulpit, in a square thronged with an 
immense multitude, proclaimed the glad ti- 
dings with persuasive earnestness. If the 
authorities snowed a disposition to interfere, 
the people dispersed in an instant, hastily 
carrying off their pulpit; but no sooner had 
the officers of authority passed by, than they 
again erected their pulpit in some more retired 
spot, to which the multitude would again flock 
together to hear more of the Word of Jesus 
Christ. This temporary pulpit was every day 
set up in one spot or another, and served as a 
Tallying point for the people who were still 
under the influence of the emotions awakened 
by the drama lately enacted in Worms. 

At Frankfort on the Maine, one of the most 
considerable free cities of the empire, all was 
commotion. A courageous evangelist, Ibach, 
preached salvation by Jesus Christ. The 
clergy, among whom w T as Cnchlaeus. known 
by his writings and his opposition to the Re- 
formation, irritated by the daring intrusion of 
such a colleague, denounced him to the Arch- 
bishop of Mentz. The Council, though with 
[some timidity, nevertheless supported him; 
but without avail. The clergy expelled the 
evangelical minister, and obliged him to quit 
Frankfort. Rome appeared triumphant; all 
seemed lost; and private. Christians began to 
fear that they were for ever deprived of the 
preaching o^ the Word : but at the very mo 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



295 



merit when the citizens seemed disposed to 
submit to the tyranny of their priests, certain 
nobles suddenly declared themselves for the 
Gospel. Max of Molnheim, Harmut of Cron- 
berg, George of Stockheim, and Emevic of 
Reiffenstein, whose estates lay near Frank- 
fort wrote to the Council : — " We are con- 
strained to make a stand against those spirit- 
ual wolves." And, in addressing the clergy, 
they said : — " Either embrace evangelical doc- 
trines and recall Ibach, or we will pay no more 
tithes." 

The common people, who listened gladly 
to the reformed opinkms, emboldened by this 
language of the nobles, showed symptoms of 
agitation; and one day when Peter Mayer, 
the persecutor of Ibach, and who of all the 
priests was the most hostile to the new opin- 
ions, was on the point of preaching against 
heretics, a violent tumult broke forth, and 
Mayer in alarm retreated from the pulpit. — 
This popular movement decided the deter- 
mination of the Council. An ordinance was 
published, enjoining all ministers to preach 
the pure Word of God, or to quit the town. 

The light which shone forth from Wittem- 
berg, as from the heart of the nation, was thus 
diffusing itself throughout the empire. In the 
west, — Berg, Cleves, Lippstadt, Munster, 
Wesel, Miltenberg, Mentz, Deux Ponts, and 
Strasburg, heard the 'joyful sound.' In the 
south, — Hof, Schlesstadt, Bamberg, Esslin- 
gen, Hall (in Suabia), Heilbrunn, Augsburg, 
Ulm, and many other places, welcomed it 
with joy. In the east, — the Ducny of Lieg- 
nitz, Prussia and Pomerania, received it with 
open arms. It the north, — Brunswick, Hal- 
berstadt, Gosslar, Zell, Fries! and, Bremen, 
Hamburg, Holstein, and even Denmark, and 
other adjacent countries, moved at the sounds 
of the new teaching. 

The Elector had declared that he would give 
full liberty to the bishops to preach in his 
dominions; but that he would not deliver any 
one into their hands. Accordingly, the evan- 
gelical preachers, persecuted in other countries, 
were soon driven to take refuge in Saxony. 
Among these were — Ibach, from Frankfort, 
Eberlin, from Ulm, Kanadoff, from Mag- 
deburg, Valentine Musteus, whom the canons 
of Halberstadt had horribly mutilated, and 
other faithful ministers, from all parts of Ger- 
many flocked to Wittemberg, as to the only 
asylum of which they felt secure. Here they 
could hold converse with the leading Reform- 
ers, thereby strengthening themselves in the 
faith, and at the same time communicating 
the experience each one had gained, together 
with the information he had acquired. It is 
thus that the waters of our rivers return, borne 
in the clouds from the vast expanse of ocean, 
to feed the glaciers whence they first descend- 
ed, to flow through the plain. 

The work which was at this time develop- 
ing itself at Wittemberg, composed, as has 
been seen, of various elements, became from 
day to day increasingly the work of that na- 
tion, of Europe, and of Christendom. The 
school which Frederic had founded, and into 



which Luther had introduced the Word of 
Life was the centre of that wide-spreading 
revolution which regenerated the Church ; and 
from it the Reformation derived a true and a 
living unity, far above the semblance of unity 
that might be seen in Rome. The Bible was 
the supreme authority at Wittemberg, and 
there its doctrines were heard on ail sides. — 
This academy, though the most recent of all 
in its origin, rad acquired a rank and influ- 
ence throughout Christendom which hitherto 
had exclusively appertained to the ancient 
University of Paris. The crowds of students 
which resorted to Wittemberg, from all parts 
of Europe, brought thither the report of the 
wants of the Church and of the people, and in 
quitting those walls, become sacred in their 
esteem, they bore with them, to the Church 
and people, that Word of Grace, which is for 
the healing and salvation of the nations. 

In contemplating these happy results, Lu- 
ther felt his confidence increased. He had 
seen a feeble effort, begun amidst so many 
fears and struggles, change the face of the 
christian world ; and he himself was aston- 
ished at a result which he never anticipated 
when he first entered the lists against Tetzel. 
Prostrate before the God whom he adored, he 
confessed that the work was His; and he re- 
joiced in the assurance of victory which no 
power could prevent. " Our enenyes threaten 
us with death," said he, to the Chevalier Har- 
mut of Cronberg — "if their wisdom were 
equal to their folly, it is with life they would 
threaten us. What an absurdity and insult it 
is to affect to denounce death against Christ 
and Christians, who are themselves the con- 
querors of death ! It is as if I would seek to 
affright a rider by saddling his courser, and 
helping him to mount. Do they not know 
that Christ is raised from the dead ] So faT 
as thay see, He is yet lying in the grave, nay 
— even in hell. But we know that He lives." 
He was grieved whenever he thought that any 
one should look upon him as the author of a 
work, of which the most minute details dis- 
closed to him the finger of God. " Some there 
are," said he, " who believe because I believe. 
But they only truly believe, who would con- 
tinue faithful even though they should heai 
(which may God forbid!) that I had denied 
Christ. True disciples believe — not in Lu- 
ther — but in Jesus Christ. Even I myself 
care little for Luther. Let him be counted a 
saint or a cheat, what care I ? It is not him 
that I preach; it is Christ. If the devil can 
seize Luther, let him do so! But let Christ 
abide with us, and we shall abide also." 

Surely it is idle to explain such a principle 
as here speaks out, by the mere circumstances" 
of human affairs. Men of letters might sharp- 
en their wits, and shoot their poisoned arrows 
against pope and friars— the gathering cry for 
freedom, which Germany had so often sent 
forth against Italian tyranny, might again echo 
! in the castles and provinces; — the people 
I might again delight in the familiar voice of 
the Wittemberu nightingale heralding the 
I spring that was every w here bursting forth j — 



296 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



but it was no change in mere outward cir- 
cumstances, like such as is the effect of a 
craving for earthly liberty, that was then ac- 
complishing. Those who assert that the Re- 
formation was brought about by bribing the 
reigning princes with the prospect of convent 
treasure, — the clergy, with the license of 
marriage, — or the people with the boon of 
freedom, are strangely mistaken in its nature. 
Doubtless, a profitable use of resources which 
hitherto had maintained the monks in idle- 
ness, — doubtless, marriage and liberty, God's 
gifts, might conduce to the progress of the 
Reformation, — but the moving power was not 
in these things. An interior revolution was 
going on in the deep privacy of men's hearts : 
Christians were again learning to love and 



i forgive, to pray, to suffer affliction, and, if 

! need be, to die for the sake of that Truth 

| which yet held out no prospect of res: on this 

! side heaven ! The Church was in a state of 

J transition. Christianity was bursting the 

I shroud in which it had so long bef-n veiled, 

and resuming its place in a world which had 

wellnigh forgotten its former power. He 

who made the earth now "turned his hand," 

' and the gospel, — emerging from eclipse, — 

went forward, notwithstanding the repeated 

efforts of priests and of kings. — like the 

Ocean, which, when the hand of God presses 

on its bosom, rises in majestic calmness along 

its shores, so that no power of m va is able 

to resist its movement. 



BOOK X. 



Movement in Germany — War between Francis I. and Charles V. — Inigo Lopez de Reculde — Siege 
of Pampeluna — Loyala's Armed Vigil — Enters a Dominican Convent — Mental Distress — ' ' Strc ig 
Delusions" — "Belief of a Lie" — Amusement of the Pope — Death of Leo X. — Character of 
Adrian VI. — The Pope attempts a Reformation — Opposition at Rome — Designs against Luther — 
Diet at Nuremberg — Osiander at Nuremberg — The Pope's Candour — Resolution of the Diet — 
Grievances — The Pope to the Elector — The Pope's Brief — The Princes fear the Pope — "The 
Fiery Trial" — " The Failing Mines" — The Augustine Convent — Mirisch and Probst — Persecu- 
tion at Miltemburg — The Inquisitors and the Confessors — The Fate of Lambert — Luther's Sym- 

' pathy — Hymn on the Martyrs — The Legate Campeggio — Evasion of the Edict of Worms — Alarm 
of the Pope — -The Dukes of Bavaria — Conference at Ratisbon — Subtle Devices — Results of the 
Ratisbon League — The Emperor's Edict — Martyrdom of Gaspard Tauber — Cruelties in Wurtem- 
berg — Persecution in Bavaria— Fanaiicism in Etolstein — The Prior and the Regent — Martyrdom 
of Henry Zuphten — Luther and Carlstadt — Opinions on the Lord's Supper — Carlstadt leaves 
Wittemberg — Luther at Jena — Luther and Carlstadt — Luther at Orlamund — Interview at Orla- 
mund — On the AVorsliip of Images — Carlstadt banished — Carlstadt retires to Strasburg — Assem- 
bly at Spires — Abridgment of the Reformed Doctrine — Albert of Brandenburg — The Word of 
God not bound — All Saints' Church — Abolition of the Mass — Nature of Christianity — Letter to 
Councillors— On the Use of Learning — Religion and the Arts — Essence of Christianity — Music 
and Poetry — Abuses of Painting — Insurrection of the Peasantry — The Reformation and Revolt 
— Fanaticism — "The Spirit" — Miinzer preaches Revolt — Liberty of Conscience — Lmher's View 
of the Revolt — Luther to the Peasantry — Murder of Count Helienstein — Warlike Exhortarion — 
Gotz of Berlichingen — "Radical Reform" — Defeat of the Rebels — Miinzer at Miilhausen — 
Anxieties at Wittemberg — The Landgrave takes up Arms — Defeat and Death of Miinzer — 
Thirteenth Article — Luther calumniated — Rise of the i^ew Church — The Revolt and the Re- 
formation — The last Days of the Elector Frederic — The Elector and the Reformer — Duke 
George's Confederacy — The Nuns of Nimptsch — Catherine Bora — The deserted Convent — Lu- 
ther's Thoughts on Matrimony — Luther's Marriage — Domestic Happiness — The Elec T or John — 
The Landgrave Philip — Poliander's Hymn — New Ordination — Diet at Augsburg — League of 
Torgau — The Evangelic Union — "The Rulers take Counsel together" — The Emperor's Mes- 
sage — The Reformation and the Papacy. 

The Reformation, which had taken its rise 
in a few pious hearts, had worked its way 
into the public worship and the private life 
of the Church; it was to be expected that it 
would, as it advanced, penetrate into civil 
relationships. Its progress was constantly, 
from within, — outward. We are about to 
contemplate this great change taking posses- 
sion of the political life of nations. 

For a period of nearly eight centuries, Eu- 
rope had formed one vast sacerdotal state. Its 
emperors and kings had been under the pa- 
tronage of its popes. If France and Germany 
had afforded examples of energetic resistance 
to audacious pretensions, still Rome, in the 
result, had prevailed, and the world had seen 
temporal princes, consenting to act as exe- 
cutioners of her terrible sentences, contend in 



defence of her power against private Chris- 
tians living under their rule, and shed, in 
her cause, the blood of the children of their 
people. 

No infringement of this vast ecclesiastical 
polity but must affect, in a greater or less de- 
gree, established political relations. 

Two leading desires then agitated the minds 
of the Germans. On one hand, the people 
aspired after a revival of the faith ; on the 
other, they demanded a national government 
wherein the German states might be repre- 
sented, and which should serve as a counter- 
poise to the Imperial power.* 

The Elector Frederic had urged this de- 
mand at the time of the election of Maximi 

* Robertson, Charles V. vol. iii. p. 114. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



297 



lian's successor, and the youthful Charles had 
consented. A national government had, in 
consequence, been chosen, consisting' of the 
Imperial chief and representatives of the va- 
rious electors and circles. 

Thus vthile Luther was reforming- the 
Church, Frederic was engaged in reforming 
the State. 

But when, simultaneously with a change 
in religion, important modifications of poli- 
tical relationships were introduced by the 
authorities, it was to be apprehended that the 
commonalty would exhibit a disposition to 
revolt, — thereby bringing into jeopardy the 
Reformation both of Church and of State. 

This violent and fanatical irruption of the 
people, under certain chosen leaders, unavoid- 
able where society is in a state of crisis,- — 
did not fail to happen in the times we are re- 
cording. 

Other circumstances there were which 
tended to these disorders. 

The Emperor and the Pope had combined 
against the Reformation, and it might appear 
to be doomed to fall beneath the strokes of 
such powerful enemies. Policy — interest — 
ambition obliged Charles V. and Leo X. to 
extirpate it. But such motives are feeble 
defences against the power of Truth. A de- 
voted assertion of a cause deemed sacred can 
be conquered only by a like devotedness op- 
posed to it. But the Romans, quick to catch 
Leo's enthusiasm for a sonnet or a musical 
composition, had no pulse to beat response to 
the religion of Jesus Christ; or, if at times 
some graver thoughts would intervene, instead 
of their being such as might purify their 
hearts, and imbue them with the Christianity 
of the apostles, they turned upon alliances, 
or conquests, or treaties that added new pro- 
vinces to the Papal states ; and Rome, with 
cold disdain, left to the Reformation to awaken 
on all sides a religious enthusiasm, and to go 
forward in triumphant progress to new victo- 
ries. The foe that she had sworn to crush, 
in the church of Worms, was before her in 
the confidence of courage and strength. The 
contest must be sharp : blood must flow. 

Nevertheless, some of the dangers that 
threatened the Reformation seemed, just then, 
to be less pressing. The youthful Charles, 
standing one day, a little before the publica- 
tion of the edict of Worms, in a window of 
his palace in conversation with his confessor, 
had, it is true, said with emphasis, laying his 
hand upon his heart, " I swear that I will 
hang up before this window the first man 
who, after the publication of my edict, shall 
declare himself a Lutheran." But it was not 
long before his zeal cooled. His plan for re- 
storing the ancient glory of the empire, or, in 
other words, enlarging his own dominions, 
was coldly received ; and, taking umbrage 
with his German subjects, he passed the 
Rhine, and retired to the Low Countries, 
availing himself of his sojourn there to afford 
the friars some gratifications that he found 
himself unable to give thern in the empire. 
At Ghent, Luther's writings were burned by 



the public executioner with the utmost so 
lemnity. More than fifty thousand spectators 
attended this auto-da-fe, and the presence ot 
the emperor himself marked his approval of 
the proceedings. 

Just at this time Francis the First, who 
eagerly sought a pretext for attacking his 
rival, had thrown down the gauntlet. Under 
pretence of re-establishing in their patrimony 
the children of John of Albret, king of Na- 
varre, he had commenced a bloody contest, 
destined to last all his life: — sending an army 
to invade that kingdom, under command of 
Lesparra, who rapidly pushed his victorious 
advance to the gates of Pampeluna. 

On the walls of this fortress was to be en- 
kindled an enthusiasm which, in after years, 
should withstand the aggressive enthusiasm 
of the Reformer, and breathe through the Pa- 
pal system a new energy of devotedness and 
control. Pampeluna was to be the cradle of 
a rival to the Wittemberg monk. 

The spirit of chivalry, which had so long 
reigned in the Christian word, still survived 
in Spain. The wars with the Moors, recently 
terminated in that Peninsula, but continually 
recurring in Africa — and distant and adventu- 
rous expeditions beyond sea, kept alive in the 
Castilian youth the enthusiastic and simple 
valour of which Amadis had been the ideal 
exhibition. 

Among the garrison of Pampeluna was a 
young man named Don Inigo Lopez de Re- 
calde, the youngest of a family of thirteen. 
Recalde had been brought up at the court of 
Ferdinand the Catholic. Remarkable for a 
fine person, and expert in the use of sword 
and lance, he was ardently ambitious of chival- 
rous renown. Clothed in dazzling armour, 
and mounted on a prancing steed, he took de- 
light in exposing himself to the glittering dan- 
gers ofthe tournament, engaging in hazardous 
enterprises, taking part in the impassioned 
struggles of opposing factions, and manifest- 
ing as much devotion to St. Peter as to his 
lady-love. Such was the life led by the young 
knight. 

The governor of Navarre, having gone into 
Spain to obtain succours, had left to Inigo and 
a few nobles the charge of defending Pampe- 
luna. These latter, learning the superior num- 
bers ofthe French troops, decided on retiring. 
Inigo entreated them to stand firm and resist 
Lesparra ; but, not being able to prevail on 
them, he indignantly reproached thern with 
their cowardice and perfidy, and then threw 
himself into the citadel, resolved to defend it 
at the sacrifice of his life. 

When the French, who had been received 
with enthusiasm in Pampeluna, proposed to 
the commandant of the fortress to capitulate. 
" Let us endure every thing,' boldly exclaim- 
ed Inigo, "rather than surrender !" On this 
the French began to batter the walls with their 
formidable artillery, and in a short time they 
attempted to storm it. The bravery and ex- 
hortations of Inigo gave fresh courage to the 
Spaniards; they drove back the assailants by 
their arrows, swords, or halberds. Inigo led 



293 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



them on. Taking his stand on the ramparts, 
with eyes flaming with rage, the young knight 
brandished his sword, and felled the assailants 
to the earth. Suddenly a ball struck the wall, 
just where he stood ; a stone shivered from 
the ramparts, wounded the knight severely in 
the right leg, at the same moment as the ball, 
rebounding from the violence of the shock, 
broke his left. Inigo fell senseless. The 
garrison immediately surrendered; and the 
French, admiring the courage of their youth- 
ful adversary, bore him in a litter to his rela- 
tives in the castle of Loyola. In this lordly 
mansion, from which his name was afterwards 
derived, Inigo had. been born of one of the 
most illustrious families of that country, eight 
years after the birth of Luther.' 

A painful operation became necessary. In 
the most acute suffering, Inigo firmly clenched 
his hands but uttered no complaint. 

Constrained to a repose which he could ill 
endure, he found it needful to employ, in some 
way, his ardent imagination. In the absence 
of the romances which he had been accustom- 
ed to devour, they gave him the Life of Christ, 
and the Flores Sanctorum. The reading of 
these works, in his state of solitude and sick- 
ness, produced an extraordinary effect upon 
his mind. The stirring life of tournaments 
and battles, which had occupied his youth, to 
the exclusion of every thing beside, seemed as 
if receding and fading from view, while a 
career of brighter glory appeared to open be- 
fore him. The humble labours of the saints, 
and their heroic patience were, all of a sudden, 
seen to be far more worthy of praise than all 
the high deeds of chivalry. Stretched upon 
his couch, and still under the effects of fever, 
he indulged in the most conflicting thoughts. 
The world he was planning to renounce, and 
that life of holy mortification which he con- 
templated, both appeared before him — the one 
soliciting by its pleasures, the other by its 
severities; — and fearful was the struggle in 
his conscience between these two opposing 
worlds. "What," thought he, "-if I were to 
act like St. Francis or St. Dominic ?" But 
the recollection of the lady to whom he had 
pledged his love recurred to his mind. "She 
is neither countess nor duchess," said he to 
himself, with a kind of simple vanity, " she is 
much more than either." But thoughts like 
these were sure to fill him with distress and 
impatience, while the idea of imitating the ex- 
ample of the saints caused his heart to over- 
flow with peace and joy. 

From this period his resolution was taken. 
Scarcely' had he risen from his sick-bed, when 
he decided to retire from the world. As Lu- 
ther had done, he once more invited to a re- 
past his companions in arms, and then, with- 
out divulging his design, set out unattended, 
for the lonely cells excavated by the Bene- | 
dictine monks, in the rocks of the mountains 
of Montserrat. Impelled, not by the sense of 
his sin, or of his need of the grace of God, but 
by the wish to become " knight of the Virgin 
Mary," and to be renowned for mortifications 
and works, after the example of the army of 



saints, — he confessed for three successive 
days, gave away his costly attire to a mendi- 
cant, clothed himself in sackcloth, and girded 
himself with a rope. Then, calling to min<i 
the armed vigil of Amadis of Gaul, he sus- 
pended his sword at the shrine of Mary, pass- 
ed the night in watching, in his new and 
strange costume ; and sometimes on his knees, 
and then standing, but ever absorbed in pray- 
er, and with his pilgrim's staff in hand, went 
through all the devout practices of which the 
illustrious Amadis had set the example. 
"Thus," remarks the Jesuit, Maffei, one of 
J the biographers of the saint, "while Satan 
was stirring up Martin Luther to rebellion 
against all laws, divine and human, and whilst 
that heretic stood up at Worms, declaring im- 
pious war against the Apostolic See, Christ, 
by his heavenly providence, called forth this 
new champion, and binding him by after vows 
to obedience to the Roman Pontiff, opposed 
him to the licentiousness and fury of heretical 
perversity." 

Loyola, who was still lame in one of his 
legs, journeyed slowly by circuitous and se- 
cluded paths till he arrived at Manresa. There 
he entered a convent of Dominicans, resoivincr 
in this retired spot to give himself up to the 
most rigid penances. Like Luther, he daily 
went from door to door begging his bread. 
Seven hours he was on his knees, and thrice 
every day did he flagellate himself. Again at 
midnight he was accustomed to rise and pray. 
He allowed his hair and nails to grow ; and 
it would have been hard, indeed, to recognise 
in the pale and lank visage of the monk of 
Manresa, the young and brilliant knight of 
Pampeluna. 

Yet the moment had arrived when the ideas 
of religion, which hitherto had been to Inigo 
little more than a form of chivalric devotion, 
were to reveal themselves to him as having an 
importance, and exercising a power of which, 
till then, he had been entirely unconscious. 
Suddenly, without any thing that might give 
intimation of an approaching change of feel- 
ing, the joy he had experienced left him. In 
vain did he have recourse to prayer and chant- 
ing psalms ; he could not rest. His imagina- 
tion ceased to present nothing but pleasing 
illusions, — he was alone with his conscience. 
He did not know what to make of a state of 
feeling so new to him ; and he shuddered as 
he asked whether God could still be against 
him, after all the sacrifices he had made. 
Day and night, gloomy terrors disturbed him, 
— bitter were the tears he shed, and urgent 
was his cry for that peace which he had lost 
— but all in vain. He again ran over the long 
confession he had made at MontseTrat. "Pos- 
sibly," thought he, " I may have forgotten 
something." But that confession did but ag- 
gravate his distress of heart, for it revived the 
thought of former transgressions. He wan 
dered about, melancholj and dejected, his con 
science accusing him of having, all his life, 
done naught but heap sin upon sin, and the 
wretched man — a prey to overwhelming terror? 
— filled the cloisters with the sound of his sigha. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



299 



Strange thoughts, at this crisis, found ac- 
cess to his heart. Obtaining no relief in the 
confessional, and the various ordinances of 
the church, he began, as Luther had done, to 
doubt their efficacy. But, instead of turning 
from man's works, and seeking to the finished 
work of Christ, — he' considered whether he 
snould not once more plunge into the' vanities 
of the age. His soul panted eagerly for that 
world that he had solemnly renounced; but 
instantly he recoiled, awe-struck. 

And was there, at this moment, any differ- 
ence between the monk of Manresa and the 
monk of Erfurth 1 Doubtless, in secondary 
points ; but their condition of soul was alike. 
Both were deeply sensible of their sins ; both 
sought peace with God, and desired to have 
the assurance of it in their hearts. If another 
Staupitz, with the Bible in his hand, had 
presented himself at the convent of Manresa, 
perhaps Imgo might have been known to us 
as the Luther of the Peninsula. These two 
remarkable men of the sixteenth century, the 
founders of two opposing spiritual empires, 
which, for three centuries, have warred one 
against the other, were, at this period, 
brothers; and, perhaps, if they had been 
thrown together, Luther and Loyola would 
have rushed into each other's embrace, and 
mingled their tears and their prayers. 

But, from this moment, the two monks 
were to take opposite courses. 

Inigo, instead of regarding his remorse as 
sent to urge him to the foot of the cross, de- 
luded himself with the belief that his inward 
compunctions were not from God, but the 
mere suggestions of the devil ; and he re- 
solved not to think any longer of his sins, but 
to obliterate them forever from his memory ! 
Luther looked to Christ —Loyola did but turn 
inward on himself. 

It was not long before visionary attestations 
came in confirmation of Inigo's self-imposed 
convictions. His own resolutions had been 
to him in place of the Lord's grace, and he 
had suffered the imaginations of his own 
heart to take the place of God's word. He 
had counted the voice of God, speaking to him 
in his conscience, as the voice of the devil ; 
and hence, we see him, in the remainder of 
his history, the dupe of delusions of the 
power of darkness. 

One day, Loyola chanced to meet an old 
woman ; as Luther, when his soul was under 
trial and exercise, had received a visit from 
an old man. But the Spanish crone, instead 
of testifying of remission of sins to the 
penitent of Manresa, predicted certain ap- 
pearances of Jesus. This was the sort of 
Christianity to which Loyola, like the pro- 
phets of Zwickau, had recourse. Inigo did 
not seek truth from the Holy Scriptures, but 
invented in their place certain direct commu- 
nications from the world of spirits. He soon 
passed his whole time absorbed in ecstasy and 
abstraction. 

Once, when on his way to the church of 
St." Paul, outside the city, he followed, lost in 
thought, the course of the Llobregat, and 



stopped, for a moment, to seat himself on its 
bank. He fixed his eyes on the river which 
rolled its deep waters in silence before him. 
He soon lost all consciousness of surround- 
ing objects. Of a sudden, he fell into an ec- 
stasy. Things were revealed to his sight, 
such as ordinary men comprehend only after 
much reading and long watching;, and study. 
He rose from his seat. As he stood by the 
bank of the river, he seemed to himself a new 
man. He proceeded to throw himself on his 
knees before a crucifix, erected near the spot, 
decided to devote his life in service to th,.t 
cause, the mysteries of which had just been 
revealed to his soul. 

From this time, his visions were more fre- 
quent. Sitting one day on the steps of St. 
Dominic, at Manresa, singing hymns to the 
Virgin, his thoughts were all of a sudden ar- 
rested, and, wrapt in ecstasy of motionless 
abstraction, while the mystery of the Holy 
Trinity was revealed before his vision, under 
symbols of glory and magnificence. His 
tears flowed — his bosom heaved with sobs of 
emotion, and all that day he never ceased 
speaking of that ineffable vision. 

Such repeated apparitions had overcome 
and dissipated all his doubts. He believed, 
not as Luther, because the things of Faith 
were written in the Word of God, — but be- 
cause of the visions he himself had had. 
"Even though no Bible had existed," say 
his apologists, " even though those mysteries 
should never have been revealed in Scripture, 
he would have believed them, for God had 
disclosed Himself to him." Luther, become 
a doctor of divinity, had pledged his oath to 
the sacred Scriptures — and the alone infalli- 
ble rule of God's word was become the funda- 
mental principle of the Reformation. Loyola, 
at the time we are recording, bound himself 
to dreams, and apparitions — and visionary 
delusions became the moving principles of 
his life, and the grounds of his confidence. 

Luther's sojourn in the convent of Erfurth, 
and that of Loyola at Manresa explain to us 
the principle of the Reformation, and the 
character of modem Popery. We will not 
follow, — in his journey to Jerusalem, whither 
he repaired on leaving the convent, — the 
monk who was to be a means of re-animat- 
ing the expiring power of Rome. We shall 
meet with him again in the further progress 
of this history. 

Whilst these things were passing in Spain, 
Rome herself appeared to wear a graver aspect. 
The great patron of music, hunting, and feast- 
ing was removed from the throne of the Pontiff, 
and succeeded by a pious and grave monk. 

Leo X. had been greatly pleased by the 
intelligence of the edict of Worms, and of Lu- 
ther's captivity ; and in sign of his triumph 
had caused the Reformer to be publicly burnt 
in effigy, together with his writings. It was 
the second or third time that the Papacy ha 1 
indulged itself in this harmless satisfaction; 
At the same time, Leo, to show his gratitude 
to the emperor, united his army with the 1m- 



300 



HISFOK* OF THE REFORMATION. 



perial forces. The French were compelled 
to evacuate Parma, Placentia, and Milan; 
and Cardinal Giulio de Medici, cousin to the 
Pope, made a public entry into the latter city. 
The Pope appeared on the point of attaining 
the summit of human greatness. 

The winter of the year 1521 was just com- 
mencing. It was customary with Leo X. to 
spend the autumn in the country. At that 
season he would leave Rome without surplice, 
and also, what, remarks his master of the 
ceremonies, was a yet greater impropriety, 
wearing boots ! At Viterbo, he would amuse 
himself with hawking; at Corneto, he 
hunted ; the lake of Bolsena afforded him the 
pleasures of fishing. Leaving these, he 
would pass some time at his favourite resi- 
dence, Malliana, in a round of festivities. 
Musicians, improvisatori, and other Roman 
artists, whose talents might add to the charms 
of this delightful villa, there gathered round 
the sovereign pontiff. He was residing there, 
when news was brought him of the taking 
of Milan. A tumult of joy ensued in the 
town. The courtiers and officers could not 
contain their exultation: the Swiss dis- 
charged their carbines, and Leo incautiously 
passed the night in walking backward and 
forward in his chamber, and looking out of 
the window at the rejoicings of the people. 
He returned to Rome, exhausted in body, and 
in the intoxication of success. Scarcely had 
he re-entered the Vatican, when he was sud- 
denly taken ill. " Pray for me," said he to 
his attendants. He had not even time to re- 
ceive the last sacraments, and died, in the 
prime of life, at the age of forty-seven — in a 
moment of victory, and amid the sounds of 
public joy. 

The crowd that followed the hearse of the 
Sovereign Pontiff gave utterance to curses. 
They could not pardon his having died with- 
out the sacraments, — leaving behind him the 
debts incurred by his vast expenditure. "Thou 
didst win the pontificate like a fox — heldst it 
like a lion — and hast left it like a dog," said 
the Romans. 

Such was the mourning with which Rome 
honoured the Pope who excommunicated the 
Reformation ; and one whose name yet serves 
to designate a remarkable period in history. 

Meanwhile a feeble reaction against the 
temper of Leo and of Rome was already be- 
ginning in Rome itself. A few men of piety 
had opened a place of prayer in order to mu- 
tual edification, — not far from the spot in 
which tradition reports the first Christians of 
Rome to have held their meetings. Contari- 
ni, who had been present on Luther's appear- 
ance at Worms, took the lead in these little 
meetings. Thus, almost at the same time as 
at Wittemberg, a kind of movement toward a 
reformation manifested itself at Rome. Truly 
has it been remarked, that wherever there are 
the seeds of 'love to God,' there are also the 
germs of reformation. But these well-meant 
efforts were soon to come to nothing. 

In other times, the choice of a successor to 
Leo X. would surely have fallen upon a Grego- 



ry VII. or an Innocent III., if men like them had 
been to be found ; but now the Imperial inter, 
est was stronger than that of the Church, and 
Charles V. required a Pope who should b« 
devoted to his interests. 

The Cardinal de Medici, afterwards Cle 
ment VII., seeing that he had no chance of 
obtainingthe tiara, exclaimed aloud — " Choose 
the Cardinal Tortosa, an old man whom every 
one regards as a saint." The result was, that 
this prelate, who was a native of Utrecht, and 
of humble birth, was actually chosen, and 
reigned under the name of Adrian VI. He had 
been professor at Louvain, and afterwards tutor 
to Charles. In 1517, through the Emperor's in- 
fluence, he had been invested with the Roman 
purple. Cardinal de Vio supported his nomi- 
nation. " Adrian," said he, " was very useful in 
persuading the doctors of Louvain to put forth 
their condemnation of Luther." The conclave, 
tired out and taken by surprise, nominated the 
ultramontane Cardinal. " But soon coming 
to their senses," observes an old chronicler, 
" they were ready to die with fear of the con- 
sequences." The thought that the native of 
the Netherlands might not accept of the tiara, 
brought them temporary relief; but it was soon 
dissipated. Pasquin represented the elect 
Pontiff under the character of a schoolmaster, 
and the Cardinals as boys under the discipline 
of the rod. The irritation of the populace 
was such that the members of the conclave 
thought themselves fortunate to escape being 
thrown into the river. In Holland, it was a 
subject of general rejoicing that they had given 
a head to the Church. Inscribed on banners, 
suspended from the houses, were the words, 
"Utrechtplanted — Louvain watered — the Em- 
peror gave the increase." One added under- 
neath, the words, — " and God had nothing to 
do with it !" 

Notwithstanding the dissatisfaction which 
was at first manifested by the inhabitants of 
Rome, Adrian VI. repaired thither in August, 
1522, and was well received. It was whis- 
pered from one to another that he had five 
thousand benefices in his gift, and each reck- 
oned on some advantage to himself. For a 
long time, the Papal chair had not been filled 
by such a man. He was upright, industrious, 
learned, pious, sincere, irreproachable in mo- 
rals, and neither misled by favouritism nor 
blinded by passion. He brought with him to 
the Vatican, his old house-keeper whom he 
charged to continue to provide frugally for his 
daily wants in that palace which Leo had filled 
with luxury and dissipation. He was a 
stranger to the tastes of his predecessor. When 
they showed him the noble group of Laocoon. 
discovered only a few years before, and pur. 
chased by Julius II. at an enormous cost — he 
turned away, coolly observing, " They are the 
idols of the heathens :" and in one of his let- 
ters, he wrote, " 1 would far rather serve God 
in my priory at Louvain than be pope at 
Rome." 

Adrian, alarmed by the danger to which the 
religion, which had come down to them 
through the middle ages, was exposed from 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



301 



the spread of the Reformation; and not, like 
the Italians, fearing the discredit into which , 
Rome and her hierarchy were brought by it, — | 
earnestly desired to oppose and arrest its pro- j 
gress ; and he judged that the best means to j 
that end was to be found in a reformation of 
the Church by herself. "The Church," said 
he, " stands in need of a reformation ; but we 
must take one step at a time." " The Pope," 
said Luther, " advises that a few centuries 
should be permitted to intervene between the 
first and the second step." In truth, the 
Church had forages tended toward a reforma- 
tion. It was now no time for temporizing. It 
was necessary to act ! 

Adhering to his plan, Adrian set about 
banishing from the city the profane, the perju- 
rers, and the usurers. It was no easy task, 
for they composed a considerable proportion 
of the population. 

At first the Romans derided him, but ere 
long they hated him. Priestly rule and the 
vast gains it brought, the power and influence 
of Rome, its games and its festivals, the luxu- 
ry that everywhere reigned in it, all would be 
irretrievably lost, if there were a return to apos- 
tolic simplicity. 

The restoration of discipline everywhere 
encountered strong opposition. " To produce 
the desired effect," said the chief Cardinal 
Penitentiaria, "it would be necessary to be- 
gin by reviving the 'first love' of Christians : 
the remedy is more than the patient can bear ; 
it will be death to him. Take care, lest in 
your desire to preserve Germany you should 
lose Italy." And, indeed, it was not long be- 
fore Adrian had even more to fear from Ro- 
manism than Lutheranism itself. 

Those about him attempted to lead him 
back to the path he had abandoned. The old 
and practised Cardinal Soderinus of Volterra, 
the intimate friend of Alexander VI., of Julius 
II., andofLeoX., would often drop expressions 
well suited to prepare him for that part, to 
him so strange, which he was reserved to act. 
" Heretics," observed he, " have in all ages, 
declaimed against the morals of the Roman 
Court : and yet the Popes have never changed 
them. It has never been by reforms that he- 
resies have been extinguished, but by cru- 
sades." " Oh, how wretched is the position 
of the Popes," replied the Pontiff, sighing 
deeply, " since they have not even liberty to 
do right." 

On the 23d of March, 1522, and before 
Adrian's entry into Rome, the Diet assembled 
at Nuremberg. Already the bishops of Mers- 
burg and Misnia had petitioned the Elector of 
Saxony to allow a visitation of the convents 
and churches in his' states. Frederic, think- 
ing that truth had nothing to fear, had con- 
sented, and the visitation took place. The 
bishops and doctors preached vehemently 
against the new opinions, exhorting, alarm- 
ing and entreating, but their arguments seemed 
to have no effect; and when looking about 
them for more effectual methods, they request- 
ed the secular authorities to carry their direc- 
tions into execution, the Elector's council re- 



turned for answer, that the question was one 
that required to be examined by the Word of 
God, and that the Elector, at his advanced 
age, could not engage in theological investi- 
gation. These expedients of the bishops did 
not reclaim a single soul to the fold of Rome ; 
and Luther, who passed over the same ground, 
shortly afterwards, preaching from place to 
place, dispelled, by his powerful exhortation, 
the slight impression that had here and there 
been produced. 

It was to be feared that the Archduke Fer- 
dinand, brother to the Emperor, would do 
what Frederic had declined doing. That 
young prince, who presided at several sittings 
of the Diet, gradually acquiring decision of 
purpose, might, in his zeal, boldly unsheathe 
the sword that his more prudent and politic 
brother wisely left in the scabbard. In fact, 
Ferdinand, in his hereditary states of Austria, 
had already commenced a cruel persecution 
against those who were favourable to the Re- 
formation. But God, on various occasions, 
made instrumental, in the deliverance of re- 
viving Christianity, the very same agency 
that had been employed for the destruction of 
corrupt Christianity. The Crescent suddenly 
appeared in the panic-struck provinces of 
Hungary. On the 9th of August, after a 
siege of six weeks, Belgrade, the advanced 
post of that kingdom, and of the empire, was 
taken by assault by Soliman. The followers 
of Mahomet, after retiring from Spain, seemed 
intent on re-entering Europe from the East. 
The Diet of Nuremberg turned its attention 
from the Monk of Worms to the Sultan of 
Constantinople. But Charles V. kept both 
antagonists in view. In writing to the Pope 
from Valladolid, on the 31st October, he said, 
" We must arrest the progress of the Turks, 
and punish by the sword all who favour the 
pestilent doctrines of Luther." 

It was not long 1 before the thunder clouds, 
which had seemed to pass by and roll east- 
ward, again gathered over the Reformer. His 
reappearance and activity at Wittemberg had 
revived the bygone hatred. " Now that we 
know where to lay hands on him," said Duke 
George, " why not carry into effect the sen- 
tence of W'orms ?" It was confidently af- 
firmed in Germany, that Charles V. and 
Adrian had in a meeting at Nuremberg con- 
certed the measures to be adopted. " Satan 
feels the wound that has been inflicted on 
him," said Luther, "and thence his rage. 
But Christ has already put forth his power, 
and will ere long trample him under foot, in 
spite of the gates of hell." 

In the month of December, 1522. the Diet 
again assembled at Nuremberg. Everything 
announced that, as Soliman had been the great 
enemy that had fixed attention in the spring 
session, Luther w T ould be its principal object 
during the winter sittings. Adrian VI.. by 
birth a German, hoped to find that favour from 
his own nation which a Pope of Italian ori- 
gin could not expect. He, in consequence, 
commissioned Chieregati, whom he had 
known in Spain, to repair to Nuremberg. At 



302 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the opening of the Diet, several of the princes 
spoke strongly against Luther. The Cardi- 
nal Archbishop of Salzburg, who was high 
in the confidence of the Emperor, urged the 
adoption of prompt and vigorous -measures, 
before the arrival of the Elector of Saxony. 
The Elector Joachim of Brandenburg, in- 
flexible in his purpose, and the Chancellor of 
Treves, jointly insisted that the edict of 
Worms should be carried into effect. The 
rest of the princes were in great part unde- 
cided, and divided in opinion. The dilemma 
in which the church was placed, filled its 
faithful adherents with anguish. " I would 
give one of my fingers," exclaimed the Bish- 
op of Strasburg, in an open assembly of the 
Diet, " I would give one of my fingers to be 
no priest." 

Chieregati, supported by the Cardinal of 
Salzburg, insisted that Luther should be put 
to death. " It is necessary," said he, speak- 
ing in the Pope's name, and holding the 
Pope's brief in his hand, "It is indispensable 
that we should sever from the body that gan- 
greened member. Your forefathers punished 
with death John Huss and Jerome of Prague, 
at Constance, but both these are now risen 
up in Luther. Follow the glorious example 
of your ancestors, and by the help of God, 
and of St. Peter, gain a signal victory over 
this serpent of hell." 

On hearing the brief of the pious and mild 
Adrian read in the assembly, the majority of 
the princes were not a little alarmed. Many 
began to see more in Luther's arguments ; 
and they had hoped better things from the 
Pope. Thus then Rome, though under the 
presidency of Adrian, cannot be brought to 
acknowledge her delinquency, but still hurls 
her thunderbolts, and the fields of Germany 
are again about to be deluged with blood. 
Whilst the princes maintained a gloomy si- 
lence, the prelates, and such members of the 
Diet as were in the interest of Rome, tumult- 
uously urged the adoption of a decision. " Let 
him be put to death," cried they, — as we 
learn from the Saxony envoy who was present 
at this sitting. 

Very different were the sounds heard in 
the churches of Nuremberg. The chapel of 
the hospital, and the churches of the Augus- 
tines, St. Sebald and St. Lorenzo, were 
crowded with multitudes flocking to hear the 
preaching of the Gospel. Andrew Osiander 
preached powerfully at St. Lorenzo's. Many 
princes attended, especially Albert, Margrave 
of Brandenburg, who, in his quality of Grand 
Master of the Teutonic order, took rank im- 
mediately next to the archbishops. Monks, 
abandoning the religious houses in the city, 
applied themselves to learn various trades, in 
oider to gain their livelihood by their labour. 

Chieregati could not endure such daring 
disobedience. He insisted that the priests 
and refractory monks should be imprisoned. 
The Diet, notwithstanding the remonstrances 
of the ambassadors of the Elector of Saxony 
and the Margrave Casimir, decided to seize 
fhe persons of the monks, but consented to 



communicate previously to Osiander and his 
colleagues the Nuncio's complaint. A com- 
mittee, under the direction of the fanatical 
Cardinal of Salzburg, was charged with the 
matter. The danger was imminent — the con- 
flict was on the point of commencing, and it 
was the great Council of the nation that pro- 
voked it. 

Yet the people interposed. Whilst the 
Diet was engaged in deliberating what should 
be done with these ministers, the town coun- 
cil was considering what steps should be 
taken in regard to the decision of the Diet. 
The council came to a resolution which did 
not overstep the limits assigned to it by the 
laws, — that if force were employed to deprive 
them of their preachers, recourse should be 
had to force to set them at liberty. Such a 
resolution was full of significance. The as- 
tonished Diet returned an answer to the Nuncio 
that it was not lawful to arrest the preachers 
of the free city of Nuremberg without previ- 
ously convicting them of heresy. 

Chieregati was strangely disconcerted by 
this fresh insult to the supreme authority of 
the Papacy. " Very well," said he, haughtily 
addressing himself to Ferdinand, "do you 
then do nothing, — leave me to act, — I will 
seize the preachers in the Pope's name." 
When the Cardinal Archbishop Albert, of 
Mentz, and the Margrave Casimir were ap- 
prized of this startling determination, they 
came in haste to the Legate, imploring him 
to abandon his intention. The latter was, at 
first, inflexible, affirming that, in the bosom 
of Christendom, obedience to the Pope could 
not be dispensed with. The two princes re- 
tired ; — " If you persist in your intention," 
said they, " we require you to send us notice, 
for we will quit the city before you venture to 
lay hands on the preachers." The Legate 
abandoned his project. 

Despairing of success by authoritative mea- 
sures, he now decided to have recourse to ex 
pedients of another kind, and, with this pur- 
pose, communicated to the Diet the Pontiff's 
intentions and orders, which he had hitherto 
kept private. 

But the well-intentioned Adrian, little used 
to the ways of the world, did injury even by 
his candour to the cause he had at heart. 
"We are well aware," said he, in the 'reso- 
lutions' forwarded to his Legate, "that for 
many years past, the holy city has been a 
scene of many corruptions and abominations. 
The infection has spread from the head 
through the members, and has descended 
from the Popes to the rest of the clergy. I 
is our desire to reform that court of Rome, 
whence so many evils are seen to flow, — the 
whole world desires it, and it is in order that 
we may do this, that we consented to ascend 
the throne of the pontiffs." 

The supporters of Rome blushed to hear 
these unlooked-for words. " They thought," 
as Pallavicini says, " that such admissions 
were too sincere." The friends of the Re- 
formation, on the contrary, rejoiced to hear 
Rome herself proclaiming her corruption. 



HISTORY OF .THE REFORMATION. 



303 



Who could doubt that Luther had truth on 
his side, now that the Pope declared it ! 

The answer of the Diet showed how greatly 
the authority of the chief Pontiff had lost 
ground in the Empire. Luther's spirit 
seemed to have taken possession of the hearts 
of the nation's representatives The moment 
was auspicious. — Adrian's ear seemed open, 
— the Emperor was at a distance ; — the Diet 
resolved to enumerate in one document the 
various wrongs that Germany had for centu- 
ries endured from Rome, and to address their 
memorial to the Pope. 

The Legate was alarmed at this determina- 
tion. He used threats and entreaties, but 
both were unavailing. The secular states 
adhered to their purpose, and the ecclesiastical 
did not venture to offer opposition. Eighty 
grievances were therefore set forth. The cor- 
ruption and arts of the Popes and of the court 
of Rome, in order to squeeze revenue from 
Germany, — the scandals and profanations of 
the clerical orders, — the disorders and simony 
of the ecclesiastical courts, — the encroach- 
ments on the civil power to the restriction of 
liberty of conscience, were detailed with 
equal freedom and force. The states dis- 
tinctly intimated that traditions of men were 
the source of all this abuse, and they ended 
by saying, — " If these grievances are not 
redressed within a limited time, we will con- 
sult together, and seek some other means of 
deliverance from our sufferings and our 
wrongf." Chieregati, having a presenti- 
ment that the report the Diet would prepare 
would be couched in strong language, hastily 
took his departure from Nuremberg, thus 
avoiding being himself the bearer of so disap- 
pointing and insolent a communication. 

After all, was it not still to be feared that 
the Diet would endeavour to make some 
amends for this bold measure, by the sacrifice 
of Luther himself? At first, there were some 
apprehensions of such a policy, — but a spirit 
of justice and sincerity had been breathed on 
the assembly. Following the example of 
Luther, it demanded the convocation of a free 
Council in the Empire, and decreed that until 
such Council should assemble, nothing 
should be preached but the simple Gospel, 
and nothing put forth in print, without the 
sanction of a certain number of men of cha- 
racter and learning. These resolutions afford 
us some means of estimating the vast advance 
the Reformation had made since the Diet of 
Worms, — and yet the Saxon envoy, the 
knight Frelitsch, recorded a formal protest 
against the censorship prescribed by the Diet, 
moderate as that censorship might seem. 
The decree of the Diet was a first victory 
gained by the Reformation, which was the 
presage of future triumphs. Even the Swiss, 
in the depths of their mountains, shared in 
the general exultation. "The Roman Pon- 
tiff has been defeated in Germany !" said 
Zwingle; "All that remains to be done is to 
deprive him cf his armour. It is for this that 
we must now fight, and the battle will be 
fiercer than before. But we have Christ pre- 
21 



sent with us in the conflict." Luther loudly 
affirmed that the edict the Princes had put 
forth was by inspiration of God himself. 

Great was the indignation at the Vatican 
among the Pope's council. "What! it is 
not enough to have to bear with a Pope who 
disappoints the expectation of the Romans, in 
whose palace no sound of song or amusement 
is ever heard, but, in addition to this, secular 
princes are to be suffered to hold a language 
that Rome abhors, and refuse to deliver up the 
monk of Wittemberg to the executioner T' 

Adrian himself was indignant at the events 
in Germany, and it was on the head of the 
Elector of Saxony that he now poured out his 
anger. Never had the Roman Pontiffs 
uttered a cry of alarm more energetic, more 
sincere, or more affecting. 

" We have waited long — perhaps too long," 
said the pious Adrian, in his brief addressed 
to the Elector : " It was our desire to see 
whether God would visit thy soul, so that 
thou mightest at the last be delivered from 
the snares of the devil. But where we had 
hoped to gather grapes there have we found 
nothing but wild grapes. The Spirit's 
promptings have been despised ; thy wicked- 
ness has not been subdued. Open thine eyes 
to behold the greatness of tny fall ! 

" If the unity of the Church is gone — if the 
simple have been turned out of the way of 
that faith which they had sucked from their 
mothers' breasts — if the churches are deserted 
— if the people are without priests, and the 
priests have not the honour due to them, — if 
Christians are without Christ, to whom is it 
owing but to thee ? .... If Christian 
peace has forsaken the earth — if, on every 
side, discord, rebellion, pillage, violence, and 
midnight conflagrations prevail- — if the cry of 
war is heard from east to west — if universal 
conflict is at hand, — it is thou thyself who 
art the author of all these. 

" Seest thou not that sacrilegious man, 
(Luther,) how he rends with wicked hands, 
and. profanely tramples under foot, the pic- 
tures of the saints, and even the holy cross 
of Jesus'? .... Seest thou not how, in 
his infamous rage, he incites the laity to shed 
the blood of the priests, and overturn the 
temples of the Lord. 

" And what, if the priests he assails are 
disorderly in conduct 1 Has not the Lord 
said, ' Whatsoever they bid you, that observe 
and do, but do not after their works 1 — thus 
instructing us in the honour that belongs to' 
them, even though their lives should be dis- 
orderly. 

"Rebellious apostate! he does not blush 
to defile vessels dedicated to God ; he forces 
from the sanctuaries virgins consecrated to 
Christ, delivering them over to the devil; he 
ge.tteth into his power the priests of the 
Lord, and gives them to abandoned women. 
Awful profanation! which even the heathen 
would have reprobated in the priests of their 
idol worship. 

" What punishment, what infliction, dost 
thou think we judge thee to deserve] Have 



804 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pity on thyself, — have pity on thy poor 
Saxons ; for surely, if thou dost not turn from 
the evil of thy way, God will bring down his 
vengeance upon thee. 

"In the name of the Almighty God and 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, of whom I am 
vicegerent on earth, I warn thee that thou 
wilt be judged in this world, and be cast into 
the lake of everlasting fire in that which is to 
come. Repent and be converted. Both 
swords are impending over thy head, — the 
sword of the Empire, and that of the Papal 
authority." 

The pious Frederic shuddered as he read 
this menacing brief. A little before he had 
written to the Emperor to say that his age 
and bodily indisposition incapacitated him 
for attending to such matters ; and the answer 
returned was one of the most insolent letters 
a reigning prince had ever received. Infirm 
and aged as he was, his eyes rested upon the 
sword he had received at the holy sepulchre 
in the days of youthful vigour. A thought 
crossed his mind that it might be necessary 
to unsheathe it in defence of the conscience 
of his subjects, and that, near as his life was 
to its close, he should not descend to the 
grave in peace. He forthwith wrote to Wit- 
temberg to have the judgment of the fathers 
of the Reformation as to what should be done. 

There, also, forebodings of commotion and 
persecution were rife. "What can I say," 
exclaimed the mild Melancthon, " whither 
can I turn 1 Hatred presses us to the earth 
— the world is up in arms against us." Lu- 
ther, Link, Melancthon, Bugenhagen and 
AmsdorfT, held a consultation on the answer 
to be returned to the Elector. They drew up 
a reply, each in terms nearly identical, and 
the advice they gave is not a little remarkable. 

" No prince," said they, "can undertake a 
war without the consent of the people from 
whose hands he has received his authoritv. 
But the people have no heart to fight for the 
Gospel, for they do not believe. Therefore, 
let not princes take up arms; they are rulers 
of the nations, that is to say, of unbelievers.'''' 
Here we find the impetuous Luther soliciting 
the discreet Frederic to restore his sword to 
its scabbard. No better answer could be given 
to the Pope's charge that he stirred up the 
laity to embrue their hands in the blood of the 
priests. Few characters have been more mis- 
understood than his. The advice was dated 
the 8th February, 1523. Frederic submitted 
in silence. 

It was not long before the effects of the 
Pope's anger began to be seen. The princes 
who had recapitulated their grievances, now 
dreading the consequences, sought to make 
amends by compliances. Some, there were, 
who reflected that victory would probably de- 
clare for the Pontiff, seeing that he, to all ap- 
pearance, was the stronger of the two. " In 
our days," observed Luther, " princes are con- 
tent to say three times three make nine, or 
twice seven makes fourteen, — right, the coun- 
sel shall stand. Then the Lord our God arises 
«md speaks: 'What then do you allow for 



My power!' .... It may be naught . . . 
And immediately He confuses the figures, and 
their calculations are proved false." 

The stream of fire poured forth by the hum- 
ble and gentle Adrian kindled a conflagration, 
and the rising flame spread far and wide in 
Christendom a deep agitation. Persecution, 
which had slackened for a while, was now re- 
newed. Luther trembled for Germany, and 
sought to allay the tempest. "If the princes 
make war against the truth," said he, "there 
will be such confusion as will be the ruin of 
princes, magistrates, clergy and people. I 
tremble at the thought that all Germany may, 
in a little while, be deluged with blood. Let 
us stand as a rampart for our country against 
the wrath of our God. Nations are not now 
as formerly. The sword of civil war is im- 
pending over kings : — they are bent on destroy- 
ing Luther — but Luther is bent on saving 
them; Christ lives and reigns, and I shall reign 
with him.'''' 

These words were spoken to the winds 
Rome was pressing forward to scaffolds and th» 
shedding of blood. The Reformation in this re- 
sembled Jesus Christ, — that itcame not to send 
peace on the earth, but a sword. Persecution 
was necessary in the counsels of God. As cer- 
tain substances are hardened in the fire that 
they may be less liable to be affected by atmo- 
spheric changes, so the fiery trial was design- 
ed to arm and defend the truth of the Gospel 
from the influence of the world. But that fiery 
trial did yet more ; — it served, as in the early 
days of Christianity, to kindle in men's hearts 
a universal enthusiasm for a cause against 
which such rage was let loose. There is in 
man, when first introduced to the knowledge 
of the truth, a holy indignation against violence 
and injustice. An instinct received from God 
impels him to range himself on the side of the 
oppressed ; and, at the same time, the faith of 
the martyrs exalts, controls, and leads him to 
that saving truth which gifts its followers 
with so much courage and tranquillity. 

Duke George openly took the lead in the 
persecution. But he was not content to carry 
it on among his own subjects; he desired, 
above all, to see it extend itself to electoral 
Saxony, the focus of heresy, and he laboured 
hard to move the Elector Frederic and Duke 
John. In writing to them from Nuremberg, 
he observed, " Certain merchants, recently 
from Saxony, bring reports from thence of 
strange things, and such as are most opposed 
to the honour of God, and the saints. It 
seems, they take the holy sacrament in their 
hands — consecrate the bread and wine in the 
common speech of the people — pour the blood 
of Christ into a common cup. It is said that 
at Eulenberg, a man, who sought occasion to 
insult the officiating priest, rode into the church 
mounted on an ass. And what do we hear to 
be the consequence? The mines, with which 
God had enriched Saxony, are become less 
productive ever since this preaching of Lu- 
ther's innovations. Would to God that those 
who boast that they have restored the Gospel 
in the electorate had employed themselves in 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



305 



carrying tie testimony of it to Constantino- 
ple. Luther's speech is gentle and specious, 
hut it draws after it a sting which is sharper 
than a scorpion's. Let us make ready our 
hands to fight. Let us cast these apostate 
monks and ungodly priests into prison ; let us 
do so at once ; for the hairs of our heads are 
turning as gray as our beards, and admonish 
us that we have not long to live." 

So wrote Duke George to the Elector. The 
latter answered decidedly, yet mildly, -that 
whoever should commit any crime within his 
state should not go unpunished ; but that, as 
to matters of conscience, they must be left to 
the judgment of God. 

Failing in his endeavour to persuade Frede- 
ric, George pressed his severities against such 
as lay within his reach. He imprisoned the 
monks and priests who were known to ad- 
here to Luther's doctrines, — recalled to their 
families the students who had gone from his 
states to pursue their studies in the universi- 
ties to which the Reformation had extended, 
and required his subjects to deliver up to the 
magistrates all copies of the New Testament 
in the vernacular tongue. Similar measures 
were put in force in Austria, Wurtemberg, 
and the Duchy of Brunswick. 

But it was in the Low Countries, under the 
immediate rule of Charles V., that the perse- 
cution broke out with most violence. The 
convent of the Augustines, at Antwerp, con- 
tained within it monks who had hailed with 
joy the truths of the Gospel. Several of the 
brothers had passed some time at Wittem- 
berg, and ever since 1519, Salvation by 
Grace had been preached in their church with 
unusual power. Toward the close of the year 
1521, James Probst, the prior, a man of ar- 
dent temperament, and Melchior Mirisch, who 
was remarkable for the opposite qualities of 
experience and prudence, were arrested and 
carried to Brussels. They were there brought 
before Aleander, Glapio, and several other 
prelates. Taken unawares, disconcerted, and 
dreading consequences, Probst recanted. Mel- 
chior Mirisch found means to appease his 
judges ; and, while he avoided a recantation, 
escaped condemnation. 

These proceedings no way overawed the 
monks who remained in the convent of 
Antwerp. They continued to preach the gos- 
pel with earnestness. The people crowded to 
hear, and the church of the Augustines at 
Antwerp was unable to contain the hearers, 
as had been the case at Wittemberg. In Oc- 
tober, 1522, the storm which had been ga- 
thering over their heads suddenly burst forth. 
The convent was closed, and the monks im- 
prisoned and sentenced to die. A few effected 
their escape. Some women, roused into for- 
getfulness of the natural timidity of their sex, 
rescued one of them, by name Henry Zuphten, 
from the hands of the executioners. Three 
of the younger monks, Henry Voe, John 
Eesch, and Lambert Thorn, evaded for a time 
the search of the inquisitors. The sacred 
vessels of the convent were publicly sold, the 
entrance to the church barricaded, the holy 



sacrament was carried forth as if from a place 
of pollution, and Margaret, who then govern- 
ed the Low Countries, solemnly received it 
into the church of the Holy Virgin. An order 
was given that not one stone should be left 
upon another of that heretical monastery ; and 
several private citizens and women who had 
joyfully received the Gospel were thrown into 
prison. 

Luther was deeply grieved on receiving in- 
telligence of these events. " The cause we 
have in hand," said he, " is no longer a mere 
trial of strength ; it demands the sacrifice of 
our lives, and must be cemented by our 
blood." 

Mirisch and Probst were reserved for a very 
different fate. The politic Mirisch soon be- 
came the docile slave of Rome, and was em- 
ployed in carrying into execution the Impe- 
rial orders against the favourers of the Re- 
formation. Probst, on the contrary, escaping 
out of the hands of the inquisitors, w r ept bit- 
terly over his failure, retraced his recantation, 
and boldly preached at Bruges in Flanders 
the doctrine he had abjured. Being again 
arrested and cast into prison at Brussels, 
death seemed inevitable. A Franciscan took 
pity upon him, assisted him in his flight, and 
Probst, "saved by a miracle of God," says 
Luther, reached Wittemberg, where all hearts 
were filled with joy at his second deli- 
verance.* 

On every side the priests of Rome were 
under arms. The town of Miltenberg on the 
Maine, in the jurisdiction of the Elector 
Archbishop of Mentz, had, of all the towns 
of Germany, received the Word of God with 
most joy. The inhabitants were much at- 
tached to their pastor, John Draco, one of the 
most enlightened men of his time. He was 
compelled to leave the city ; but the Roman 
clergy withdrew at. the same time, dreading 
the vengeance of the people. An evangelical 
deacon remained behind, and comforted their 
hearts. At the same time the soldiery of 
Mentz were introduced and dispersed through 
the city, vomiting blasphemies, brandishing 
their swords, and giving themselves up to 
debauchery. 

Some of the evangelical Christians fell 
victims to their violence, others were seized 
and thrown into dungeons, the rites of Romish 
worship was restored, the reading of the 
Scriptures prohibited, and the inhabitants for- 



* Jacobus, Dei miraculo liberatus qui nunc agit 
nobiscum. (L. Epp. ii. p. 182.) This letter, which 
is found in M. De Wette's collection, under the 
date of April 14, must be subsequent to the month 
of June, since, on the 26th of June, we find Lu- 
ther saying that Probst has been again taken, and 
was expected to be burnt. The supposition that 
would solve the difficulty, by supposing Probst :o 
have been at. Wittemberg between these two cap- 
tures, is not admissible, for Luther would not have 
said of a Christian who had been saved from death 
by his recantation, that he had been delivered by a 
miracle of God. Perhaps we should read the date, 
&c, of this letter, instead of ' in die S. Tihi/rtif — 
' in die Turiafi,' — which would place it in July 
13 — the probable date, in my opinion. 



306 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



bidden to speak of the Gospel, even in their 
family meetings. The deacon had taken 
refuge with a poor widow, on the entrance of 
the troops. Information was given to the 
commanding officer, and a soldier despatched 
to take him. The humble deacon, hearing 
the steps of the soldier who sought his life, 
advancing, quietly waited for him, and just 
as the door of the chamber was abruptly 
pushed open, he came forward, and, embrac- 
ing him, said, " I bid you welcome, brother. 
Here I am: plunge your sword in my bo- 
som." The stern soldier, in astonishment, 
dropt his weapon, and contrived to save the 
pious evangelist from further molestation. 

Meanwhile, the inquisitors of the Low 
Countries, thirsting for blood, scoured the 
neighbouring country, searching everywhere 
for the young Augustines, who had escaped 
from the Antwerp persecution. Esch, Voes, 
**nd Lambert, were at last discovered, put in 
chains, and conducted to Brussels. Egmon- 
danus, Hochstraten, and several other inqui- 
sitors, summoned them to their presence. 
" Do you retract your opinion," inquired 
"Hochstraten, " that the priest has no power 
to forgive sins, but that that power belongs to 
God alone]" — and then he went on to enu- 
merate the other Gospel truths which he re- 
quired them to abjure. " No : we will retract 
nothing," exclaimed Esch and Voes firmly ; 
" we will not disown God's Word ; we will 
rather die for the faith !" 

The Inquisitors. — " Confess that you 
have been deceived by Luther." 

The Young Augustines. — "As the apos- 
tles were deceived by Jesus Christ." 

The Inquisitors. — " We declare you to be 
neretics, worthy of being burnt alive; and 
we deliver you over to the secular arm." 

Lambert was silent. The prospect of death 
terrified him : distress and uncertainty agi- 
tated his heart. " I request four days' respite," 
said he, in stifled emotion. He was taken 
back to prison. As soon as this respite was 
rranted, Esch and Voes were degiaded from 
their priestly office, and handed over to the 
council of the reigning governess of the Low 
Countries. The council delivered them, 
bound, to the executioner. Hochstraten and 
three other inquisitors accompanied them to 
the place of execution. 

Arriving at the scaffold, the young martyrs 
contemplated it with calmness. Their «on- 
stancy, their piety, and their youth drew 
tears from the inquisitors themselves. When 
they were bound to the stake, the confessors 
drew near, "Once more we ask you if you 
will receive the Christian faith 1 ?" 

The Martyrs. — " We believe in the 
Christian Church, but not in your Church." 

Half an hour elapsed. It was a pause of 
hesitation. A hope had been cherished that 
the near prospect of such a death would in- 
timidate these youths. But alone tranquil of 
all the crowd that thronged the square, they 
began to sing psalms, stopping from time to I 
time to declare that they were resolved to die ! 
for the name of Jesus Christ. I 



" Be converted — be converted," cried the 
inquisitors, " or you will die in the name of 
the devil." " No," answered the martyrs ; 
" we will die like Christians, and for the truth 
of the Gospel." 

The pile was then lighted. Whilst the 
flame slowly ascended, a heavenly peace di- 
lated their hearts ; and one of them could 
even say, "I seem to be on a bedof roses." 
— The solemn hour was come — death was at 
hand. The two martyrs cried with a loud 
voice, " O Lord Jesus, Son of David, have 
mercy upon us !" and then they began to re- 
cite their creed. At last the flames reached 
them; but the fire consumed the cords which 
fastened them to the stake before their breath 
was gone. One of them, feeling his liberty, 
dropped upon his knees in the midst of the 
flames, and then, in worship to his Lord, ex- 
claimed, clasping his hands, " Lord Jesus, 
Son o c David, have mercy on us !" 

Their bodies were quickly wrapped inflame; 
they shouted " Te Deum laudamus." Soon 
their voices were stifled, — and their ashes 
alone remained. 

This execution had lasted four hours. It 
was on the first of July, 1523, that the first 
martyrs of the Reformation laid down their 
lives for the gospel. 

All good men shuddered when they heard 
of these events. The future was big with 
fearful anticipations. "The executions have 
begun," said Erasmus. "At length," ex- 
claimed Luther, " Christ is gathering some 
fruits of our preaching, and preparing new 
martyrs." 

But the joy of Luther in the constancy of 
these young Christians was disturbed by the 
thoughts of Lambert. Of the three, Lambert 
possessed the most learning; he had been 
chosen to fill the place of Probst, as preacher 
at Antwerp. Finding no peace in his dun- 
geon, he was terrified at the prospect of death ; 
but still more by conscience, which reproach- 
ed him with his cowardice, and urged him to 
confess the Gospel. Delivered, ere long, from 
his fears, he boldly proclaimed the truth, and 
died like his brethren. 

A noble harvest sprung up from the blood 
of these martyrs. Brussels manifested a will- 
ingness to receive the Gospel. " Wherever 
Aleander lights a pile," remarked Erasmus., 
"there it seems as if he had sowed heretics." 

" I am bound with your bonds," exclaimed 
Luther: "your dungeons and your burnings 
my soul takes part in. All of us are with you 
in spirit; amd the Lord is above it all !" 

He proceeded to compose a hymn* comme- 
morative of the death of the young monks; 



* Die Asche will nicht lassen ab, 
Sie staubt in alien Landen, 
Hie hilf't kein Bach. Loch, noch Grab. 

' (L. Opp. xviii. p. 484.) 
Obligingly rendered by John Alex. Messenger 
to whose friendly pen the publisher is indebted 
for the touching hymns of Zwingle, (see p. 234, 
235 ;) as well as for the translation of a portion of 
the Volume, besides other assistance and many 
valuable suggestions. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



307 



and soon, in every direction, throughout Ger- 
many and the Low Countries, in towns and 
in villages, were heard accents of song which 
communicated an enthusiasm for the faith of 
the martyrs. 

Flung to the heedless winds, 

Or on the waters' cast, 
Their ashes shall be watched, 

And gathered at the last. 
And from that scattered dust, 

Around us and abroad, 
Shall spring a plenteous seed 

Of witnesses for God. 
Jesus hath now received 

Their latest living breath, — 
Yet vain is Satan's boast 

Of victory in their death. 
Still — still — though dead, they speak, 

And, trumpet-tongued, proclaim 
To many a wakening land, 
The one availing Name. 
r Doubtless Adrian would have persisted in 
( these violent measures; — the failure of his 
efforts to arrest the progress of the Reforma- 
tion-r- his own orthodoxy — his zeal — his in- 
flexibility — even his conscientiousness would 
have made him an unrelenting persecutor. 
Providence ordained otherwise. He expired 
on the 14th of September, 1523; and the Ro- 
mans, overjoyed at being rid of the stern 
j foreigner, suspended a crown of flowers at 
| the door of his physician, with an. inscrip- 
; Jon — "to the saviour of his country." 
i Julio de Medicis, cousin to Leo X., suc- 
ceeded Adrian, under the name of Clement 
VII. From the day of his election, all ideas 
of religious reformation were at an end. The 
new Pope, like many of his predecessors, 
thought only of maintaining the privileges of 
the Papacy, and employing its resources for 
his own aggrandizement. 

Anxious to repair the indiscretions of Adrian, 
Clement despatched a legate of a character 
resembling his own, Cardinal Campeggio, 
the ablest prelate of his court, and a man of 
large experience, well acquainted with most 
of the German Princes. After a pompous re- 
ception in his passage through the Italian ci- 
ties, the Legate soon noticed the change that 
had taken place in the Empire. On entering 
Augsburg, he proposed, according to custom, 
to give his benediction to the people; but 
those to whom he spoke met the proposal by 
a smile. The hint was enough; and he en- 
tered Nuremberg incognito, without repairing 
to St. Sebalde's church, where the clergy 
were waiting for him. No priests in sacer- 
dotal vestments were seen advancing to greet 
him ; — no cross was borne in solemn state be- 
fore him; but one might have thought a pri- 
vate individual was taking his journey through 
thecity. Every thing indicated that the reign 
of the Papacy was drawing to its close. 

The Diet had met again in session, at Nu- 
remberg, in January, 1525. A storm was im- 
pending over the government of the nation, 
owing to the firmness of Frederic. The Sua- 
bian league, comprising the richest cities of 
the empire, and, above all, Charles the Fifth, 
had combined for his destruction. He was 
charged with favouring the newly-broached 



heresy. Accordingly, it was decided that the 
executive powers should be so entirely changed 
as not to retain one of the old members. Fre- 
deric, overwhelmed with grief, instantly took 
his departure from Nuremberg. 

Easter drew nigh. Osiander and the gos- 
pel preachers redoubled their activity. The 
former preached publicly to the effect, that 
Antichrist entered Rome the very day that 
Constantine had quitted it to fix his residence 
at Constantinople. The ceremony of Palm 
Sunday and others were omitted ; four thou- 
sand persons partook of the supper under both 
kinds ; and the Queen of Denmark, sister to 
the Emperor, publicly received it in like man- 
ner at the Castle. " Oh," exclaimed the 
Archduke Ferdinand, losing all self-command, 
" would that you were not my sister." — " The 
same mother bore us," replied the Queen; 
" and 1 would give up every thing but God's 
truth to serve you.' 

Campeggio trembled at witnessing such 
audacity; nevertheless affecting to despise the 
jeers of the people, and the harangues of the 
preachers, — and relying on the authority of 
the Emperor and of the Pope, he referred the 
Diet to the edict of Worms, and demanded 
that the Reformation should be put down by 
force. On hearing this, some of the princes, 
and deputies gave vent to their indignation. 
" And pray," asked they, addressing Cam- 
peggio, " what has become of the memorial of 
grievances presented to the Pope by the peo- 



ple of G( 



The Legate, acting upon 



his instructions, assumed an air of bland sur- 
prise : " Three versions of that memorial have 
been received in Rome," said he; " but it has 
never been officially communicated ; and I 
could never believe that so unseemly a paper 
could have emanated from your Highnesses.*' 

The Diet was stung by this reply. If this 
be the spirit in which the Pope receives their 
representations, they also know what recep- 
tion to give to such as he should address to 
them. Several deputies remarked that such 
was the eagerness of the people for the Word 
of God, that the attempt to deprive them of 
it would occasion torrents of bloodshed. 

The Diet straightway set about preparing 
an answer to the Pope. As it was not possi- 
ble to get rid of the edict of Worms, a clause 
was added to it, which had the effect of ren- 
dering it null. "We require," said they, 
" that all should conform to it — so far as is pos- 
sible." But several of the states had declared 
that it was impossible to enforce it. At the same 
time calling to mind the unwelcome remem- 
brance of the Councils of Constance and of 
Bale, the Dietdemanded the convocation in 
Germany of a General Council of Christen- 
dom. 

The friends of the Reformation did not 
stop here. What could they look for from a 
Council which might perhaps never be called 
together, and which, in any case, would he 
sure to be composed of bishops of all nations ? 
Will Germany humble her anti-Roman incli- 
nations in deference to prelates assembled 
from Spain, France, England, and Italy 1 



308 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The government of the nation has been already 
set aside. It is necessary that in its place 
should be a " national assembly" charged with 
the defence of the popular interest. 

Vainly did Hannart, the Spanish envoy of 
Charles, supported by the adherents of Rome 
and of the Emperor, oppose the suggestion; 
the majority of the Diet were unshaken. It 
was arranged that a diet or secular assembly 
sbould meet in November at Spires, to regu- 
late all questions of religion, and that the 
States should invite their divines to prepare a 
list of controverted points to be laid before 
that august assembly. 

No time was lost. Each province pre- 
pared, its memorial, and never had Rome rea- 
son to apprehend so great an explosion. 
Franconia, Brandenburg, Henneberg, Wind- 
sheim, Wertheim, Nuremberg, declared for 
the truth of the Gospel as opposed to the seven 
sacraments, the corruptions of the mass, the 
worship of the saints, and the Pope's supre- 
macy. " There is coin for you of the genuine 
stamp," said Luther. Not one of the ques- 
tions which engaged the popular mind seemed 
likely to be passed over in silence, in that 
council of the nation. The majority would 
make a stand for general measures. The 
unity of Germany, its independence, and its 
reformation, would yet be safe ! 

When news of what was passing reached 
the Pope, he could not restrain his anger. 
What! do any presume to set up a secular 
tribunal to decide questions of religion in con- 
tempt of his authority 1 If this unprecedented 
step be taken, doubtless Germany will be 
saved, — but Rome is ruined ! A consistory 
was hastily called together, and one who 
watched the dismay of the senators might 
have thought the Germans were in full march 
upon the Capitol. " As to the Elector Fre- 
deric," exclaimed Aleander, " we must take 
off his head ;" and another Cardinal gave 
counsel that the kings of England and of Spain 
should overawe the free cities by threatening 
to break off all commercial intercourse with 
them. In conclusion, the consistory came to 
the decision that the only way of safety lay 
in moving heaven and earth to prevent the 
proposed assembly at Spires. 

The Pope wrote directly to the Emperor: 
— " If I am called to be foremost in making 
head against the storm, it is not because I am 
the only one threatened by the tempest, but 
because I am at the helm. The Imperial 
authority is yet more invaded than even the 
dignity of the court of Rome." 

Whilst the Pope was sending this letter to 
Castile, he was seeking to strengthen him- 
self by alliances in Germany. It was not 
long before he gained over one of the most 
powerful reigning families of the Empire, the 
Dukes of Bavaria. The edict of Worms had 
been as much a dead letter there as elsewhere ; 
and the doctrine of the Gospel had made its 
way extensively. But subsequent to the close 
of 1521, the princes of the country, urged on 
by Doctor Eck, who was chancellor in their 
university of Ingolstadt, had again made ad- 



vances towards Rome, and passed a lav* 
enjoining their subjects to adhere faithful to 
the religion of their forefatheis. 

The Bavarian bishops showed some signs 
of alarm at this intervention of the secular 
authority. Eck set out immediately for Rome 
to solicit from the Pope an extension of the 
authority lodged in the princes. The Pope 
granted all their desires, and even went so far 
as to make over to them a fifth of the revenues 
of the church in their country. 

Here we see Roman Catholicism, at a time 
when the Reformation had no regular settle- 
ment, resorting to established institutions for 
support, and Catholic princes, aided by the 
Pope, seizing the revenues of the Church 
long before the Reformation had ventured to 
touch them. W T hat thexi must be thought of 
the oft-repeated charges of Catholics on this 
head ! 

Clement VII. was secure of the assistance 
of Bavaria in quelling the dreaded assembly 
of Spires. It was not long before the Arch- 
duke Ferdinand, the Archbishop of Salzburg, 
and others of the princes were likewise gain- 
ed over. 

But Campeggio was bent on something 
more. His aim was to divide Germany into 
two hostile camps; — Germans were to be 
opposed to Germans. 

During a previous residence at Stutgard, 
the Legate had concerted with Ferdinand the 
project of a league against the Reformation. 
" There is no telling what may be the result 
of an assembly in which the voice of the peo- 
ple will be heard," observed he: "The Diet 
of Spires may be the ruin of Rome and the 
salvation of Wittemberg. Let us close our 
ranks and be prepared for the onset." It was 
settled that Ratisbon should be the point of 
rendezvous. 

Prevailing over the jealousies that estranged 
the reigning houses of Bavaria and Austria, 
Campeggio contrived to assemble in that city, 
toward the end of 1524, the Duke of Bavaria 
and the Archduke Ferdinand. The Arch- 
bishop of Salzburg and the Bishops of Trent 
and of Ratisbon joined them. The Bishops 
of Spires, Bamberg, Augsburg, Strasbourg, 
Bale, Constance, Freesingen, Passau, and 
Brixen, sent deputies to the assembly. 

The Legate opened the subject of the meet- 
ing, depicting in moving language the dan- 
gers resulting from the Reformation both to 
princes and the clergy, and concluded by call- 
ing upon them to extirpate heresy and rescue 
the Church. 

For fifteen days the conferences were con- 
tinued in the town-hall of Ratisbon. At the 
expiration of that time, a ball, which con- 
tinued till daybreak, served as a relaxation to 
the first Catholic assembly convened by the 
Papacy to resist the infant Reformation, — 
and, after this, measures were agreed upon for 
the destruction of the heretics. 

The Princes and Bishops bound themselves 
to enforce the edicts of Worms and Nurem- 
berg — to allow of no innovations in public 
worship — to tolerate no married priest — to re- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



309 



call tne students of their states who might be 
resident in Wittemberg, and to employ all the 
means in their power for the extirpation of 
heresy. They enjoined the preachers to take 
for their guides, in interpreting difficult scrip- 
tures, the Latin Fathers, Ambrose, Jerome, 
Augustine, and Gregory. Not daring, in the 
face of the Reformation, to invoke again the 
authority of the Schools, they contented them- 
selves with laying the foundations of Roman 
orthodoxy. 

But, not able to close their eyes against the 
scandals and profligate morals of the clergy, 
they agreed on a programme of reform, in 
which they studiously selected such grie- 
vances of the Germans as least involved or 
affected the court of Rome. They prohibited 
priests from dealings in the way of barter, 
from frequenting taverns, being present "at 
dances,' 1 and disputing over their bottle about 
points of faith ! 

This was the issue of the confederation of 
Ratisbon. In the very act of taking up arms 
against the Reformation, Rome yet conceded 
a something ; — and we discern in these regu- 
lations the earliest influence of the Reforma- 
tion, in inducing an interior renovation in 
Catholicism itself. Wherever the Gospel 
developes its resources, its enemies are sure to 
have their counterfeits at hand. Emser had 
produced a translation of the Bible to coun- 
teract that by Luther. Eck, in like manner, 
put forth his Loci Communes in opposition to 
Melancthon's, — and then it was that Rome 
began to oppose to the Reformation those par- 
tial changes which have given to Roman Ca- 
tholicism its present aspect. But, in truth, 
these expedients were but subtle devices to 
escape impending dangers. Branches, pluck- 
ed indeed from the tree of the Reformation, 
but set in a soil which doomed them to decay : 
the principle of life was wanting, and thus it 
will ever be with all similar attempts. 

Another fact is here presented to us. The 
Romanist party, by the league which they 
formed at Ratisbon, were the first to violate 
the unity of Germany. It was in the Pope's 
camp that the signal of battle was given. 
Ratisbon was the birthplace of that schism 
and political rending of their country which 
so many of the Germans to this hour deplore. 
The national assembly of Spires was called 
to ensure the unity of the Empire by sanc- 
tioning and extending the Reformation of the 
Church. The conventicle of separatists that 
met at Ratisbon forever divided the nation in 
two parties. Yet the schemes of Campeggio 
were not at first attended with the results an- 
ticipated. But fe\v of the chiefs responded 
to the call. The most decided opponents of 
Luther, Duke George of Saxony, the elector 
Joachim of Brandenburg, the ecclesiastical 
Electors, and the imperial cities, declined 
taking any part. An opinion prevailed that 
the Pope's legate was forming a Romanist 
faction opposed to the national mind. The 
popular sympathies counterbalanced the anti- 
pathies of religion ; and it was not long before 
the Ratisbon Reformation was an object of 



public ridicule. But a first step had been 
taken, — an example had been set. It waa 
expected that, with a little pains, it would be 
easy eventually to confirm and enlarge this 
Roman league. Those who then hesitated 
would be decided by the course of events. 
To the legate, Campeggio, is ascribed the 
glory of having laid the train which was to 
bring little less than destruction upon the 
liberties of Germany, and the safety, of the 
Empire, and the Reformation. From that 
hour the cause of Luther was no longer of a 
nature purely religious ; and the contest with 
the Wittemberg monk ranked among the po- 
litical events of Europe. Luther, in this new 
sphere, would pass under eclipse, and Charles 
V., the Pope, and the reigning Princes, 
would be the chief actors on the stage where 
the grand drama of the sixteenth century was 
to be performed. 

But the prospect of the assembly at Spires 
was continually present to the minds of the 
people. Its measures might remedy the mis- 
chiefs that Campeggio had occasioned at 
Ratisbon. Accordingly, Rome strained every 
nerve to prevent its assembling. "What!" 
exclaimed the Pope's deputies to Charles V., 
as also to his ally, Henry VIII. , and other 
princes, "will these presumptuous Germans 
pretend to decide points of faith in a national 
assembly ! They seem to expect that kings, 
the Imperial authority, all Christendom, and 
the whole world, are to bend to their deci- 
sions." 

The moment was not ill chosen for influ- 
encing the Emperor. The war between that 
prince and Francis the First was at its height. 
Pescara and the Constable of Bourbon had 
left Italy, and entering France in the month 
of May, laid siege to Marseilles. The Pope, 
who looked with an evil eye on this attack, 
might effect a powerful diversion in the rear 
of the Imperial forces. Charles, who, under 
these circumstances, must have feared to give 
umbrage to his Holiness, did not hesitate to 
sacrifice the independence of the Empire, 
that he might purchase the favour of Rome, 
and humble his rival the king of France. 

On the 15th July, Charles issued an edict, 
dated at Burgos in Castile, " in which he 
haughtily and angrily declared that to the 
Pope alone belonged the right to convoke a 
Council, and to the Emperor that of demand- 
ing one : that the meeting appointed to be 
held at Spires neither ought to be, nor could 
be illowed : that it was strange that the 
German people should undertake to do that, 
which all the nations of the earth, with the 
Pope at their head, could not lawfully do : 
and that it was necessary, without delay, to 
carry into effect the decree of Worms against 
the Modern Mahomet." 

Thus it was from Spain and Italy the blow 
was struck which arrested the development 
of the Gospel among the people of Germany. 
Charles was not satisfied with this. Tn 1510 
he had offered to duke John, the Elector's 
brother, to give his. sister, the Archduchess 
Catharine, in marriage to his son, John Fre- 



310 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



deric, heir to the electorate. But was not 
that reigning house of Saxony the grand sup- 
port of those principles of religious and poli- 
tical independence which Charles detested] 
He decided to break off all intercourse with 
the troublesome and guilty champion of Gos- 
pel principles and the nation's wishes, — and 
accordingly gave his sister in marriage to 
John III. King of Portugal. Frederic, who 
in 1519 had manifested some indifference to 
the overtures of the king of Spain, was 
enabled, in 1524, to suppress his indignation 
at this conduct of the Emperor. But Duke 
John haughtily intimated his feeling of the 
affront put upon him. 

Thus, an observer might have distinguish- 
ed, as they fell slowly into the line, the rival 
hosts by whose struggle for mastery the 
Empire was to be so long convulsed. 

The Romanists went a step further. The 
compact of Ratisbon was to be no empty 
form ; it was necessary that it should be 
sealed with blood. Ferdinand and Cam- 
peggio descended the Danube from Ratisbon 
to Vienna, and, during their journey, mutually 
pledged themselves to cruel measures. In- 
stantly a persecution was set on foot in the 
Austrian provinces. 

A citizen of Vienna, by name Gaspard 
Tauber, had circulated Luther's writings, 
and had himself written against the invoca- 
tion of saints, purgatory, and transubstantia- 
tion. Being thrown into prison, he was 
required by his judges, both divines and 
jurisconsuls, to retract his errors. It was 
believed that he had given way, and every 
preparation was made in Vienna to gratify 
the populace with the solemn spectacle of his 
recantation. On St. Mary's day, two pulpits 
were erected over the cemetery of St. Ste- 
phen's, the one for the leader of the choir, 
whose office was to chant the heretic's re- 
pentance, the other for Tauber himself. The 
formula of his recantation was put into his 
hands. The people, the choristers, and the 
priests were in silent expectation. "Whether 
it was that Tauber had given no promise to 
recant, or whether, in the appointed moment 
of abjuration, he suddenly received fresh 
energy of faith, — he exclaimed aloud, " I am 
not convinced, and I appeal to the holy Ro- 
man Empire." Ecclesiastics, choristers, and | 
bystanders, were struck with astonishment | 
and dismay. But Tauber continued calling j 
for death rather than that he should deny the 
Gospel. He was beheaded, — his body | 
burned: — and his firmness left an indelible 
impression on the memory of the citizens of | 
Vienna. 

At Buda, in Hungary, a bookseller, named 
John, who had received the truth in the love 
of it, had distributed copies of the New Tes- 
tament, and also some of Luther's writings. 
The persecutors bound him to a stake, and 
then forming a pile of his books, so as to 
enclose him within them, set fire to the 
whole. The poor man manifested an un- 
shaken courage, rejoicing, amidst the flames, 
that he was counted worthy to suffer for his 



Lord's name. " Blood follows olood," cried 
Luther, when he heard of this martyHom. 
"but that innocent blood that Rome delights 
to shed, will one day choke the Pope, with 
his kings and their kingdoms." 

The zeal of the fanatics burnt every day 
more fiercely. Gospel preachers were ex- 
pelled, magistrates banished, and sometimes 
the most horrible torments were inflicted. In 
Wurtemberg an inquisitor, named Reichler, 
caused the Lutherans, especially their 
preachers, to be hanged upon the trees. 
Monsters were found, who deliberately nailed 
by their tongues to the stake the ministers of 
God's word, — so that the sufferers, tearing 
themselves in their agony from the wood to 
which they were fastened, endured a frightful 
mutilation in their efforts to liberate them- 
selves, — and were thus deprived of that gift 
of speech which they had long used in trie 
preaching of the Gospel. 

The same persecutions were set on foot in 
the other states of the Catholic League. In 
the neighbourhood of Salzburg, a minister 
of the Gospel, who had been sentenced to 
imprisonment for life, was on his way to 
the prison; whilst the constables who had 
charge of him were stopping to drink at 
a house by the wayside, two country youths, 
moved with compassion, contrived, by 
eluding their vigilance, to favour the escape 
of the pastor. The rage of the Archbishop 
broke forth against these poor people, and 
without so much as any form of trial, 
he commanded that they should be be- 
headed. They were secretly taken outside 
the town at an early hour. Coming to the 
plain where they were to die, the execution- 
er's heart failed him : " For," said he, " they 
have not bee*n condemned." " Do your duty," 
said the Archbishop's emissary, sternly, " and 
leave to the Prince to answer for it :" and the 
headsoftheyouths were immediately struckoT. 

The persecution raged with most violence 
in the states of the Duke of Bavaria. Priests 
were degraded ; nobles expelled from their 
castles; spies traversed the country; and 
suspicion and terror filled the hearts of all. 
Bernard Fichtel. a magistrate, was on his 
way to Nuremberg, called thither by the 
Duke's affairs; on the road, he was joined 
by Francis Bourkard, a professor, from Ingol- 
stadt, and a friend of Eck. Bourkard accosted 
him, and they travelled in company. After 
supping together, the professor began to speak 
on matters of religion. Fichtel having some 
knowledge of his company, reminded him 
that the recent edict prohibited such topics 
of conversation. " Between us," answered 
Bourkard, "there is nothing to fear." On 
this Fichtel remarked, "I don't think the 
edict can be enforced;" and he went on to 
express himself in a tone of doubt respecting 
purgatory, observing. " that it was a dreadful 
thing to visit religious differences with death." 
At hearing this, Bourkard could not control 
himself. " What more just," exclaimed he, 
"than to strike off the heads of all those 
scoundrel Lutherans 1 " He soon took a k'nd 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



311 



leave of Fichtel ; — but hastened to lodge in- 
formation against him. Fichtel was thrown 
into prison, and the unhappy man, who had 
no desire of the martyr's crown — his religious 
convictions not being at all deep — escaped 
death only by a shameful recantation. Con- 
fidence was at an end ; and no one was safe. 

But that death which Fichtel avoided, 
others met. It was in vain that the Gospel 
was now only privately preached. The Duke 
urged on its pursuers, following it even in the 
darkness, in secret places, in private dwell- 
ings, and mountain recesses. 

" The cross and persecution are in full 
career in Bavaria," said Luther : " those 
wild beasts are carrying all before them." 

Even the north of Germany was not ex- 
empted from these atrocities. Bogislas, Duke 
of Pomerania, dying, his son, who had been 
brought up in the court of Duke George, set 
on foot a persecution of the Gospel. Suaven 
and Knipstrow were compelled to seek refuge 
in flight. 

But it was in Holstein that one of the 
most memorable instances of fanaticism oc- 
curred. 

Henry Zuphten, who, as has been seen, 
had escaped from the convent at Antwerp, 
was engaged in preaching the Gospel at Bre- 
men. Nicholas Boye, pastor at Mehldorf, in 
the country of the Dittmarches, and several 
devout persons of the neighbouring districts, 
having invited him to come over and declare 
Jesus Christ, he complied. Immediately, the 
prior of the Dominicans and the vicar of the 
official of Hamburg concerted measures. " If 
he is allowed to preach, and the people give 
ear," said they, " we are undone." The prior 
passed a disturbed night; and, rising early 
in the morning, repaired to the wild and bar- 
ren heath on which the forty-eight regents 
of the country are accustomed to hold their 
meetings. "The monk from Bremen is come 
amongst us," said he, addressing them, "and 
will bring ruin on the Dittmarches." Those 
forty-eight simple-minded and unlearned! men, 
deceived into the belief that they would earn 
imperishable renown by delivering the world 
from the heretical monk, decided on putting 
him to death without so much as giving him 
a hearing. 

It was Saturda3 T — and the prior was bent 
on preventing Henry's preaching on the fol- 
lowing Sunday. In the middle of the night 
he knocked at the door of the pastor Boye, 
armed with the mandate of the forty-eight 
regents. "If it be the will of God that 1 
should die among the Dittmarches," said 
Henry Zuphten, "Heaven is as easily reach- 
ed from thence as from anywhere else. I 
will preach." 

He ascended the pulpit and spoke with 
earnestness. His hearers, moved and roused 
by his Christian eloquence, had scarcely quit- 
ted the church, when the prior delivered to 
them the mandate of the forty-eight regents 
forbidding the monk to preach. They imme- 
diately sent a deputation to the heath, and 
the Dittmarches, after long discussion, agreed 



that, considering their total ignorance, furthei 
measures should be deferred till Easter. But 
the prior, irritated at this, approached certain 
of the regents, and stirred up their zeal afresh. 
" We will write to him," said they. " Have 
nothing to do with him," replied the prior; 
"if he begins to speak, we shall not be able 
to withstand him. We must seize him during 
the night, and burn him without giving him 
time to open his lips." 

Every thing was arranged accordingly. 
The day after Conception day, at nightfall, 
Ave Maria was rung. At the signal, all the 
peasants of the adjacent villages assembled, 
to the number of live hundred, and their 
leaders having broached three butts of Ham- 
burg beer, by this means stimulated their 
resolution. The hour of midnight struck as 
the party entered Mehldorf; the peasants 
were under arms ; the monks carried torches ; 
all went forward in disorder, exchanging 
shouts of fury. Arrived at the village, there 
was a deep silence, lest Henry, receiving in- 
timation of danger, should effect his escape. 

Of a sudden, the gates of the parsonage 
were burst open ; the drunken peasantry 
rushed within, striking every thing in their 
way, tossing pell-mell, dishes, kettles, cups, 
and articles of apparel. They seized any mo- 
I ney that they could find, and then rushing on 
I the poor pastor, they struck him down, shout- 
| ing, " Kill him ! kill him !" and then threw 
him into the mud. But Henry was their 
chief object in the attack. They pulled him 
out of bed, tied his hands behind him, and 
dragged him after them, naked as he was, in 
the piercing cold. " What are you come here 
fori" cried they; and as Henry answered 
meekly, they exclaimed, " Down with him ! 
down with him ! if we listen to him we shall 
become heretics like himself." They had 
dragged him naked over ice and snow, his 
feet were bleeding profusely, and he begged 
to be set on horseback. " A fine thing truly," 
said they, " for us to furnish horses for here- 
tics ! On, on !" — and they continued dra going 
him behind them till they arrived at the heath! 
A woman, who stood at the door of the house 
just as the servant of God was passing, burst 
into tears. " My good woman," said Henry, 
"weep not for me." The bailiff pronounced 
his sentence. Then one of his ferocious es- 
cort, with a sword, smote the preacher of 
Jesus Christ on the head. Another struck 
him with a club. A monk was ordered to 
approach, and receive his confession. " My 
brother," said Henry, " have I done you any 
wrong]" "None," replied the monk. "Then," 
returned Henry, " I have nothing to confess 
to you, and you have nothing to forgive." 
The monk retired in confusion. Many at- 
tempts were made to set fire to the pile; but 
the wood would not catch. For two hours 
the martyr stood thus in presence of the infu- 
riated peasantry — calm, and lifting; his eves 
to heaven. While they were binding; him, 
that they might cast him into the flame, he 
I began to confess his faith. " First burn," 
said a countryman, dealing him a blow with 



312 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



his fist on the mouth; "burn, and after that 
speak." They threw him on the pile, but he 
rolled down on one side. John Holme, seiz- 
ing - a club, struck him upon the breast, and 
laid him dead upon the burning coals. " Such 
is the true story of the sufferings of that holy 
martyr, Henry Zuphten." 

Whilst the Romanists were, on all sides, un- 
sheathing the sword against the Reformation, 
the work itself was passing through new 
stages of development. Not to Zurich — nor 
Geneva, but to Wittemberg, the focus of Lu- 
ther's revival, must we go to find the begin- 
nings of that Reformed Church, of which Cal- 
vin ranks as the most distinguished doctor. 
There was a time when these two great fami- 
lies of believers slept in the same cradle. Con- 
cord ought to have crowned their matured 
age ; but when once the question of the Sup- 
per was raised, Luther threw away the proper 
element of the Reformation, and took his stand 
for himself and his church in an exclusive 
Lutheranism. The mortification he experi- 
enced from this rival teaching was shown in 
his loss of much of that kindness of manner 
which was so natural to him, and communi- 
cated in its stead a mistrust, an habitual dis- 
satisfaction, and an irritability which he had 
never before manifested. 

It was between the two early friends — the 
two champions who, at Leipsic, had fought 
side by side against Rome, — between Carl- 
stadt and Luther that the controversy broke 
forth. Their attachment to contrary views 
was the result, with each of them, of a turn 
of mind that has its value. Indeed, there are 
two extremes in religious views ; the one tends 
to materialize all things; the other to spirit- 
ualize every thing. The former characterized 
Rome ; the latter is seen in the Mystics. Re- 
ligion resembles man himself in this — namely, 
that it consists of a body and a soul ; pure 
idealists, equally with materialists in questions 
of religion, as of philosophy — both err. 

This was the great question which lay hid 
in the dispute concerning the supper. Whilst 
a superficial observer sees in it nothing but a 
paltry strife about words, a deeper observation 
discerns in it one of the most important con- 
troversies that can engage the mind of man. 
Here the Reformers diverge, and form two 
camps ; but each camp carries away a por- 
tion of the truth. Luther, with his adherents, 
think they are resisting an exaggerated spirit- 
ualism. Carlstadt, and those of the reformed 
opinion, believe they are opposing a detesta- 
ble materialism. Each turns against the er- 
ror which, to his mind, seems most noxious, 
and in assailing it, goes — it may be — beyond 
the truth. But this being admitted, it is still 
true that both are right in the prevailing turn 
of their thoughts, and though ranking in differ- 
ent hosts, the two great teachers are neverthe- 
less found under the same standard — that of 
Jesus Christ, who alone is truth in the full 
import of that word. 

Carlstadt was of opinion that nothing could 
be more prejudicial to genuine piety than to 



lean upon outward observances, and a sort of 
mysterious efficacy in the sacraments. " The 
outward participation in the Supper brings 
Salvation," had been the language of Rome; 
and that doctrine had sufficed to materialize 
religion. Carlstadt saw no belter course for 
again exalting its spiritual character than to 
deny all presence of Christ's body; and he 
taught that the Supper was simply a pledge 
to believers of their redemption. 

As to Luther, he now took an exactly oppo- 
site direction. He had at first contended for 
the sense we have endeavoured to open. In 
his tract on the Mass, published in 1520, he 
thus expressed himself: — "I can every dav 
enjoy the advantages of the Sacraments, if I 
do but call to mind the word and promise of 
Christ, and with them feed and strengthen 
my faith." Neither Carlstadt, nor Zwingle. 
nor Calvin have said any thing more strong 
than this. It appears, indeed, that at that 
period the thought would often occur to him, 
that a symbolical explanation of the Supper 
would be the mightiest engine to overturn the 
Papal system; for, in 1525, we find him say- 
ing that five years before, he had gone through 
much trial of mindonaccountof thisdoctrine; 
and that any one who could then have proved 
to him that there is only the bread and wine 
in the Supper would have done him the great- 
est service. 

But new circumstances arose, and threw 
him into a position in which he was led to op- 
pose, and sometimes with much heat, opinions 
to which he had made so near an approach. 
The fanaticism of the Anabaptists may account 
for the turn which Luther then took. These 
enthusiasts were not content with disparaging 
what they termed the outward Word — that is, 
the Bible, and setting up a claim to special 
communications of the Holy Spirit, they went 
so far as to despise the Sacrament of the Sup- 
per as an external act, and to speak of the in- 
ward as the only true communion. From that 
time, in every attempt to exhibit the symboli- 
cal import of the Supper, Luther saw only 
the danger of weakening the authority of the 
Scriptures, and of admitting, instead nf their 
true meaning, mere arbitrary allegories spirit- 
ualizing all religion, and making it consist, 
not in the gifts of God, but in man's impres- . 
sions ; and by this means, substituting, in 
place of genuine Christianity, a mystic doc- 
trine, or theosophy, or fanaticism which would 
be sure to be its grave. It must be confessed, 
that, but for the energetic resistance of Luther, 
this tendency to mysticism (enthusiastic and 
subjective in its character) might have rapidly 
extended itself, and turned back the tide of 
blessings which the Reformation was to pour 
upon the world. 

Carlstadt, impatient at finding himself hin- 
dered from opening his views without reserve 
in WMttemberg; and having no rest in his 
spirit, from his desire to combat a system 
which, in his view, "lowered the value of 
Christ's death, and set aside his righteous- 
ness," resolved "to give a public testimony 
for the advantage of poor deluded Christian^ ' 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



313 



He left Wittemberg, in the beginning of the 
year 1524, without previous intimation of his 
intention to the university or the chapter, and 
;epaired to the small town of Orlamund, the 
church of which was placed under his super- 
intendance. Dismissing- the vicar, he pro- 
cured himself to be appointed its pastor, and 
in opposition to the wishes of the chapter of 
the university, and of the Elector, established 
himself in his new office. 

He soon began to disseminate his doctrines : 
" It is not possible," said he, " to name any 
ad vantage derived from the real presence, which 
does not already flow from faith — it is, there- 
fore, useless." To explain Christ's words in 
the institution of the Supper, he resorted to 
an interpretation which is not received in the 
Reformed churches. Luther, during the dis- 
cussion at Leipsic, had explained the words 
" Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build 
my church" — separating the two propositions, 
and applying the latter to the person of the 
Saviour. "Just so," said Carlstadt, " ' take 
eat'' was spoken in reference to the bread ; but 
* this is my body'' is to be understood of Jesus 
Christ, who then pointed to himself, — and 
intimated by the symbol of the broken bread, 
that that body was about to be broken." 

Carlstadt did not stop there. Scarce had 
he emancipated himself from Luther's over- 
sight, when he felt his zeal revive against the 
use of images. His bold addresses and en- 
thusiastic appeals were but too likely to madden 
the minds of men in these agitated times. The 
people, thinking they heard a second Elijah, 
proceeded to throw down the idols of Baal. 
The excitement soon spread to the neighbour- 
ing villages. The Elector interfered ; but the 
peasants answered that it was right to obey 
God rather than men. On this, the Prince 
decided to despatch Luther to Orlamund, to 
restore tranquillity. Luther looked upon Carl- 
stadt as a man urged on by a love of notoriety ; 
a fanatic who would even go the length of 
raising war against Christ himself. Perhaps 
Frederic might have made a wiser choice. 
Luther, however, set forth; and Carlstadt saw 
his troublesome rival once more appear in 
order to baffle his projects of reform and arrest 
his impetuosity. 

Jena lay in the road to Orlamund. Arriv- 
ing in that town, on the 23d August, Luther 
ascended the pulpit on the 24th, at seven in 
the morning. He preached an hour and a 
half to a numerous auditory against fanatics, 
rebels, the breakers of images, and the de- 
spisers of the real presence, protesting with 
vehemence against the innovations at Orla- 
mund. He did not refer to Carlstadt by name, 
but every one understood whom he had in his 
eye. 

Either by accident or design, Carlstadt was 
then at Jena, and among the crowd of Lu- 
ther's hearers. He lost no time in calling the 
preacher to account. Luther was at dinner 
with the prior of Wittemberg, the burgomas- 
ter, the secretary, the pastor of Jena, and se- 
veral officers in the service of the Emperor 



and of the Margrave, when a letter was 

handed to him from Carlstadt, requesting an 
interview. He passed it to those near him, 
and returned a message by the bearer: "If 
Doctor Carlstadt wishes to see me, let him 
come in; — if not, I have no wish to see him." 
Carlstadt entered. His appearance produced 
a lively sensation in the whole assembly. 
The majority, eager to see the two lions en- 
counter one another, suspended their repast, 
and were all eyes, while the more timid turned 
pale with apprehension. 

Carlstadt, at Luther's invitation, took a 
seat opposite to him, and then said, "Doctor, 
you have in your sermon of this day classed 
me with those who inculcate revolt and as- 
sassination. I declare that such a charge is 
false." 

Luther. — " I did not name you ; but since 
the cap fits, you may wear it." 

A momentary pause ensued. — Carlstadt re- 
sumed : "lam prepared to show that in the 
doctrine of the sacrament you have contra- 
dicted yourself, and that from the days of the 
apostles no one has preached that doctrine so 
purely as I have done." 

Luther. — "Write then — establish your 
point. ■' 

Carlstadt. — "I oflfer you a public discus- 
sion at W T ittemberg or at Erfurth, if you pro- 
mise me a safe-conduct." 

Luther. — " Never fear, Doctor !" 

Carlstadt. — " You bind me hand and foot, 
and when you have deprived me of the power 
to defend myself you strike.' 

Silence ensued. — Luther resumed : 

" W T rite against me — but openly — and not 
in secret." 

Carlstadt. — " If I were but assured you 
were in earnest in what you say, I would 
so do." 

Luther. — " Set about it; — here — take this 
florin." 

Carlstadt. — "Where is it] I accept the 
challenge." 

At these words, Luther thrust his hands in 
his pocket, and producing a gold florin, said, 
as he gave it to Carlstadt, " Take it, and at- 
tack me like a man." 

Carlstadt, holding the gold florin in his 
hand, and turning to the assembly, said, 
" Dear brethren, this is to me arabu, a pledge 
that I have authority to write against Luther; 
I call you all to witness this." 

Then bending the florin, that he might know 
it again, he put it into his purse, and held out 
his hand to Luther. The latter pledged him. 
Carlstadt returned his civility. "The more 
vigorous your attacks, the better I shall like 
them," resumed Luther. 

"If I fail," answered Carlstadt, "the fault 
will be mine." 

They once more shook each other by the 
hand, and Carlstadt returned to his lodg- 
ing. 

Thus, says an historian, as from a single 
spark a fire often originates which consumes 
in its progress the vast forest, so, from this 



S14 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATT IN. 



small beginning - , a great division in the | 
Church took its rise.* 

Luther set forward for Orlamund, and ar- | 
rived there but indifferently prepared by ihe 
scene at Jena. He assembled the council I 
and the Church, and said, " Neither the Elec- 
tor nor the University will acknowledge j 
Carlstadt as your pastor." — " If Carlstadt is ! 
not our pastor," rpplied the treasurer of the 
town-council, "why then, St. Paul is a false | 
teacher, and your writings are mere false- I 
hood, — for we have chosen him."f 

As he said this, Carlstadt entered the room. ' 
Some of those who happened to be next to 
Luther, made signs to him to be seated, but j 
Carlstadt, going straight up to Luther, said, 
" Dear Doctor, if you will allow me, I will 
give you induction." 

Luther. — " You are my antagonist. I 
have fixed you by the pledge of a florin." 

Carlstadt. — " I will be your antagonist 
so long as you are opposed to God and his 
truth." 

Luther. — " Leave the room ; I cannot al- 
low of your being present." 



* Sicut una scintilla ssepe toram sylvam com- 
burit. (M. Adam, Vit. Carlst. p. 83.) Our ac- 
count is chiefly derived from the Acts of Rehihnrd, 
pastor of Jena, an eye-witness, — but a friend of 
Carlstadt, — and taxed with inaccuracy by Luther. 

t How remarkable is this incident ! On this 
passage the translator had made a note which he 
will here insert for the confirmation of those who, 
though only "two or three" in any one place, are 
acting in confidence in the sufficiency of " God 
and the word of his grace," to "build them up." 

If the conference had been really carried on in 
the reverential sense of the presence of the Spirit, 
(Acts i. 24, Eph.ii.22,)it might have been asked, 
and so have come down to us, on what passage in 
St. Paul these persons grounded their choosing 
of their pastor. 

But would not the recognition of His presence 
have led to the acknowledgment of His "divid- 
ing" gifts to the mutually dependent members, 
(1 Cor. xii. 25; xiv. 31,) "according to His own 
will ?" (1 Cor. xii. 11,) and so have prevented the 
assertion of a right on their part to elect, — much 
less to elect to exclusive pastorship ? 

Luther was a brother, and one not meanly 
gifted for service to the body ; — might it not have 
been expected that Carlstadt, calling to mind 
Romans xii. and 1 Cor. xiv. 3, 31, would have 
welcomed the word of Luther in the little church 
of Orlamund, 1 — and that that word would have 
been just the very corrective, or rather comple- 
ment, needed by the peculiarity of Carlstadt' s 
teaching, — for as M. D'Aubigne has observed, 
the turn of mind of each had its value. 

Instead of this, we find the Great Reformer 
laying, " The Elector and the University will not 
acknowledge Carlstadt as your pastor;" and the 
church of Orlamund replying, " We have chosen 
him ;" — the two forms of disobedient limiting of 
the teaching of the Spirit, with which Christians 
nave become so familiar. — and which, in their 
want of faith, almost all are helping to perpe- 
tuate. 

See the reflections at the opening of the Xlth 
Book of this history. The heart that is exercised 
by these things should consider John xiv. 16, 26; 
xvi. 7; xvii. 21 ; Acts v. 3 ; Rom. viii. 9 ; 1 Cor. 
xi. 2; xiv. 37; Eph. iv. 16 ; 1 Th. iv. 18; v. 11; 
Heb. iii. 13. 



Carlstadt. — "This is an open meeting,— 
if your cause is good, why fear me?" 

Luther, to his attendant:— " Go, put the 
horses to : I have nothing to say here to 
Carlstadt ; and since he will not leave, I 
shall go." Luther rose from his seat, upon 
which Carlstadt withdrew. 

After a moment's silence, Luther resumed : 
" Only prove from the Scripture that it is our 
duty to destroy images." 

One of the Town Council. — "Doctor, 
you will allow, I suppose, that Moses was 
acquainted with God's commandments." 
This said, he opened his Bible. " Well, 
here are his words, — ' Thou shall not make 
to thyself any graven image, nor any like 
nessf " &c. 

Luther. — "The passage refers only to 
images for idolatrous worship. If I hangup, 
in my chamber, a crucifix, and do not worship 
it; what harm can it do me?" 

A Shoemaker. — "I have often touched my 
hat before an image which was in my room, 
or on my mantelpiece. It is an act of idola- 
try which robs God of the glory due to Him 
alone." 

Luther. — " Would you think it necessary, 
then, because they are abused, to put your 
women to death, and pour your wine into the 
gutter?" 

Another Member of the Church. — - 
" No: they are God's creatures, which we are 
not commanded to destroy." 

The conference had lasted some time. Lu- 
ther and his attendant returned to their car- 
riage, astonished at the scene they had wit- 
nessed, and having failed to convince trie 
inhabitants, who claimed for themselves the 
right of interpreting and freely expounding 
the Scripture. Agitation reigned in Orla- 
mund. The people insulted Luther ; and 
some even called after him, — "Begone! in 
the name of all the devils; and may you 
break your neck before you are out of our 
town."* Never had the Reformer had to un- 
dergo such contemptuous treatment. 

He repaired thence to Kale, the pastor of 
which place had also embraced the views of 
Carlstadt. He resolved to preach a sermon 
there ; but on entering the pulpit, he found 
the broken fragments of a crucifix. At first, 
his emotion overcame him ; but recovering 
himself, he gathered up the pieces into one 
corner of the pulpit, and delivered a discourse 
in which he made no allusion to the circum- 
stance. "I determined," said he, speaking 
of it in after life, " to revenge myself on the 
devil by this contempt for him." 

The nearer the Elector's life drew to a 
close, the more did he appear to dread lest 
men should go too far in the work of Reform- 
ation. He issued orders to deprive Carlstadt 
of his appointments, and banished him, not 



* Two of the most distinguished living histori- 
ans of Germany add, that Luther was pelted by 
the inhabitants; but Luther tells us the contrary 
— "Dass ich nit mit Steinen und Dreck ausge 
worffen ward." (L. Epp. ii. p. 579.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



315 



only from Orlamund, but from the states of the 
Electorate. It was in vain that the church 
of Orlamund interceded in his behalf, — in 
vain did they petition that he might be per- 
mitted to reside among them as a private citi- 
zen, with leave occasionally to preach, — in 
vain did they represent that the word of God 
was dearer to them than the whole world, or 
even a thousand worlds. Frederic was deaf 
to their entreaties, and he even went the 
length of refusing the unhappy Carlstadt the 
funds necessarily required for his journey. 
Luther had nothing to do with this sternness 
on the part of the prince : it was foreign 
to his disposition, — and this he afterwards 
proved. But Carlstadt looked at him as the 
author of his disgrace, and filled Germany 
with his complaints and lamentations. He 
wrote a farewell letter to his friends at Orla- 
mund. The bells were tolled, and the letter 
read in presence of the sorrowing church. It 
was signed — "Andrew Bodenstein, expelled 
by Luther, unconvicted, and without even a 
hearing." 

It is impossible not to feel a pain at con- 
templating these two men, once friends, and 
both worthy of our esteem, thus angrily op- 
posed. Sadness took possession of the souls 
of the disciples of the Reformation. What 
would be the end of it, when thus its bravest 
defenders turned one against another] Lu- 
ther could discern these fears, and endea- 
voured to allay them. " Let us contend," 
said he, " as those who fight for another. It 
is God's cause: the care of it belongs to 
God, — the work, the victory, and the glory, 
all are His. He will fight for it, and prevail, 
though we should stand still. Whatever He 
decrees should fall, let it fall, — whatever He 
wills should stand, let that stand. It is no 
cause of our own that is at stake ; and we 
seek not our own glory." 

Carlstadt sought refuge at Strasburg, 
where he published several writings. " He 
was well acquainted," says Doctor Scheur, 
"with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew;" and Lu- 
ther acknowledged him to be his superior in 
learning. Endowed with great powers of 
mind, he sacrificed to his convictions fame, 
station, country, and even his bread. At a 
later period of his life he visited Switzerland. 
There, it might seem, he ought to have com- 
menced his teaching. The independence of 
his spirit needed the free air breathed by the 
CEcolampadiuses and Zwingles. His instruc- 
tions soon attracted an attention nearly equal 
to that which had been excited by the earliest 
theses put forth by Luther. Switzerland 
seemed almost gained over to his doctrine. 
Bucer and Capito also appeared to adopt his 
views. 

Then it was that Luther's indignation rose 
to its height; and he put forth one of the 
most powerful but also, most outrageous 
of his controversial writings, — his book 
" Asohist the Celestial Prophets.' 1 

Thus the Reformation, hunted down by the 
Pope, the Emperor, and the Princes, began 
to tear its own vitals. It seemed to be sink- 



ing under accumulated evils ; and surely it 
would have been lost if it had been a work 
of man. But soon, from the very brink of 
ruin it rose again in renewed energy. 

The Catholic League of Ratisbon, and the 
persecutions that followed close uj on it, ere 
ated a powerful popular re-action. The Ger- 
mans were not disposed to surrender that 
word of God of which they had recovered 
possession ; and when orders to that effect 
came to them from Charles V., though 
backed by papal bulls and the fagots of 
Ferdinand, and other Catholic princes, they 
returned for an answer, — " We will not give 
it up." 

No sooner had the members of the League 
taken their departure from Ratisbon, when 
the deputies of the towns whose bishops had 
taken part in that alliance, surprised and 
indignant, assembled at Spires, and passed a 
law, that, notwithstanding the episcopal pro- 
hibitions, their preachers should confine them- 
selves to the proclamation of the gospel, and 
the Gospel only, according to the doctrine of 
the apostles and prophets. They proceeded 
to prepare a report, couched in firm and con- 
sistent terms, to be presented to the assembly 
of their nation. 

The Emperor's letter, dated from Burgos, 
came unseasonably to disturb their plans. 
Nevertheless, toward the close of that year, 
the deputies of the towns and many nobles 
assembling at Ulm, bound themselves by 
solemn oath to assist one another, in case of 
an attack. 

Thus the free cities opposed to the camp 
that had been formed by Austria, Bavaria, 
and the bishops, another, in which the stand- 
ard of the Gospel and of the national liberties 
was unfurled. 

W T hilst the cities were placing themselves 
in the van of the Reformation, several princes 
were, about the same time, gained over to its 
ranks. In the beginning of June, 1524, Me- 
lancthon was returning, on horseback, from a 
visit to his mother, in company with Came- 
rarius and some other friends, when, ap- 
proaching Frankfort, he met a brilliant 
retinue; — it was Philip, Landgrave of Hesse, 
who, three years previously, had visited Lu- 
ther at Worms, and was now on his way to 
the games of Heidelberg, where most of the 
princes of Germany were expected to be 
present. 

Thus did Providence bring Philip succes- 
sively in contact with the two leading Re 
formers. It was known that the celebrated 
Doctor was gone on a journey to his birth 
place. One of the horsemen who accom- 
panied the Landgrave remarked, — " It is 
Melancthon, I think." Immediately the 
young Prince put spurs to his horse, and 
coming up with the Doctor, inquired, — "Is 
your name Philip]" "It is," replied he, 
drawing back timidly, and preparing respect- 
fully to alight. " Keep your saddle," saich 
the Prince, "turn your horse's head, and 
come stay one night with me ; there are some 
things I want to speak with you about 



316 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Fear nothing." "What can I fear from a 
prince like yourself!" rejoined the Doctor. 
44 Ah, ah !" said the Landgrave, laughing, 
*• if I were only to carry you off, and hand 
you over to Campeggio, he would not be a 
little pleased, I suspect." The two Philips 
rode onward, side by side, — the Prince asking 
questions and the Doctor answering; and the 
Landgrave delighted with the clear and im- 
pressive views that were opened before him. 
At length, Melancthon entreating him to per- 
mit him to continue his journey, Philip re- 
luctantly parted with him " On one condi- 
tion," said he, "and that is, that, on your 
return home, you should treat fully the ques- 
tions we have discussed, and send me your 
thoughts in writing." Melancthon promised. 
" Go, then," said Philip, " and pass freely 
through my states." 

Melancthon, with his accustomed talent, 
prepared an Abridgment of the Reformed Doc- 
trine of Christianity; and this tract, remarka- 
ble for its conciseness and force of argument, 
made a decided impression upon the mind of 
the Landgrave. Shortly after his return from 
the Heidelberg games, this Prince issued an 
edict, in which, without connecting himself 
with the free towns, he opposed the League 
of Ratisbon, and directed that the Gospel 
should be preached in all its purity. He 
embraced it himself, with the energy that 
marked his character. " Rather," exclaimed 
he, " would I sacrifice my body, my life, my 
estates, and my subjects, than the word of 
God !" A Franciscan friar, named Ferber, 
perceiving this inclination of the Prince in 
favour of the Reformation, wrote him a letter 
filled with reproaches and entreaties to con- 
tinue faithful to Rome. "I am resolved," 
answered Philip, "to be faithful to the an- 
cient doctrine, — but as I find it set forth in 
the Scriptures :" and he proceeded to prove, 
with much clearness of statement, that man 
is justified by faith alone. The monk, con- 
founded, made no reply. The Landgrave 
was commonly spoken of as "the disciple of 
Melancthon." 

Other Princes followed -the same course. 
The Elector Palatine refused to countenance 
the slightest persecution ; the Duke of Lune- 
burg, nephew of the Elector of Saxony, began 
the Reformation in his dominions ; and the 
King of Denmark gave orders that, throughout 
Sleswick and Holstein, every one should beat, 
liberty to worship God according as his con- 
science dictated. 

The Reformation gained a victory yet more 
important. A Prince, whose conversion to 
Gospel truth involved consequences most mo- 
mentous to our own times, now evinced a dis- 
position to withdraw from Rome. One day, 
towards the end of June, shortly after the re- 
turn of Melancthon to Wittemberg, Albert, 
Margrave of Brandenburg, and Grand Master 
of the Teutonic Order, entered Luther's apart- 
ment. This chief of the monastic knights 
of Germany, who then governed Prussia, 
had repaired to the Diet of Nuremburg, to 
invoke the aid of the Empire against Po- 



land. He returned broken in spirit. On one 
hand, Osiander's preaching, and the reading 
of the New Testament, had convinced him 
that his monk's vow was contrary to the word 
of God ; on the other, the suppression of the 
national government in Germany had deprived 
him of all hope of obtaining the assistance 
which he had come to solicit. What was tc 
be done . . . . ] The Saxon councillor, De 
Planitz, in whose company he had left Nu- 
remberg, proposed to him to seek an interview 
with the Reformer. " What think you," said 
the anxious and agitated Prince to Luther, " of 
the rule of our order 1 ?" Luther did not hesi- 
tate; he saw that a course of conduct in 
conformity with the Gospel was, also, the 
only means of saving Prussia. " Look to God 
for assistance," said he, to the Grand Mas 
ter, "and reject the senseless and inconsistent 
rule of your order ; put an end to your detesta- 
ble hermaphrodite principality, neither reli- 
gious nor secular; away with mere pretended 
chastity, and seek that which is the true. 
Take a wife — and become the founder of a 
legitimate empire, in the place of that anoma- 
lous monster." These words set clearly before 
the mind of the Grand Master a state of things 
which he had as yet seen but indistinctly. A 
smile lighted up his countenance ; but he was 
too prudent to give utterance to his thoughts. 
Melancthon, who was present, spoke to the 
same effect as Luther, and the Prince set out 
to return to his dominions, leaving the Reform- 
ers in the confident hope that the seed which 
they had sown would sink down into his heart, 
and one day bring forth fruit. 

Thus, as we have seen, Charles the Fifth 
and the Pope had opposed the national assem- 
bly at Spires, fearing lest the Word of God 
should win over all present ; but the Word cf 
God was not bound. It was denied a hearing 
in a hall of a town of the Lower Palatinate. 
But what then 1 ? — it burst forth and spread 
throughout the provinces, stirring the hearts 
of the people, enlightening the Princes and 
developing that Divine power, of which neither 
Bulls nor Ordinances can ever divest it. 

Whilst nations and their rulers were thus 
coming to the light, the Reformers were en- 
deavouring to remould every thing by the in- 
fusion of the true principles of Christianity. 
Public worship first engaged their attention. 
The moment, anticipated by the Reformer, 
when returning from the Wartburg, had ar- 
rived : "Now," said he, " that hearts have 
been fortified by Divine Grace, we must put 
away those things which defile the Lord's 
kingdom, and attempt to do something in the 
Name of Jesus." He required that the com- 
munion should be taken under both kinds ; 
that the Supper should be cleared of every 
thing which gave to it the character of a sa- 
crifice; thatChristians should never assemble 
themselves together without having the word 
of God preached to them; thattheflock, or at 
least the priests and students, should meet 
every morning at four or five o'clock, to read 
the Old Testament, and every evening at five 
or six o'clock, to read the New Testament; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



317 



that on Sundays the whole church should 
meet together, morning and afternoon, and 
that the great object of the services should be 
to sound abroad the Word of God. 

The church of All Saints, at Wittemberg, 
especially called forth his indignation. In it, 
(to quote the word's of Seckendorf,) 9,901 
masses were annually celebrated, and 35,570 
lbs. of wax annually consumed. Luther called 
it " the sacrilege of Tophet." " There are," 
said he, " only three or four lazy monks who 
still worship this shameful Mammon; and if 
I had not restrained the people, this abode of 
all Saints, or rather of all Devils, would have 
been brought down w r ith a crash such as the 
world has never yet heard." 

It was in connection with this church that 
the conflict began. It resembled those ancient 
sanctuaries of heathen worship in Egypt, 
Gaul, and Germany, which were ordained to 
fall, that Christianity might be established in 
their place. 

Luther, earnestly desiring that the mass 
should be abolished in this cathedral, addressed 
to the chapter on the 1st March, 1523, a re- 
quisition to that effect, following it up by a 
second letter dated the 11th July. The canons 
having pleaded the Elector's orders, — " What, 
in this case, have we to do with the prince's 
orders V remarked Luther : " he is but a se- 
cular prince ; his business is to bear the sword, 
and not to interfere in the ministry of the Gos- 
pel." Luther here clearly marks the distinction 
between the State and the Church. "There 
is," said he again, " but one sacrifice to put 
away sins, — Christ, who has offered himself 
once for all,- and we are partakers thereof, not 
by any works or sacrifices of ours, — but sole- 
ly through belief of the word of God." 

The Elector, feeling his end approaching, 
was averse from further change. 

But entreaties from other quarters came in 
aid of those of Luther. " It is high time to 
act," wrote the cathedral provost, Jonas, to the 
Elector : " such a shining forth of Gospel 
truth, as that which we have at this hour, 
does not ordinarily last longer than a sunbeam. 
Let us then lose no time." 

This letter of Jonas not having changed the 
Elector's views, Luther became impatient ; 
he judged that the time had come to strike the 
final blow, and he addressed a letter of me- 
nace to the chapter. "I beg of you, as a 
friend ; — I desire and seriously urge it upon 
you to put an end to this sectarian worship. 
If you refuse to do so, you shall, God help- 
ing, receive the punishment which you will 
have deserved. I say this for your guidance, 
and 1 request an immediate reply — yes, or no 
— before Sunday next, in order that I may 
consider what I have to do. God give you 
grace to follow His light. 

Martin Luther, 
"Preacher at Wittemberg." 
" Thursday, Dec 8th, 1524." 
At this juncture the rector, two burgomas- 
ters, and ten councillors, waited upon the 
Dean, and begged him, in the name of the 
university, of the council, and of the commune 



of Wittemberg, " to abolish the great and hor 
rible impiety committed against the majesty 
of God, in the celebration of mass." 

The chapter found it necessary to give way, 
and declared that, enlightened by the word of 
God, they acknowledged the abuses which 
had been denounced, and published a new 
order of service, which began to be observed 
on Christmas Day, 1524. 

Thus fell the Mass, in this renowned sanc- 
tuary, where it had so long held out against 
the reiterated attacks of the Reformers. The 
Elector Frederic, suffering from gout, and 
drawing near his end, could not, by any 
efforts of his, retard this great triumph of the 
Reformation. He saw in it the will of God, 
and submitted to it. The cessation of Ro- 
mish observances, in the church of All Saints, 
hastened their abolition in many of the 
churches of Christendom. In all quarters 
there was similar resistance, but also the like 
victory. Vainly did priests, and even princes, 
in many places, try to interpose obstacles; 
they could effect nothing. 

It was not alone in public worship that 
the Reformation was ordained to work a 
change. Education was very early asso- 
ciated with the Reformed Church, and these 
two institutions, in their power to regenerate 
mankind, were alike invigorated by its influ- 
ence. It was in intimate alliance with 
letters that the Reformation had made its 
appearance in the world ; and, in the hour of 
its triumph, it did not forget its ally. 

Christianity is not a mere expansion of 
Judaism ; its great end is not again to envelope 
man, as the Papacy seeks to do, in the 
swaddling bands of outward ordinances and 
man's teaching. Christianity is a new crea 
tion; it takes possession of the inward man, 
and transforms him in the innermost princi- 
ples of his nature ; so that he needeth not 
human teaching, but, by God's help, is able, 
of himself, and by himself, to discern that 
which is true, and to do that which is right." 
Heb. viii. 11. 

To bring man to that maturity w T hich 
Christ has purchased for him, and to eman- 
cipate him from the tutelage in which Rome 
had so long held him bound, the Reformation 
must needs develope the whole man; and, 
while by the Word of God it regenerated his 
heart and will, it enlightened his understand- 
ing by the study of sacred and profane litera- 
ture. 

Luther understood this ; he felt that to conso- 
lidate the Reformation, he must work on the 
minds of the rising generation, remodel the 
schools, and propagate throughout Christen- 
dom the knowledge necessary for a deep 
study of the Holy Scriptures. This, there- 
fore, was one of the objects of his life. He 
was especially impressed w r ith this convic- 
tion, at this period of his history, and, accord 
ingly, he addressed a letter to the councillors 
of all the towns in Germany, urging them to 
found Christian schools. "Dear sirs." said 
he, " so much money is annually expended 
in arquebuses, making roads, and construe** 



318 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ing dykes, — how is it that a little is not ex- 1 
pended in paying one or two schoolmasters I 
to instruct our poor children"? God stands 
at the door, and knocks ; blessed are we if 
we open to Him ! Now-a-days, there is no 
famine of God's word. My dear country- 
men, buy, buy, whilst the market is opened 
before your dwellings. The Word of God 
and His grace resembles a shower which 
falls and passes on. It fell among- the Jews ; 
but it passed away, and now they have it no 
longer. Paul bore it with him to Greece; 
but there also it is passed, and Mahometan- 
ism prevails in its place. It came to Rome 
and the Latin territories ; but from thence it 
likewise departed, and now Rome has the 
Pope. ! Germans, think not that you will 
never have that Word taken away from you. 
The little value you put upon it will cause it 
to be withdrawn. Therefore, he who would 
have it, must lay hold upon and keep it. 

"Let our youth be the objects of your 
care," he continued, addressing the magis- 
trates, " for many parents are like the ostrich, 
their hearts are hardened against their young, 
and, satisfied with having laid the egg-, they 
give themselves no further trouble about it. 
The prosperity of a town does not consist in 
amassing wealth, erecting walls, building 
mansions, and the possession of arms. If 
attacked by a party of madmen, its ruin and 
devastation would only be the more terrible. 
The true well-being of a town, its security, 
its strength, is to number within it many 
learned, serious, kind, and well-educated 
citizens. And who is to blame that there 
are found, in our days, so few of this stamp, 
but you, magistrates, who have suffered our 
youth to grow up like the neglected growth 
of the forest]" 

Luther especially insisted on the necessity 
for the study of literature and languages : 
-We are asked," says he, "what is the use 
of learning Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, when 
we can read the Bible in German ] But, for 
languages," he replied, "we should never 
have received the Gospel . . Languages are 
the scabbard in which the sword of the Spirit 
is found; they are the casket which holds 
the jewels ; they are the vessels which con- 
tain the neAv wine ; they are the baskets in 
which are kept the loaves and fishes which 
are to feed the multitude. If we cease to 
study languages, we shall not only lose the 
Gospel, but, eventually, we shall be unable 
either to speak or write in Latin or in Ger- 
man. From the hour we throw them aside, 
Christianity may date its decline, even to 
falling again under the dominion of the Pope. 
But now that languages are once more held 
in estimation, they diffuse such light that all 
mankind are astonished — and that every one 
may see that the Gospel we preach is almost 
as pure as that of the Apostles themselves. 
The holy Fathers of other days, made many 
mistakes by reason of their ignorance of lan- 
guages; in our time, some, like the Vaudois 
of Piedmont, do not attach value to the study 
of them ; but though their doctrine may be 



sound, they often fail of the real meaning of 
the Sacred Text; they are without a safe- 
guard against error, and I much fear that 
their faith will not continue pure. If a 
knowledge of languages had not given me 
the certainty of the true sense of the Word, I 
might nave been a pious - monk, quietly 
preaching the Truth in the obscurity of the 
cloister; but I should have left Pope, so- 
phists, and their anti-christian power in the 
ascendant." 

But Luther's attention was not limited to 
the education of ecclesiastics ; he was desi- 
rous that learning should no longer be con- 
fined to the Church alone; and proposed to 
extend it to the laity, who had hitherto been 
debarred from it. He suggested the esta- 
blishment of libraries, not limited merely to 
works and commentaries of scholastic divines 
and Fathers of the Church, but furnished 
with the productions of orators and poets, 
even though heathens, as also with books of 
literature, law, medicine, and history. " Such 
writings," said he, "are of use to make 
known the wonderful works of God." 

This effort of Luther is one of the most 
important the Reformation produced. It 
wrested learning from the hands of the 
priests, who had monopolized it, like those 
of Egypt in ancient times, — and rendered it 
accessible to all. From this impulse, derived 
froni the Reformation, some of the greatest 
developments of later ages have proceeded. 
Literary men, and scholars of the laity, who 
now-a-days decry the Reformation, forget 
that they are themselves its offspring; and 
that, but for its influence, they would at this 
hour be like half-educated children, subject 
to the tyrannical authority of the clergy 
The Reformation recognised the intimate 
connection of all branches of learning, re- 
ceiving all to learn, and opening all the 
avenues to learning. "They who despise 
general literature," said Melancthon, "make 
no more account of sacred theology. Their 
affected contempt is but a pretext to conceal 
their indolence." 

The Reformation not only communicated a 
mighty impulse to literature, but served to 
elevate the Arts, although Protestantism has 
often been reproached as their enemy. Ma- 
ny Protestants have willingly taken up and 
borne this reproach. We will not examine 
whether or not the Reformation ought to 
glory in it; but will merely remark, that im- 
partial history does not confirm the premises 
on which the clergy rests. Let Roman Ca- 
tholicism pride itself in being more favourable 
than Protestantism to the arts. Be it so : 
Paganism was even more so ; while Protes- 
tantism hath somewhat else to glory in. 
There are some religions in which the dispo- 
sition in man to a taste for the fine arts has a 
place assigned it above that given to his 
moral nature. Christianity is distinguished 
from these, by the fact that the moral element 
is its essence. Christian principle manifests 
itself, not in productions of the fine arts, but 
in the fruits of a Christian life. Every se*tf 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



319 



that forgets this bearing- of Christianity upon 
morals, forfeits its claim to the name of 
Christian. Rome has not entirely renounced 
this essential characteristic, but Protestant- 
ism cherishes it in far greater purity. It 
takes pleasure in deep acquaintance with 
morals, discriminating religious actions not 
by their outward appearance and effect upon 
the imagination, but according to their inhe- 
rent worth, and their bearing upon the con- 
science; so that, if the Papacy is strongly 
marked as an esthetic system, as has been 
proved by an able writer, Protestantism is 
equally characterized as a moral system. 

Nevertheless, the Reformation, while pri- 
marily appealing to the mora % sense, addressed 
the whole man. We have Sv en how it spoke 
to his understanding, and wh» t it did for lite- 
rature : it spoke also to his sensibility and 
imagination, and thereby contributed to the 
development of the Arts. The Church was 
no longer composed exclusively of priests and 
friars; it was the assembly of the faithful; 
all were to take part in the worship ; and con- 
gregational singing was to take the place of 
the priests' chanting. Luther, in translating 
the Psalms, had in view their adaptation to 
be sung in the churches. Thus a taste for 
Music was disseminated throughout the nation. 

" Next to theology," said Luther, " it is to 
Music that I give the highest place and the 
greatest honour. A schoolmaster," he added, 
"ought to know how to sing; without this 
qualification I would have nothings to do wish 
him." 

One day, when some fine music was per- 
forming, he exclaimed in transport, " If oor 
Lord God has shed forth such wondrous gifts 
on this earth, which is no better than a dark 
nook, what may we not expect in that eternal 
life in which we shall be perfected?" From 
the days of Luther, the congregated worship- 
pers have taken part in the singing ; the Bible 
has been the great theme of their songs, and 
the impulse communicated at that period of 
the Reformation, has more recently produced 
those noble Oratorios, which have carried the 
art to its highest point of attainment. 

Poetry participated in the movement. In 
singing the praises of God, Christians were 
not willing to restrict themselves to simple 
renderings of ancient hymns. The souls of 
Luther and his contemporaries, elevated by 
faith to the most sublime contemplations, 
roused to enthusiasm by the dangers and 
struggles which incessantly threatened the 
infant Church, inspired by the poetry of the 
Old and the hope of the New Testament, 
soon began to pour out their feelings in reli- 
gious songs, in which poetry and music joined, 
and blended their most heavenly accents; and 
thus were heard reviving, in the sixteenth 
century, the hymns which, in the first century, 
soothed the sufferings of the martyrs. In 
1523, Luther, as we have already said, conse- 
crated it to commemorate the martyrs of Brus- 
sels ; others of the children of the Reforma- 
tion followed his example. Many were the 
hymns composed, and lapidly circulated 
22 



among the people, and greatly did they con- 
tribute to arouse their slumbering minds. It 
was in this same year Hans Sach composed 
the " Nightingale of Witt ember g." It repre- 
sented the teaching that had been current in 
the Church for four centuries as a moonlight 
time of wandering in the deserts. But the 
nightingale proclaimed the dawn, and soaring 
above the morning mist, sang the praise of day. 

Whilst lyric poesy was thus deriving, from 
the Reformation its loftiest inspiration, satiri- 
cal verses and dramas, from the pen of Hut- 
ten, Murner, and Manuel, were attacking the 
most flagrant corruptions. 

It is to the Reformation that the great poets 
of England, Germany, and perhaps of France, 
are indebted for the highest flights of their 
muse. 

Painting was, of all the arts, the least af- 
fected by the Reformation. This, neverthe- 
less, was renovated, and, as it were, hallowed 
by that universal movement which was then 
communicated to all the powers of man. The 
great master of that age, Lucas Cranach, set- 
tled at Wittemberg, and became the painter 
of the Reformation. We have seen how he 
represented the points of contrast between 
Christ and Antichrist, (the Pope,) and was 
thus among the most influential instruments 
in that change by which the nation was trans- 
formed. As soon as he had received new 
convictions, he devoted his chastened pencil 
j solely to paintings in harmony with the 
thoughts of a Christian, and gave to groups 
of children, represented as blessed by the Sa- 
viour, that peculiar grace with which he had 
previously invested legendary saints. 

Albert Durer was one of those who were 
attracted by the Word of Truth, and from that 
time a new impulse was given to his genius. 
His master-pieces were produced subsequent- 
ly to conversion. It might have been dis- 
cerned, from the style in which he thencefor- 
ward depicted the Evangelists and Apostles, 
that the Bible had been restored to the people, 
and that the painter derived thence a depth, 
power, life, and dignity, which he never would 
have found within himself. 

It must, however, be admitted, that, of all 
the arts, Painting is that one whose influence 
upon religion is most open to well-founded and 
strong objection. We see it continually con- 
nected with grievous immorality or pernicious 
error; and those who have studied history, or 
visited Italy, will look for nothing in this art 
of benefit to human-kind. Our general re- 
mark holds good, however, notwithstanding 
this exception. 

Thus every thing progressed, arts, litera- 
ture, purity of worship — and the minds of 
prince and people. But this glorious harmo- 
ny, which the Gospel, in its revival, every-: 
where produced, was on the eve of beingr dis- 
turbed. The melody of the Wittemberg 
Nightingale was broken in upon by the howl- 
ing of the tempest and the roaring of Lons. 
In a momenta cloud overspread Germany, and 
a brilliant day was succeeded by a night of 
profound darkness. 



20 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



A political ferment, very different from that 
which the Gospel brings with it, had long 
oeen secretly working in the Empire. Sink- 
ing - under secular and ecclesiastical oppression, 
and, in some of the states, forming- part of the 
seigneurial property and liable to sale with it, 
the people began to threaten to rise in insur- 
rection, and burst their fetters. This spirit of 
resistance had shown itself long before the 
Reformation, by various symptoms; and even 
at that time a feeling of religion had mingled 
with the political elements of resistance. It 
was impossible, in the sixteenth century, to 
keep asunder two principles so intimately as- 
sociated with the existence of nations. In 
Holland, at the close of the preceding centu- 
ry, the peasantry had made an insurrection, 
representing on their banners a loaf of bread 
and a cheese, the two staple articles of their 
poor country. The "alliance of the shoes,'''' 
showed itself first in the neighbourhood of 
Spires, in 1503; and in 1513, being encou- 
raged by the priests, it was re-acted at Bris- 
gau. In 1514, Wurtemburg was the scene of 
"the league of poor Conrad," which had for 
its object to sustain, by the revolt, "the right 
of God." In 1515, Carinthia and Hungary 
had been the theatre of terrible commotions. 
These seditious movements had been arrested 
by torrents of blood ; but no relief had been 
afforded to the people. A political reform 
was, therefore, not less evidently needed than 
religious reform. In this the people were 
right ; but it must be admitted, that they were 
not ripe for its enjoyment. 

Since the commencement of the Reforma- 
tion these popular ferments had not been re- 
peated ; men's minds were absorbed with 
other thoughts. Luther, whose penetrating 
eye had discerned the condition of the people's 
minds, had, from his tower in the Wartburg, 
addressed to them some serious exhortations, 
of a nature to pacify their agitated feelings : — 

" Rebellion," he observed, "never obtains 
for us the benefit we seek, and God condemns 
it. What is rebellion 7 is it not to revenge 
oneself? The devil tries hard to stir up to 
rebellion such as embrace the Gospel, that it 
may be covered with reproach ; but they who 
have rightly received the truths I ha ,r e preach- 
ed, will not be found in rebellion." 

The aspect of things gave cause to fear that 
the popular ferment could not be much longer 
restrained. The government which Frederic 
of Saxony had taken pains to form, and which 
possessed the nation's confidence, was broken 
up. The Emperor, whose energy would per- 
haps have supplied the place of the influence 
of the national administration, was absent; 
the princes, whose union had always consti- 
tuted the strength of Germany, were at vari- 
ance; and the new manifestos of Charles the 
Fifth against Luther, by excluding all hope 
of a future reconciliation, deprived the Re- 
former of much of the moral influence, by 
which, in 1522, he had succeeded in calming 
the tempest. The barrier, which had hitherto 
withstood the torrent, being swept away, its 
Airy could no longer be restrained. 



The religious movement did not give birth 
to the political agitation; but in some quar- 
ters it was drawn into, and went along with 
its swelling tide. We might perhaps, go far- 
ther, and acknowledge that the movement 
which the Reformation communicated to the 
popular mind, added strength to the discon- 
tent which was everywhere fermenting. The 
vehemence of Luther's writings, his bold 
words and actions, and the stern truth he 
spake, not only to the Pope and the prelates, 
but even to the nobles, must needs have con- 
tributed to inflame minds that were already 
in a state of considerable excitement. Thus 
Erasmus failed not to remind him, " We are 
now gathering the fruits of your teaching." 
Moreover, the animating truths of the Gos- 
pel, now fully brought to light, stirred all 
bosoms, and tilled them with hopeful antici- 
pations. But there were many unrenewed 
hearts which were not prepared by a change 
of thought for the faith and liberty of a Chris- 
tian. They were quite willing to cast off the 
yoke of Rome, but they had no desire to take 
upon them the yoke of Christ. Thus, when 
the Princes who espoused the cause of Rome 
endeavoured, in their anger, to crush the Re- 
formation, those who were really Christians 
were enabled patiently to endure those cruel 
persecutions ; while the majority were roused 
to resistance, and broke forth in tumults ; and, 
finding their desires opposed in one direction, 
they sought vent for them in another. " Why 
is it," said they, " when the Church invites 
all men to a glorious liberty, that servitude is 
perpetuated in the state 7 W T hen the Gospel 
inculcates nothing but gentleness, why should 
Governments rule only by force 7" Unhap- 
pily, at the very period when a reformation 
of religion was hailed with joy, alike by 
nobles and people, a political reformation, on 
the contrary, encountered the opposition of 
the most powerful of the nation. And whilst 
the former had the Gospel for its rule and 
basis, the latter had ere long no principles 
or motives but violence and insubjection. 
Hence, while the one was kept within the 
bounds of truth, the other rapidly overpassed 
all bounds, like an impetuous torrent bursting 
its banks. But to deny that the Reformation 
exerted an indirect influence on the commo- 
tions which then disturbed the Empire, would 
subject the historian to the charge of partiality. 
A fire had been lighted up in Germany by re- 
ligious discussions, from which it was scarcely 
possible but that some sparks should escape 
which were likely to inflame the popular 
minds. 

The pretensions of a handful of fanatics 
to Divine inspiration added to the danger 
Whilst the Reformation constantly appealed 
from the authority claimed by the Church to 
the real authority of the Sacred Word, those 
enthusiasts rejected, not only the authority 
of the Church, but that of Scripture also 
they began to speak only of an inward W T ord, 
an internal revelation from God; and, un- 
mindful of the natural corruption of their 
hearts, they abandoned themselves to the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



321 



intoxication of spiritual pride, and imagined 
themselves to be saints. 

"The Sacred Writings," said Luther, 
•' were treated by them as a dead letter, and 
their cry was, 'The Spirit! the Spirit!' But 
assuredly, I, for one, will not follow whither 
(heir spirit is leading them! May God, in 
His mercy, preserve me from a Church in 
which there are only such saints. I wish to 
he in fellowship with the humble, the weak, 
the sick, who know and feel their sin, and 
sigh and cry continually to God from the 
bottom of their hearts to obtain comfort and 
deliverance." These words of Luther have 
a depth of meaning, and indicate the change 
which his views were undergoing as to the 
nature of the Church. They at the same 
time show how opposed the religious prin- 
ciples of the rebels were to the religious 
principles of the Reformation. 

The most noted of these enthusiasts was 
Thomas Miinzer : he was not without talent, 
nad read his Bible, was of a zealous tempera- 
ment, and might have done good if he had 
been able to gather up his agitated thoughts, 
and attain to settled peace of conscience. 
But with little knowledge of his own heart, 
and wanting in true humility, he was taken 
up with the desire of reforming the world, 
and, like the generality of enthusiasts, forgot 
that it was with himself he should begin. 
Certain mystical writings which he had read 
in h.s ^outh, had given a false direction to 
his thoughts. He made his first appearance 
in public at Zwickau; quitted Wittemberg 
on Luther's return thither, not satisfied to 
hold a secondary place in the general esteem, 
and became pastor of the small town of Al- 
stadt, in Thuringia. Here he could not long 
remain quiet, but publicly charged the Re- 
formers with establishing by their adherence 
to the written Word, a species of Popery, and 
with forming churches which were not pure 
and holy. 

"Luther," said he, "has liberated men's 
consciences from the Papal yoke ; but he has 
left them in a carnal liberty, and has not led 
them forward in spirit towards God." 

He considered himself as called of God to 
remedy this great evil. The revelations of 
the Spirit, according to him, were the means 
by which the Reformation he was charged 
with should be effected. " He who hath the 
Spirit," said he, "hath true faith, although 
he should never once in all his life see the 
Holy Scriptures. The heathen and the Turks 
are better prepared to receive the Spirit than 
many of those Christians who call us enthu- 
siasts." This remark was directed against 
Luther. "In order to receive the Spirit," 
continued he, "we must mortify the flesh; 
wear sackcloth; neglect the body; be of a 
sad countenance ; keep silence ; forsake the 
haunts of men; and implore God to vouch- 
safe to us an assurance of his favour. Then 
it is that God will come unto us, and talk 
with us, as he did of old with Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob. If He were not to do so, 



he would not deserve our regard.* I have 
received from God the commission to gather 
together His elect in a holy and eternal 
union." 

. The agitation and ferment which were 
working in men's minds were not a little 
favourable to the spread of these enthusiastic 
ideas. Men love the marvellous and what- 
ever flatters their pride. Miinzer, having 
inoculated with his own views a portion of 
his flock, abolished the practice of chanting 
and all the other ceremonies annexed to pub- 
lic worship. He maintained that to obey 
princes "devoid of understanding," was to 
serve, at one and the same time, God and 
Belial; and then setting off at the head of 
his parishioners to a chapel in the neighbour- 
hood of Alstadt, to which pilgrims were ac- 
customed to resort from all quarters, he total- 
ly demolished it. After this exploit, being 
obliged to leave the country, he wandered 
from place to place in Germany, and came as 
far as Switzerland, everywhere carrying with 
him, and communicating to all who gave ear 
to him, the project of a general revolution. 
Wherever he went he found men's minds 
prepared. His words were like gunpowder 
cast upon burning coals, and a violent explo- 
sion quickly ensued. 

Luther, who had rejected the warlike en- 
terprises of Sickingen,| could not be led 
away by the tumultuous movements of the 
peasantry. Happily for social order, the 
Gospel kept him from falling into this error ; 
for what would have been the consequences, 
had he cast his extensive influence into the 
scale 1 . . . He resolutely maintained the 
distinction between spiritual and secular 
matters ; constantly affirming that it was to 
immortal souls that Christ gave liberty by 
His word ; and while, on the one hand, he im- 
pugned the authority of the Church, he, on 
the other, with equal courage, stood up for 
the power of rulers. "A Christian," said he, 
"ought to suffer a hundred deaths rather 
than be mixed up in the least degree with 
the revolted peasantry." He wrote to the 
Elector: "It gives me indescribable satisfac- 
tion that these enthusiasts themselves boast, 
to all who will give ear to them, that they do 
not belong to us. ' It is,' say they, 'the Spi- 
rit which impels us;' to which I reply, 'that 
it must be an evil spirit, that bears no other 
fruits than the pillage of convents and 
churches ;' the greatest robbers on this earth 
might easily do as much as that." 

At the same time, Luther, who desired for 
others the liberty that he claimed for himself, 
was dissuading the Prince from resorting to 
severe measures. " Let them preach what 
they will, and against whom they please." 
said he, "for it is the Word of God alone 
which must go forth and give them battle. 

* The expression used by Miinzer is low and 
irreverent: Er vvollt in Gott scheissen wenn er 
nicht mit ihm redet, wie mit Abraham. Hist, of 
Miinzer, by Melancthon.) 

t Book L p. 35. 



322 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



»f the spirit in them be the true Spirit, any 
severities of ours will be unavailing-; but if 
our Spirit be the true, He will not fear their 
violence ! Let us leave the Spirits to struggle 
and contend. A few, perhaps, may be se- 
duced. In every battle there are some 
wounded ; but he who is faithful in the fight 
shall receive the crown. Nevertheless, if 
they have recourse to the sword, let your 
Highness prohibit it, and command them to 
quit your dominions." 

The insurrection commenced in the districts 
of the Black Forest, near the sources of the 
Danube, a country that had been often the 
theatre of popular commotions. On the 19th 
July, 1524, the Thurgovian peasantry rose 
against the Abbot of Reichenau, who had re- 
fused to appoint over them an evangelical 
preacher. Shortly after this, several thou- 
sand of them collected round the small town 
of Tenger, — their object being to liberate an 
oclesiastic who was there imprisoned. The 
insurrection spread, with inconceivable rapi- 
dity, from Suabia as far as the Rhenish pro- 
vinces, Franconia, Thuringia, and Saxony. 
In January, 1525, all these countries were in 
a state of open insurrection. 

Towards the close of that month, the pea- 
santry put forth a declaration in twelve 
articles, wherein they claimed the liberty of 
choosing their own pastors, the abolition of 
small tithes, servitude, and the taxes on in- 
heritance ; the right to hunt, fish, cut wood, 
&c. Each demand was backed by a passage 
from the Bible : and they concluded with the 
words, 
right by the Scriptures.' 

They requested to have the opinion of the 
divines of Wittemberg. Melancthon and 
Luther each gave his judgment separately ; 
and the decision of each reminds us of the 
difference that marked their characters. Me- 
lancthon, who regarded any disturbance as a 
serious crime, overstepped the limits of his 
habitual mildness, and seemed to labour to 
express the strength of his indignation. Ac- 
cording to him, the peasantry were public 
criminals, on whom he invoked all laws, — 
divine and human. If amicable communica- 
tions should fail of effect, he would have the 
magistrates to pursue them, as they would 
robbers and assassins. " Nevertheless," adds 
he, — (and some one feature, at least, we need 
to find, that shall remind us of Melancthon,) 
— " think .of the orphans before you have 
recourse to capital punishment!" 

Luther took the same view of the revolt as 
Melancthon; but he had a heart which 
deeply felt for the miseries of the people. 
He manifested, on this occasion, a noble im- 
partiality, and frankly spoke truth to both 
parties. He first addressed the princes, — 
and more particularly the bishops : — 

"It is you," said he, "who have caused 
Ihe revolt; it is your declamations against j 
the Gospel, it is your guilty oppression of the [ 
poor of the flock, — which have driven the ' 
people to despair. My dear Lords, it is not ! 
the peasants who have risen against you, — it , 



is God himself who is opposing your mad 
ness. The peasants are but instruments ht 
is employing to humble you. Think not you 
can escape the punishment reserved for you. 
Even though you should succeed in extermi- 
nating all the peasantry, God could from 
these stones raise up others to chastise your 
pride. If I were bent on avengino- my own 
wrongs, 1 might laugh in my sleeve, — and 
quietly look on, while the peasantry were 
acting, — or even inflame their rage, — but the 
Lord keep me from it ! My dear Lords, for 
the love of God ! calm your irritation; — grant 
reasonable conditions to these poor people, 
as frenzied and misled persons ; — appease 
these commotions by gentle methods, lest 
they give birth to a conflagration which shall 
set all Germany in a flame. Some of their 
twelve articles contain just and reasonable 
demands." 

Such an exordium was calculated to gain 
for Luther the confidence of the peasantry, 
and to induce them to listen to the truths 
which he was about to press upon them. 
After admitting that some of their demands 
were founded in justice, he declared that re- 
bellion was the act of heathens: that Chris- 
tians were called to suffer, not to fight : that 
if they persisted in their revolt in the name 
of the Gospel, but contrary to the very pre- 
cepts of the Gospel, he should consider them 
as worse enemies than the Pope. " The 
Pope and the Emperor," continued he, " com- 
bined against me ; but the more the Emperor 
and the Pope stormed, the more did the Gos- 
pel make its way. Why was this 1 Because 
I neither took up the sword, nor called for 
vengeance, nor had recourse to tumult or 
revolt ; I committed all -to God, — and waited 
for him to interpose by his mighty power. 
The Christian conflict is not to be carried on 
by sword or arquebuss, but by endurance and 
the cross. Christ, their Captain, would not 
have his servants smite with the sword, — he 
was hanged upon a tree." 

But in vain did Luther inculcate these 
Christian precepts. The people, under the 
influence of the inflammatory harangues of 
the leaders of the revolt, were deaf to the 
words of the Reformer. " He is playing the 
hypocrite." said they, "and flatters the 
nobles : — he has himself made war against 
the Pope, and yet expects that we should 
submit to our oppressors." 

Instead of subsiding, the insurrection grew 
more formidable. At Weinsberg, Count 
Louis of Helfenstein, and the seventy men 
under his command, were doomed to death. 
A body of peasantry drew up in close ranks, 
with advanced pikes, whilst others drove the 
Count and his retainers against the points of • 
this forest of weapons. The wife of the ill- 
fated Helfenstein, a natural daughter of the 
Emperor Maximilian, holding her infant in 
her arms, implored them, on bended knees, to 
spare the life of her husband, and vainly 
endeavoured to avert this barbarous murder. 
A lad who had served under the Count, and 
had afterwards joined the rebels, gamboled 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



323 



in mockery before him, and played the dead 
march upon his fife, as if he had been leading 
his victims in a dance. All perished; the 
infant was wounded in its mother's arms, and 
she herself thrown upon a dung-cart, and 
thus conveyed to Heilbronn. 

At the news of these atrocities, a cry of 
horror was uttered by the friends of the Re- 
formation, and Luther's feeling heart was 
violently agitated. On one hand, the pea- 
santry, ridiculing his counsel, asserted that 
they had a revelation from Heaven, — impi- 
ously perverted the threatnings contained in 
the Old Testament, — proclaimed an equality 
of oonditions, and a community of goods, — 
defended their cause with fire and sword, and 
rioted in barbarous executions. On the other 
hand, the enemies of the Reformation, with 
malicious sneer, inquired if the Reformer did 
not know that it was easier to kindle a fire 
than to extinguish it, Indignant at these 
excesses, and alarmed at the thought that 
they- might check the progress of the Gospel, 
Luther no longer hesitated ; he laid aside his 
former forbearance, and denounced the rebels 
with all the energy of his character, over- 
passing, perhaps, the just bounds within 
which he should have contained himself. 

"The peasantry," said he, "are guilty of 
three horrible crimes against God and men; 
and thus deserve both the death of the body 
and that of the soul. In the first place, they 
rebel against their rulers, to whom they have 
sworn allegiance; next, they rob and plunder 
convents and castles; and, to crown all, they 
cloak their crimes under the profession of the 
Gospel ! If you neglect to shoot a mad dog, 
yourself and all your neighbours will perish. 
He who dies in the cause of the magistrates 
will be a true martyr, provided he fight with 
a good conscience." 

Luther then proceeds to comment severely 
upon the guilty violence of the peasantry, in 
compelling simple and peaceable men to join 
their ranks, and thus bringing them into the 
same condemnation. He then proceeds: "On 
this account, my dear Lords, I conjure you to 
interpose for the deliverance of these poor peo- 
ple. I say to him who can bear arms, strike, 
and kill. If thou shouldst fall, thou canst 
not nave a more blessed end ; for thou meet- 
est death in the service of God, and to save 
thy neighbour from hell.' 

Neither gentle nor violent measures could 
arrest the popular torrent. The church bells 
were rung no longer for divine worship. 
Whenever their deep and prolonged sounds 
were heard in country places, it was known 
as the tocsin, and all flew to arms. 

The people of the Black Forest had enrol- 
led themselves under John Muller of Bulgen- 
bach. With an imposing aspect, wrapped in 
a red cloak, and wearing a red cap, this chief 
daringly proceeded from village to village, 
followed by his peasantry. Behind him, on 
a wagon, decorated with boughs and ribands, 
was. exhibited a tri-eoloured flag, black, red, 
and white,— the standard of revolt. A he- 
rald, similarly decorated, read aloud the twelve 



articles, and invited the people to join in the 
insurrection. Whoever refused to do so, was 
banished from the community. 

Their progress, which at first was pacific, 
became more and more alarming. " We 
must," they exclaimed, "compel the lords of 
the soil to submit to our conditions" — and by 
way of bringing them to compliance they 
proceeded to break open the granaries, empty 
the cellars, draw the fish-ponds, demolish the 
castles of the nobles, and set fire to the con- 
vents. Opposition had inflamed to frenzy 
these misguided men: Equality could no 
longer satisfy them; — they thirsted for blood ; 
and swore to make every man who w r ore a 
spur bite the dust. 

At the approach of the peasantry, those 
towns which were incapable of withstanding 
a siege opened their gates, and made common 
cause with them. In every place they en- 
tered, the images of the saints were defaced — 
the crucifixes broken to pieces, — while wo- 
men, armed with weapons, passed through the 
streets threatening the lives of the monks. 
Beaten and repulsed in one place, they re- 
assembled in another, and braved the most 
formidable regular troops. 

A committee chosen by the peasants sta- 
tioned themselves at Heilbrun. The Counts 
of Lowenstein were captured, stript, and 
clothed in common blouse, a white staff was 
placed in their hands, and they were com- 
pelled to swear adhesion to the twelve articles. 
"Brother George, and you, brother Albert," 
said a brazier to the Counts of Hohenlohe, 
who visited their camp, "swear to us to act 
the part of brothers — for yourselves are now 
peasants and no longer lords." Equality of 
ranks, that dream of democrats, was esta- 
blished in aristocratic Germany. 

Many persons of the upper classes, some 
from fear, and some from motives of ambi- 
tion, joined the insurrection. The celebrated 
Gotz of Berlichingen finding himself unable 
to maintain his authority over his vassals 
prepared to seek a refuge in the states of the 
Elector of Saxony, but his wife, who was 
then in child-bed, wishing to keep him at 
home, concealed from him the Elector's letter. 
Gotz, hemmed in on all sides, was compelled 
to put himself at the head of the rebel forces. 
On the 7th of May, the peasants entered 
Wnrtzburg, w T here they were received with 
acclamations. The troops of the princes and 
of the knights of Suabia and Franconia, who 
were stationed in that city, evacuated it, and 
withdrew in confusion within the citadel, — 
the last refuge of the nobility. 

But already had the commotion spread to 
other parts of Germany. Spires, the Palati- 
nate, Alsace, Hesse, had adopted the twelve 
articles, and the peasants threatened Bavaria, 
Westphalia, the Tyrol, Saxony, and Lorraine. 
The Margrave of Baden, having scornfully 
rejected the articles, was compelled to seek 
refuge in flight. The Coadjutor of Fulda 
acceded to them with a laugh. The smaller 
towns submitted, alleging that they h;ul no 
spears to resist the insurgents. Mentz, Treves, 



324 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Frankfort, obtained the immunities on which 
they had insisted. 

Throughout the Empire, a wide-spreading 
revolution was in full career. The ecclesias- 
tical and secular privileges, which bore so 
heavily on the peasantry, were to be sup- 
pressed ; church property was to be diverted 
to secular uses, to indemnify the chiefs, and 
meet the exigencies of the state ; taxes were 
to be abolished, with exception of a tribute 
payable every ten years ; the power of the 
Emperor, as recognised by the New Testa- 
ment, was to be maintained supreme ; all other 
reigning princes were to come down to the 
level of citizens ; sixty-four free courts were 
to be instituted, and men of all ranks to be 
eligible as judges; all conditions were tore- 
turn to their primitive positions; the clergy 
were to be restricted to the pastorship of their 
several churches; princes and knights were 
to be defenders of the w T eak ; uniform weights 
and measures were to be introduced ; and one 
coin to be struck, and be the only currency 
of the whole Empire. 

Meanwhile, the nobles were recovering 
from their first stupor, and George Truchsess, 
commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces, 
advanced in the direction of the lake of Con- 
stance. On the 7th of May, he drove back 
the peasants at Beblingen, and directed his 
march upon the town of Weinsberg, where 
the unfortunate Count of Helfenstein had lost 
his life. He set fire to it, and burned it to 
the ground, giving orders that its ruins should 
be left as a lasting memorial of the treason 
of its inhabitants. At Furfeld, he effected a 
junction with the Elector Palatine and the 
Elector of Treves, and the combined army 
advanced upon Franconia. . 

The Frauenburg, the citadel of Wurtzburg, 
had held out for the cause of the nobles, and 
the main army of the peasants still lay before 
its walls. On receiving intelligence of the 
approach of Truchsess, they resolved on an 
assault, and on the 15th of May, at nine in 
the evening, the trumpets sounded, the tri- 
colour flag was unfurled, and the peasants 
rushed to the assault with frightful shouts. 
Sebastian Rotenhan, one of the stanchest 
partisans of the Reformation, was command- 
ant in the castle. He had organized the 
means of defence on an efficient footing, and 
when he harangued the soldiers and exhorted 
them to repel the attack, they had all sworn 
to do so, raising their three fingers towards 
heaven. A fierce struggle ensued. The reck- 
less and despairing efforts of the peasants 
were, answered from the walls of the fortress 
oy petards and showers of sulphur and boil- 
ing pitch, and discharges of cannon. The 
peasants, thus struck by their unseen enemy 
from behind the ramparts, for an instant fal- 
tered, but their fury rose above it all. Night 
closed in, and the contest still raged. The 
fortress, lighted up by a thousand battle-fires, 
seemed, in the darkness of the night, to re- 
semble a towering giant pouring forth flames, 
and ftontendinof in the midst of bursts of 



thunder for the salvation of the Empire fren> 
the savage bravery of infuriated hordes. Al 
two in the morning, the peasants, failing in 
all their efforts, at last retreated. 

They tried to open negotiations with the 
garrison, on the one side, and with Truchsess, 
who was approaching at the head of his army, 
on the other. But negotiation was not their 
forte. Violence and conquest offered their 
only chance of safety. After some hesitation, 
they decided to advance against the Imperial 
forces ; but the cannon and charges of the 
Imperial cavalry made fearful havoc in theii 
ranks. On reaching Konigshofen, they were 
completely routed. Then it was that the 
princes, nobles, and bishops, cruelly abusing 
their victory, gave loose to unheard-of cruel- 
ties. Those who were taken prisoners were 
hanged at the road-side. The bishop of 
Wurtzburg, who had taken flight, returning 
to his diocese, passed over it, attended by ex- 
ecutioners, who shed, without distinction, the 
blood of rebels, and of such as were living 
quietly in subjection to God's word. Gotz 
de Berlichingen was sentenced to imprison- 
ment for life. The Margrave Casimir of 
Anspach, deprived of their sight no less thsn 
eighty peasants, who, in the rebellion, had 
declared with an oath that their eyes should 
never look upon that prince, — casting the vic- 
tims of his cruelty on the wide world, blind, 
and holding each other by the hand, to grope 
their way, and beg their bread. The unfor- 
tunate youth who had played, on his fife, the 
death-march of Helfenstein, was chained to 
a stake, and a fire lighted round him, — the 
knights being present, and laughing at his 
horrid contortions. 

Everywhere, public worship was restored, 
under its ancient forms. In the most flourish 
ing and populous districts of the Empire, the 
traveller was horror-struck with the sight of 
heaps of dead bodies and smoking ruins. 
Fifty thousand had perished; and almost 
everywhere the people lost what little liberty 
they had previously possessed. Such, in 
Southern Germany, was the dreadful result 
of the Revolt. 

But the evil was not confined to the south 
and west of Germany. Miinzer, after travers- 
ing part of Switzerland, Alsace, and Suabia. 
had again turned his steps towards Saxony. 
Some townsmen of Mulhausen, in Thuringia, 
invited him to their town and elected him as 
their pastor. The Town-council having of- 
fered resistance, Miinzer degraded it, appoint- 
ing another in its stead, composed of his own 
friends, and presided over by himself. Con- 
temning the Christ full of grace, whom Lu- 
ther preached, and resolved on recourse to 
violent means, his cry was, — " We must ex- 
terminate with the sword, like Joshua, the 
Canaanitish nations." He set on foot a com- 
munity of goods, and piilagedtheconvents. 
" Miinzer," wrote Luther to Amsdorf, on the 
11th of April, 1525, "Miinzer is king and 
emperor of Mulhausen, and no longer its pas 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM A 1 10 IN, 



325 



tor." The lowest classes ceased to work. 
[ e any one wanted a piece of cloth, or a sup- 
p!y of corn, he asked his richer neighbour : 
if the latter refused, the penalty was hanging. 
Mulhausen being a free town, Miinzer exer- 
cised his power, unmolested, for nearly a year. 
The revolt of Southern Germany led him to 
imagine that the time was come to extend his 
new kingdom. He cast some large guns in 
the convent of the Franciscans, and exerted 
himself to raise the peasantry and miners of 
Mansfeld. "When will you shake off your 
slumbers," said he, in a fanatical address: 
"Arise, and fight the battle of the Lord! — 
The time is come — France, Germany, and 
[taly, are up and doing. Forward, Forward, 
Forward ! — Bran, Bran, Bran ! Heed not 
the cries of the ungodly. They will weep 
like children, — but be you pitiless. — Bran, 
Braii, Bran! — Fire burns; — let your swords 
be ever tinged with blood! — Bran, Bran, 
Bran! — Work while it is day." The letter 
was signed " Miinzer, God's servant against 
the ungodly." 

The country people, eager for plunder, 
flocked in crowds to his standard. Through- 
out the districts of Mansfeld, Stolberg, 
Schwarzburg, Hesse, and Brunswick, the 
peasantry rose en masse. The convents of 
Michelstein, Ilsenburg, Walkenried, Rossle- 
ben, and many others in the neighbourhood 
of the Hartz mountains, or in the plains of 
Thuringia were plundered. At Reinhards- 
brunn, the place which Luther had once visit- 
ed, the tombs of the ancient landgraves were 
violated, and the library destroyed. 

Terror spread far and wide. Even at Wit- 
temberg, some anxiety began to be felt. The 
Doctors who had not feared Emperors nor 
Pope felt themselves tremble in presence of a 
•nadrnan. Curiosity was all alive to the ac- 
counts of what was going on, and watched 
every step in the progress of the insurrection. 
Melancthon wrote — " We are here in immi- 
nent danger. If Miinzer be successful, it is 
all over with us ; unless Christ should appear 
for our deliverance. Miinzer's progress is 
marked by more than Scythian cruelty. His 
threats are more dreadful than I can tell you." 

The pious Elector had hesitated long what 
steps he should take. Miinzer had exhorted 
him, as well as the other reigning princes, to 
be converted: "For," said he, "their time is 
come :" and he had signed his letters — " Miin- 
zer, armed with the sword of Gideon." It 
was Frederic's earnest desire to try gentle 
methods for reclaiming these deluded men. 
Dangerously ill, he had written on the 14th 
of April, to his brother John — " Possibly more 
than one cause for insurrection has been 
given to these wretched people. Oh, in many 
ways are the poor oppressed by their tempo- 
ral as well as by their spiritual rulers !" 
And when his councillors adverted to the hu- 
miliations, confusions, and dangers to which 
he would expose himself by neglecting to 
stifle the rebellion in its infancy, he made an- 
swer — " In my time, I have been a potent 
Elector, with horses and chariots in ffreat 



abundance, — if, at this time, God will take 
them away, I will go on foot." 

Philip, the young Landgrave of Hesse, was 
the first of the reigning princes who took up 
arms. His knights and retainers swore to live 
or die with him. Having put the affairs of his 
states in order, he moved towards Saxony. 
On their side, Duke John, the Elector's bro- 
ther, Duke George of Saxony, and Duke 
Henry of Brunswick, advancing, effected a 
junction with the Hessian troops. As the 
combined force came into sight, the peasants, 
in alarm, took their station on a hill, and, 
without observing any discipline, set about 
constructing a sort of rampart, composed of 
their wagons. Miinzer had not even provided 
powder for his immense guns. No help ap- 
peared — -the troops hemmed them in, and a 
panic spread through the rebel host. The 
princes from motives of humanity proposed 
to them to capitulate — and they showed 
signs of willingness to do so. Then it was, 
that Miinzer had recourse to the most power- 
ful lever of enthusiasm: "This day," said 
he, " this day we shall behold the mighty arm 
of God, and destruction shall fall upon our 
enemies !" Just at that moment a rainbow 
was seen in the clouds — and the fanatic mul- 
titude, whose standard bore the representation 
of a rainbow, beheld in it a sure omen of the 
Divine protection. Miinzer took advantage of 
it: "Never fear," said he, to the burghers 
and peasantry; "I will receive all their balls 
in my sleeve :" and at the same moment, he 
gave direction that a young gentleman, Ma- 
ternus Geholfen, an envoy from the princes, 
should be cruelly put to death, in order that 
the rebels might thus know themselves be- 
yond the hope of pardon. 

The Landgrave harangued his soldiers — 
" I well know," said he, " that we princes are 
often to blame — for we are but men ; but it is 
God's will that the powers that be should be 
respected. Let us save our wives and children 
from the fury of these murderers. The Lord will 
give us the victory, for hath He not said, ' He 
that resisteth the power, resisteth the ordi- 
nance of God.' " Philip then gave the sig- 
nal for the attack. It was the 1 5th of May, 
1525. The army put itself in motion — but 
the crowd of peasants, standing still, struck 
up the hymn, "Come, Holy Spirit." expect- 
ing Heaven to interpose in their behalf. But 
the artillery soon opened a breach in their 
rude fortification, and scattered confusion and 
death in their midst. On this, their fanata- 
cism and resolution at once forsook them; a 
panic spread throughout their host, and break- 
ing from their ranks they fled in the utmost 
disorder. Five thousand were slain in the 
pursuit. After the battle the princes and their 
victorious troops entered Frankenhausen. A 
soldier, who had mounted to the loft of the 
house in which he was quartered, perceived 
a man crouching in concealment " Who are 
you?" demanded he; "are you one of the 
rebels'?" — then catching sight of a writing- 
case, he opened it, and found therein letters 
addressed to Thomas Miinzer — " Is that voui 



3 k 2G 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



name?" inquired the trooper "No," an- 
swered the sick man. But the soldier, utter- 
ing - dreadful threats, Miinzer — for he it was 
— confessed he was the man. "You are my j 
prisoner," rejoined the other. Being' taken : 
before Duke George and the LandgTave, Miin- j 
zer persisted in maintaining that he was justi- : 
fled in chastising 1 the nobles, since they were 
opposers of the Gospel. " Wretch !" said 
they, " think of those whose death thou hast I 
occasioned." But he made answer, smiling 
in the midst of his anguish, " They would 
have it so." He took the sacrament under 
one kind, and was beheaded on the same 
day as his Lieutenant Pfeiffer. Mulhausen 
was taken, and the peasants loaded with 
chains. 

One of the nobles, who had remarked in 
the crowd of prisoners a peasant whose ap- 
pearance interested him, drew near, and said, 
— " Well, my boy, what government is most 
to your mind, — the peasants or the princes ?" 
The poor youth, sighing deeply, replied, — 
" Ah, my dear lord, no edge of sword inflicts 
such suffering as the rule of a peasant over 
his fellow." 

What remained of the rebellion was quench- 
ed in blood : Duke George was particularly 
inflexible. In the states of the Elector, there 
were neither executions nor punishments; 
God's word, preached in its purity, had been 
proved sufficient to control the tumultuous 
passions of the people. 

In truth, Luther had, from its very begin- 
ning, withstood the rebellion ; which to him 
appeared the forerunner of final judgments. 
He had spared neither advice, entreaties, nor 
irony. To the twelve articles which the re- 
bels had drawn up at Erfurth, he had sub- 
joined as a thirteenth: "Item,, the following 
article omitted above. From this day forth 
the honourable Council shall be powerless, — 
its functions shall be to do nothing, — it shall 
sit as an idol or as a log, — the commune shall 
chew its meat for it, and it shall govern bound 
hand and foot. From this day, the wagon 
shall guide the horses, the horses shall hold 
the reins, and all shall go on prosperously, in 
conformity with the glorious system set forth 
in the foregoing articles." 

Luther was not satisfied with using his 
pen. Just when the confusion was at its 
height, he left W'ittemberg, and traversed 
some of the districts where the agitation was 
greatest. He preached, he laboured to soften 
the hearts of his hearers, and being strength- 
ened from above in his work, he guided, 
quieted, and brought back into their accus- 
tomed channels, the impetuous and overflow- 
ing torrents. 

The reformed teachers everywhere exerted 
a similar influence. At Halle, Brentz, by the 
power of the divine promises, revived the 
drooping spirits of its inhabitants, and four 
thousand of the peasants fled before six hun- 
dred of its citizens At Ichterhausen, where 
a body of peasants had met, intending to de- 
molish certain castles, and put their owners 
to death, Frederic Myconius ventured alone 



among them, and such was the power of his 
eloquence, that they at once abandoned their 
purpose. 

Such was the part taken by the Reformers 
and the Reformation during the continuance 
of the Revolt. They contended, as far as 
they were enabled, by the sword of the Word, 
and boldly asserted the principles which alone 
have power at all times to preserve order and 
subjection among nations. Hence we find 
Luther asserting that if the wholesome influ- 
ence of sound doctrine had not withstood the 
madness of the people, the revolt would have 
extended its ravages far more widely, and 
would everywhere have overturned bolh 
Church and State. Every thing inclines 
us to believe that this melancholy anticipa- 
tion would have been realized. 

If, as we have seen, the Reformers stood 
up against sedition, they nevertheless did not 
escape without being wounded. That moral 
agony which Luther had first undergone in 
his cell at Erfurth, was perhaps at its height 
after the revolt of the peasants. On the side 
of the princes it was repeated, and in many 
quarters believed, that Luther's teaching had 
been the cause of the rebellion ; and ground- 
less as was the charge, the Reformer could 
not but feel deeply affected by the credit at- 
tached to it. On the side of the people, 
Miinzer and all the leaders of the sedition re- 
presented him as a vile hypocrite and flat- 
terer of the great, and their calumnies easily 
obtained belief. The strength with which 
Luther had declared against the rebels, had 
given offence even to men of moderate opi- 
nions. The partisans of Rome exulted; all 
seemed against him, and he bore the indigna- 
tion of that generation : but what most grieved 
him was that the work of Heaven should be 
thus degraded by being classed with the 
dreams of fanatics. He contemplated the 
bitter cup presented to him, and foreseeing 
that ere long he would be forsaken by all, he 
exclaimed, "Soon shall I also have to say, 
' All ye shall be offended because of me in 
that night !' " 

Yet, in the midst of this bitter experience, 
his faith was unshaken. " He," said he 
"who has enabled me to tread the enemy 
under foot when he came against me as a 
roaring lion, will not suffer that enemy to 
crush me, now that he approaches with the 
treacherous leer of the basilisk. I mourn over 
the late calamities. Again and again have I 
asked myself whether it might not have been 
better to have allowed the Papacy to pursue 
its course unmolested, rather than be a wit- 
ness to the breaking out of such commotions. 
But no ; — it is better to have extricated a few 
from the jaws of the devil, than that all should 
be left under his murderous fangs." 

At this period we must note the completion 
of that change in Luther's views which had 
commenced at the time of his return from the 
Wartburg. A principle of internal life no 
longer satisfied him : the Church and her 
institutions assumed a high importance in his 
estimate. The fearlessness with which he 




LUTHER AND THE ELECTOR OF SAXONY READING THE SCRIPTURES. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



327 



had thrown down all that stood in the way of 
his reforms, drew back in the prospect of a 
work of destruction, far more radical and 
sweeping: he felt the necessity for preserv- 
ing-, luling, building up, — and it was in the 
centre of the blood-watered ruins with which 
the war of the peasants had covered Germany, 
that the structure of the new Church rose 
slowly from its foundations. 

The troubles we have been narrating - left a 
deep and enduring impression on the minds 
of that age. Nations were struck with con- 
sternation. The masses who had sought in 
the Reformation nothing but political freedom, 
withdrew from it of their own accord, when 
they saw that spiritual liberty was the only 
liberty it offered. Luther's opposition to the 
peasants involved the renunciation of the in- 
constant favour of the people. It was not 
long before a seeming tranquillity was re- 
stored, and the silence of terror succeeded to 
the outbreaks of enthusiasm and sedition. 

Thus the popular passions, the cause of 
revolution, and radical equality, were quelled 
and passed awa} r ; but the Reformation did 
not pass away. The two movements, by 
many confounded with each other, were ex- 
hibited in the distinctness of their character 
by the diversity of their results. The revolt 
was a thing of earthly origin, the Reforma- 
tion was from above — some cannon and sol- 
diers sufficed to put down the former, but the 
latter never ceased to grow and strengthen, in 
spite of the reiterated assaults of the imperial 
or ecclesiastical powers. 

And yet the cause of the Reformation itself 
seemed likely to perish in the gulf in which 
the liberties of the people were lost. A me- 
lancholy event appeared likely to hasten its 
ruin. At the time the princes were in full 
march against Miinzer, and ten days before 
the final defeat of the peasants, the aged Elec- 
tor of Saxony, the man whom God had raised 
up to defend the Reformation against external 
dangers, descended to the tomb. 

His strength had been daily declining; and 
his feeling heart was wrung by the atrocities 
which stained the progress of the war of the 
peasants. " Oh !" cried he, with a deep 
sigh, " if it were the will of God, I would 
gladly be released from this life. I see no- 
thing left, neither love, truth, nor faith, or any 
thing good upon this earth." 

Turning from the thought of the confusions 
that prevailed throughout Germany, the pious 
prince quietly prepared himself to depart. He 
had taken up his abode in his castle of Lochau. 
On the fourth of May, he asked for his chap- 
lain, the faithful Spalatin; "You do well to 
visit me," said he to him as he entered the 
room, " for it is well to visit the sick." Then 
directing that his couch should be moved to- 
ward the table where Spalatin was seated, he 
desired his attendants to leave the room, and 
affectionately taking his friend's hand, spoke 
to him familiarly of Luther, of the peasants, 
and of his approaching end. At eight that 
same evening Spalatin returned ; the aged 



prince opened his mind to him, and confessed 
his sins, in the presence of God. The next 
morning, the 5th, he received the communion 
under both kinds. No member of his family 
was present: his brother and his nephew had 
both left with the army ; but, according to the 
ancient custom of those times, his domestics 
stood round the bed gazing intears upon the 
venerable prince whom it had been their sweet 
privilege to serve: "My little children," said 
he, tenderly, "if I have offended any one of 
you, forgive me for the love of God; for we 
princes often offend against such little ones, 
and it ought not so to be." In this way did 
Frederic conform himself to the apostle's di- 
rection that the rich humble himself when he 
is brought low, " because as the flower of the 
grass he shall pass away." — James i. 10. 

Spalatin never left him. He set before him 
with glowing earnestness the glorious pro- 
mises of the Gospel ; and the pious Elector 
drank in its strong consolations with unspeak- 
able peace. That evangelic doctrine was ther 
to his soul no longer a sword, turned against 
false teaching, searching it in all its refuges 
of lies, and triumphing over it at every turn : 
it was a shower — a gentle dew, distilling on 
his heart, and causing it to overflow with hope 
and joy. God and eternity were alone pre- 
sent to his thought. 

Feeling his death rapidly drawing nigh, he 
destroyed a will he had made some years be- 
fore, in which he had commended his soul to 
"the Mother of God," and dictated another, 
in which he cast himself on the spotless and 
availing merit of Jesus Christ "for the for- 
giveness of his sins," and expressed his firm 
assurance that " he was redeemed by the pre- 
cious blood of his beloved Saviour." This 
done, he added, — " My strength fails me, I 
can say no more;" and at five the same even- 
ing he "fell asleep." "He was a son of 
Peace," remarked his physician, " and in peace 
he is departed." — " Oh," said Luther, "how 
bitter to his survivors was that death." 

It is remarkable that Luther, who just at 
that time was on a mission of peace, trying to 
allay the excitement left, by recent events, on 
the minds of the people of Thuringia, had 
never seen the Elector, but at a distance, — as 
at Worms, when the latter wa-s seated beside 
Charles the Fifth. But from the moment the 
Reformation appeared, these two remarkable 
men had been together in spirit. Frederic in 
quest of the national interest and independence, 
— Luther in quest of truth and reformation. 
It cannot be doubted that the Reformation was, 
in principle, a work of the Spirit; but, in or- 
der to its gaining footing on the earth, it was, 
perhaps, necessary that it should be linked . 
with a something connected with the interests 
of the nation. Hence, — no sooner had Luther 
stood up against indulgences, than the alliance 
between the Monk and the Prince was tacitly 
concluded, — an alliance in its nature simply 
moral, without form of contract, without writ- 
ing, without even verbal communication, — an 
alliance in which the stronger lent no aid to the 
weaker party, nut that which consisted in 



328 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



leaving him unmolested to his work. But 
now that the mighty oak, under the shelter of 
which the Reformation had grown up, was 
felled to the dust, — now that the opposers of 
the Gospel gave more free expression to their 
hatred, and its supporters were obliged to re- 
tire or to be silent, it seemed as if nothing was 
left to defend it against the sword of those who 
were pursuing it. 

The confederates of Ratisbon, after the com- 
plete defeat of the peasants of the southern 
and western provinces, proceeded to vent their 
their revenge on the Reformation, as well as 
on those who had taken part in the revolt. At 
Wurtzburg, at Bamberg, inoffensive citizens 
were put to death, — including some who had 
even opposed themselves to the peasants. " It 
matters not," it was openly said, " they were 
of the Gospellers, "— andtheywerebeheaded. 

Duke George sought occasionally to infuse 
into the minds of the Landgrave and Duke John 
his own prejudices and antipathies. " See," 
said he, after the rout of the peasants, pointing 
to the field of carnage, " see what miseries 
Luther has occasioned." John and Philip 
showed signs of acquiescence. "Duke 
George," remarked the Reformer, " flatters 
himself he shall succeed, now that Frederic 
is dead; but Christ still reigns in the midst 
of his enemies. Gnash their teeth as they 
will, the desire of them shall perish " 

George lost no time in forming, in northern 
Germany, a confederacy similar to that of 
Ratisbon. The Electors of Mentz and Bran 
denburg, — Dukes Henry, Eric, and George, 
assembled at Dessau, and there concluded a 
treaty of alliance in the interest of Rome. In 
the month of July, George urged the new 
Elector and his son-in-law, the Landgrave, 
to accede to it. Then, as if to give intimation 
of the objects of the confederation, he behead- 
ed two citizens of Leipsic, who had been 
proved to have in their possession the Re- 
former's writings. 

Just at this time letters from Charles the 
Fifth, dated from Toledo, reached Germany, 
by which another Diet was convoked at Augs- 
burg. Charles wished to give the Empire 
such a constitution as would allow him to dis- 
pose, at will, of the military force of Germany. 
The divisions in religion favoured his design. 
He had but to let loose the Catholics against 
the Gospellers; and when both should have 
exhausted their strength, he might gain an 
easy victory over both. "Away with the 
Lutherans," was therefore the cry of the Em- 
peror. 

Thus, all conspired against the Reforma- 
tion. Never could Luther's spirit have been 
bowed down by such manifold apprehensions. 
The surviving sectaries of Miinzer had vowed 
to take his life. His sole protector was no 
more. " Duke George," wrote some, " in- 
tended to arrest him in Wittemberg itself. 
The Princes who could have defended him, 
one after another bowed before the storm, and 
seemed to be abandoning the cause of the 
Gospel. The University, already lowered in 
credit by the recent confusions, was, according 



to rumour, on the point of being suppressed by 
the new Elector. Charles, after his victory 
at Pavia, had just convoked another Diet, that 
a finishing blow might be dealt against the 
Reformation. What dangers, then, must he 
not have foreseen'? The anxious mental 
struggles that had so often drawn sobs trom 
his bosom again wrung his heart. How should 
he bear up against such multiplied enemies? 
In the very crisis of this agitation, with all 
these accumulated dangers staring him in the 
face, — the corpse of Frederic scarcely cold, 
and the plains of Germany still strewed with 
the unburied bodies of the peasants — Luther, 
— none surely could have imagined such a 
thing, — Luther married ! 

In the monastery of Nimptsch, near Grim- 
ma, in Saxony, resided, in the year 1523, 
nine nuns, who had devoted themselves to the 
reading of God's word, and had discerned the 
contrast that existed between the Christian 
life and the daily routine of their cloister. The 
names of these nuns were Magdalene Staupitz, 
Elisa Canitz, Ave Grossn, Ave and Margaret 
Schonfeld, Laneta Golis, Margaret and Cathe- 
rine Zeschau, and Catherine Bora. The first 
step taken by these young women, after then 
minds were delivered from the superstitions of 
their monastery, was to write to their relations 
" Our continuance in a cloister," said they, "is 
incompatible with thesalvationof our souls." 
Their parents dreading the trouble such a re- 
solution was likely to occasion to themselves, 
repelled with harshness the entreaties of their 
children. The poor nuns were overwhelmed 
with distress. How to leave their nunnery ! 
their timidity took alarm at so desperate a de- 
cision. At last their horror of the Papal ser- 
vices prevailed, and they mutually promised 
not to part company, but together to find their 
way to some respectable quarter with decency 
and order. Two respected and pious citizens 
of Torgau, Leonard Koppe and Wolff To- 
mitzch, tendered their assistance —they wel- 
comed it as of God's sending, and quitted the 
convent of Nimptsch without any hinderance 
being interposed, as if the hand of the Lord 
had set open its gates. Koppe and Tomitzch 
were i-n waiting to receive them in their wa- 
gon — and on the 7th of April, the nine nuns, 
amazed at their own boldness, drew up in 
deep emotion at the gate of the old convent of 
the Augustines where Luther resided. 

" This is not my doing," said Luther, as he 
received them, " but would to God I could, in 
this way, give liberty to enslaved consciences, 
and empty the cloisters of their tenants. A 
breach is made, however." Several persons 
proposed to the doctor to receive the nuns into 
their houses, and Catherine Bora found a 
welcome in the family of the burgomaster of 
Wittemberg. 

If Luther had then before him the prospect 
of any solemn event, it was that he should be 
called to ascend the scaffold, not the steps of 
the altar. Many months after this, he answer- 
ed those who spoke of marriage — " God may 
change my purpose, if such be his pleasure 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



329 



but a1 present 1 have no thought of taking a 
wife; not that 1 am insensible to the charms 
of a married life ; I am neithei wood nor 
stone; but I every day expect death and the 
punishment of a heretic." 

And yet all was moving onward in the 
church. The habits of monastic life, invent- 
ed by man, were on all sides giving place to 
the habits of domestic life, instituted by God. 
On Sunday, the 9th of October, Luther, on 
rising, laid aside his monk's gown, assumed 
the garb of a secular priest, and then made 
his appearance in the church, where this trans- 
formation caused a lively satisfaction. Chris- 
tianity, in its renewed youth, hailed with 
transport every thing that announced that the 
old things were passed away. 

It was not long before the last monk quitted 
the convent. Luther remained behind; his 
footsteps alone re-echoed in its long corridors 
— he sat silent and alone in the refectory, so 
lately vocal with the babble of the monks. 
A speaking silence! attesting the triumph of 
the Word of God. The convent had, indeed, 
ceased to have any existence. Luther, to- 
wards the end of December, 1524, transmitted 
to the Elector the keys of the monastery, to- 
gether with a message, that himself would see 
where it might be God's will to feed him. 
The elector made over the convent to the uni- 
versity, and desired Luther to continue to re- 
side in it. The abode of the monks was, ere 
long, to become the home of a Christian 
family. 

Luther, who had a heart happily constituted 
for relishing the sweetness of domestic life, 
honoured'and loved the marriage state. It is 
even likely that he had some preference for 
Catherine Bora. For a long while, his scru- 
ples and the thought of the calumnies which 
such a step would occasion, had hindered his 
thinking or her; and he had offered the hand 
of poor Catherine first to Baumgartner of Nu- 
remberg, and afterwards to Doctor Glatz, of 
Orlamund. But when Baumgartner declined, 
and Catherine herself refused Glatz, he began 
more seriously to consider whether he himself 
ought not to think of making her his wife. 

His aged father, who had been so much 
grieved when he first took upon him the pro 
fession of an ecclesiastic, urged him to marry. 
But one thought above all was present in 
much power to the conscience of Luther. 
Marriage is God's appointment — celibacy is 
man's. He abhorred whatever bore the stamp 
of Rome. " I desire," said he, to his friends, 
"to have nothing left Oi my papistic life. 
Night and day he besought the Lord to put an 
end to his uncertainty. At last a thought 
came to break the last ties which held him 
back. To all the considerations of consistency 
and personal obedience which taught him to 
apply to nimself that word of God — It is not 
good that man should be alone (Gen. ii. 18) — 
was added a higher and more powerful mo- 
tive. He recognised that if as a man he was 
called to the marriage state, he was also call- 
ed to it as a Reformer. This thought decided 
him. 



"If thaUmonk marries," said his frienu 
Schurff the jurisconsult, "he will cause men 
and devils to shout with laughter, and bring 
ruin upon all that he has hitherto effected. " 
This remark had upon Luther an effect the 
very reverse of what might have been expect- 
ed. To brave the world, the devil, and his 
enemies, and, by an act in man's judgment 
the most likely to ruin the Reformation, make 
it evident that its triumph was not to be as- 
cribed to him, was the very thing he most of 
all desired. Accordingly, lifting up his head, 
he boldly replied, — "I'll do it ! I will play 
this trick to the world and the devil! — I'll 
content my father and marry Catherine!" 
L-uther, by his marriage, broke even more ir- 
revocably with the institutions of the Papacy. 
He sealed his doctrine by his own example,— 
and emboldened the timid to an entire renun- 
ciation of their delusions. Rome had seem- 
ed to be here and there recovering the ground 
she had lost, and might have been indulging 
in dreams of victory ; — but here was a loud 
explosion that carried wonder and terror into 
her ranks, and discovered, more clearly than 
ever, the courage of the enemy she had pic- 
tured to herself defeated and depressed. "I 
am determined," said Luther, "to bear wit- 
ness to the Gospel, not by my words alone, 
but by my actions. I am determined, in the 
face of my enemies, who already are triumph- 
ing and exulting over me, to marry a nun, — 
that they may know that they have not con- 
quered me. I do not take a wife that I may 
live long with her; but, seeing people and 
princes letting loose their fury against me, — 
in the prospect of death, and of their again 
trampling my doctrine under foot, I am re- 
solved to edify the weak, by leaving on record 
a striking confirmation of the truth of what I 
have taught." 

On the 11th of June, Luther repaired to the 
house of his friend and colleague AmsdorfF. 
He requested Pomeranus, whom he dignified 
with the special character of the Pastor, to 
give them the nuptial benediction. Lucas 
Cranach and Doctor John Apelles witnessed 
their marriage. Melancthon was not present. 

No sooner had Luther's marriage taken 
place lhan all Christendom was roused by the 
report of it. On all sides accusations and 
calumnies were heaped upon him. " It is in- 
cest," exclaimed Henry the Eighth. "A 
monk has married a vestal!" said some. 
" Antichrist must be the fruit of such a union," 
said others: "for it has been predicted that he 
will be the offspring of a monk and a nun.' 
To which Erasmus made answer, with mali- 
cious sneer, " If that prophecy be true, what 
thousands of Antichrists the world has before 
now seen." But while these attar-ks were 
directed against Luther, some prudent and 
moderate men, in the communion of the 
Church of Rome, undertook his defence. 
"Luther," said Erasmus, "has taken to wife 
a female of the noble house of Bora, — but 
she brought him no dowry." One whose tes- 
timony carries still more weight, bore witness 
in his favour. Philip Melancthon, the ho- 



330 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



noured .eacher of Germany, who had at first 
been aiarmed by so bold a step, now remarked 
with that grave conscientiousness which com- 
manded respect even from his enemies: " If 
it is asserted that there has been any thing 
unbecoming in the affair of Luther's marriage, 
it is a false slander. It is my opinion, that, 
m marrying, he must have done violence to 
his inclination. The marriage state, I allow, 
is one of humility, but it is also one of sanc- 
tity — if there be any sanctity in this world ; 
and the Scriptures everywhere speak of it as 
honourable in God's sight." 

At first Luther was disturbed by the re- 
proaches and indignities showered upon him. 
Melancthon showed more than his usual kind- 
ness and affection towards him: and itwas not 
long before the Reformer was enabled to dis- 
cern, in men's opposition, one mark of God's 
approval. " If the world were not scanda- 
lized by what I have done," said he, "I should 
have reason to fear that it was not according 
to God's mind." 

Eight years had elapsed between the period 
when Luther first preached against indul- 
gences, and the time of his union with Cathe- 
rine Bora. It would be difficult to attribute, 
as is sometimes done, his zeal against the cor- 
ruptions of the Church to an eager desire to 
enter into the marriage state. He was already 
turned forty-two ; and Catherine had passed 
two years at Wittemberg since leaving the 
convent. 

Luther's marriage was a happy one : " The 
greatest of earthly blessings," said he, " is a 
pious and amiable wife, — who fears God and 
loves her family, one with whom a man may 
live in peace and in whom he may repose per- 
fect confidence." 

Some time after, in writing to one of his 
friends, he intimated that his Catherine might 
soon present him with a child; and, in fact, 
just one year after their marriage, Catherine 
was delivered of a boy. The charms of do- 
mestic life soon dispelled the dark clouds 
raised around him by the wrath of his adver- 
saries. His Ketha, as he called her, manifest- 
ed towards him the tenderest affection, com- 
forting him, when cast down, by reciting pas- 
sages of the Bible, relieving him from the 
cares of the household, sitting by him in his 
intervals of leisure, while she worked his por- 
trait in embroidery, or reminded him of the 
friends he had neglected to write to, and 
amused him by the simplicity of her ques- 
tions. A sort of dignity seems to have mark- 
ed her deportment, for Luther occasionally 
spoke of her as " My Lord Catherine." On 
one occasion he said jesting, that if ever he 
had to marry again, he would chisel an obe- 
dient wife in stone, for, added he, " there 
is no possibility of finding a real one." His 
letters were full of tenderness for Cathe- 
rine, whom he styled, "his dear and gra- 
cious wife," — " his dear and amiable Ketha.' 
Luther's manner acquired more playfulness 
from the society of his Catherine ; and that 
happy flow of spirits continued from that time, 



and was never lost even in the most trying 
circumstances. 

Such was the almost universal corruption 
of the clergy, that the priestly office had fallen 
into almost general disrepute : the isolated 
virtue of a few faithful servants of God had not 
sufficed to redeem it from contempt. Family 
peace and conjugal fidelity were continually 
being disturbed, both in towns and rural dis- 
tricts, by the gross passions of priests and 
monks ; — none were safe from their seductions. 
The free access allowed them to families, and 
sometimes even the confidence of the confes- 
sional, was basely perverted into an opportu- 
nity of instilling deadly poison, that they 
might gratify their guilty desires. The Re- 
formation, by abolishing the celibacy of the 
ecclesiastics, restored the sanctity of wedlock. 
The marriage of the clergy put an end to an 
untold amount of secret profligacy. The Re- 
formers became examples to their flocks in 
the most endearing and important of all hu- 
man relationships, — and it was not long be- 
fore the people rejoiced to see the ministers 
of religion in the character of husbands and 
fathers. 

On a hasty view, Luther's marriage had 
indeed seemed to multiply the difficulties in 
the way of the Reformation. It was still suf- 
fering from the effects of the revolt of the 
peasants ; the sword of the Emperor and of 
the princes was unsheathed against it ; and its 
friends, the Landgrave Philip, and the new 
Elector John, appeared discouraged and si- 
lenced. 

Nevertheless, this state of things was of na 
long duration. The young Landgrave, ere 
long, boldly raised his head. Ardent and fear- 
less as Luther, the manly spirit of the Re- 
former had won his emulation. He threw 
himself with youthful daring into the ranks of 
the Reformation, while he at the same time 
studied its character with the grave intelli- 
gence of a thoughtful mind. 

In Saxony, the loss of Frederic's prudence 
and influence was but ill supplied by his suc- 
cessor ; but the Elector's brother, Duke John, 
instead of confining himself to the office of a 
protector, intervened directly and courageously 
in matters affecting religion: " I desire," said 
he, in a speech communicated to the assem- 
bled clergy, on the 16th of August, 1525, as 
he was on the point of quitting Weimar, " that 
you will in future preach the pure word of 
God, apart from those things which man has 
added." Some of the older clergy, not know- 
ing how to set about obeying his direction, 
answered with simplicity, — " But we are not 
forbidden to say mass for the dead, or to bless 
the water and salt ?" — " Every thing, — no 
matter what," — replied the Elector, " must 
be conformed to God's word." 

Soon after, the young Landgrave conceived 
the romantic hope of converting Duke George, 
his father-in-law. Sometimes he would de- 
monstrate the sufficiency of the Scriptures — 
another time he would expose the Mass, the 
Papacy, and compulsory vows. His letters 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



331 



followed quick upon each other, and the va- 
rious testimony of God's word was all brought 
to bear upon the old Duke's faith. 

These efforts were not without results. 
Duke George's son was won to the new opi- 
nions. But Philip failed with the father. — " A 
hundred years hence," said the latter, " and 
you will see who is right." — " Awful speech !" 
observed the Elector of Saxony : " What can 
be the worth, I pray you, of a faith that needs 
so much previous reflection] — Poor Duke! he 
will hold back long — I fear God has hardened 
his heart, as Pharaoh's, in old time." 

In Philip, the friends of the Gospel possess- 
ed a leader, at once bold, intelligent, and ca- 
pable of making head against the formidable 
assaults its enemies were planning. But is it 
not sad to think, that from this moment the 
leader of the Reformation should be a soldier, 
and not simply a disciple of God's word 1 
Man's part in the work was seen in due ex- 
pansioiH and its spiritual element was propor- 
tionably contracted. The work itself suffered 
inconsequence, for every work should be per- 
mitted to develope itself, according to the laws 
of its own nature, — and the Reformation was 
of a nature essentially spiritual. 

God was multiplying external supports. 
Already a powerful state on the German fron- 
tier — Prussia — unfurled with joy the standard 
of the Gospel. The chivalrous and religious 
spirit that had founded the Teutonic order, 
had gradually become extinct with the memo- 
ry of the ages in which it arose. The knights, 
intent only upon their private interests, had 
given dissatisfaction to the people over whom 
they presided. Poland had seized the oppor- 
tunity to impose her suzerainty on the order. 
People, knights, grand master, and Polish in- 
fluence, were so many different interests con- 
tinually conflicting, and rendering the pros- 
perity of the country impossible. 

In this state of things, the Reformation 
found them, and all men saw in it the only 
way of deliverance for that unfortunate peo- 
ple. Brisman, Speratus, Poliander, (who 
had been secretary to Eck, at the time of the 
Leipsic discussion,) and others besides, 
preached the Gospel in Prussia. 

One day a beggar, coming from the lands 
jnder the rule of the Teutonic knights, ar- 
rived in Wittemberg , and, stopping before 
the residence of Luther, sang slowly that 
noble hymn of Poliander's, 

" At length redemption's come." 

The Reformer, who had never heard this 
Christian hymn, listened, rapt in astonish- 
ment. The foreign accent of the singer 
heightened his joy. " Again, again," cried 
he, when the beggar had ended. Afterwards 
he inquired where he had learned that hymn, 
and tears filled his eyes, when he heard from 
the poor man that it was from the shores of 
the Baltic that this shout of deliverance was 
sounding as far as Wittemberg: — then, clasp- 
ing his hands, he gave thanks to God. 

.In truth Redemption was come even thither! 

" Take compassion on our weakness." said 



the people of Prussia to the Grand Master, 
" and send us preachers who may proclaim 
the pure Gospel of Jesus Christ." Albert at 
first gave no answer, but he entered into par- 
ley with Sigismund king of Poland, his uncle 
and suzerain lord. 

The latter acknowledged him as hereditary 
Duke of Prussia, and the new prince made his 
entry into his capital of Konigsberg, amidst 
the ringing of bells, and acclamations of the 
inhabitants, who had decorated their houses, 
and strewed their streets with flowers. "There 
is but One religious order," said Albert, " and 
it is as comprehensive as Christianity itself!" 
The monastic orders vanished, and that di- 
vinely appointed order was restored. 

The bishops surrendered their secular rights 
to the new Duke ; the convents were con- 
verted into hospitals; and the Gospel car- 
ried into the* poorest villages ; and in the year 
following, Albert married Dorothy, daughter 
of the king of Denmark, whose faith in the 
one Saviour was unshaken. 

The Pope called upon the Emperor to take 
measures against the "apostate" monk; — 
and Charles placed Albert under interdict. 

Another prince of the house of Branden- 
burg, the Cardinal-Archbishop of Mentz, was 
just then on the point of following his rela- 
tion's example. The revolt of the peasants 
was especially menacing in its aspect toward 
the ecclesiastical principalities ; the Elector, 
Luther, and all Germany thought a great re- 
volution was at hand. The Archbishop see- 
ing no better way to preserve his principality 
than to render it secular, privately requested 
Luther to sound the minds of the people pre- 
paratory to so decided a step, —which Luther 
accordingly did, in a letter written with a 
view to its being made public, wherein he 
said that the hand of God was heavy on the 
clergy, and that nothing could save them. 
However the War of the peasants having 
been brought to an earlier termination than 
had been looked for : the Cardinal retained 
possession of his temporalities — his uneasi- 
ness subsided, and all thoughts of secularizing 
his position were dismissed ! 

Whilst John of Saxony, Philip of Hesse, 
and Albert of Prussia, were openly taking 
part with the Reformation, and thus, in place 
of the cautious Frederic, three princes of bold 
and decided character were standing forward 
in its support, the blessed word was working 
its way in the Church, and among the nations. 
Luther besought the Elector to establish gene- 
rally the preaching of the Gospel in place of 
the ministrations of Romish priests, and to 
direct a general visitation of the churches. 
About the same time at Wittemberg they be- 
gan to exercise the episcopal function, and 
ordain ministers ; " Let not the Pope, the 
bishops, or the monks, exclaim against us," 
said Melancthon, "we are the Church; — he 
who separates from us separates himself From 
the Church. There is no other Church — save 
the assembly of those who have the word of 
God, and who are purified by it." 

All this could not be said and done without 



332 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



occasioning a strong reaction. Rome had 
thought the Reformation extinguished in the 
blood of the rebel peasants — but in all quar- 
ters its flame was rising more bright and pow- 
erful than ever. She decided on making one 
more effort. The Pope and the Emperor 
wrote menacing letters, the former from Rome, 
the latter from Spain. The Imperial govern- 
ment took measures for restoring the ancient 
order of things, and preparations were made 
for finally crushing the Reformation at the ap- 
proaching Diet. 

The Electoral Prince of Saxony, and the 
Landgrave, in some alarm, met on the 7th of 
November, in the castle of Friedewalt, and 
came to an agreement that their deputies at 
the Diet should act in concert. Thus in the 
forest of Sullingen arose the earliest elements 
of an evangelical association in opposition to 
the leagues of Ratisbon and Dessau. 

The Diet opened on the 11th of December, 
at Augsburg. The princes favourable to the 
Gospel were not present, but the deputies 
from Saxony and Hesse spoke out fearlessly : 
" The rising of the peasants," said they, 
"was the effect of impolitic and harsh usage. 
God's truth is not to be torn from the heart by 
fire and sword : if you are bent on resorting 
to violence against the reformed opinions, you 
will bring down upon us calamities moTe ter- 
rible than those from which we have but just 
escaped." 

It was felt that the resolution of the Diet 
must be most important in its results. Every 
one desired, by postponing the decisive mo- 
ment, to gain time to strengthen his own 
position. It was accordingly resolved, that 
the Diet should reassemble at Spires in the 
month of May following ; and in the mean 
while the rescript of Nuremberg was to con- 
tinue in force. " When the Diet meet again," 
said they, "we will go fully into the ques- 
tions of ' the holy faith, — public rights, — and 
*he general peace.' " 

The Landgrave pursued his plan. Toward 
the end of February, 1526, he had a confer- 
ence with the Elector at Gotha. The two 
princes came to an understanding, that if at- 
tacked on account of the word of God, they 
would unite their forces to resist their adver- 
saries. This alliance was formally ratified at 
Torgau, and was destined to be fruitful in 
important consequences. 

However, the alliance he had concluded 
was of itself not enough to satisfy the Land- 
grave. Convinced that Charles was at work 
to compact a league "against Christ and his 
holy word," he addressed letter after letter to 
the Elector, urging upon him the necessity of 
uniting with other states: "For myself," 
said he, " rather would I die than deny the 
word of God, and allow myself to be driven 
from my throne." 

At the Elector's court much uncertainty 
prevailed. In fact, a serious difficulty stood 
in the way of union between the princes fa- 
vourable to the Gospel; and this difficulty 
originated with Luther and Melancthon. Lu- 
ther insisted that the doctrine of the Gospel 



should be defended by God alone. He 
thought that the less man meddled in the 
work, the more striking would be God's inter- 
vention in its behalf. All the politic precau- 
tions suggested were in his view attributable 
to unworthy fear and sinful mistrust. [Me- 
lancthon dreaded lest an alliance between the 
evangelical princes should hasten that very 
struggle which it was their object to avert. 

The Landgrave was not to be deterred by 
such considerations, and laboured to gain 
over the neighbouring states to the alliance, 
but he failed in his endeavours. The Elec- 
tor of Treves abandoned the ranks of the op- 
position, and accepted a pension from the 
Emperor. Even the Elector Palatine, whose 
disposition was known to be favourable to the 
Gospel, declined Philip's advances. 

Thus, in the direction of the Rhine, the 
Landgrave had completely failed ; but the 
Elector, in opposition to the advice of the 
reformed divines, opened negotiations with 
the princes who had in all times gathered 
round the standard of the powerful chief of 
Saxony. On the 12th day of June, the 
Elector and his son, the Dukes Philip, Ernest, 
Otho, and Francis of Brunswick and Lunen- 
burg, Duke Henry of Mecklenburg, Prince 
Wolf of Anhalt, Counts Albert and Gebhard 
of Mansfeld, assembled at Magdeburg, and 
there, under the presidence of the Elector, 
they contracted an alliance similar to that of 
Torgau. 

" Almighty God," said the princes, " hav- 
ing in his unspeakable mercy again brought 
forward among men his "holy and eternal 
word, the food of our souls, and our richest 
treasure on this earth, — and great efforts 
being made by the clergy and their adherents 
to suppress and extirpate it, — we, being 
well assured that He who has sent it forth to 
glorify his name upon earth, will know how 
to maintain it, mutually engage to preserve 
that blessed word to our people, and to em- 
ploy for this end our goods and our lives, the 
resources of our states and the arms of om 
subjects, and all tha* #e have, putting our 
trust not in our armies, but solely in the 
almighty power of the Lord, of whom we 
desire to be but the instruments." So spoke 
the princes. 

Two days after, the city of Magdeburg 
was received into the alliance, and Albert of 
Brandenburg, the new Duke of Prussia, 
acceded to it by a separate convention. 

The Evangelic Union was formed; but the 
dangers it was destined to ward off seemed 
every day to become more threatening!-. The 
priests, and such of the princes as adhered to 
the Romish party, had seen the Reformation, 
which they had thought stifled, suddenly 
growing up before them to a formidable 
height. Already the partisans of the Re- 
formation were nearly as numerous as those 
of the Pope. If they should form a majority 
in the Diet, the consequences to the ecclesi- 
astical states might be imagined. Now oi 
never! It was no longer a heresy to be 
refuted, but a powerful party to be withstood 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



333 



Victories of a different kind from those of 
Eck were needed on this occasion. 

Vigorous measures had been already taken. 
The metropolitan chapter of the church of 
Mentz had convoked an assembly of its suf- 
fragans, and adopted the resolution to send a 
deputation to the Emperor and the Pope, en- 
treating them to interpose for the deliverance 
of the Church. 

At the same time, Duke George of Saxony, 
Duke Henry of Brunswick, and the Cardinal- 
Elector Albert, had met at Halle, and ad- 
dressed a memorial to Charles. "The 
detestable doctrine of Luther," said they, 
"is making extensive progress; every day 
attempts are made to seduce ourselves, and, 
failing to persuade us, they seek to compel 
us by exciting our subjects to revolt. We 
implore the Emperor's intervention." Onthe 
breaking up of this conference, Brunswick 
himself set out for Spain to induce Charles 
to take the decisive step. 

He could not have arrived at a more favour- 
able' juncture: the Emperor had just con- 
cluded with France the famous peace of 
Madrid. He seemed to have nothing left to 
apprehend from that quarter, and his un- 
divided attention was now directed to the 
affairs of Germany. Francis the First had 
offered to defray half the expenses of a war 
either against the heretics or against the 
Turks ! 

The Emperor was at Seville ; — he was on 
the eve of marriage with a princess of Portu- 
gal, and the banks of the Guadalquiver re- 
sounded with joyous festivity. A dazzling 
train of nobles and vast crowds of people 
thronged the ancient capital of the Moors. 
The pomp and ceremonies of the Church 
were displayed under the roofs of its noble 
cathedral. A Legate from the Pope offici- 
ated; and never before, even under Arabian 
rule, had Andalusia witnessed a spectacle of 
more magnificence and solemnity. 

Just at that time, Henry of Brunswick 
arrived from Germany, and solicited Charles 
to save the Church and the Empire from the 
attacks of the monk of Wittemberg. His 
request was immediately taken into consi- 
deration, and the Emperor resolved on vigor- 
ous measures. 

On the 23d of March, 1526, he addressed 
letters to several of the princes and free cities 
that still adhered to Rome. He also specially 
commissioned the Duke of Brunswick to 
communicate to them that he had learned 
with grief that the continued progress of Lu- 
ther's heresy threatened to fill Germany with 
sacrilege, havoc, and bloodshed; and at the 
same time, to express the great pleasure he 
felt in the fidelity of the majority of the 
States, and to acquaint them that, laying 
aside all other business, he was about to 



leave Spain and repair to Rome, to conceit 
measures with the Pope, and from thence to 
pass into Germany, and there oppose that 
abominable Wittemberg pest ; adding, that it 
behoved them to continue steadfast in their 
faith, and in the event of the Lutherans 
seeking to seduce or oblige them to a renun- 
ciation of it, to repel their attempts by a 
united and courageous resistance : that he 
himself would shortly be among them and 
support them with all his power. 

When Brunswick returned into Germany, 
the Catholic party joyfully lifted up their 
heads. The Dukes of Brunswick, Pomerania, 
Albert of Mecklenburg, John of Juliers, 
George of Saxony, the Dukes of Bavaria, and 
ail the dignitaries of the Church, on reading 
the menacing letters of the conqueror of 
Francis the First, thought their triumph se- 
cure. It was decided they should attend the 
approaching Diet, and humble the heretical 
princes ; and in the event of the latter resist- 
ing, quell them with the sword. " I may be 
Elector of Saxony any day I please " was an 
expression ascribed by report to Duke George 
— words to which he afterwards endeavoured 
to attach another meaning. " The Lutheran 
party cannot long hold together," said his 
Chancellor to the Duke, in a tone of exulta- 
tion ; "let them mind what they are about :" 
— and truly Luther was on his guard, though 
not in the sense their words conveyed. He 
attentively observed the designs of the op- 
posers of God's word : he, like Melancthon, 
expected that thousands of swords would ere 
long be unsheathed against the Gospel. But 
he sought a strength far above the strength 
of men. Writing to Frederic Myconius, he 
observed, " Satan is raging: ungodly priests 
take council together, and we are threatened 
with war. Exhort the people to contend 
earnestly before the throne of the Lord, by 
faith and prayer, that our adversaries, being 
overcome by the Spirit of God, may be con- 
strained to peace. The most urgent of oui 
wants — the very first thing we have to do, is 
to pray : let the people know that they are at 
this hour exposed to the edge of the sword 
and the rage of the devil: let them pray.'''' 

Thus every thing indicated a decisive con- 
flict. The Reformation had on its side the 
prayers of Christians, the sympathy of the 
people, and an ascendant in men's minds 
that no power could stay. The Papacy had 
with it the established order, the force of 
early habit, the zeal and hatred of powerful 
princes, and the authority of an Emperor 
whose dominion extended over both hemi- 
spheres, and . who had just before deeply 
humbled the pride of Francis the First. 

Such was the condition of affairs when the 
Diet of Spires was opened. Lot us now tunc 
our attention to Switzerland 



334 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK XL 



Spiritual Slavery — Christian Liberty — Effect of the Gospel on Zwingle — Leo Judah at Zurich- 
The Challenge — Zwingle and Faber — Zwingle Tempted by the Pope — " Zwingle's Passion"— 
Tract against Images — Wooden Idols — The Unterwalders — Public Meeting — Hoffman's Defence 
of the Pope — The Mass — Schmidt of Kussnacht — Results of the Conference — Oswald Myconius at 
Zurich — Thomas Plater — The Swiss Aroused — Hettinger arrested — His Martyrdom — Persecuiion 
Invoked — Swiss and German Reformations — The Jewish and Pagan Elements — Zwingle's and 
Luther's Tasks — The Council and the People — Abduction of CExlin — Riot and Conflagration — 
The Wirths arrested — The Prisoners Surrendered — A Spectacle to the World — " Cruel 
Mockings" — " Faithful unto Death" — Father and Son on the Scaffold — Abolition of the Mass — 
The Lord's Supper — Brotherly Love — Zwingle on Original Sin — Attack upon Zwingle — The 
Gospel at Berne — Heim and Haller — Ordinance of the Government — St. Michael's Nunnery — 
The Convent of Konigsfield — Margaret Watteville's Letier — Liberation of the Nuns — Pretended 
Letter of Zwingle — Clara May and Nicolas Watteville — The Seat of Learning — fficolampadius 
— Flight from the Convent — GScolampadius at Basle — Jealousy of Erasmus — Hiitten and 
Erasmus — Death of Hiitten — Vacillation and Decision — Erasmus's Quatrain — Luther's Letter to 
Erasmus — Motives of Erasmus in Opposing the Reformation — Lamentations of Erasmus — Argu- 
ments for Free Will — Premature Exultation — A Test — God's Working — Jansenism — The 
Bible and Philosophy — The Three Days' Battle — Character of False Systems — Conrad Grebel 
Extravagances — " The Little Jerusalem" — The Anabaptist Feast — Horrible Tragedy — Discussion 
on Baptism — Opinions not Punishable — Popish Immobility — Zwingle and Luther — Zwingle on 
the Lord's Supper— Consubstantiation — Luther's Great Principle — Carlstadt's Writings pro- 
hibited — Zwingle's Commentary — The Suabian Syngramma — Need of Union in Adversity — 
Struggles of the Reformation — Tumult in the Tockenburg — Meeting at Ilantz — Commander's 
Defence — Doctrine of the Sacrament — Proposed Public Discussion — Decision of theDiet — Zwingle 
in Danger — The Disputants at Baden — Contrast of theParties — Eck and CEcolampadius — Zwin- 
gle's Share in the Contest — Murner of Lucerne — Haller and the Council of Berne — Reformation 
in St. Gall — Conrad Pelican — The Mountaineers — Alliance with Austria — Farel appears. 



We are about to contemplate the diversi- 
ties, or, as they have been since called, varia- 
tions of the Reformation. These diversities 
are amonsj its most essential characters. 

Unity in diversity, and diversity in unity — 
is a law of Nature, and also of the Church. 

Truth may be compared to the light of the 
Sun. The light comes from heaven colour- 
less, and ever the same; and yet it takes dif- 
ferent hues on earth, varying according - to the 
objects on which it falls. Thus different for- 
mularies may sometimes express the same 
christian Truth, viewed under different as- 
pects. 

How dull would be this visible creation, if 
all its boundless variety of shape and colour 
were to give place to an unbroken uniformity ! 
And may we not add how melancholy would 
be its aspect, if all created beings did but com- 
pose a solitary and vast Unity ! 

The unity which comes from Heaven 
doubtless has its place, — but the diversity of 
human nature has its proper place also. Inre- 
ligion we must neither leave out God nor man. 
Without unity yourreligion cannot be of God, 
— without diversity, it cannot be the religion 
of man. And it ought to be of both. Would 
you banish from creation a law that its Di- 
vine Author has imposed upon it, namely, — 
that of boundless diversity 1 " Things with- 
out life giving sound," said Paul, " whether 
pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in 
the sounds, how shall it be known what is 
piped or harped V (1 Cor. xiv. 7.) But, if in 
religion there is a diversity, the result of dis- 
tinction of individuality, and which, by con- 
sequence, must subsist even in heaven, — 
'here is a diversity which is the fruit of man's 



rebellion, — and this last is indeed a serious 
evil. 

There are two opposite tendencies which 
may equally mislead us. The one consists 
in the exaggeration of diversity, — the other, in 
extending the unity. The great doctrines of 
man's salvation are as a line of demarcation 
between these two errors. To require more 
than the reception of those doctrines, is to dis- 
allow the diversity : — to require any thing less, 
is to infringe the unity. 

This latter departure is that of rash and 
unruly minds looking beyond, or out of Jesus 
Christ, in the desire to yet up systems and 
doctrines of men. 

The former appears in various exclusive 
sects and is more especially seen in that of 
Rome. 

It is the duty of the Church to reject Error 
from her bosom. If this be neglected, Chris- 
tianity can not be upheld ; but, pushed to an 
extreme, it would follow that the Church 
should take proceedings against the smallest 
deviations, and intervene in mere disputes 
about words; faith would, be silenced, and 
christian feeling reduced to slavery. Not 
such was the condition of the Church in those 
times of real Catholicity, — the first ages. It 
cast out the sects which impugned the funda- 
mental truths of the Gospel, hut where these 
were received, it left full liberty to faith. 
Rome soon departed from these wise prece- 
dents, and, in proportion as an authoritative 
teaching of man established itself within the 
Church, there appeared a Unity of man's im- 
posing. 

A system of human appointment being once 
devised, rigour went on increasing from age 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



335 



to age. Christian liberty, respected by the 
catholicity of the earliest ages, was first 
limited, then chained, and finally stifled. 
Conviction, which, by the laws of our nature, 
as well as of God's word, should be freely 
formed in the heart and understanding, was 
imposed by external authority, ready framed 
and squared by the masters of mankind. 
Thought, will, and feeling, all those faculties 
of our nature, which, once subjected to the 
Word and Spirit of God, should be left free 
in their working, were hindered of their proper 
liberty, and compelled to find vent in forms 
that had been previously settled. The mind 
of man became a sort of mirror wherein im- 
pressions to which it was a stranger were 
reproduced, but which, of itself, presented 
nothing! Doubtless there were those who 
were taught of God, — but the great majority 
of Christians received the convictions of other 
men ; — a personal faith was a thing of rare 
occurrence: the Reformation it was that re- 
stored this treasure to the Church. 

And yet there was, for a while, a space 
within which the human mind was permitted 
to move at large, — certain opinions, at least, 
which Christians were at liberty to receive or 
reject at will. But, as a besieging army, day 
by day, contracts its lines, compelling the gar- 
rison to confine their movements within the 
narrow enclosure of the fortress, and, at last, 
obliging it to surrender at discretion, just so, 
the hierarchy, from age to age, and almost 
from year to year, has gone on restricting the 
liberty allowed for a time to the human mind, 
until, at last, by successive encroachments, 
there remained no liberty at all. That which 
was to be believed, — loved, — or done, — was 
regulated and decreed in the courts of the Ro- 
man chancery. The faithful were relieved 
from the trouble of examining, reflecting, and 
combating; all they had to do was to repeat 
the formularies that had been taught, them ! 

From that period, whenever, in the bosom 
of Roman Catholicism, a man has appeared 
inheriting the Catholicity of apostolic times, 
such a one, feeling his inability to act out the 
life imparted to him, in the bonds in which he 
is held, has been led to burst those bonds, and 
give to the astonished world another example 
of a Christian walking at liberty in the ac- 
knowledgment of no law but the law of God. 

The Reformation, in resitoring liberty to the 
Church, must therefore restore to it its original 
diversity, and people it with families united 
by the great features of resemblance derived 
from their common head, but varying in se- 
condary features, and reminding us of the 
varieties inherent in hjaman nature. Perhaps 
it might have been desirable that this diversity 
should have been allowed to subsist in the 
Universal Church without leading to sectarian 
divisions, and yet we must remember that 
Sects are only the expression of .this diversity. 

Switzerland, and Germany, which had till 
now developed themselves independently, 
came in contact with each other in the years 
we are about to retrace, and they afforded an 
example of that diversity of which we have 
23 



spoken, and which was to be one of the chai 
acteristics of Protestanism. We shall have 
occasion to behold men perfectly agreeing in 
the great doctrines of the Faith yet differing 
on certain secondary questions. True it is 
that human passion found an entrance into 
these discussions, but while deploring such 
minglings of evil, Protestantism, far from 
seeking to disguise the diversity, publishes 
and proclaims it. Its path to unity is indeed 
long and difficult, but the unity it proposes is 
real. 

Zwingle was advancing in the christian lifr 
Whilst the Gospel had to Luther brought, de- 
liverance from the deep melancholy in which 
he had been plunged when in the convent of 
Erfurth, and developed in him a cheerfulness 
which often amounted to gaiety, and of which, 
from that time, the Reformer gave such re- 
peated evidence even when exposed to the 
greatest dangers, — Christianity had had quite 
a contrary effect on the joyous child of the 
mountains of the Tockenburg. Reclaiming 
Zwingle from his thoughtless and worldly 
career, it had stamped upon his character a 
seriousness which was not natural to him. 
This seriousness was indeed most needed. 
We have seen how, toward the close of 1522, 
numerous enemies appeared to rise against the 
Reformation.* From all sides reproaches were 
heaped upon Zwingle, and contentions would 
at times take place even in the churches. 

Leo Juda, who, to adopt the words of an 
historian, was a man of small stature, with a 
heart full of love for the poor, and zeal against 
false teachers, had arrived in Zurich about the 
end of 1522, to take the duty of pastor of St. 
Peter's church. He had been replaced at 
Einsidlen by Oswald Myconius. His coming 
was a valuable acquisition to Zwingle and the 
Reformation. 

One day, soon after his arrival, being at 
church, he heard an Augustine monk preach- 
ing with great earnestness that man was com- 
petent by his own strength to satisfy the 
righteousness of God. "Reverend father 
Prior," exclaimed Leo, "listen to me for an 
instant; and you, my dear fellow -citizens, 
keep your seats, — I will speak as becomes a 
Christian :" and he proceeded to show the 
unscriptural character of the teaching he had 
just been listening to. A great disturbance 
ensued in the church. — Instantly several per- 
sons angrily attacked the " little priest" from 
Einsidlen. Zwingle, repairing to the Council, 
presented himself before them, and requested 
permission to give an account of his doctrine, 
in presence of the bishop's deputies ; — and the 
Council desiring to terminate the dissensions, 
convoked a conference for the 29th of January 
The news spread rapidly throughout Switzer- 
land. " A vagabond diet," observed his mor- 
tified adversaries, "is to be held at Zurich. 
All the vagrants from the high-road will be 
there." 

Wishing to prepare for the struggle, Zwingle 
put forth sixty-seven theses. In them the 



* Book VIII, to the end. 



336 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



mountaineer of theTockenburg boldly assailed 
the Pope, in the face of all Switzerland. 

"They," said he, "who assert that the 
Gospel is nothing until confirmed to us by the 
Church, blaspheme God." 

"Jesus Christ is the only way of salvation 
for all who have been, are, or shall be." 

" Christians are ail the brethren of Christ, 
and of one another ; and they have no ' fathers,' 
upon earth; — away, therefore, with religious 
orders, sects, and parties." 

" No compulsion should be employed in the 
case of such as do not acknowledge their 
error, — unless by their seditious conduct they 
disturb the peace of others." 

Such were some of the propositions put 
forth by Zwingle. 

On the morning of Thursday, the 29th Ja- 
nuary, more than six. hundred persons were 
collected in the hall of the Great Council, at 
Zurich. Many from the neighbouring cantons, 
as well as Zurichers, the learned, the higher 
classes, and the clergy, had responded to the 
call of the Council. " What will be the end 
of all this 1 ?" was the question asked. None 
ventured to answer; but the breathless atten- 
tion, deep feeling, and agitation, which reigned 
in the meeting, sufficiently showed that im- 
portant results were looked for. 

The burgomaster Roust, who had fought in 
the battle of Marignan, presided at the confer- 
ence. The knight James Anwyl, grand master 
of the bishop's court at Constance, Faber the 
vicar-general, and several doctors of divinity, 
attended on the part of the bishop. SchafT- 
hausen had deputed Doctor Sebastian Hof- 
meister; he was the only deputy from the 
cantons, — so weak, as yet, was the Reforma- 
tion in Switzerland. On a table in the 
centre of the hall was deposited a Bible, and 
seated before it was Zwingle. " I am driven 
and beset on all sides," he had said, "yet I 
stand firm, leaning on no strength of my own, 
out on Christ, the rock, by whose help I can 
do all things." 

Zwingle stood up. "I have proclaimed," 
said he, "that salvation is to be found in 
Christ alone; and it is for this that, through- 
out Switzerland, I am charged with being a 
heretic, a seducer, and rebellious man. Here, 
then, I stand in God's name !" 

On .this, all eyes were turned to Faber, who, 
rising from his seat, thus replied : — " I am not 
sent to dispute,— but to report." The assem- 
bly in surprise, began to smile. "The Diet 
of Nuremberg," continued Faber, "has pro- 
mised a Council within one year: we must 
wait for its assembling." 

" What !" said Zwingle,- " is not this large 
and intelligent meeting as competent as a 
Council ?" then turning to those who presided, 
he added, — " Gracious Lords ; defend the word 
of God." 

A solemn silence ensued on this appeal. 
At last it was interrupted by the burgomaster. 
" If any one present has anything to say," 
said he, " let him say on." Still all were 
silent. " I implore all those who have accused 
me, — and I know that some are here present," 



said Zwingle, " to come forwan and rebuke 
me for the truth's sake." Not a word ! Again 
and again Zwingle repeated his request, but 
to no purpose. Faber, thus brought to close 
quarters, lost sight, for an instant, of the re- 
serve he had imposed on himself, and stated 
that he had convicted of his error the pastor 
of Filispach, who was at that time in durance ; 
but, having said this, he again relapsed into 
silence. It was all in vain that he was urged 
to bring forward the arguments by which he 
had convinced that pastor; he would give no 
answer. This silence on the part of the Ro- 
mish doctors mortified the impatience of the 
assembly. A voice from the further end of 
the hall was heard exclaiming, — "Where 
have they got to — those braggarts, whose 
voices are so loud in our streets.* Come 
forward : there's the man you want." On 
this the burgomaster observed, smiling, "It 
seems that the sharp-edged sword that suc- 
ceeded against the pastor of Filispach is fast 
fixed in its scabbard:" — and he proceeded to 
break up the meeting. 

In the afternoon, the parties being again 
assembled, the Council resolved that master 
Ulric Zwingle, not being reproved by any one, 
was at liberty to continue to preach the Gos- 
pel ; and that the rest of the clergy of the 
canton should be enjoined to advance nothing 
but what they could establish by the Scrip- 
tures. 

"Thanks be to God, who will cause his 
word to prevail in heaven and earth !" ex- 
claimed Zwingle. On this Faber could not 
suppress his indignation. "The theses of 
master Ulric," said he, "are incompatible 
with the honor due to the Church, and opposed 
to the doctrine of Christ, — and I can prove it." 
"Do so," retorted Zwingle. But Faber de- 
clined, except it should be in Paris, Cologne, 
or Friburg. "I acknowledge no authority 
but that of the Gospel," said Zwingle: "Be- 
fore you can shake one word of that, the earth 
itself will open before you." " That's always 
the cry," remarked Faber; "the Gospel, — 
nothing but the Gospel ! Men might lead 
holy lives in peace and charity if there w T ere 
no Gospel!" At these words the auditors 
indignantly rose from their seats, and the 
meeting finally broke up. 

The Reformation was gaining ground. It 
was at this period called to new conquests. 
After the skirmish at Zurich, in which the 
ablest champions of the Papacy had kept 
silence, who would be so bold as to oppose 
the new doctrines? But methods of anothei 
kind were tried. The firmness of Zwingle, 
and the republican freedom of his bearing,' 
overawed his enemies. Accordingly, recourse 
was had to suitable methods for subduing him. 
Whilst Rome was pursuing Luther with 
anathemas, she laboured to win the Reformer 
of Zurich by persuasions. Scarcely was the 
conference closed over, when Zwingle was 
surprised by a visit from the captain of the 



* L e. — the 
Hansen . . . 



monks. Wo sind num die grosser 
. (Zw. Opp. i. p. 124.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



337 



Pope's guards — the son of the burgomaster 
Roust, accompanied by Einsius the legate, 
who was the bearer of a brief from the Pon- 
tiff, — in which Adrian addressed Zwingle as 
his "well-beloved son," and assured him of 
his special favour. At the same time the Pope 
set others upon urging Zink to influence 
Zwingle. "And what," enquired Oswald 
Myconius, "does the Pope authorise you to 
offer him ?" " Every thing short of the Pon- 
tiff's chair," answered Zink, earnestly. 

There was nothing, whether mitre, crosier, 
or cardinal's hat, which the Pope would not 
have given to buy over the Reformer of Zu- 
rich. But Rome altogether mistook her man 
— and vain were all her advances. In Zwin- 
gle, the Church of Rome had a foe even more 
determined than Luther. He had less regard 
for the long established notions and the cere- 
monies of former ages — it was enough to 
draw down his hostility that a custom, inno- 
cent in itself had been connected with some 
existing abuses. In his judgment the word 
of God alone was to be exalted. 

But if Rome had so little understanding of 
the events then in progress in Christendom 
she wanted not for counsellors to give her the 
needful information. 

Faber, irritated at the Pope's thus hum- 
bling himself before his adversary — lost no 
time in advising him. A eourtier, dressed in 
smiles, with honied words upon his tongue, 
those who listened to him might have thought 
him friendly toward all, and even to those 
whom he charged with heresy, — but his ha- 
tred was mortal. Luther, playing on his 
name (Faber,) was accustomed to say — " The 
vicar of Constance is a blacksmith .... of 
lies. Let him take up arms like a man, and 
see how Christ defends us." 

These words were no uncalled for bravado 
— for all the while that the Pope in his com- 
munications with Zwingle was complimenting 
him on his distinguished virtues, and the spe- 
cial confidence he reposed in him, the Reform- 
er's enemies were multiplying throughout 
Switzerland. The veteran soldiers, the higher 
families, and the herdsmen of the mountains, 
were combined in aversion to a doctrine which 
ran counter to all their inclinations. At Lu- 
cerne, public notice was given of the perform- 
ance of Zwingle 's passion; and the people 
dragged about an effigy of the Reformer, shout- 
ing that they were going to put the heretic to 
death; and laying violent hands on some 
Zurichers who were then at Lucerne, com- 
pelled them to be spectators of this mock exe- 
cution. "They shall not disturb my peace," 
observed Zwingle; "Christ will never fail 
those who are his." Even in the Diet threats 
against him were heard. " Beloved Confed- 
erates," said the Councillor of Mullinen, ad- 
dressing the cantons, "make a stand against 
Lutheranism while there is yet time. At 
Zurich no man is master in his own house." 

This agitation in the enemies' ranks pro- 
claimed, more loudly than any thing else 
could have done, what was passing in Zurich. 
In truth victory was already bearing fruits, 



the victorious party were gradually taking 
possession of the country ; and every day the 
Gospel made some new progress. Twenty- 
four canons, and a considerable number of 
the chaplains came of their own accord to 
petition the Council for a reform of their 
statutes. It was decided to replace those 
sluggish priests by men of learning and piety, 
whose duty it should be to instruct the youth 
of Zurich, and to establish, instead of their 
vespers and Latin masses, a daily exposition 
of a chapter in the Bible, from the Hebrew, 
and Greek texts, first for the learned, and then 
for the people. 

Unhappily there are found in every army 
ungovernable spirits, who leave their ranks, 
and make onset too early, on points which it 
would be better for a while to leave unattacked. 
Louis Ketzer, a young priest, having put forth 
a tract in German, entitled the Judgment of 
God against Images, a great sensation was 
produced, and a portion of the people could 
think of nothing else. It is ever to the inj ury 
of essentials that the mind of man is pre-oc- 
cupied with secondary matters. Outside one 
of the city gates, at a place called Stadel- 
hofen, was stationed a crucifix elaborately 
carved, and richly ornamented. The more 
ardent of the Reformed, provoked at the super- 
stitious veneration still paid this image, could 
not suppress their indignation whenever they 
had occasion to pass that way. A citizen, 
by name Claudius Hottinger, " a man of 
family," says Bullinger, "and well acquainted 
with the Scriptures," meeting the miller of 
Stadelhofen, to whom the crucifix belonged, 
inquired when he meant to take away his 
idols. "No one requires you to worship 
them," was the miller's reply. " But do you 
not know," retorted Hottinger, "that God's 
word forbids us to have graven images?" 
" Very well," replied the miller, "if you are 
empowered to remove them, I leave you to do 
so." Hottinger thought himself authorized 
to act, and he was soon after seen to leave the 
city, accompanied by a number of the citizens. 
On arriving at the crucifix, they deliberately 
dug around the image until, yielding to their 
efforts, it came down with a loud crash to the 
earth. 

This daring action spread alarm far and 
wide. One might have thought religion it- 
self had been overturned with the crucifix of 
Stadelhofen. "They are sacrilegious distur- 
bers, — they are worthy of death," exclaimed 
the partisans of Rome. The council caused 
the iconoclasts to be arrested. 

" No," exclaimed Zwingle, speaking from 
his pulpit, " Hottinger and his friends have 
not sinned against God, nor are they deserv- 
ing of death* — but they may be justly pun- 
ished for having resorted to violence without 
the sanction of the magistrates." 

Meanwhile acts of a similar kind were con- 
tinually recurring. A vicar of St. Peter s one 



* The same principles are seen in the speeches 
of M. M. de Broglie and-Royer-Collard. on occa- 
sion of the celebrated debates on the law of Sacri 
lege, 



338 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



*ay observing before the porch of that church 
a number of poor persons ill clad and famished, 
remarked to one of his colleagues, as he 
glanced at the images of the saints decked in 
costly attire — "I should like to strip those 
wooden idols and clothe those poor members 
of Jesus Christ." A few days after, at three 
o'clock in the morning, the saints and their 
fine trappings were missing. The Council 
sent the vicar to prison, although he protested 
that he had no hand in removing them. "Is 
it these blocks of wood," exclaimed the peo- 
ple, "that Jesus enjoined us to clothe? Is it 
of such images as these that he will say to the 
righteous — ' I was naked, and ye clothed Me ¥ " 
. . . Thus the Reformation, when resisted, 
rose to a greater height; and the more it was 
compressed, with the more force did it break 
forth and threaten to carry all bsfore it. 

These excesses conduced to some beneficial 
results. Another struggle was needed to issue 
in further progress — for in spiritual things as 
in the affairs of earthly kingdoms, there can 
be no conquest without a struggle — and since 
the adherents of Rome were inert, events were 
so ordered that the conflict was begun by the 
irregular soldiery of the Reformation. In fact, 
the magistrates were perplexed and unde- 
cided : they felt the need of more light in the 
matter; and for this end they resolved on ap- 
pointing a second public meeting, to discuss 
in German, and on grounds of Scripture, the 
question as to images. 

The bishops of Ooira, Constance, and Bale, 
the university of the latter city, and the twelve 
cantons, were accordingly requested to send 
deputies to Zurich. But the bishops declined 
compliance, recollecting the little credit their 
deputies had brought them on occasion of the 
first meeting, and having no wi?h for a repe- 
tition of so humiliating a scene. Let the 
Gospel party discuss if they will — but let it 
be among themselves. On the former occa- 
sion, silence had been their policy — on this 
they will not even add importance to the 
meeting by their presence. Rome thought 
perhaps that the combat would pass over for 
want of combatants. The bishops were not 
alone in refusing to attend. The men of Un- 
terwald returned for answer that they had no 
philosophers among them — but kind and pious 
priests alone — who would persevere in ex- 
plaining the Gospel as their fathers had done; 
that they accordingly must decline sending a 
deputy to Zwingle and the like of him; but 
that only let him fall into their hands, and 
they would handle him after a fashion to cure 
him of his inclination for such irregularities. 
The only cantons that sent representatives 
were Schaffhausen and Saint Gall. 

On Monday, the 26th of October, more than 
nine hundred persons — among whom were the 
members of the Grand Council — and no less 
than three hundred and fifty priests, were 
assembled after sermon in the large room of 
the Town Hall. Zwingle and Leo Juda were 
seated at a table on which lay the Old and 
New Testaments in the originals. Zwingle 
spoke first, and soon disposing of the autho- 



rity of the hierarchy and its councils, he laid 
down the rights of every Christian church, 
and claimed the liberty of the first ages, when 
the church had as yet no council either 
oecumenical or provincial. "The Universal 
Church," said he, " is diffused throughout the 
world, wherever faith in Jesus Christ has 
spread : in India as well as in Zurich . . . 
And as to particular churches, we have them 
at Berne, at Schaffhausen, and even here. 
But the Popes, with their cardinals and coun- 
cils, are neither the Universal Church nor a 
particular Church. This assembly which 
hears me," exclaimed he, with energy, " is 
the church of Zurich — it desires to hear the 
word of God, and can rightfully decree what- 
ever it shall see to be conformable to the 
Scriptures." 

Here we see Zwingle relying on the 
Church — but on the true Church, — not on 
the clergy, but on the assembly of believers. 
He applied to particular churches all those 
passages of Scripture that speak of the 
Church Catholic. He could not allow that 
a church that listened with docility to God's 
word could fall into error. The Church was, 
in his judgment, represented both'politically 
and ecclesiastically by the Great Council. 
He began by explaining each subject from 
the pulpit; and when the minds of his hear- 
ers were convinced, he proposed the different 
questions to the Council, who, in conformity 
with the ministers of the Church, recorded 
such decisions as they called for. 

In the absence of the bishop's deputies s 
Conrad Hoffman, an aged canon, undertook 
to defend the Pope. He maintained that 
the Church, the flock, the "third estate,' , 
was not authorized to discuss such matters. 
"I resided," said he, "for no less than 
twelve years at Heidelberg in the house of a 
man of extensive learning, named Doctor 
Joss — a kind and pious man — with whom I 
boarded and lived quietly for a long time, but 
then he always said that it was not proper 
to make such matters a subject of discussion ; 
you see, therefore!" . . On this every one 
began to laugh. " Thus," continued Hoff- 
man, "let us wait for a Council — at present 
I shall decline taking part in any discussion 
whatever, but shall act according to the 
bishop's orders, even though he himself were 
a knave !" 

" Wait for a Council!" interrupted Zwin- 
gle, "and who, think you, will attend a» 
Council? — the Pope and some sleepy and 
ill-taught bishops, who will do nothing but 
what pleases them. No, that is not the 
Church : Hong and Kussnacht (two villages 
in the neighbourhood of Zurich,) are moie 
of a Church than all the bishops and popes 
put together." 

Thus did Zwingle assert the rights of 
Christians in general, whom Rome had stript 
of their inheritance. The assembly he ad- 
dressed was in his view not so much the 
church of Zurich as its earliest representa- 
tive. Here we see the beginnings of tbe 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



3i4 



Presb}'terian system. Zwingle was engaged | 
in delivering Zurich from the jurisdiction of 
the bishops of Constance — he was likewise 
detaching it from the hierarchy of Rome; 
and on this thought of the flock, and the as- 
sembly of believers, he was laying the foun- 
dations of a new church order, to which other 
countries would afterwards adhere. 

The discussion was continued. Several 
priests having defended the use of images, 
without deriving their arguments from Scrip- 
ture, Zwingle, and the rest of the Reformers, 
refuted them by passages from the Bible. 
" If," said one of the presidents, " no one 
defends the images by the Scriptures, we 
shall call upon some of their advocates by 
name." No one coming forward, the curate 
of Wadischwyl was called. " He is asleep," 
exclaimed one of the crowd. The curate of 
Horgen was next called. " He has sent me 
in his stead," said his vicar, "but 1 cannot 
answer for him." It was plain that the 
power of the word of God was felt in the as- 
sembly. The partisans of the Reformation 
were buoyant with liberty and joy ;. their ad- 
versaries, on the contrary, were silent, un- 
easy, and depressed. The curates of Laufen, 
Glattfelden, and Wetzikon, the rector and 
curate of Pfaffikon, the dean of Elgg, the 
curate of Baretschwyl, the Dominicans and 
Cordeliers, known for their preaching in de- 
fence of image worship and the saints, were 
one after another, invited to stand forward. 
They all made answer that they had nothing 
to say in their defence, and that, in future, 
they would apply themselves to the study of 
the truth. "Until to-day," said one, "I 
have put my faith in the ancient doctors, but 
now 1 will transfer my faith to the new." — 
" It is not ws," interrupted Zwingle, " that 
you should believe. It is God's word. It is 
only the Scriptures of God that never can 
mislead us." The sitting had been pro- 
tracted, — night was closing in. The presi- 
dent, HofFraeister of Schaff hausen, rose and 
said: "Blessed be God the Almighty and 
Eternal, who, in all things, giveth us the 
-ictory," — and he ended by exhorting the 
Town-Council of Zurich to abolish the wor- 
ship of images. 

On Tuesday, the assembly again met, 
Vadian being president, to discuss the doc- 
trine of the Mass. " My brethren in Christ," 
said Zwingle, " far from us be the thought 
that there is any thing unreal in the body 
and blood of Christ. Our only aim is to 
prove that the Mass is not a sacrifice that 
can be offered to God by one man for his 
fellow, unless indeedany will be bold enough 
to say that a man can eat and drink for his 
friend." 

Vadian having twice inquired if any of 
those present had any thing to say in defence 
of the doctrine impugned, and no one com- 
ing forward, the canons of Zurich, the chap- 
lains, and several ecclesiastics declared 
tnemselves of Zwingle's opinion. 

But scarcely had the Reformers overcome 



the partisans of the ancient doctrines, wheD 
they were called to contend against the im- 
patient spirits of men clamorously demand- 
ing abrupt and violent changes, instead oi 
prudent and gradual reformation. The un 
fortunate Conrad Grebel rose, and said : " It 
is not sufficient that we should talk about the 
Mass; it is our duty to do away with the 
abuses of it." — " The Council," answerer 
Zwingle, " will put forth an edict on the 
subject." On this, Simon Stumpf exclaimed . 
"The Spirit of God has already decided,— 
why then refer the matter to the Councils 
decision?" 

The commandant Schmidt, of Ktissnacht. 
rose gravely, and, in a speech marked by 
much wisdom, said, — " Let us teach Chris 
tians to receive Christ into their hearts. 
Until this hour you have all been led away 
after idols. The dwellers in the plain have 
made pilgrimages to the hills, — those of the 
hill country have gone on pilgrimage to the 
plain; the French have made journeys into 
Germany, and the Germans into France. 
You now know whither you ought to go 
God has lodged all things in Christ. Worthy 
Zurichers, go to the true source, and le> 
Jesus Christ re-enter your territory, and re 
sume his ancient authority." 

This speech made a deep impression, ano 
no one standing up to oppose it, Zwingle 
rose with emotion, and spoke as follows :— 
" My gracious lords, God is with us, — He 
will defend His own cause. Now then, in 
the name of our God, let us go forward." 
Here Zwingle's feelings overcame him ;— he 
wept, and many of those near him also sher* 
tears. 

Thus ended the conference. The presi- 
dent rose; — -the burgomaster thanked them, 
and the veteran, turning to the Council, saio 
in a grave tone, with that voice that hac 
been so often heard in the field of battle,— 
"Now then, let us take in hand the swore 
of the Word .... and may God prosper hie 
own work!" 

This dispute, which took place in thf 
month of October, 1523, was decisive in in- 
consequences. The greater number of the 
priests, who were present at it, returned ful 
of zeal to their stations in different parts oi 
the canton ; and the effect of those memora 
ble days was felt in every corner of Switzer- 
land. The church of Zurich, which, in its 
connexion with the see of Constance, had 
always maintained a certain measure of in- 
dependence was now completely emanci- 
pated. Instead of resting, through the bishop, 
on the Pope, "it rested henceforth, through 
the people, on the Word of God. Zurich 
had recovered the rights of which Rome had 
deprived her. The city and its rural terri- 
tory vied with each other in zeal for the work 
of the Reformation, and the Great Council 
merely obeyed the impulse of the people at 
large. On every important occasion, the 
city and the villages signified the result of 
their separate deliberations. Luther had 



340 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



restored the Bible to the Christian commu- 
nity, — Zwingle went further — he restored 
their rights. This is a characteristic feature 
of the Reformation in Switzerland. The 
maintenance of sound doctrine was entrusted, 
under God, to the people ; and recent events 
have shown that the people can discharge 
that trust better than priests or pontiffs. 

Zwingle did not allow himself to be elated 
by victory; on the contrary, the Reforma- 
tion under his guidance, was carried on with 
much moderation. " God knows my heart," 
said he, when the Council demanded his 
opinion, " He knows that I am inclined to 
build up, and not to cast down. There are 
timid spirits whom it is needful to treat ten- 
derly; let the mass, therefore, for some time 
longer be read on Sundays in the churches, 
and let those who celebrate it be carefully 
protected from insult." 

The Council issued a decree to this effect. 
Hottinger and Hochrutiner, one of his 
friends, were banished from the canton for 
two years, and forbidden to return without 
an express permission. 

The Reformation at Zurich proceeded thus 
in a steady and Christian course. Raising 
the city day by day to a higher pitch of moral 
elevation, it cast a glory round her in the 
eyes of all who loved the word of God. 
Throughout Switzerland, therefore, those 
who welcomed the day-spring which had 
visited the Church, felt themselves power- 
fully attracted to Zurich. Oswald Myco- 
nius, after his expulsion from Lucerne, had 
spent six months in the valley of Einsidlen, 
when, returning one day, wearied and over- 
powered by the heat of the weather, from a 
journey to Glaris, he was met on the road 
by his young son, Felix, who had run out 
to bring him tidings of his having been in- 
vited to Zurich, to take charge of one of the 
schools there. Oswald could hardly credit 
the happy intelligence, and hesitated for a 
while between hope and fear. •'« I am 
thine," was the reply which, at length, he 
addressed to Zwingle. Geroldsek dismissed 
him with regret, for gloomy thoughts had 
taken possession of his mind. " Ah v " said 
he, "all who confess Christ are flocking to 
Zurich : I fear that one day we shall all pe- 
rish there together." A melancholy fore- 
boding, which was but too fully realized when 
Geroldsek, and so many other friends of the 
Gospel lost their lives on the plain of Cappel. 

At Zurich, Myconius had at last found a 
secure retreat. His predecessor, nicknamed 
at Paris, on account of his stature, " the tall 
devil," had neglected his duty. Oswald de- 
voted his whole heart and his whole strength 
to the fulfilment of his. He explained the 
Greek and Latin classics ; he taught rhetoric 
and logic ; and the youth of the city listened 
tj him with delight. Myconius was to be- 
come, to the rising generation, all that Zwin- 
gle was already to those of maturer years. 

At first Myconius felt some alarm at the 
number of full-grown scholars committed to 



his care ; but by degrees he gathered courage, 
and it was not long before he distinguished 
among his pupils a young man of four-and> 
twenty, whose intelligent looks gave suffi- 
cient indication of his love of study. This 
young man, whose name was Thomas 
Plater, was a native of the Valais. In that 
beautiful valley, through which the torrent 
of the Viege rolls its tumultuous waters, 
after escaping from the sea of glaciers and 
snow that encircles Mount Rosa, — seated 
between St. Nicholas and Standen, upon the 
hill that rises on the right of the river, is still 
to be seen the village of Grachen. This 
was Plater's birth-place. From under the 
shadow of those colossal Alps emerged one 
of the most remarkable of all the characters 
that figured in the great drama of the six- 
teenth century. At the age of nine he had 
been consigned to the care of a curate, a 
kinsman of his own, — by whom the little 
rustic was often so severely beaten, that his 
cries, he tells us himself, were like those of 
a kid under the hands of the butcher. One 
of his cousins took him along with him to 
visit the schools of Germany. But remov- 
ing in this way from school to school, when 
he had reached the age of twenty, he scarcely 
knew how to read!* On his arrival at Zu- 
rich, he made it his fixed determination that 
he would be ignorant no longer, took his 
post at a desk in one corner of the school 
over which Myconius presided, and said to 
himself, " Here thou shalt learn, or here 
thou shalt die." The light of the Gospel 
quickly found its way to his heart. One 
morning, when it was very cold, and fuel 
was wanting to heat the school-room stove, 
which it was his office to tend, he said to 
himself, " Why need I be at a loss for wood, 
when there are so many idols in the church?" 
The church was then empty, though Zwin- 
gle was expected to preach, and the bells 
were already ringing to summon the congre- 
gation. Plater entered with a noiseless step, 
grappled an image of Saint John, which 
stood over one of the altars, carried it off, 
and thrust it into the stove, saying, as he did 
so, ' f Down with thee, — for in thou must 
go." Certainly neither Myconius nor Zwin- 
gle would have applauded such an act. 

It was by other and better means that un 
belief and superstition were to be driven from 
the field. Zwingle and his colleagues had 
stretched out the hand of fellowship to My- 
conius ; and the latter now expounded the 
New Testament in the Church of the Virgin, 
to a numerous and eager auditory. Ano- 
ther public disputation, held on the 13th and 
14th January, 1524, terminated in renewed 
discomfiture to the cause of Rome; and the 
appeal of the canon Koch, who exclaimed, 
"Popes, cardinals, bishops, councils, — these 
are the church for me!" awakened no sym- 
pathetic response. 

Every thing was moving forward at Zu 



See his Autobiography. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



341 



rich; men's minds were becoming more en- 
lightened, — their hearts more stedfast. The 
Reformation was gaining strength. Zurich 
was a fortress in which the new doctrine had 
entrenched itself, and from within whose en- 
closure it was ready to pour itself abroad 
over the whole confederation. 

The enemies were aware of this. They 
felt that they must no longer delay to strike 
a vigorous blow. They had remained quiet 
long enough. The strong men of Switzer- 
land, her iron-sheathed warriors, — were up 
at last, and stirring; and who could doubt, 
when they were once aroused, that the strug- 
gle must end in blood? 

The Diet was assembled at Lucerne. The 
priests made a strenuous effort to engage 
that great council of the nation in their 
favour. Fribursr and the Forest Cantons 
proved themselves their docile instruments. 
Berne, Basle, Soleure, Glarws, and Appen- 
zel, hung doubtfully in the balance. Schaff- 
hausen was almost decided for the Gospel ; 
but Zurich alone assumed a determined atti- 
tude as its defender. The partisans of Rome 
urged the assembly to yield to their preten- 
sions and adopt their prejudices. " Let an 
edict be issued. 5 ' said they, " enjoining all 
persons to refrain from inculcating or repeat- 
ing any new or Lutheran doctrine, either 
secretly or in public ; and from talking or 
disputing on such matters in taverns, or 
over their wine." Such was the new ec- 
clesiastical law which it was attempted to 
establish throughout the confederation. 

Nineteen articles to this effect were drawn 
up in due form, — ratified, on the 26th January, 
1523, by all the states — Zurich excepted, and 
transmitted to all the bailiffs, with injunctions 
that they should be strictly enforced, — " which 
caused," says Bullinger, " great joy am on a- 
the priests, and great grief among the faithful ." 
A persecution, regularly organized by the 
supreme authority of the confederation, was 
thus set on foot. 

One of the first who received the mandate 
of the Diet was Henry Flackenstein of Lu- 
cerne, the bailiff of Baden. It was to his 
district that Hottinger had retired wh^n 
banished from Zurich, after having overthrown 
the crucifix at Stadeihofen ; and he had here 
given free utterance to his sentiments. One 
day, when he was dining at the Angel Tavern, 
at Zurzach, he had said that the priests ex- 
pounded Holy Scriptures amiss, and that trust 
ought to be reposed in none but God alone. 
The host, who was frequently coming into the 
room to bring - bread or wine, lent an attentive 
ear to what seemed- to him very strange dis- 
course. On another occasion, when Hottinger 
was paying a visit to one of his friends — 
John Schutz of Schneyssingren, — "Tell me," 
said Schutz, after they had finished their re- 
past, "what is this new religion that the 
priests of Zurich are preaching?" — "They 
preach," replied Hottinger, " that Christ has 
offered himself up once only for all believers, 
and b.v that one sacrifice has purified them and 



redeemed them from all iniquity ; and they 
prove by Holy Scripture that the Mass is a 
mere delusion." 

Hottinger had afterwards (in February, 
1523,) quitted Switzerland, and repaired on 
some occasion of business, to Waldshut, on 
the other side of the Rhine. In the mean- 
while, measures had been taken to secure his 
person ; and when the poor Zuricher, suspect- 
ing no danger, recrossed the Rhine about the 
end of February, he had no sooner reached 
Coblentz, a village on the left bank of the 
river, than he was arrested. He was con- 
veyed to Klingenau, and as he there fearlessly 
confessed his belief, Flackenstein said, in an 
angry tone, "I will take you to a place where 
you shall meet with those who will give you 
a fitting answer." Accordingly the bailiff 
dragged his prisoner first before the magis- 
trates of Klingenau, next before the superior 
tribunal of Baden, and ultimately, since he 
could not elsewhere obtain a sentence of con- 
demnation against him, before the diet assem- 
bled at Lucerne. He was resolved that in 
one quarter or another he would find judges 
to pronounce him guilty. 

The Diet was prompt in its proceedings, 
and condemned Hottinger to lose his head. 
When this sentence was communicated to 
him, he gave glory to Jesus Christ. " Enough, 
enough," cried Jacob Troger one of the judges, 
" we do not sit here to listen to sermons — thou 
shalt babble some other time." — " He must 
have his head taken off for this once," said 
the bailiff Am-Ort, with a laugh, "but if he 
should recover it again, we will all embrace 
his creed," — " May God forgive those who 
have condemned me !" exclaimed the prisoner ; 
and when a monk presented a crucifix to his 
lips, "It is the heart," said he, pushing it 
away, " that must receive Jesus Christ." 

When he was led forth to death, there 
were many among the spectators who could 
not restrain their tears. He turned towards 
them, and said, " I am going to everlasting 
happiness." On reaching the place of execu- 
tion, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, saying, 
"Oh, my Redeemer, into thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit !" — and a moment after, his 
head rolled upon the scaffold. 

No sooner had the blood of Hottinger been 
shed than the enemies of the Reformation 
seized the opportunity of inflaming the anger 
of the confederates to a higher pitch. It was 
in Zurich that the root of the mischief must be 
crushed. So terrible an example as that 
which had now been set, could not fail to in- 
timidate Zwingle and his followers. One 
vigorous effort more, — and the Reformation 
itself would share the fate of Hottinger. The 
Diet immediately resolved that a deputation 
should be sent to Zurich, to call on the coun- 
cils and the citizens to renounce their new 
faith. 

The deputies were admitted to an audience 
on the 21st of March. "The ancient unity 
of the Christian Church is broken," said 
they ; " the evil is gaining ground ; the clergy 



342 



history of the reformation 



of the tour Forest Cantons have already inti- 
mated to the magistrates that aid must be 
afforded them, or their functions must cease. 
Confederates of Zurich ! join your efforts to 
outs; root out this new religion; dismiss 
Zwingle and his disciples; and then let us 
all unite to remedy the abuses which have 
arisen from the encroachments of popes and 
their courtiers." 

Such was the language of the adversary. 
How would the men of Zurich now demean 
themselves] Would their hearts fail them? 
Had their courage ebbed away with the blood 
of their fellow-citizens'? 

The men of Zurich left neither friends nor 
enemies long in suspense. The reply of the 
Council was calm and dignified. They 
could make no concessions in what concerned 
the word of God. And their very next act 
was a reply more emphatic still. 

It had been the custom ever since the year 
1351, that, on Whit Monday, a numerous 
company of pilgrims, each bearing a cross, 
should go in procession to Einsidlen, to wor- 
ship the Virgin. This festival, instituted in 
commemoration of the battle of Tatwyll, was 
commonly attended with great disorders. It 
would fall, this year, on the 7th May. At 
the instance of the three pastors, it was now 
abolished, and all the other customary proces- 
sions were successively brought under due 
regulation. 

Nor did the council stop here. The relics, 
which had given occasion to so many supersti- 
tions, were honourably interred. And then, 
on the further requisition of the three pastors, 
an edict was issued, decreeing that, inasmuch 
as God alone ought to be honoured, the images 
should be removed from all the churches of 
the canton, and their ornaments applied to 
the relief of the poor. Accordingly, twelve 
councillors, — one for each tribe, the three 
pastors, and the city architect, — with some 
smiths, carpenters, and masons, visited the 
several churches ; and having first closed the 
doors, took down the crosses, obliterated the 
paintings, whitewashed the walls, and car- 
ried away the images, to the great joy of the 
faithful, who regarded this proceeding, Bul- 
linger tells us, as a glorious act of homage to 
the true G<>d. In some of the country parishes, 
the ornaments of the churches were committed 
to the flames, "to the honour and glory of 
God." Soon after this, the organs were sup- 
pressed, on account of their connection with 
many superstitious observances; and a new 
form of baptism was established, from which 
every, thing unscriptural was carefully ex- 
cluded. 

The triumph of the Reformation threw a 
joyful radiance over the last hours of the 
burgomaster Roust and his colleague. They 
had lived long enough ; and they both died 
within a few days after the restoration of a 
purer mode of worship. 

The Swiss Reformation here presents itself 
to us under an aspect rather different from 
that assumed by the Reformation in Germany. 



Luther had severely rebuked the excesses of 
those who broke down the images in the 
churches of Wittemberg ; — and here we be- 
hold Zwingle, presiding in person over the re- 
moval of images from the temples of Zurich. 
The difference is explained by the different 
light in which the two Reformers viewed the 
same object. Luther was desirous of retain- 
ing in the Church all that was not expressly 
contradicted by Scripture, — while Zwingle 
was intent on abolishing all that could not be 
proved by Scripture. The German Reformer 
wished to remain united to the Church of all 
preceding ages, and sought only to purify it 
from every thing that was repugnant to the 
word of God. The Reformer of Zurich passed 
back over every intervening age till he reached 
the times of the apostles; and, subjecting the 
Church to an entire transformation, laboured 
to restore it to its primitive condition. 

Zwingle's Reformation, therefore, was the 
more complete. The work which Divine 
Providence had entrusted to Luther, — the re- 
establishment of the doctrine of Justification 
by Faith, was undoubtedly the great work of 
the Refoimation ; but when this was accom- 
plished, other ends, of real if not of primary 
importance, remained to be achieved; and to 
these, the efforts of Zwingle were more espe- 
cially devoted. 

Two mighty tasks, in fact, had been assigned 
to the Reformers. Christian Catholicism 
taking its rise amidst Jewish Pharisaism, on 
the one hand, and the Paganism of Greece, 
on the other, had, by degrees, contracted 
something of the spirit of each of those sys- 
tems, and had thus been transformed into 
Roman Catholicism. The Reformation, there- 
fore, whose mission it was to purify the church, 
had to clear it alike from the Jewish and the 
Pagan element. 

The Jewish element had incorporated itself 
chiefly with that portion of Christian doctrine 
which relates to man. Catholicism had bor- 
rowed from Judaism the pharisaic notions of 
inherent righteousness, and salvation obtain- 
able by human strength or works. 

The Pagan element had allied itself prin- 
cipally with that other portion of Christian 
doctrine which relates to God. Paganism 
had corrupted the catholic notion of an infinite 
Deity, whose power, being absolutely all- 
sufficient, acts every where and at every mo- 
ment. It had set up in the church the do- 
minion of symbols, images, and ceremonies; 
and the saints had become the demi-gods of 
Popery. 

The Reformation, in the bands of. Luther, 
was directed essentially against the Jewish 
element. With this he had been compelled 
to struggle at the outset, when an audacious 
monk, on behalf of the Pope, was bartering 
the salvation of souls for paltry coin. 

The Reformation, as conducted by Zwingle, 
was directed mainly against the Pagan ele- 
ment. It was this that he had first encountered, 
in the chapel of the Virgin at Einsidlen, when 
crowds of worshippers, benighted as those of 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



343 



old who thronged the temple of Ephesian 
Diana, were gathered from every side to cast 
themselves down before a gilded idol. 

The Reformer of Germany proclaimed the 
great doctrine of justification by faith, — and, 
in so doing, inflicted a death blow on the 
pharisaic righteousness of Rome. The Swiss 
Reformer, undoubtedly, did the same. The 
inability of man to save himself is the funda- 
mental truth on which all reformers have 
taken their stand. But Zwingle did some- 
thing more. He brought forward, as practical 
principles, the existence of God, and His 
sovereign, universal, and exclusive agency; 
and by the working out of these principles, 
Rome was utterly bereft of all the props that 
had supported her paganized worship. 

Roman Catholicism had exalted man and 
degraded God. Luther reduced man to his 
proper level of abasement ; and Zwingle re- 
stored God, (if we may so speak,) to his un- 
limited and undivided supremacy. 

Of these two distinct tasks, which were 
specially, though not exclusively, allotted to 



whom God had placed at their head, answered 
worthily to their call. Zwingle seemed to 
multiply himself for the service of God. Who- 
soever, in any of the cantons of Switzerland, 
suffered persecution for the Gospel's sake, 
addressed himself to him. The weight of 
business, the care of the churches, the solici- 
tude inspired by that glorious struggle which 
was now beginning to be waged in every 
valley of his native land— all pressed heavily 
on the Evangelist of Zurich. At Wittemberg, 
the tidings of his courageous deportment were 
received with joy. Luther and Zwingle were 
the two great luminaries of Upper and Lower 
Germany; and the doctrine of salvation, which 
they proclaimed so powerfully, was fast dif- 
fusing itself over all those vast tracts of country 
that stretch from the summit of the Alps to 
the shores of the Baltic and the German Ocean. 
While the word of God was pursuing its 
victorious course over these spacious regions, 
we cannot wonder that the Pope in his palace, 
the inferior clergy in their presbyteries, the 
magistrates of Switzerland in their councils, 



the two Reformers, each was necessary to the should have viewed its triumphs with alarm 



completion of the other. It was Luther's 
part to lay the foundation of the edifice — 
Zwingle's to rear the superstructure. 

To an intellect gifted with a still more 
capacious grasp, was the office reserved of 
developing on the shores of the Leman, the 
peculiar characters of the Swiss and the Ger- 
man Reformation,— blending them together 
and imprinting them thus combined, on the 
Reformation as a whole. 

But while Zwingle was thus carrying on 



and indignation. Their consternation increased 
every day. The people had been consulted ; — 
the Christian people had again become some- 
thing in the Christian Church ; their sympa- 
thies and their faith were now appealed to, 
instead of the decrees of the Romish chancery. 
An attack so formidable as this must be met 
by a resistance more formidable still. On the 
18th April, the Pope addressed a brief to the 
Confederates; and, in the month of July, the 
Diet assembled at Zug, yielding to the urgent 



the great work, the disposition of the cantons exhortations of the Pontiff, sent a deputation 
was daily becoming more hostile. The go- to Zurich, Schaffhausen, and Appenzel, to 
vernment of Zurich felt how necessary it. was notify to those states their fixed determination 
to assure itself of the support of the people.! that the new doctrine should be entirely sup- 
The people, moreover, — that is to say, "the i pressed, and its adherents subjected to the 
assembly of believers," was, according to | forfeiture of property, honours, and even life 
Zwingle's principles, the highest earthly au- j itself. Such an announcement could not fail 
thority to which an appeal could be made, to excite a strong sensation at Zurich ; but a 
The Council resolved, therefore, to test the [resolute answer was returned from that can- 
state of public opinion, and instructed the j ton, — that in matters of faith, the word of God 
bailiffs to demand of all the townships, whether j alone must be obeyed. When this reply was 
they were ready to endure every thing for the | communicated to the assembly, the liveliest 
sake of our Lord Jesus Christ, " who shed resentment was manifested on the part of Lu- 
his precious blood," said the Council, "for us i cerne, Schwitz, Uri, Unterwalden, Friburg, 
poor sinners." The whole canton followed j and Zug, and, forgetting the reputation and 



close upon the city in the career of Reforma- 
tion, — and, in many places, the houses of the 
peasants had become schools of Christian in- 
struction, in which the Holy Scriptures were 
constantly read. 

The proclamation of the Council was re- 
ceived by all the townships with enthusiasm: 
"Only let our magistrates hold fast and fear- 
lessly to the word of God," answered they, "we 
will help to maintain it; and, if any should 
seek to molest them, we will come like brave 
and loyal citizens to their aid." The peasan- 
try of Zurich showed, on that occasion, as they 
have recently shown again, that the strength 
of the Church is in the Christian people. 

But the people were not alone. The man 



the strength which the accession of Zurich 
had formerly imparted to the infant Confede- 
ration, forgetting the precedence which had 
been assigned to her, the simple and solemn 
oaths of fidelity by which they were bound to 
her, — the many victories and reverses they had 
shared with her, — these states declared that 
they would no longer sit with Zurich in the 
Diet. In Switzerland, therefore, as well as 
in Germany, the partisans of Rome were the 
first to rend asunder the federal union. But 
threats and breaches of alliance were not 
enough. The fanaticism of the cantons was 
clamorous for blood ; and it soon appeared 
what were the weapons which Popery intended 
to wield against the word of God. 



344 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The excellent (Exlin, # a friend of Zwingle, I 
was the pastor of Burg, a village in the vicinity 
of Stein, upon the Rhine. The bailiff Am- 
Berg, who had previously appeared to favour 
the cause of the Gospel, being anxious to ob- 
tain that bailiwick, had pledged himself to the 
leading men of the canton of Schwitz, that he 
would put down the new religion. (Exlin, 
though not resident within his jurisdiction, 
was the first object of his persecution. 

On the night of the 7th July, 1524, nearj 
midnight, a loud knocking was heard at the j 
pastor's door; it was opened ; — they were the J 
soldiers of the bailiff. They seized him ami I 
dragged him away prisoner, in spite of hi:;j 
cries. (Exlin, believing that they meant to 
put him to death, shrieked out "Murder!" 
The inhabitants rose from their beds in af- 
fright, and the whole village immediately 
became a scene of tumult, the noise of which 
was heard as far as Stein. The sentinel 
posted at the castle of Hohenklingen fired the 
alarm gun, the tocsin was sounded, and the 
inhabitants of Stein, Stammheim, and the ad- 
jacent places, were shortly all a-foot and 
clustering together in the dark, to ask each 
other what was the matter. 

Stammheim was the residence of the deputy- 
bailiff Wirth, whose two eldest sons, Adrian 
and John, young priests full of piety and cou- 
rage, were zealously engaged in preaching the 
Gospel. John especially was gifted with a 
fervent faith, and stood prepared to offer up 
his life in the cause of his Saviour. It was 
a household of the patriarchal cast. Anna, 
the mother, who had brought the bailiff a 
numerous family, and reared them up in the 
fear of God, was revered for her virtues through 
the whole country round. At the sound of 
the tumult in Burg, the father and his two 
sons came abroad like their neighbours. The 
father was incensed when he found that the 
bailiff of Frauenfeld had exercised his autho- 
rity in a manner repugnant to the laws of his 
country. The sons were grieved by the tidings 
tnat their friend and brother, w T hose good ex- 
ample they delighted to follow, had been car- 
ried off like a criminal. Each of the three 
seized a halberd, and regardless of the fears of 
a tender wife and mother, father and sons 
joined the troop of townspeople who had 
sallied out from Stein with the resolute pur- 
pose of setting their pastor at liberty. Un- 
fortunately, a band of those ill-disposed per- 
sons who never fail to make their appearance 
in a moment of disorder, had mingled with 
the burghers in their march. The bailiff's 
Serjeants were hotly followed ; but warned by 
the tocsin and the shouts of alarm which 
echoed on every side, they redoubled their 
speed, dragging their prisoner along with 
them, and in a little time the Thur was inter- 
posed between them and their pursuers. 

When the people of Stein and Stammheim 
reached the bank of the river and found no 
means of crossing it, they halted on the spot, 

* See page 224. 



and resolved to send a deputation to Frauen- 
feld. "Oh!" said the bailiff Wirth, "the 
pastor of Stein is so dear to us that I would 
willingly sacrifice all I possess, — my liberty, — 
my very heart's blood, — for his sake." The 
rabble, meanwhile, finding themselves in the 
neighbourhood of the convent of Ittingen, 
occupied by a community of Carthusians, 
who were generally believed to have encou- 
raged the bailiff Am-Berg in his tyranny, 
entered the building and took possession of 
the refectory. They immediately gave them- 
selves up to excess, and a scene of riot ensued. 
In vain did Wirth entreat them to quit the 
place; he was in danger of personal ill treat- 
ment among them. His son Adrian had 
remained outside of the monastery; John 
entered it, but shocked by what he beheld 
within, came out again immediately. The 
inebriated peasants proceeded to pillage the 
cellars and granaries, to break the furniture to 
pieces, and to burn the books. 

As soon as the news of these disorders 
reached Zurich, the deputies of the Council 
were summoned in haste, and orders issued 
for all persons belonging to the canton who 
had left their homes to return to them imme- 
diately. These orders were obeyed. But a 
crowd of Thurgovians, drawn together by the 
tumult, now established themselves in the 
convent for the sake of the good cheer which 
they found there. A fire suddenly broke out, 
no one could tell how, — and the edifice was 
reduced to ashes. 

Five days after, the deputies of the cantons 
were convened at Zug. Nothing was heard 
in this assembly but threats of vengeance and 
death. "Let us march," said they, "with 
our banners spread, against Stein and Stamm- 
heim, and put the inhabitants to the sword." 
The deputy-bailiff and his two sons had long 
been objects of especial dislike on account of 
their faith. "If any one is guilty," said the 
deputy from Zurich, "he must be punished; 
but let it be by the rules of justice, not by 
violence." Vadian, the deputy from St. Gall, 
spoke to the same effect. Hereupon the 
avoyer John Hug of Lucerne, unable any 
longer to contain himself, broke out into 
frightful imprecations. " The heretic Zwingle 
is the father of all these rebellions; and you, 
Doctor of St. Gall, you favour his hateful 
cause, and labour for its advancement. You 
shall sit here with us no longer!" The deputy 
for Zug endeavoured to restore order, but in 
vain. Vadian retired; and knowing that his 
life was in danger from some of the lower 
order of the people, secretly left the town, and, 
by a circuitous road, reached the convent of 
Cappel in safety. 

The magistrates of Zurich, intent upon re- 
pressing all commotion, resolved upon a pro- 
visional arrest of the individuals against whom 
the anger of the confederates had been more 
J particularly manifested. Wirth and his sons 
! were living quietly at Stammheim. " Never," 
I said Adrian Wirth from the pulpit, "can the 
I friends of God have any thing to fear from 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



345 



His enemies." The father was warned of 
the fate that awaited him, and advised to make 
his escape along with his sons. "No," he 
replied, "I put my trust in God, and will 
wait for the Serjeants here." When at length 
a party of soldiers presented themselves at his 
door — " Their worships of Zurich," said he, 
" might have spared themselves this trouble ; — 
had they only sent a child to fetch me, I would 
have obeyed their bidding.' The three Wirths 
were carried to Zurich and lodged in the 
prison. Rutiman, the bailiff of Nussbaun, 
shared their confinement. They underwent a 
rigid examination; but the conduct they were 
proved to have held furnished no ground of 
complaint against them. 

As soon as the deputies of the cantons were 
apprized of the imprisonment of these four 
citizens, they demanded that they should be 
sent to Baden, and decreed that, in case of a 
refusal, an armed powef should march upon 
Zurich, and carry them off by force. " It 
belongs of right to Zurich," replied the depu- 
ties of that canton, "to determine whether 
these men are guilty or not, and we find no 
fault in them." Hereupon, the deputies of 
the cantons cried out, " Will you surrender 
them to us, or not ] — answer yes or no — in a 
single word." Two of the deputies of Zurich 
mounted their horses at once, and repaired 
with all speed to their constituents. 

Their arrival threw the whole town into the 
utmost agitation. If the authorities of Zurich 
should refuse to give up the prisoners, the 
confederates would soon appear in arms at 
their gates, and, on the other hand, to give 
them up, was, in effect, to consent to their 
death. Opinions were divided. Zwingle in- 
sisted on a refusal. " Zurich," said he, " must 
remain faithful to its ancient laws." At last 
a kind of compromise was suggested. " We 
will deliver up the prisoners," said they to the 
Diet, " but on this condition, that you shall 
examine them regarding the affair of Ittingen 
alone, and not with reference to their faith." 
The Diet agreed to this proposition ; and on 
the Friday before St. Bartholomew's day, 
(August, 1524,) the three Wirths and their 
friends took their departure from Zurich under 
the escort of four Councillors of State and a 
few soldiers. 

The deepest concern was manifested on 
this occasion by the whole body of the people. 
The fate which awaited the two old men 
and the two brothers was distinctly foreseen. 
Nothing but sobs was heard as they passed 
along. "Alas!" exclaims a contemporary 
writer, "what a woeful journey was that!" 
The churches were all thronged. " God will 
punish us," cried Zwingle, " He will surely 
punish us. Let us at, least beseech Him to 
visit those poor prisoners with comfort, and 
strengthen them in the true faith." 

On the Friday evening, the prisoners arrived 
at Baden, where an immense crowd was 
awaiting to receive them. They were taken 
first to an inn, and afterwards to the jail. 
The people pressed so closely round to see 



them that they could scarcely move. The 
father who walked first, turned round towards 
his sons, and meekly said, — " See, my dear 
children, we are like those of whom the 
Apostle speaks, — men appointed to death, a 
spectacle to the world, to angels and to men." — 
(1 Cor. iv. 9.) Just then he chanced to ob- 
serve, among the crowd, the bailiff Am-Berg, 
his mortal enemy, and the prime author of all 
his misfortunes. He went up to him, held 
out his hand, and grasping Am-Berg's, — 
though the bailiff would have lurned away, — 
said, with much composure, " There is a God 
above us, and He knows all things." 

The examination began the next morning, 
Wirth, the father, was the first who was 
brought before the tribunal. Without the 
least consideration for his character or for his 
age, he was put to the torture ; but he per- 
sisted in declaring that he was innocent both 
of the pillage and the burning of Ittingen. A 
charge was then brought against him of having 
destroyed an image representing St. Anne. 
As to the other prisoners, — nothing could be 
substantiated against them, except that Adrian 
Wirth was married, and that he was accus- 
tomed to preach after the manner of Zwingle 
and Luther; and that John Wirth had given 
the holy sacrament to a sick man without 
candle or bell ! 

But the more conclusively their innocence 
was established, the more furious became the 
excitement of their adversaries. From morn- 
ing till noon of that day, the old man was 
made to endure all the severity of torture. 
His tears were of no avail to soften the hearts 
of his judges. John Wirth was still more 
cruelly tormented. "Tell us," said they, in 
the midst of his agonies, "from whom didst 
thou learn thy heretical creed 1 Was it 
Zwingle, or who else, that taught it thee ?" 
And when he was heard to exclaim, " O 
merciful and everlasting God ! grant me help 
and comfort!" "Aha!" said one of the 
deputies, "where is your Christ now?" 
When Adrian was brought forward, Sebastian 
von Stein, a deputy of Berne, addressing him 
thus : — " Young- man, tell us the truth, for if 
you refuse to do so, I swear by my knighthood, 
— the knighthood I received on the very spot 
where God suffered martyrdom, — we will 
open all the veins in your body, one by one." 
The young man was then hoisted up by a cord, 
and while he was swinging in the air, "Young 
master," said Stein, with a fiendish smile, 
"this is our wedding gifi ;" alluding to the 
marriage which the youthful ecclesiastic had 
recently contracted. 

The examination being now concluded, the 
deputies returned to their several cantons to 
make their report, and did not assemble again 
until four weeks had expired. The bailiff's 
wife, — the mother of the two young priests, — 
repaired to Baden, carrying a child in her 
arms, to appeal to the compassion of the 
judges. John Escher, of Zurich, accom- 
panied her as her advocate. The latter re- 
cognized among the. judges Jerome Stocker, 



346 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



the landamman, of Zug, who had twice been 
bailiff of Frauenfeld. " Landamman," said 
he, accosting him, " you remember the bailiff 
Wirth; you know that he has always been 
an honest man." " It is most true, my good 
friend Escher," replied Stocker ; "he never did 
any one an injury : countrymen and strangers 
alike were sure to find a hearty welcome at 
his table ; his house was a convent, — inn, — 
hospital, all in one. And knowing this, as I 
do, had he committed a robbery or a murder, 
I would have spared no effort to obtain his 
pardon ; since he has burned St. Anne, the 
grandmother of Christ, it is but right that he 
should die !" — "Then God take pity on usi" 
ejaculated Escher. 

The gates were now shut, (this was on the 
28th of September,) and the deputies of Berne, 
Lucerne, Uri, Schwitz, Underwald, Zug, 
Glaris, Friburg, and Soleure, having pro- 
ceeded agreeably to usage, to deliberate on 
their judgment with closed doors sentence of 
death was passed upon the bailiff Wirth, his 
son John, who, of all the accused, was the 
firmest in his faith, and who appeared to have 
gained over the others, and the bailiff Rutiman. 
They spared the life of Adrian, the younger of 
Wirth's sons, as a boon to his weeping mother. 

The prisoners were now brought forth from 
the tower in which they had been confined. 
" My son,", said the father to Adrian, "we 
die an undeserved death, but never do thou 
think of avenging it." Adrian wept bitterly. 
" My brother," said John, " where Christ's 
word comes his cross must follow." 

After the sentence had been read to them, the 
three christian sufferers were led back to 
prison; John Wirth walking first, the two 
bailiffs next, and a vicar behind them. As 
they crossed the castle bridge, on which there 
was a chapel dedicated to St. Joseph, the 
vicar called out to the two old men — " Fall on 
your knees and invoke the saints." At these 
words, John Wirth, turning round, said, 
" Father, be firm! You kno* r there is but 
one Mediator between God and man — Christ 
Jesus." — " Assuredly, my son," replied the 
old man, " and by the help of His grace I 
will continue faithful to Him, even to the 
end." On this, they all three began to re- 
peat the Lord's Prayer, " Our Father who art 
in heaven" . . . And so they crossed the bridge. 

They were next conducted to the scaffold. 
John Wirth, whose heart was filled with the 
tenderest solicitude for his father, bade him a 
solemn farewell. " My beloved father," said 
he, " henceforth thou art my father no longer, 
and I am no longer thy son ; — hut we are 
brothers still in Christ our Lord, for whose 
name's sake we are doomed to suffer death, 
So now, if such be God's will, my beloved 
brother, let us depart to be with Him who is 
the father of us all. Fear nothing !" — 
"Amen!" answered the old man, "and may 
God Almighty bless thee, my beloved son 
and brother in Christ." 

Thus, on the threshold of eternity did father 
and son take their leave of each other, with 



joyful anticipations of that unseen stale in 
which they should be united anew by imper- 
ishable ties. There were but few among the 
multitude around whose tears did not flow 
profusely. The bailiff Rutiman prayed in 
silence. All three then knelt down "in 
Christ's name," — and their heads were se- 
vered from their bodies. 

The crowd, observing the marks of torture 
on their persons, uttered loud expressions of 
grief. The two bailiffs left behind them 
twenty-two children, and forty-five grand- 
children. Anna was obliged to pay twelve 
golden crowns to the executioner by whom 
her husband and son had been deprived of life. 

Now at length blood had been spilt — inno- 
cent blood. Switzerland and the Reforma- 
tion were baptized with the blood of the mar- 
tyrs. The great enemy of the Gospel had 
effected his purpose; but in effecting it he 
had struck a mortal blow against his own 
power. The death of the Wirths was an ap- 
pointed mean* of hastening the triumph of 
the Reformation. 

The Reformers of Zurich had abstained 
from abolishing the mass when they suppressed 
the use of images; but the moment for doing 
so seemed now to have arrived. 

Not only had the light of the Gospel been 
diffused among the people — but the violence 
of the enemy called upon the friends of God's 
word to reply by some striking demonstration 
of their unshaken constancy. As often as 
Rome shaL erect a scaffold, and heads shall 
drop upon it, so often shall the Reformation 
exalt the Lord's holy Word, and crush some 
hitherto untouched corruption. When Hottin- 
ger was executed, Zurich put down the worship 
of images, and now that the Wirths have been 
sacrificed, Zurich shall reply by the abolition 
of the Mass. While Rome fills up the mea- 
sure of her severities, the Reformation shall be 
conscious of a perpetual accession of strength. 

On the 11th of August, 1525, the three pas- 
tors of Zurich, accompanied by Megander, and 
Oswald and Myconius, presented themselves 
before the Great Council, and demanded the 
re-establishment of the Lord's Supper. Their 
discourse was a weighty one, and was listened 
to with the deepest attention; — every one felt 
how important was the decision which the 
Council was called upon to pronounce. The 
mass — that mysterious rite which for three 
successive centuries had constituted the ani- 
mating principle in the worship of the Latin 
Church — was now to be abrogated, — the cor- 
poreal presence of Christ was to be declared 
an illusion, and of that illusion, the minds of 
the people were to be dispossessed ; some 
courage was needed for such a resolution as 
this, and there were individuals in the Coun- 
cil who shuddered at the contemplation of so 
audacious a design. Joachim Am-Grut, the 
under-secretary of state, was alarmed by the 
demand of the pastors, and opposed it with all 
his might. "The words, This is my body" 
said he, "prove beyond all dispute that the 
bread is the very body of Christ himself.*' 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



347 



Zwingle argued that there is no other word 
in the Greek language than sate (is) to express 
signifies, and he quoted several instances of 
the employment of that word in a figurative 
sense. The Great Council was convinced by 
his reasoning, and hesitated no longer. The 
evangelical doctrine had sunk deep into every 
heart, and moreover, since a separation from 
the Church of Rome had taken place, there 
was a kind of satisfaction felt in making that 
separation as complete as possihle, and dig- 
ging a gulf as it were between the Reforma- 
tion and her. The Council decreed therefore 
that the mass should be abolished, and it was 
determined that on the following day, which 
was Maunday Thursday, the Lord's Supper 
should be celebrated in conformity to the apos- 
tolic model. 

Zwingle's mind had been deeply engaged 
in these proceedings; and at night, when he 
closed his eyes, he was still searching for ar- 
guments with which to confront his adversa- 
ries. The subject that had occupied him du- 
ring the day, presented itself to him again in 
a dream. He thought that he was disputing 
with Am-Grut, and could not find an answer 
to his principal objection. Suddenly some 
one stood before him in his dream and said, 
" Why dost not thou quote the 11th verse of 
the 12th chapter of Exodus: Ye shall eat the 
Lamb in haste; it is the Lord's Passover?" 
Zwingle awoke, rose from his bed, took up 
the Septuagint translation, and turning to the 
verse found the same word scr-a (is) whose 
import in that passage, by universal admis- 
sion, can be no other than signifies. 

Here then, in the very constitution of the 
paschal feast under the old covenant, was the 
phrase employed in that identical sense which 
Zwingle assigned to it — who could resist the 
conclusion that the two passages are parallel ] 

On the following day, Zwingle took the 
verse just mentioned as the text of his dis- 
course, and reasoned so forcibly from it that 
the doubts of his hearers were dispelled. 

The incident which has now been related, 
and which is so naturally explained — and the 
particular expression* used by Zwingle to inti- 
mate that he had no recollection of the aspect 
of the person whom he saw in his dream, have 
given rise to the assertion that the doctrine 
promulgated by the Reformer was delivered 
to him by the devil ! 

The altars disappeared; some plain tables, 
covered with the sacramental bread and wine, 
occupied their places, and a crowd of eager 
communicants was gathered round them. 
There was something exceedingly solemn in 
that assemblage. Our Lord's death was com- 
memorated on three different days, by differ- 
ent portions of the community: — on Maunday 
Thursday, by the young people; on Good 
Friday, the day of his passion, by those who 
had reached the middle stage of life; on 
Easter Sunday, by the aged. 



* Ater merit an albus nihil memini, somnium 
enim narro. 



After the deacons had read aloud such passa- 
ges of Scripture as relate to this sacrament, the 
pastors addressed their flock in the language 
of pressing admonition, — charging all those 
whose wilful indulgence in sin would bring 
dishonour on the body of Christ to withdraw 
from that holy feast. The people then fell on 
their knees; the bread was carried round on 
large wooden dishes or platters, and every one 
broke ofT a morsel for himself; the wine was 
distributed in wooden drinking cups; the re- 
semblance to the primitive Supper was thought 
to be the closer. The hearts of those who 
celebrated this ordinance were affected with 
alternate emotions of wonder and joy. 

Such was the progress of the Reformation at 
Zurich. The simple commemoration of our 
Lord's death caused a fresh overflow in the 
Church, of love to God, and love to the bre- 
thren. The words of Jesus Christ were once 
more proved to be ' spirit and life.' Whereas 
the different orders and sections of the Church 
of Rome had kept up incessant disputes among 
themselves, the first effect of the Gospel, on 
its re-appearance in the Church, was the re- 
vival of brotherly charity. The Love which 
had glowed so brightly in the first ages of 
Christianity, was now kindled anew. Men, 
who had before been at variance, were found 
renouncing their long cherished enmity, and 
cordially embracing each other* after having 
broken bread together at the table of the Lord. 
Zwingle rejoiced at these affecting manifesta- 
tions of grace, and returned thanks to God that 
the Lord's Supper was again working those 
miracles of charity, which had long since 
ceased to be displayed in connection with the 
sacrifice of the mass. 

"Our city," said he, "continues at peace. 
There is no fraud, no dissension, no envy, no 
wrangling among us. Where shall we dis- 
cover the cause of this agreement except in 
the Lord's good pleasure, and the hannless- 
ness and meekness of the doctrine weprofess. 1 " 

Charity and unity were there — but not uni- 
formity. Zwingle, in his " Commentary on 
true and false religion,'''' which he dedicated 
to Francis the First, in March, 1525, the year 
of the battle of Pavia, had stated some truths 
in a manner that seemed adapted to recom- 
mend them to human reason, following in that 
respect the example of several of the most dis- 
tinguished among the scholastic theologians. 
In this way he had attached to original cor- 
ruption the appellation of a disease, reserving 
the name of sin for the. actual violation of law. 
But these statements, though they gave rise 
to some objections, yet occasioned no breach 
of brotherly charity ; for Zwingle, while be 
persisted in calling original sin. a disease, 
added, by. that disease, all men were ruined, 
and that the sole remedy was in Jesus Christ. 
Here then was no taint of Pelaoian error. 

But whilst in Zurich the celebration of the 
sacrament was followed by the re-establish- 
ment of Christian brotherhood, Zwingle and 
his friends had to sustain a harder struggle 
than ever against their adversaries without. 



348 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Zwingle was not only a Christian teacher, he 
was a true patriot also; and we know how 
zealously he always opposed the capitulations, 
and foreign pensions, and alliances. He was 
persuaded that this extraneous influence was 
destructive to piety, contributed to the mainte- 
nance of error, and was a fruitful source of civil 
discord. But his courageous protests on this 
head were destined to impede the progress of 
the Reformation. In almost every canton, the 
leading men, who received the foreign pen- 
sions, and the officers under whose command 
the youth of Switzerland were led out to battle, 
were knit together in powerful factions and 
oligarchies, which attacked the Reformation, 
not so much in the spirit of religious animosity, 
as in the belief that its success would be de- 
trimental to their own pecuniary and political 
interests. They had already gained a triumph 
in Schwitz, and that canton, in which Zwin- 
gle, Leo Juda, and Oswald Myconius had 
preached the truth, and which seemed disposed 
to follow the example of Zurich, had, on a 
sudden, renewed the mercenary capitulations, 
and closed the door against the Gospel. 

In Zurich itself, a few worthless persons, 
instigated to mischief by foreign agency, 
made an attack upon Zwingle, in the middle 
of the night, throwing stones at his house, 
breaking the windows, and calling aloud for 
"red haired Uli, the vulture of Glaris," — so 
that Zwingle started from his sleep, and 
caught up his sword. The action is charac- 
teristic of the man. 

But these desultory assaults could not 
counteract the impulse by which Zurich was 
carried onward, and which was beginning to 
vibrate throughout the whole of Switzerland. 
They were like pebbles thrown to check the 
course of a torrent. The waters of the tor- 
rent meanwhile were swelling, and the 
mightiest of its obstacles were likely soon to 
be swept away. 

The people of Berne having intimated to 
the citizens of Zurich, that several of the 
cantons had refused to sit with them any 
longer in the Diet : — " Well," replied the 
men of Zurich, with calm dignity, raising 
(as in times past the men of Rutii had done) 
their hands towards heaven, "we are per- 
suaded that God the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, in whose name the Confederation has 
been formed, will not forsake us, and will, at 
last, in his mercy, make us to sit at the right 
hand of His majesty." 

With such a faithful spirit, there was 
nothing to fear for the Reformation. But 
would it make similar progress in the other 
states of the Confederation ? Might not Zu- 
rich be single on the side of the word of 
God? Berne, Basle, and other cantons, 
would they remain in their subjection to 
Rome? It is this we are now to see. Let 
us then turn towards Berne, and contem- 
plate the march of the Reformation in the 
most influential of the confederated states. 

No where was the contest likely to be so 
sharp as at Berne, for the Gospel had there 



both powerful friends and determined oppo- 
nents. At the head of the reforming party 
was the bannaret John Weingarten, Bar- 
tholomew May, member of the lesser Coun- 
cil, his sons, Wolfgang and Claudius, his 
grandsons, James and Benedict, and, above 
all, the family of the Wattevilles. James 
Watteville, the magistrate, who, since 1512, 
had presided over the republic, had read the 
writings of Luther and Zwingle, at the time 
of their publication, and had often conversed 
concerning the Gospel with John Halier, 
pastor at Anseltingen, whom he had pro- 
tected from his persecutors. 

His son, Nicholas, then thirty-one years 
of age, had, for two years, filled the office of 
provost in the church of Berne; and, as such, 
by virtue of papal ordinances, enjoyed dis- 
tinguished privileges; so that, Berthold Hal- 
ier, in speaking of him, would call him " oui 
Bishop." 

The prelates and the Pope used every ef- 
fort to bind him to the interests of Rome, 
and the circumstances in which he was 
placed, seemed likely to keep him from the 
knowledge of the Gospel ; but fche workings 
of God's Spirit were more powerful than the 
flatteries of man. " Watteville," says Zwin- 
gle, " was turned from darkness to the sweet 
light of the Gospel." As the friend of Ber- 
thold Halier, he was accustomed to read the 
letters which he received from Zwingle, for 
whom he expressed the highest admiration. 

It was natural to suppose that the influence 
! of the two W x attevilles, the one being at the 
head of the state, and the other of the church, 
would draw after it the republic over which 
they presided. But the opposite party was 
scarcely less powerful. 

Among its chiefs were the schultheiss of 
Erlach, the banneret Willading, and many 
persons of high family, whose interests were 
identified with those of the convents placed 
under their administration. Backing these 
influential leaders was an ignorant and cor- 
rupted clergy, who went the length of calling 
Gospel truth, " an invention of hell." ■'* Be- 
loved colleagues," said the counsellor of 
Mullinen, at a full conference, held in the 
month of July, "be on your guard, lest this 
Reformation should creep in upon us. There 
is no safety at Zurich in one's own house : 
people are obliged to have soldiers to guard 
them." In consequence, they invited to 
Berne the lecturer of the Dominicans at 
Mentz, John Heim, who, taking his stand ia 
the pulpit, poured forth all the eloquence of St. 
Thomas Aquinas against the Reformation. 

Thus, then, the two parties w T ere in 
presence of each other; a struggle seemed 
inevitable, but already there were indications 
with whom the victory would remain. In 
fact, a common faith united a part of the 
people to those distinguished families who 
espoused the Reformation. Berthold Halier 
exclaimed, full of confidence in the future. 
"Unless, indeed, the wrath of God should 
show itself against us, it is not possible that 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



349 



the word of the Lord should be banished 
from the city, for the Bernese are hungering 
after it." 

Two acts of the government soon appeared 
to incline the balance in favor of the new 
opinions. The Bishop of Lausanne had 
given notice of an episcopal visitation ; the 
Council sent a message to him by the pro- 
vost, Watteville, desiring him to abstain 
from it. And, in the meantime, the govern- 
ment put forth an ordinance, which, whilst 
in appearance it left the enemies of the truth 
in possession of some of their advantages, at 
the same time sanctioned the principles on 
which the Reformation was founded. They 
directed that the ministers should preach, 
clear of all additions, — freely and openiy, — 
the Gospel and the doctrine of God, as it is 
found in the books of the Old and New Tes- 
taments ; and that they should not allude to 
any doctrine, disputation, or writing coming 
from Luther or other teachers. 

Great was the surprise of the enemies of 
the truth, when they saw the ministers of 
the Gospel appealing with confidence to this 
decree. This ordinance, which was to fur- 
nish the ground for all those that succeeded, 
was, legally speaking, the commencement 
of the Reformation at Berne. From that 
time, there was more decision in the progress 
of this canton ; and Zwingle, who attentively 
observed all that was passing in Switzerland, 
was able to write to the provost de Watte- 
ville, "Christians are all exulting on account 
of the faith which the pious city of Berne 
has just received." "The cause is that of 
Christ," exclaimed the friends of the Gospel, 
and they exerted themselves to advance it 
with increased confidence. The enemies of 
the Reformation, alarmed at these first ad- 
vantages, closed their ranks, and resolved on 
striking a blow which should ensure victory 
on their side. They conceived the project 
of getting rid of those ministers whose bold 
preaching was turning all the ancient cus- 
toms upside down; and a favorable occasion 
was not long wanting. There was, at Berne, 
in the place where now stands the hospital de 
Pile, a convent of nuns of the Dominican or- 
der, consecrated to St. Michael. St. Michael's 
day, (29th of September,) was always a so- 
lemn festival to the inmates of the nunnery. 
On this anniversary, many of the clergy 
were present, and, among others, Wittem- 
bach de Bienne, Sebastian Meyer, and Ber- 
thold Haller. This latter, having entered 
into conversation with the nuns, among 
whom was Clara, the daughter of Claudius 
May, (one of those who maintained the new 
doctrines,) he remarked to her, in the presence 
of her grandmother, " the merits of the mo- 
nastic state are but imaginary, whilst marriage 
is honourable, and instituted by God himself." 
Some nuns, to whom Clara related this con- 
versation of Berthold, received it with out- 
cries. It was soon rumoured in the city that 
Haller had asserted that " the nuns were all 



children of the devil." The opportunity that 
the enemies of the Reformation had waited 
for, was now arrived ; and they presented 
themselves before the lesser Council. Re- 
ferring to an ancient law, which enacted that 
whosoever should carry off a nun from her 
convent should lose his head, they proposed 
that the " sentence should be mitigated" so 
far, as that, without hearing the three ac- 
cused ministers in their defence, they should 
be banished for life ! The lesser Council 
granted the petition, and the matter was im- 
mediately carried to the grand Council. 

Thus, then, Berne was threatened with the 
loss of her Reformers. The intrigues of the 
Popish party seemed successful. But Rome, 
triumphant when she played her game with 
the higher orders, was beaten when she had 
to do with the people or their representatives. 
Hardly were the names of Haller, of Meyer, 
of Wittembach — those names held in venera- 
tion by all the Swiss, — pronounced in the 
grand Council, before an energetic opposition 
was manifested against the lesser Council and 
the clergy. "We cannot," said Tillman, 
"condemn the accused unheard! . . . Surely 
their own testimony may be received against 
that of a few women." The ministers were 
called up. There seemed no way of settling 
matters. "Let us admit the statements of 
both parties," said John Weingarten. They 
did so, and discharged the accused ministers, — 
at the same time desiring them to confine 
themselves to the duties of their pulpits, and 
not to trouble themselves concerning the 
cloisters. But the pulpit was all they wanted : 
their accusers had taken nothing by their 
motion. It was counted a great victory gainea 
by the Reforming party, insomuch that one of 
the leading men exclaimed, "It is all over 
now — Luther's work must go forward." 

And go forward it did, — and that in places 
where it could least have been expected. At 
Konigsfield upon the river Aar, near the castle 
of Hapsburg, stood a monastery adorned with 
all the magnificence of the middle ages, and in 
which reposed the ashes of many of that illus- 
trious house which had so often given an 
Emperor to Germany. To this place the 
noble families of Switzerland and of Suabia 
used to send their daughters to take the veil. 
It was in the neighbourhood of this convent 
that the Emperor Albert had fallen by the 
hand of his nephew, John of Suabia, on the 
1st of May, 1308; and the beautiful stained 
windows of the church at Konigsfeld repre- 
sented the horrible tortures which had been 
inflicted upon the relations and dependants of 
the perpetrators of the murder. Catherine of 
Waldborg-Truehses, abbess of the convent at 
the period of the Reformation, numuered 
among her nuns Beatrice Landenberg, sister 
of the Bishop of Constance, Agnes Mullinen, 
Catherine Bonnstetten, and Margaret Watte- 
ville, sister of the provost. The liberty en- 
joyed in this convent, a liberty which in 
earlier times had given occasion to scandalous 
disorders, had favoured the introduction not 



350 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



only of the Bible, but of the writings of Luther 
and Zwingle; and soon a new spring of life 
and joy changed the aspect of its interior. 
Nigh to that cell to which Queen Agnes, 
daughter of Albert, had retired, after bathing 
in torrents of blood "as in Maydews;" and 
where, dividing her time between spinning 
wool and embroidering tapestry for the church, 
she had mingled thoughts of vengeance with 
devotional exercises, — Margaret Watteville 
had only thoughts of peace, — read the Scrip- 
tures, — and found time, in her spare moments, 
to compound, of certain salutary ingredients, 
an excellent electuary. Retiring to her cell, 
the youthful nun took courage to write to the 
Reformer of Switzerland. Her letter discovers 
to us, better than any reflections could do, the 
Christian spirit which existed among those 
pious women, — still, even in our days, so 
much calumniated. 

" Grace and peace, in the Lord Jesus Christ, 
be given and multiplied towards you always, 
by God our heavenly Father," was the lan- 
guage of the nun of Konigsfeld to Zwingle : 
" Very learned, reverend, and most dear Sir, 
I pray you to take in good part this letter 
which I now address to you. The love of 
Christ constrains me; — especially since I 
lave learned that the doctrines of grace are 
spreading from day to day through your 
preaching of the word of God. For this 
cause I give thanks to the Eternal God, for 
that he has enlightened us anew, and has sent 
tts, by His Holy Spirit, so many heralds of 
His blessed word ; and at the same time I 
present before Him my earnest prayers, that 
He will be pleased to clothe with His strength, 
both you and all those who publish His glad 
tidings, — and that arming you against all 
enemies of the truth, He will cause His 
Divine Word to grow in all men. Most 
learned Sir, I take the liberty of sending to 
your reverence this little mark of my affection ; 
I pray you do not despise it, for it is an offering 
of Christian love. If this electuary should 
be useful to you, and you should wish to have 
more, pray let me know, for it would be a joy 
to my heart to do any thing that would be 
agreeable to you. I am writing not my own 
feelings only, but those of all in our convent 
of Konigsfeld who love the Gospel. They 
salute you in Jesus Christ, and we together 
cease not to commend you to His Almighty 
protection. 

"Saturday before Lcetare, 1523." 

Such was the pious letter which the nan of 
Konigsfeld wrote to the Reformer of Switzer- 
land. ' 

A convent into which the light of the Gos- 
pel had penetrated in such power, could not 
long continue to adhere to monastic observ- 
ances. Margaret Watteville and her sisters, 
persuaded that they should better serve God 
in their families than in a cloister, solicited 
permission to leave it. The Council of Berne, 
in some alarm, took measures to bring the 
nuns to reason, and the provincial and abbess 
iliernately tried promises and threats, but the 



sisters, Margaret, Agnes, and Catherine, and 
their friends, could not be dissuaded. On 
this, the discipline of the convent was re- 
laxed, — the nuns being exempted from fasting 
and matins, and their allowance increased. 
" We desire," said they, in reply to the Coun- 
cil, " not ' the liberty of the flesh? but that of 
the spirit. We, your poor, unoffending pri- 
soners, beseech you to take compassion on us." 
— " Our prisoners ! our prisoners," exclaimed 
the banneret, Krauchthaler ; " / have no wish 
to detain them prisoners !" This speech, com- 
ing from a firm defender of the convents, 
decided the Council. The gates were open- 
ed ; and in a short time afterwards Catherine 
Bonnstetten married William von Diesbach. 
Nevertheless, Berne, instead of openly 
taking part with the Reformation, did but hold 
a middle course, and pursue a system of vacil 
lation. An incident soon occurred which 
made this apparent. Sebastian Meyer, lec- 
turer of the Franciscans, put forth a recanta- 
tion of Romish errors, which produced an 
immense sensation; and, in which, depicting 
the condition of the inmates of convents, he 
said, "The living in them is more impure, 
the falls more frequent, the recoveries more 
tardy, the habitual walk more unsteady, the 
moral slumber in them more dangerous, the 
grace toward offenders more rare,' and the 
cleansing from sin more slow, the death more 
despairing, and the condemnation more se- 
vere." At the very time when Meyer was 
thus declaring himself against the cloisters, 
John Heim, lecturer of the Dominicans, ex- 
claimed from the pulpit, " No! Christ has not, 
as the Evangelicals tells us, made satisfaction 
once for all, to his Father. God must still 
further every day be reconciled to men by 
good works and the sacrifice of the mass." 
Two burghers, who happened to be in the 
church, interrupted him with the words, 
"That's not true." The interruption caused 
a great disturbance in the church ; and Heim 
remained silent. Some pressed him to go on ; 
but he left the pulpit without finishing his 
sermon. The next day trie Grand Council 
struck a blow at once against Rome and the 
Reformation ! They banished from the city 
the two leading controversialists, Meyer and 
Heim. It was remarked of the Bernese, 
" They are neither clear nor muddy," —taking 
in a double sense the name of Luther, which 
in old German signified clear.* 



* Romish writers, and particularly M. de Haller, 
have mentioned, following Salat and Tschudi, 
enemies of the Reformation, a pretended letter of 
Zwingle, addressed, at this juncture, to Kolb at 
Berne. It is as follows : — " Health and blessing 
from God our Saviour. Dear Francis, move 
gently in the matter. At first only throw one 
sour pear to the bear, amongst a great many 
sweet ones ; afterwards two, then three ; and as 
soon as he begins to eat them, throw more and 
more, — sweet and bitter all together. Empty the 
sack entirely. Soft, hard, sweet, bitter, he will 
eat them all, and will no longer allow either that 
they be taken, or he driven away. — Zurich, Mon- 
day before St. George, 1525. 

" Your servant in Christ, Ulrich Zwingle. ' 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



351 



But it was in vain to attempt to smother 
the Reformation at Berne. It made progress 
on all sides. The nuns of the convent de 
Tile had not forgotten Haller's visit. Clara 
May, and many of her friends, pressed in 
their conjciences to know what to do, wrote 
to the learned Henry Bollinger. In answer, 
he said, "Saint Paul enjoins young women 
not to take upon them vows, but to marry, 
instead of living in idleness, under a false 
show of piety. (1 Tim. v. 13, 14.) Follow 
Jesus in humility, charity, patience, purity, 
and kindness." Clara, looking to heaven for 
guidance, resolved to act on the advice, and 
renounce a manner of life at variance with the 
word of God, — of man's invention, — and beset 
with snares. Her grandfather Bartholomew, 
who had served for fifty years in the field and 
the council-hall, heard with joy of the resolu- 
tion she had formed. Clara quitted the con- 
vent. 

The provost, Nicholas Watteville, con- 
nected by strong ties of interest to the Roman 
hierarchy, and who was to have been nomi- 
nated to the first vacant bishopric in Switzer- 
land, also gave up his titles, revenues, and 
expectations, that he might keep a clear con- 
science ; and, breaking through all the en- 
tanglements in which the popes had sought 
to bind him, he too entered into that state, 
which had been, from the beginning, instituted 
by God. Nicholas Watteville took to wife 
Clara May; and his sister Margaret, the nun 



We can oppose convincing arguments against 
the authenticity of this letter. First. — In 1525, 
Kolb was pastor at Wertheimer. He did not 
come to Berne until 1527 .-—(See Zw. Epp. 526.) 
M. de Haller substitutes, indeed, but quite arbi- 
trarily, 1527forl525. This correction, doubtless, 
had its object; but, unfortunately, in making it, 
M. de Haller puts himself in direct contradiction 
of Salat and Tschudi, who, though they do not 
agree as to the day on which this letter was men- 
tioned in the diet, agi-ee as the year, which, with 
both, is clearly 1525. Secondly, — There is no 
agreement as to the way in which the letter itself 
got abroad. According to one account, it was 
intercepted ; another version tells us that Kolb's 
parishioners communicated it to an inhabitant of 
the small cantons, who happened to be at Berne. 
Thirdly, — The original is in German. Now 
Zwingle wrote always in Latin to his friends who 
could understand that language : moreover, he 
used to salue them as brother, and not as servant. 
Fourthly, — In reading Zwingle' s correspondence 
it is impossible not to perceive that his style is 
quite different from that of the pretended letter. 
Zwingle never would have written a letter to say 
so little. His letters in general are long and full 
of news. To call the little jeu d' esprit picked up 
by Salat a letter, is but trifling. Fifthly,— Salat 
deserves but little confidence as an historian ; and 
Tschudi appears to have copied him, with a few 
variations. Possibly a man of the small can- 
tons may have had communication, from some 
inhabitant of Berne, of the letter from Zwingle 
to Haller, which we have before mentioned, 
wherein Zwingle employs, with a good deal of 
dignity, the comparison of the bears,— which is 
found in all authors of that age. This may have 
given the idea to some wit to invent this letter, 
which has been supposed to have passed from 
Zwingle to Kolb. 
24 



■of Konigsfeld, was, about the same time 
united to Lucius Tscharner of Coira.* 

Every thing gave intimation of the victory 
which the Reformation would soon obtain at 
Berne. A city not less important, and which 
then ranked as the Athens of Switzerland — 
Basle, was also beginning to take part in 
the memorable struggle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. 

Each of the cities of the Confederation had 
its own peculiar character. Berne was dis- 
tinguished as the place of residence of the 
chief families ; and the question was one that 
seemed likely to be decided by the part taken 
by certain of the leading nobles. At Zurich, 
the ministers of the Word, such men as 
Zwingle, Leo Juda, Myconius, and Schmidt, 
exercised a commanding influence over a 
powerful middle class of society. Lucerne 
was the city of arms, — a centre of military 
organization. Basle was the seat of learning, 
and its accompaniment, — printing-presses. 
Erasmus, the acknowledged head of the re- 
public of letters in the sixteenth century, had 
there fixed his residence, and, preferring the 
liberty it afforded him to the flattering invita- 
tions of popes and kings, he had become a 
centre of attraction to a concourse of men of 
learning. 

However, a man inferior to Erasmus in natu- 
ral genius, but humble, gentle, and pious, was, 
ere long, to exercise, in that very city, an in- 
fluence more powerful than that possessed by 
this prince of scholars. Christopher von 
Utenheim, bishop of Basle, who agreed in 
judgment with Erasmus, sought to surround 
himself with men disposed to co-operate in a 
sort of half-way Reformation. With this 
view he had called to his aid Capito and 
(Ecolampadius. The latter had a something 
savouring of monkery in his habit of mind, 
and this often clashed with the views of the 
philosopher. (Ecolampadius, however, on 
his part, soon became enthusiastically at- 
tached to Erasmus ; and it is probable he 
would have lost all independence of mind in 
this intimacy, if Providence had not separated 
him from his idol. He returned, in 1517, to 
his native city, Weinsberg. Here he was 
disgusted with the disorders and the profanity 
which prevailed among the priests; and he 
has left a noble record of the serious spirit 
which from that time actuated him, in his 
work entitled "The Humours of Easter," 
which appears to have been written about this 
period. 

Called to Augsburg, towards the end of 
1518, to fill the post of preacher in its cathe- 
dral, he found that city still under the effects 
of the memorable discussion which had been 
held there, in the previous May, between 
Luther and the Pope's legate. It was neces- 
sary that he should choose his side, and 
CEcolampadius did not hesitate to declare 



* Zw. Epp. annotatio, p. 451. It is from this 
union that the Tscharners of Berne derive theii 
descent. 



352 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



himself on the side of the Reformer. Such 
candour on his part soon drew down upon him 
much opposition, and being convinced that his 
natural timidity, and the feebleness of his 
voice, rendered it impossible for him to suc- 
ceed in public, he looked around him for a 
place of retreat, and his thoughts rested on a 
convent of monks of Saint Bridget, near Augs- 
burg, renowned for the piety, as well as for 
the profound and liberal studies of its monks. 
Feeling the need of repose, of leisure, and, 
at the same time, of quiet occupation and 
prayer, he addressed himself to this commu- 
nity, and inquired, " Can I live in your con- 
vent according to the word of God ?" The 
answer being in the affirmative, OEcolampa- 
dius entered its gates on the 23d April, 1520, 
having expressly stipulated that he should be 
free, if ever the ministry of the word of God 
should require his service elsewhere. 

It was well that the Reformer of Basle 
should, like Luther, become acquainted with 
that monastic life, which presented the fullest 
exhibition of the working of Roman Catholi- 
cism. But rest was what he could not find 
there; his friends blamed the step; and he 
himself declared frankly that Luther was 
nearer to the truth than his adversaries. No 
wonder, therefore that Eck and other Romish 
doctors pursued him with menaces even in 
this his quiet retreat. 

At the time we are recording, (Ecolampa- 
dius was neither one of the Reformed, nor yet 1 
a blind follower of Rome; what he mostde-j 
sired was a sort of purified Catholicism, 
which is no where to be found in history, — ! 
but the idea of which has, to many, served as 1 
a bridge of passage to better things. He set 
himself to correct, by reference to the word 
of God, the statutes of his order. " I conjure 
you," said he, to the confraternity, "not to 
think more highly of your statutes, than of 
the ordinances and commandments of the 
Lord." "We have no wish," replied his 
brethren, "for other rules than those of the 
Saviour. Take our books, and mark, as in the 
presence of Christ himself, whatever you find 
therein contrary to his word." (Ecolampa- 
dius began the task imposed; but he was 
almost wearied by it. " O Almighty God !" 
he exclaimed, " what abominations has not 
Rome sanctioned in these statutes." 

Hardly had he pointed out some of them, 
when the anger of the fraternity was aroused. 
" Thou heretic — thou apostate," was their cry, 
"thou deservest to be thrown into a lonesome 
dungeon for the rest of thy days." They would 
not'allow him to come to prayers. Meanwhile, 
outside the walls, still greater danger awaited 
him. Eck, and his party, had not relinquish- 
ed their schemes. " In three days," it was 
told him, "they will be here to arrest you." 
" Do you intend," asked he, " to deliver me up 
to assassins ?" The monks were silent and 
irresolute . . . ; neither willing to save him, 
nor yet to give him up. At this juncture, some 
friends of CEcolampadius approached the con- 
vent, bringing with them horses to conduct 



him to a place of safety. At the news, the 
monks decided to allow the departure of one 
who had brought the seeds of trouble into 
their convent. "Farewell" said he. Be- 
hold him at liberty ! 

He had remained nearly two years in the 
convent of Saint Bridget. 

CEcolampadius was saved — he began to 
breathe. " I have sacrificed the monk," said 
he, writing to a friend, "and have regained 
the Christian." But his flight from the con- 
vent, and his heretical writings were every 
where proclaimed. People on all sides drew 
back at his approach. He knew not which 
way to turn, when Sickingen offered him an 
asylum. This was in the spring of the year 
1522. He accepted it. 

His mind, oppressed during his confine- 
ment within the monastery, recovered its 
elasticity amongst the noble warriors of 
Ebernburg. "Christ is our liberty !" burst 
from his lips, "and that which men consider 
as their greatest misfortune, — death itself, — 
is for us a real gain." He directly com- 
menced reading to the people the Gospel's 
and Epistle's in German. "No sooner will 
these trumpets sound abroad," said he, " than 
the walls of Jericho will crumble to the 
ground." 

Thus the most humble man of his time was 
preparing, in a fortress on the banks of the 
Rhine, in the midst of unpolished warriors, 
for that change of worship which Christianity 
was shortly to undergo. Nevertheless, Ebern- 
burg was not a field large enough for his 
plans ; besides, he felt the need of other so- 
ciety than such as he was in the midst of. 
Cratander, the bookseller, invited him to take 
up his abode at Basle; Sickingen offered no 
impediment; and CEcolampadius, glad at the 
thought of seeing his old friends, arrived there 
on the 16th November, 1522. After having 
lived there some time, simply as a man of 
learning, without any public vocation, he was 
nominated vicar of the church of St. Mar- 
tin, and his acceptance of this humble en- 
gagement perhaps decided the Reformation 
at Basle. Whenever CEcolampadius was to 
preach, a great crowd filled the church. At 
the same time, the public lectures given by 
him, and by Pelican, were crowned with so 
much success, that Erasmus himself felt 
constrained to exclaim, " CEcolampadius 
triumphs !" 

" In. fact, this gentle, and firm man," says 
Zwingle, " diffused, all around him, the sweet 
savour of Christ; and all who assembled 
about him grew in the truth." Often a re- 
port prevailed that he was on the point of 
being obliged to quit Basle, and begin again 
his hazardous flights. On these occasions 
his friends, — and above all Zwingle, — would 
be in consternation ; but then came tidings of 
fresh advantages gained by CEcolampadius, 
dissipating their fears, and raising their hopes. 
The renown of his labours spread even to 
Wittemberg, and rejoiced Luther, who would 
often talk with Melancthon concerning him 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



J53 



But the Saxon Reformer was not without 
anxiety on his account. Erasmus was at 
Basle, — and Erasmus was the friend of (Eeo- 
lampadius . . . Luther thought it his duty to 
put one whom he loved on his guard. "I 
fear much," wrote he, " that, like Moses, 
Erasmus will die in the country of Moah, and 
never lead us into the land of promise.'" 

Erasmus had retired to Basle, as to a quiet 
city, situated in the centre of the intellectual 
activity of the age, — from whence, by means 
of the printing-press of Frobenius, he could 
act upon France, Germany, Switzerland, 
Italy, and England. But he liked not to be 
interfered with; and if the neighbourhood of 
CEcolampadius was not entirely agreeable to 
him, another man there was whose presence 
inspired him with still more apprehension. 
Ulric Hutten had followed (Ecolampacfius 
to Basle. For some time he had been at- 
tacking the Pope, as one knight tilts with 
another. "The axe," said he, " is already 
laid at the root of the tree. Faint not, my 
countrymen, in the heat of the battle: the 
lot is cast; the charge is begun . . . Hurrah 
for liberty!" He laid aside the Latin, and 
now wrote only in German ; for his object 
was to get at the hearts of the people. 

His views were grand and generous. Ac- 
cording to his plan, there was to be a yearly 
meeting of bishops, to regulate the interests 
of the church. Christian institutions, and 
above all, a Christian spirit, was to go forth 
from Germany, as formerly from Judea, and 
spread through the whole world. Charles 
V. was the young hero destined to realise 
this golden age; but Hutten's hopes having 
been blasted in that quarter, he turned to- 
wards Sickingen, and sought from knight- 
hood that which the Imperial authority 
refused him. 

Sickingen, as a leading chieftain, had 
acted a distinguished part in Germany ; but 
soon after the nobles had besieged him in the 
castle of Landstein, and the ancient walls 
of that fortress had yielded to the strange 
power of cannon and musketry, — then only 
recently invented. The taking of Landstein 
had been the final defeat of the power of the 
knights, — the triumph of the art of modern 
warfare over that of the middle ages. Thus, 
the last exploits of the knights had been on 
the side of the Reformation, while the ear- 
liest use of the newly-invented engines was 
against it. The steel-clad warriors, whose 
bodies fell beneath the unlooked-for storm of 
balls, made way for other soldiery. Other 
conflicts were opening. A spiritual knight- 
hood was taking the place of the Du Gues- 
clins and Bayards ; and those battered ram- 
parts, broken walls, and expiring warriors, 
told, more plainly than Luther had been 
able to do, that it was not by such allies or 
such weapons that the Gospel of the Prince 
of Peace was destined to prevail. 

The hopes of Hutten had died with the 
fall of-Landstein, and the ruin of the power 
of the knights As he stood by the corpse 



of his friend Sickingen, he bade adieu to his 
dream of brighter days to come, and losing 
all confidence in men, he sought only for re- 
tirement and repose. In quest of these, he 
visited Erasmus in Switzerland. An early 
friendship had subsisted between them; but 
the rough and overbearing knight, regardless 
of the opinions of others, quick to grasp the 
sword, and dealing his blows on all sides, 
wherever he came, could scarcely be ex- 
pected to " walk together" with the fastidi- 
ous and timid Erasmus, with all his refine- 
ment, politeness, love of praise, his readiness 
to sacrifice all for the sake of it, and his fear, 
above all, of controversy. 

On his arrival at Basle, Hutten, poor, suf- 
fering in bodily health, and a fugitive, im 
mediately sought out his old friend. But 
Erasmus shrunk from the thought of re- 
ceiving at his table a man who was placed 
under ban by the Pope and the Emperor, — 
a man who, in his conversation, would 
spare no one, and, besides borrowing money 
of him, would no doubt be followed by others 
of the " Gospel party," whom Erasmus 
dreaded more and more. He declined to 
see him, — and the magistrates of Basle de- 
sired Hutten to leave the city. Wounded to 
the quick, and irritated by the timid pru- 
dence of his friend, Hutten repaired to Mul- 
hausen, and there circulated a violent diatribe 
against Erasmus, — to which the latter put 
forth a reply replete witn talent. The knight 
had, as it were, with both hands, seized his 
sword, and felled his adversary to the earth; 
the philosopher, recovering his feet, had re- 
plied to the strokes of his adversary by peck- 
ings with his beak. 

Hutten was again compelled to flight. 
He reached Zurich, and there found a kind 
reception at the hospitable hearth of Zwin- 
gle. Intrigues again obliged him to quit that 
city; and after passing some time at the 
baths of Pfeffers, he repaired, provided with 
a letter from the Swiss Reformer, to the 
pastor, John Schnapp, who resided in the 
little island of Uffnan, on the lake of Zurich, 
That humble minister of God's word received 
the sick and homeless knight with the ten- 
derest charity. And in that tranquil and 
unknown seclusion, Ulric Hutten, one of 
the most remarkable men of his age, expired 
about the end of August, after an agitated 
life, in the course of which he had been ex- 
pelled by one party, persecuted by another, 
and deserted by nearly all ; — having all his 
life contended against superstition, without, 
as it would seem, ever arriving at the know- 
ledge of the truth. The poor minister, who 
had gained some experience in the healing 
art, had bestowed upon him the utmost at- 
tention. "He had left behind him neither 
money nor furniture, nor books, — nothing, 
save his pen. So broken was that steel-clad 
arm that he dared to put forward to sup- 
port the ark of God. 

But there was one man in Germany more 
formidable in the eyes of Erasmus than the 



354 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



}ll-fated knight, — and that man was Luther. 
The time had come when the two great 
combatants of the age were to measure their 
strength in the lists. They were the leaders 
of two very different reformations. Whilst 
Luther was bent on a complete reformation, 
Erasmus, as the advocate of a middle course, 
was seeking certain concessions from the 
hierarchy, that might have the effect of con- 
ciliating the opposing parties. Luther was 
disgusted with the vacillation and inconsis- 
tency of Erasmus. " You are trying to walk 
on eggs without breaking them," said he. 

At the same time, he met these vacilla- 
tions of Erasmus with the most entire and 
unfaltering decision. " We Christians," said 
he, " ought to be well persuaded of what we 
teach, and to be able to say yes or no. To 
object to our affirming with full conviction 
what we believe, is to strip us of our faith 
itself. The Holy Spirit is no spirit of doubt. 
And he has written in our hearts a firm and 
peaceful assurance, which makes us as sure 
of the object of faith as we are of our exis- 
tence." 

These words suffice to show on which 
side strength was to be found. To effect a 
change in religion, there is need of firm and 
living faith. A salutary revolution in the 
Church is never to be derived from philoso- 
phic views and thoughts of man. To restore 
fertility to the earth after a long drought, the 
lightning must strike the cloud, and the 
windows of heaven must be opened. Criti- 
cal acuteness, philosophy, and even history, 
may prepare the ground for a true faith, but 
never can they fili its place. Vainly would 
you cleanse the aqueduct or build up your 
embankments, so long as the rain cometh 
not down from heaven. The learning of 
man without faith is but as the dry chan- 
nel. 

Much and essentially as Luther and Eras- 
mus differed one from the other, a hope was 
long cherished by Luther's friends, and even 
by himself, that both would one day be united 
in resistance of Rome. Expressions, dropt 
in his caustic humour, were commonly re- 
ported, which showed the philosopher dis- 
senting, in his opinion, from the most devoted 
adherents of Catholicism. For instance, it 
is related, that, when in England, he was 
one day in earnest conversation with Thomas 
More on the subject of transubstantiation. 
"Only believe," said More, "that you re- 
ceive the body of Christ, and you really have 
it."' Erasmus was silent. Shortly after this, 
when Erasmus was leaving England, More 
lent him a horse to convey him to the port 
where he was to embark; but Erasmus took 
it abroad with him. When More heard of 
it, he reproached him with much warmth; 
but the only answer Erasmus gave him was 
in the following quatrain : — * 



* There is surely profanity as well as levity in 
tnis. May the reader be preserved from any sym- 
pathy with such a way of dealing with a belief 
which, right or wrong, is reverential.— Tk. 



" Only believe thou sharest Christ's feast, say you. 
And never doubt the fact is therefore true : 
So write I of thy horse ; — if thou art ab:e 
But to believe it, he is in thy stable." 

Erasmus's sentiments having got wind, not 
only in Germany and England, but in other 
countries, it was said at Paris that "Luther 
wanted to force open the door, of which 
Erasmus had already picked the lock." 

The position taken by Erasmus was a dif- 
ficult one. "I will not be unfaithful to the 
cause of Christ," wrote he to Zwingle, "at 
least so far as the times will allow." Just 
in proportion as he saw Rome rising up 
against the favourers of the Reformation, he 
prudently drew back from them. All par- 
ties looked to him. Pope, emperor, kings, 
nobles, men of learning, and even his most 
intimate friends, entreated him to take up 
his pen against the Reformer. " You can- 
not possibly undertake a work more accept- 
able to God and more worthy of your ge 
nius," wrote the Pope. 

Erasmus for a long time held out against 
these solicitations. He could not conceal 
from himself that the cause of the Reforma 
tion was that of Religion as well as of Learn 
ing. Moreover, Luther was an adversary 
he dreaded to find himself opposed to. " It 
is an easy thing for you to say, Write against 
Luther," said he to a Romish divine, "but 
the matter is full of hazard." He knew not 
which way to move. 

This hesitation on the part of Erasmus 
drew upon him the most violent of both par- 
ties. Luther himself scarcely knew how to 
make his respect for Erasmus's learning 
consist with the indignation his timid policy 
awakened in him. He resolved to break 
through the painful restraint he had hitherto 
imposed on himself, and wrote to him, in 
April, 1524, a letter which he commissioned 
Camerarius to deliver to him. 

" You have not yet received from the Lord 
the courage requisite for marching side by 
side with us against the Papists. We bear 
with your weakness. If learning prospers, 
and if, by its means, the treasury of Scripture 
is unlocked to all comers, it is a gift which 
God has given us by you — a noble gift, for 
which our praise ascends to heaven. But 
do not desert the post assigned you, to take 
up your quarters in our camp. No doubt 
your eloquence and genius might be useful 
to us; but, since your courage fails you, re- 
main where you are. If I could have my 
will, those who are acting with me should 
leave your old age in peace, to fall asleep in 
the Lord. The greatness of our cause has 
long ago surpassed your strength. But then, 
dear Erasmus, cease, I pray you, to scatter, 
with open hands, the biting satire you are so 
skilled to clothe in flowery rhetoric, for the 
slightest stroke of your pen inflicts more 
pain than the being ground to powder by all 
the Papists put together. Be satisfied to be 
a spectator of our tragedy: only abstain from 
writing against me, and I will not attack you " 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



355 



Here we see Luther, whose spirit breath- 
ed the breath of conflict, asking for peace 
and amity ! Erasmus, the man of peace, 
broke it. 

This communication of the Reformer was 
received by Erasmus as the keenest of in- 
sults, and if he had not previously resolved 
on publishing against Luther, it is probable 
that resolution was then taken. " Perhaps," 
was his reply, " perhaps Erasmus will better 
serve the Gospel by writing against you, than 
certain senseless writers on your own side, 
whose doctrines do not allow me to be any 
longer a mere spectator of the tragedy." 

But other motives were not wanting. 
Henry VIII. and the leading nobility of 
England, pressed him to declare himself 
openly against the Reformation, and Eras- 
mus, in a moment of more than usual bold- 
ness, gave a promise to that effect. His 
questionable position had, besides, become a 
source of continual trouble to him; he loved 
ease; and the necessity he was continually 
brought under of vindicating his conduct 
was a constant disturbance. He loved the 
praise of men, and he heard himself charged 
with fearing Luther, and being unable to 
answer him — he clung to the uppermost 
seat, — and the plain monk of Wittemberg 
had dethroned the powerful Erasmus from 
his pre-eminence. It was his aim, by a bold 
step, to regain the place he had lost. The 
established Christianity of his age, with one 
voice, incited him to the attempt. A man 
of large capacity, and of the highest reputa- 
tion in that age, was wanted to oppose -to 
the Reformation. Erasmus gave himself to 
the work. 

But with what weapons will he arm for 
the encounter 1 Will he call forth the former 
thunders of the Vatican? Will he under- 
take the vindication of the corruptions which 
are the disgrace of the Papacy? Erasmus 
could not act such a part. The grand move- 
ment Avhich then swelled all hearts, after the 
death- like stupor of so many centuries, filled 
him with joy, and he would have shrunk 
from shackling its progress. Unable to be 
the champion of Roman Catholicism in that 
which it has added to Christianity, he under- 
took the defence of it in the particulars 
wherein it has taken away from it. Erasmus 
chose for the ground of his attack upon 
Luther, that point wherein Catholicism 
makes common cause with Rationalism, the 
doctrine of Free Will, or the power of man 
by nature. Accordingly, although under- 
taking thus to defend the Church, Erasmus 
was also gratifying the men of this world ; 
and, although fighting the battle on behalf 
of the Pope, he was also contending on the 
side of the philosophic party. It has been 
said that he acted injudiciously in thus re- 
stricting himself to an intricate and unprofit- 
able question.* Luther, — the Reformers 



* "It is humbling to mankind," says M. 

Nisard — see Revue des deux mondes, iii. p. 411, 

" to contemplate men capable of grasping eternal 



generally, — and, indeed, that age were of a 
different opinion ; and we agree with them . 
"1 must acknowledge," said Luther, fi that, 
in this great controversy, you alone have 
taken the bull by the horns. I thank you 
with all my heart, for I prefer to be occupied 
with that theme rather than such secondary 
questions as Pope, purgatory, and indul- 
gences, with which the enemies of the Gos- 
pel have hitherto dogged my steps." 

His own experience, and the attentive 
study of the Holy Scriptures, and of St. 
Augustine, had convinced Luther that the 
powers of man's nature are so strongly in- 
clined to evil, that, in his own strength, he 
can attain no more than an outward decency, 
of no value or sufficiency in the sight of God. 
He had, at the same time, recognised that it 
was God, who, by his Holy Spirit, bestow- 
ing freely on man the gift of 'faith,' com- 
municated to him a real righteousness. 
This doctrine had become the vital principle 
of his religion, the predominant tenet of his 
theology, and the pivot on which the entire 
Reformation turned. 

Whilst Luther maintained that every thing 
good in man came down from God, Erasmus 
sided with those who thought that this good 
came out from man himself. God or man — 
good or evil — these are no unimportant 
themes ; and if there is ' triviality, ,' it is as- 
suredly not in such solemn questions. 

It was in the autumn of 1524, that Erasmus 
published his famous tract, entitled "Diatribe 
on the Freedom of the Will," and as soon as 
it saw the light, the philosopher could hardly 
credit his own boldness. With his eyes 
rivetted on the arena, he watched, with trem- 
bling, the gauntlet he had flung to his adver- 
sary. "The die is cast," he wrote to Henry 
VIII., with emotion; "the book on free will 
is published. I have done a bold thing, 
believe me. I expect nothing less than to be 
stoned for it. Hut I take comfort from your 
majesty's example, whom the rage of these 
people has not spared." 

His alarm soon increased to such a degree, 
that he bitterly lamented the step he had 
taken. " Why," he ejaculated, " why was I 
not permitted to grow old in the mount of the 
Muses ! Here am I, at sixty years o-f age, 
forcibly thrust forward into the arena, and I 
am throwing the cestus and the net, instead of 
handling the lyre! I am aware," said he to 
the Bishop of Rochester, " that in writing 
upon free will, I was going out. of my sphere; 
you congratulate me on my triumphs. Ah! 
I do not know over whom. The faction (the 
Reformation) gathers strength daily. Was 
it then my fate, at my time of life, to pass 
from my place as a friend of the Muses, to 
that of a miserable gladiator!" 

Doubtless it was no small matter for the 
timid Erasmus to have stood forth against 
Luther; nevertheless, he had not spoken out 
with any extraordinary boldness. He seems, 



truths, fencing and debating in such trivialities 
like gladiators fighthg with llies." 



356 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



in his book, to ascribe but little to man's will, 
and to leave to grace the greater part of the 
work; but then he chooses his arguments so 
as to make it seem as if man did every thing, 
and God nothing. Not daring openly to ex- 
press his opinions, he seems to affirm one 
thing, and to prove another; so that one may 
be allowed to suppose that he believed what 
he proved, not what he asserted. 

He distinguishes three several sentiments 
opposed to different degrees of Pelagianism : 
" Some think," said he, " that man can 
neither will, nor begin, still less perform any 
thing good, without the special and constant 
aid of Divine grace; and this opinion seems 
probable enough. Others teach that the will 
of man has no power but for evil, and that it 
is grace alone that works any good in us; 
and, lastly, there are some who assert that 
there never has been any free will, either in 
angels, or in Adam, or in us, whether before 
or after grace received; but that God works 
in man whether it be good 01 evil, and that 
every thing that happens, happens from an 
absolute necessity." 

Erasmus, whilst seeming to admit the first 
of these opinions, uses arguments that are 
opposed to it, and which might be employed 
by the most determined Pelagian. It. is thus 
that, quoting the passages of Scripture, in 
which God offers to man the choice between 
good and evil, he adds: " Man then must 
needs have a power to will and to choose; for 
it would be folly to say to any one, Choose ! 
were it not in his power to do so !" 

Luther feared nothing from Erasmus: 
"Truth," said he, " is more powerful than 
words. The victory will remain with him 
who with stammering lips shall teach the 
truth, and not to him who eloquently puts 
forward a lie." But when he received Eras- 
mus' book in the month of October, 1524, he 
considered it to be so feebly argued, that he 
hesitated whether to answer it. " What !" 
he exclaimed, " all this eloquence in so bad a 
cause! It is as if a man should serve up mud 
on gold and silver dishes. One cannot get 
any hold upon you. You are like an eel that 
slips through one's fingers ; or, like the fabled 
Proteus, who changes his form when in the 
very arms of him who would strangle him." 

Luther making no reply, the monks and 
theologians of the schools broke forth in exul- 
tation : " Well, where is your Luther now 1 
Where is the great Maccabeus ] Let him 
enter the lists ! let him come forward ! Ah! 
ah ! ,be has at last found his match ! He has 
had a lesson to keep in the back ground ! he 
has learnt to be silent. ' 

Luther saw that he must answer Erasmus 
but »t was not till the end of the year 1525 
that he prepared to do so; and Melancthon 
having told Erasmus that Luther would write 
with moderation, the philosopher was greatly 
alarmed. " If I write with moderation," said 
he, "it is my natural character; but there is 
in Luther's character the indignation of the 
son of Peleus. And how can it be otherwise 1 



The vessel that braves such a storm as that 
which rages round Luther, needs anchor, 
ballast, and rudder to keep it from bearing 
down out of its course — If therefore he should 
answer more temperately than suits his char- 
acter — the sycophants will exclaim that we 
understand one another." — We shall see that 
Erasmus was soon relieved from this last fear. 

The doctrine of God's election as the sole 
cause of man's salvation, had long been dear 
to the Reformer: — but hitherto he had only 
considered its practical influence. In his 
answer to Erasmus he investigated it especi- 
ally in a speculative point of view, and 
laboured to establish, by such arguments as 
seemed to him most conclusive, that God 
works every thing in man's conversion, and 
that our heart is so alienated from the love of 
God, that it can only have a sincere desire 
after righteousness by the regenerating action 
of the Holy Spirit. 

"To call our will a Free will," said he, 
"is to imitate those princes who accumulate 
long titles, styling themselves sovereigns of 
this or that kingdom, principality, and distant 
island, (of Rhodes, Cyprus, and Jerusalem,) 
over which they do not exercise the least 
authority." Nevertheless, Luther here makes 
an important distinction which shows that he 
by no means participated in the third opinion 
which Erasmus had raised to notoriety by 
attributing it to him. ""Man's will," said he, 
" may indeed be said to he free, not indeed in 
relation to what is above him, — that is, to 
God, — but in relation to what is beneath 
him, — that is, to the things of this world. In 
any matter affecting my property, my lands, 
my house, or my farm, I find myself able to 
act, do, and manage freely; but in every thing 
that has reference to his salvation, man is a 
captive ; he is subject to the will of God, — or 
rather to that of the devil. Show me," cries 
he, " only one among all those who teach the 
doctrine of free will, who has been able in 
himself to find strength to endure a slight 
insult, a passionate assault, nay, even the 
hostile look of his enemy, and that joyfully, — 
and without so much as asking whether he is 
willing to give up his body, his life, his 
goods, his honor, and all that he has, — I will 
acknowledge that you have gained your 
cause." 

Luther had too much penetration not to 
discern the contradictions into which his ad- 
versary had fallen. He, therefore, in his 
answer, laboured to enclose the philosopher 
in the net in which he had entangled himself. 
" If the passages you quote," said he, " estab- 
lish the principle that it is easy for us to do 
good, wherefore is it that we are disputing 1 ? 
And what need can we have of Christ or the 
Holy Spirit? Christ would then have shed 
his blood without necessity to obtain for us a 
power which we already had in our own 
nature." In truth the passages quoted by 
Erasmus are to be understood in quite a dif- 
ferent sense. This much debated question is 
more simple than it at first sight appears 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



357 



When the Bible says to man, ' Choose,' it is 
because it assumes the assistance of God's 
grace, by which alone he can obey the com- 
mand. God, in giving the commandment 
gives also the strength to fulfil it. If Christ 
said to Lazarus, ' Come forth,' it was not that 
Lazarus could restore himself to life, but that 
Christ, in commanding him to come forth, 
gave him the ability to do so, and accom- 
panied his word 'with his creative power. 
He speaks, and it is done. Moreover it is 
quite true that the man to whom God speaks, 
must will to do; it is he himself, and not 
another, that must will ; — he can receive this 
will from none but God ; but surely in him 
it must be; and the v Q ry command which 
God brings to him, and which, according to 
Erasmus, proves the power to be in man, 
is so perfectly reconcilable with Gcd's work- 
ing, that it is, in fact, the very means by 
which that work of God is wrought out. It 
is by saying to the man " Be converted," 
that God converts him. 

But the idea which Luther especially 
kept in view in his answer is, that the pas- 
sages quoted by Erasmus are designed not 
to make known to men this pretended power 
which is attributed to them, but to show 
them their duty, and their total inability to 
fulfil it. " How often does it happen," says 
Luther, " that a father calls to him his feeble 
child, saying, 'Will you come, my son? 
come then,' — in order that the child may 
learn to call for his assistance and allow 
himself to be carried." 

After having combated Erasmus's argu- 
ments in favour of free will, Luther defends 
his own against the attacks of his oppo- 
nent. " Dear Diatribe," says he, ironically, 
" mighty heroine, you who pride yourself 
on having explained away those words of 
our Lord in St. John's Gospel,' Without me 
ye can do nothing/ although you acknow- 
ledge their force and call them Luther's 
Achilles, listen to me — Unless you prove 
that this word nothing not only may, but 
must signify a little, all your sounding 
words, all your famous examples, have no 
more effect than if a man were to attempt to 
oppose a mighty conflagration with a hand- 
ful of straw. What matter to us such as- 
sertions as, This may mean, this may be 
thus understood, whilst you ought to prove 
to us that it must be so understood. Unless 
you do this we take the declaration in its 
literal meaning, and laugh at all your exam- 
ples, your fine exordiums, and self-compla- 
cent boastings." 

Subsequently, Luther shows, still from the 
Scriptures, that the grace of God does all in 
Conversion. He concludes thus : \' In short, 
since the Scripture every where contrasts 
Christ with that which has not the spirit of 
Christ; since it declares that every thing 
which is not Christ, and in Christ,, is under 
the power of delusion, darkness, the devil, 
death, sin, and the wrath of God ; it follows 
ihat every passage in the Bible which speaks 



of Christ is against your doctrine of free 
will. Now such passages are innumerable, 
the Holy Scriptures are full of them." 

We perceive that the discussion which 
arose between Luther and Erasmus, is the 
same as that which occurred a century later 
between the Jansenists and Jesuits, — be- 
tween Pascal and Molina.* Wherefore, 
then, while the Reformation has had such 
immense results, did Jansenism, though 
adorned by the finest geniuses, go out in 
weakness? It is because Jansenism went 
back to St. Augustine, and rested for support 
on the Fathers; whilst the Reformation went 
back to the Bible, and was based on the 
word of God; — because Jansenism made a 
compromise with Rome, and would have 
pursued a middle course between truth and 
error; whereas, the Reformation, relying on 
God alone, cleared the soil, swept away the 
incrustations of past ages, and laid bare the 
primitive rock. To stop half way in any 
work is useless ; in every undertaking we 
must go through. Hence, while Jansenism 
has passed away, Evangelical Christianity 
presides over the destinies of the world. 

After having energetically refuted the er- 
rors of Erasmus, Luther, renders a high 
sounding, but perhaps somewhat malicious, 
homage to his genius. "I confess," says 
he, " that you are a great man : in whom 
have we ever beheld more learning, intelli- 
gence, or readiness, both in speaking and 
writing? As to me, 1 possess none of these 
qualities ; in one thing only can I glory — I 
am a Christian. May God raise you infi- 
nitely above me in the knowledge of His Gos- 
pel, so that you may surpass me in that respect 
as much as you already do in every other." 

Erasmus was incensed beyond measure 
by the perusal of Luther's answer, and 
looked upon his encomiums as the honey of 
a poisoned cup, or the embrace of a serpent 
at the moment he fixes his deadly fang. He 
immediately wrote to the Elector'of Saxony, 
demanding justice; and, when Luther wished 
to appease him, he lost his usual temper, 
and, in the words of one of his most zealous 
apologists, began " to pour forth invectives 
in a feeble voice and with hoary hairs." 

Erasmus was conquered. Moderation 
had, till this occasion, been his strength ; 
and now this left him. Anger was the only 
weapon he could oppose to Luther's energy. 
The wisdom of the philosopher, on this oc- 
casion, failed him. He replied, publicly, in 
his Hyperapistes, in which he accuses the 
Reformer of barbarism, falsehood, and blas- 
phemy. The philosopher even ventured on 
prophecy : " I predict," said he, " that no 
name under heaven will hereafter be more 
execrated than Luther's." The jubilee of 
1817 has replied to this prophecy, after a 
lapse of three centuries, by the enthusiasm 



* It is scarcely necessary to say that I do not 
speak of personal discussions between these two 
men, of v.hom, the one died in 1600, and the 
other was not born till 1G23. 



353 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and acclamations of the entire Protestant 
world. 

Thus, while Luther, with the Bible in his 
hand, was placing himself in the van of his 
age, Erasmus, in opposition to him, sought 
that station for himself and philosophy. Of 
these two chiefs, which has been followed? 
Both, undoubtedly. Nevertheless, Luther's 
influence on the nations of Christendom has 
been infinitely greater than that of Erasmus. 
Even those who did not well comprehend 
the matter in dispute, seeing the full con- 
viction of one antagonist, and the doubts of 
the other, could not refrain from believing 
that the former had truth on his side, and 
that the latter was in the wrong. It has 
been said that the three last centuries, the 
16th, 17th and 18th, may be considered as a 
protracted battle of three days' duration. 
We willingly adopt the comparison, but not 
the part that is allotted to each of these days. 
The same struggle, it is said, marked the 
sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries. On 
the first day, as on the last, we are told that 
it was philosophy that broke the ranks. The 
sixteenth century philosophical! Strange 
mistake ! No, each of those days had its 
marked and peculiar characteristic. On the 
first, the Word of God, the Gospel of Christ 
triumphed, and Rome was defeated; and 
Philosophy, in the person of Erasmus, and 
her other champions, shared in the defeat. 
On the second, we admit that Rome, her au- 
thority, her discipline, and her doctrine, are 
again seen on the point of obtaining the vic- 
tory, through the intrigues of a far-famed 
society, and the power of the scaffold, aided 
by certain leaders of eminent character, and 
others of lofty genius. The third day, human 
Philosophy arises in all its pride, and finding 
the battle field occupied, not by the Gospel, 
but by Rome, it quickly storms every en- 
trenchment, and gains an easy conquest. 
The first day's battle was for God, the second 
for the Priest, the third for Reason — what 
shall the fourth be? . . . . The confused 
struggle, the hard fought conflict, as we be- 
lieve, of all these powers together, which 
will end in the triumph of Him to whom 
triumph belongs. 

But the battle which the Reformation 
fought in the great day of the sixteenth cen- 
tury was not one and single, — but manifold. 
The Reformation had to combat at once 
several enemies ; and after having protested 
against the decretals and the sovereignty of 
the Popes, — then against the cold apoph- 
thegms of rationalists, philosophers, and 
school-men, — it took the field against the 
reveries of enthusiasm and the hallucinations 
of mysticism ; opposing alike to these three 
powers the sword and the buckler of God's 
Holy Revelation. 

We cannot but discern a great resem- 
blance,— a striking unity, — between these 
three powerful adversaries. The false sys- 
tems which, in every age, have been the most 
adverse to evangelical Christianity, have ever 



been distinguished by their making religious 
knowledge to emanate from man himself. 
Rationalism makes it proceed from reason; 
Mysticism from a certain internal illumina- 
tion; Roman Catholicism from an illumina- 
tion derived from the Pope. These three 
errors look for truth in man ; Evangelical 
Christianity looks for it in God alone: and 
while Rationalism, Mysticism, and Roman 
Catholicism acknowledge a permanent inspi- 
ration in men like- ourselves, and thus make 
room for every species of extravagance and 
schism, — Evangelical Christianity recognises 
this inspiration only in the writings of the 
Apostles and Prophets, and alone presents 
that great, noble, and living unity which con- 
tinues to exist unchanged throughout all ages. 

The office of the Reformation has been to 
re-establish the rights of the word of God, in 
opposition, not only to Roman Catholicism, 
but also to Rationalism and Mysticism. 

The fanaticism of the Anabaptists, which 
had been extinguished in Germany, by Lu- 
ther's return to Wittemberg, re-appeared in 
vigour in Switzerland, where it threatened 
the edifice which Zwingle, Haller, and 
(Ecolampadius had erected on the foundation 
of the word of God. Thomas Miinzer, obliged 
to quit Saxony in 1521, had reached the fron- 
tiers of Switzerland. Conrad Grebe!, whose 
ardent and restless disposition we have already 
remarked, had joined him, as had also Felix 
Mantz, a canon's son, and several other natives 
of Zurich. Grebel endeavoured to gain over 
Zwingle. It was in vain that the latter had 
gone further than Luther; he saw a party 
spring up wmich desired to proceed to yet 
greater lengths. " Let us," said Grebel, 
" form a community of true believers ; for it 
is to them alone that the promise belongs; 
and let us establish a church, which shall be 
without sin." " It is not possible," replied 
Zwingle, "to make a heaven upon earth; 
and Christ has taught us to let the tares grow 
among the wheat." 

Grebel, unsuccessful with the Reformer, 
wished to appeal from him to the people. 
"The whole community of Zurich," said he, 
"is entitled to decide finally in all matters of 
faith." But Zwingle dreaded the influence 
which violent enthusiasts might exercise in a 
popular assembly. He believed that, except 
on some extraordinary occasions, where the 
people might be called on to give their sup- 
port, it was more desirable to confide the 
interests of religion to a college, which might 
be considered the chosen representatives of 
the church. Consequently, the Council of 
Two Hundred, which then exercised the 
supreme political authority in Zurich, was 
also entrusted with the ecclesiastical power, 
on the express condition that it should con- 
form, in all things, to the rule of the Holy 
Scriptures. Undoubtedly it would have been 
preferable to have organised the church com- 
plete, and called on it to name representatives, 
to whom no interests save the religious 
interests of the people should be confided ; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



35? 



for he who is qualified for affairs of state, may- 
be very unskilful in administering those of 
the church, — just as the reverse of this is also 
true. Nevertheless, the inconvenience was 
not then so serious as it would be in our days, 
for the members of the Grand Council had 
heartily embarked in the religious movement. 
However this may be, Zwingle, in his appeal 
to the church, would not bring- it too promi- 
nently forward; and preferred a system of re- 
presentation to the active sovereignty of the 
general body. It is the same policy which, 
after three centuries, the states of Europe have 
adopted, in reference to earthly politics. 

Meeting with a repulse from Zwingle, Gre- 
bel turned in another direction. Roubli, an 
aged minister of Basle, Brodtlein, minister at 
Zollikon, and Lewis Herzer, welcomed his 
advances. They resolved on forming an in- 
dependent body in the centre of the general 
community, — a church within the church. A 
new baptism was to be their instrument for 
gathering their congregation, which was to 
consist exclusively of true believers. "The 
baptism of infants," said they, "is a hor- 
rible abomination, — a flagrant impiety, in- 
vented by the evil spirit and by Pope Nicho- 
las II." . 

The CouncM of Zurich, in some alarm, 
directed that a public discussion should be 
held ; and as the Anabaptists still refused to 
relinquish their errors, some of them, who 
were natives of Zurich, were imprisoned, and 
others, who were foreigners, were banished. 
But persecution only inflamed their zeal. " It 
is not by words alone," cried they, "but by 
our blood, that we are ready to bear testimony 
to the truth of our cause." Some cf them, 
girding themselves with ropes or rods of osier, 
ran through the streets, crying, "Yet a few 
days and Zurich will be destroyed ! Woe to 
thee, Zurich! woe! woe!" Several there 
were who uttered blasphemies : " Baptism," 
said they, "is but the washing of a dog. To 
baptize a child is of no more use than baptiz- 
ing a cat." Fourteen men, including Felix 
Mantz, and seven women, were arrested, and, 
in spite of Zwingle's entreaties, imprisoned, 
on an allowance of bread and water, in the 
heretics' tower. After a fortnight's confine- 
ment they managed, by removing some planks 
in the floor, to effect their escape during the 
night. " An angel," they said, " had opened 
their prison doors, and set them free." 

They were joined by George Jacob of 
Coria, a monk, who had absconded from his 
convent, and who was surnamed Blaurock, as 
it would seem from his constantly wearing a 
blue dress. His eloquence had obtained for 
him the appellation of a second Paul. This 
intrepid monk travelled from place to place, 
constraining many, by the fervour of his ap- 
peals, to receive his baptism. One Sunday, 
at Zollikon, whilst the deacon was preaching, 
the impetuous Anabaptist, suddenly interrupt- 
ing him, exclaimed in a voice of thunder, 
" It is written, My house is a house of prayer, 
but ye have made it a den of thieves.'''' Then, 



raising the staff he carried in his hand, he 
struck it four times violently on the ground. 

" I am a door," exclaimed he ; " by me if 
any man enter in he shall find pasture. I am 
a good shepherd. My body I give to the 
prison ; my life to the sword, the axe, and the 
wheel. 1 am the beginning of the baptism 
and of the bread of the Lord." 

While Zwingle was attempting to stem the 
torrent of Anabaptism at Zurich, it quickly 
inundated St. Gall. Grebel arrived there, 
and was received by the brethren with accla- 
mations; and on Palm Sunday he proceeded 
to the banks of the Sitter, attended by a great 
number of his adherents, whom he there 
baptized. 

The news soon spread through the neigh- 
bouring cantons, and a great multitude from 
Zurich, Appenzell, and various other places, 
nocked to " the little Jerusalem." 

Zwingle was deeply afflicted by this agita- 
tion. He saw a storm descending on the 
land where the seeds of the gospel had as yet 
scarcely begun to take root. Resolving to 
oppose these disorders, he composed a tract 
"on Baptism," which the Council of St. 
Gall, to whom he dedicated it, caused to be 
read in the churchinthe hearingof the people. 

" Dear brethren in the Lord," said Zwingle, 
" the waters of the torrents which rush from 
our rocks hurry with them every thing within 
their reach. At first, small stones only are 
put in motion, but these are driven violently 
against larger ones, until the torrent acquires 
such strength that it carries away every thing 
it encounters in its course, leaving behind 
lamentations, vain regrets, and fertile meadows 
changed into a wilderness. The spirit of dis- 
putation and self-righteousness acts in a simi- 
lar manner, it occasions disturbances, banishes 
charity, and where it found fair and pros- 
perous churches, leaves behind it nothing but 
mourning and desolate flocks." 

Thus wrote Zwingle — the child of the 
mountains of the Tockenburg. " Give us the 
word of God," exclaimed an Anabaptist who 
was present in church, "and not the word of 
Zwingle." Immediately confused voices 
arose : " Away with the book ! away with 
the book '." cried the Anabaptists. Then 
rising, they quitted the church, exclaiming, 
"Do you keep the doctrine of Zwingle; as 
for us, we will keep the word of God." 

Then it was that this fanaticism broke forth 
in lamentable disorders. Alledging, in excuse, 
that the Saviour had exhorted us to become as 
little children, these poor creatures began to 
go dancing through the streets, clapping their 
hands, footing it in a circle, seating themselves 
on the ground together, and tumbling each" 
other in the sand. Some there were whc 
threw the New Testament into the fire, ex- 
claiming, "The letter killeth, the spirit giveth 
life ;" and several, falling into convulsions, 
pretended to have revelations from the Holy 
Spirit. 

In a solitary house situated on theMullegg, 
near St. Gall, lived an aged farmer, John 



360 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Schucker, with his five sons. The whole 
family, including the servants, had received 
the new baptism; and two of the sons, 
Thomas and Leonard, were distinguished for 
their fanaticism. On the 7th of February, 
1526, being Shrove Tuesday, they invited a 
large party of Anabaptists to their house, and 
the father had a calf killed for the feast. The 
good cheer, the wine, and their numbers alto- 
gether, heated their imaginations ; and they 
spent the whole night in fanatical excitement, 
convulsions, visions, and revelations. 

In the morning, Thomas, still agitated by 
that night of disorder, and having even, — as 
it would seem, — lost his senses, took the 
calfs bladder, and placing part of the gall in 
it, in imitation of the symbolical language of 
the prophets, approached his brother Leonard, 
and said to him gloomily, "Thus bitter is the 
death thou art to suffer !" Then he added, 
" Brother Leonard, fall on thy knees ;" Leo- 
nard knelt down; — presently, " Brother Leo- 
nard, arise !" Leonard arose. Their father, 
brothers, and the other Anababtists, looked on 
with astonishment, asking themselves what 
God would do. Soon Thomas resumed: 
"Leonard, kneel down again!" Leonard 
obeyed. The spectators, terrified at the 
gloomy countenance of the wretched Thomas, 
said to him, "Reflect on what thou art about 
to do; take care that no mischief happens." 
— " Fear not," answered Thomas, " nothing 
will happen without the will of the Father." 
At the same moment he hastily snatched a 
sword, and bringing it down with all his force 
on the neck of his brother, who was kneeling 
before him, like a criminal before the execu- 
tioner, he severed his head from his body, 
crying out, " Now is the will of the Father 
accomplished!" The bystanders recoiled in 
horror ; the farm resounded with shrieks and 
lamentations. Thomas, who had nothing on 
him but his shirt and drawers, rushed out of 
the house bare-footed, and with his head un- 
covered, and running towards St. Gall with 
frenzied gestures, entered the house of the 
burgomaster, Joachim Vadain, with haggard 
looks, shouting, " I proclaim to thee the day 
of the Lord.'''' The dreadful tidings spread 
throughout St. Gall — " He has killed his bro- 
ther as Cain killed Abel," said thecrowd. The 
criminal was seized. — "True," he repeated 
continually, "I did it, but it was God who did 
it by my hand." On the 1 6th of February, the 
unhappy wretch was beheaded by the execu- 
tioner. Fanaticism had run its course to the 
utmost. Men's eyes were opened, and, to 
adopt the words of an early historian, " the 
same blow took off the head of Thomas 
Schucker, and of Anabaptism in St. Gall." 

At Zurich, however, it still prevailed. On 
the 6th of November, in the preceding year, a 
public discussion had taken place, in order to 
content the Anabaptists, who were constantly 
complaining that the innocent were con- 
demned unheard. The three following theses 
were put forth by Zwingle and his friends, 
as subjects of the conference, and trium- 



phantly maintained by them in the Council 
hall. 

"The children of believing parents are 
children of God, even as those who were 
born under the Old Testament ; and conse- 
quently they may receive Baptism." 

" Baptism is, under the New Testament, 
what Circumcision was under the Old. Con 
sequently, Baptism is now to be administered 
to children, as Circumcision was formerly." 

" The custom of repeating Baptism cannot 
be justified either by examples, precepts, or 
arguments drawn from Scripture : and those 
who are re-baptised, crucify Jesus Christ 
afresh." 

But the Anabaptists did not confine them- 
selves to questions purely religious ; they de- 
manded the abolition of tithes, "since," said 
they, " they are not of divine appointment." 
Zwingle replied that the tithes were neces- 
sary for the maintenance of the churches and 
schools. He desired a complete religious re- 
formation, but he was resolved not to allow 
the least invasion of public order or political 
institutions. This was the limit at which he 
discerned, written by the hand of God, that 
word from heaven, " Thus far shalt thou go, 
and no farther." (Jobxxxviii.il.) Some- 
where, it was necessary to make a stand ; and 
it was at this point that Zwingle and the Re- 
formers took their stand, in spite of the efforts 
made by rash and impetuous men to hurry 
them beyond it. 

But when the Reformers themselves stop- 
ped, they could not stop the enthusiasts, who 
seem as if brought into contact with them in 
order to set off by contrast their wisdom and 
sober-mindedness. It was not enough for the 
Anabaptists to have formed their church ; — 
in their eyes that church was itself the State 
Did any one summon them before the tri- 
bunals, — they refused to recognise the civil 
authority, maintaining that it was a remnant 
of Paganism, and that they would obey no 
power but that of God! They taught that 
it was unlawful for Christians to fill public 
offices or bear the sword, — and, resembling in 
another respect certain irreligious enthusiasts 
of our own days, they esteemed " a commu- 
nity of goods" as the perfection of humanity. 

Thus the evil was increasing ; Civil So- 
ciety was endangered. It arose to cast out 
from its bosom those elements that threatened 
it with destruction. The Government, in its 
alarm, suffered itself to be hurried into strange 
measures. Resolved on making an example, 
they condemned Mantz to be drowned. On 
the 5th January, 1527, he was put into a boat ; 
his mother, (the aged concubine of his father, 
the canon,) together with his brother, mingled 
in the crowd which accompanied him to the 
water's edge. " Be faithful unto death," 
was their exhortation. At the moment when 
the executioner prepared to throw Mantz into 
the lake, his brother burst into tears ; but his 
mother, calm and undaunted, witnessed, witfs 
eyes dry and flashing fire, the martyrdom of 
her son. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



361 



The same day, Blaurock was scourged i 
with rods. As he was led outside the city, 
he shook his blue dress, and the dust from off 
his feet, against it. This unhappy man was, 
it would appear, burnt alive two years after 
this by the Roman Catholics of the Tyrol. 

Undoubtedly, a spirit of rebellion existed 
among the Anabaptists; undoubtedly, the 
ancient ecclesiastical law, which condemned 
heretics to capital punishments, was still in 
force, and the Reformation could not, in the 
space of one or two years, reform every thing ; 
nor can we doubt that the Catholic states 
would have accused their Protestant neigh- 
bours of encouraging insubjection, if the latter 
had not resorted to severe measures against 
these enthusiasts ; but though such conside- 
rations serve to account for the rigour of the 
magistrate, they never can justify it. Mea- 
sures might be taken against an infringement 
of the civil constitution, but religious errors, 
being combated by the teachers of religion, 
should be altogether exempt from the jurisdic- 
tion of civil tribunals. Such opinions are not 
to be expelled by whippings, nor are they 
drowned in the waters into which those who 
profess them may be cast : they again come 
forth from the depth of the abyss ; and the 
fire but serves to kindle in those who adhere 
to them a fiercer enthusiasm, and thirst for 
martyrdom. Zwingle, whose sentiments on 
this subject we have already seen, took no 
part in these severities. 

But it was not only on the subject of bap- 
tism that dissensions were to arise; yet more 
serious differences appeared, touching the doc- 
trine of the Lord's Supper. 

The human mind, freed from the yoke 
which had so long weighed it down, made use 
of its liberty; and, if Romanism is hemmed 
in by the shoals of despotic authority, Pro- 
testanism has to steer clear of those of anar- 
chy. One characteristic distinction of Pro- 
testanism is progress, while that of Romanism 
is immobility. 

Roman Catholicism, possessing in the 
papal authority a means of, at any time, estab- 
lishing new doctrines, appears, at first view, to 
have in it a principle eminently favourable to 
change. It has, indeed, largely availed itself 
of this power, and, century after, century, we 
see Rome bringing forward, or confirming new 
dogmas. But its system once completed, Ro- 
man Catholicism has declared itself the cham- 
pion of immobility. Therein lies its safety. 
it resembles a shaky building, from which 
nothing can be taken without bringing the 
whole down to the ground. Permit the priests 
to marry, or strike a blow against the doctrine 
of transubstantiation, and the whole system 
totters — the entire edifice falls to pieces. 

It is not thus with Evangelical Christianity. 
Its principle is much less favourable to change, 
much more so to progress and life. On the 
one hand, it recognises no other fountain of 
truth than Scripture, one and immutably the 
same, from the very beginning of the Church 
to the end of time; how, then, should it vary, 



as Popery has varied 1 But, on the. othe, 
hand, every individual Christian is to draw 
foi himself from this fountain; and hence 
spring progress and liberty. Accordingly, 
Evangelical Christianity, although in the 
nineteenth century the same that it was in 
the sixteenth, and in the first, is, — at all 
times, — full of spontaneity and action; and is, 
at this moment, filling the wide world with 
its researches and its labours, its Bibles 
and its missionaries, with light, salvation, 
and life ! 

It is a gross error which would class to- 
gether, and almost confound, rationalism and 
mysticism with Christianity, and, in so doing, 
charge upon it the extravagances of both, 
Progress belongs to the nature of Christian 
Protestantism : it has nothing in common with 
immobility and a state of deadness ; but its 
movement is that of healthful vitality, and not 
the aberration of madmen, or the restlessness 
of disease. We shall see this character mani- 
festing itself in relation to the doctrine of the 
Lord's Supper. 

What ensued might have been expected. 
This doctrine had been understood in very va- 
rious ways in the early ages of the Church : 
and the difference of opinion continued up to 
the time when the doctrine of transubstantia- 
tion and the scholastic theology began, at 
about the same period, their reign over the 
mind of the middle ages. But that dominion 
was now shaken to its base, and the former 
differences were again to appear. 

Zwingle and Luther, who had at first gone 
forward, each in his separate course, — the one 
in Switzerland the other in Saxony, — were 
one day to find themselves brought, as it were, 
face to face. The same mind, and, in many 
respects, the same character, might be dis- 
cerned in them. Both were full of love for 
truth and hatred of injustice; both were na- 
turally violent; and in both that violence was 
tempered by sincere piety. But there was 
one feature in the character of Zwingle which 
tended to carry him beyond Luther. He loved 
liberty, not only as a man, but as a republican, 
and the fellow-countryman of Tell. Accus- 
tomed to the decision of a free state, he was 
not stopped by considerations before which 
Luther drew back. He had, moreover, given 
less time to the study of the theology of th.9 
schools, and found himself, in consequence, 
less shackled in his modes of thinking. Both 
ardently attached to their own convictions, — 
both resolute in defending them,— and little 
accustomed to bend to the convictions of 
others, they were now to come in contact, like 
two proud chargers rushing from opposite 
ranks encountering on the field of battle. 

A practical tendency predominated in the 
character of Zwingle and of the Reformation 
which he had begun, and this tendency was 
directed to two great ends — simplicity in wor- 
ship and sanctification in life. To adapt the 
form of worship to the wants of the soul, 
seeking not outward ceremonies, but things 
invisible, was Zwingle's fir*t object. The 



362 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



idea of Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, 
which had given rise to so many ceremonies 
and superstitions in the Church, must, there- 
fore, be abolished. But the other great desire 
of the Swiss Reformer led him directly to the 
same result. He judged that the Romish 
doctrine respecting the Supper, and even that 
held by Luther, implied a belief of a certain 
mystical influence, which belief, he thought, 
stood m the way of sanctification ; — he feared 
lest the Christian, thinking that he received 
Christ in the consecrated bread, should no 
longer earnestly seek to be united to him by 
faith in the heart. "Faith," said he, "is not 
knowledge, opinion, imagination; — it is a 
reality. It involves in it a real participation 
in divine things." Thus, whatever the ad- 
versaries of Z wingle may have asserted, it was 
no leaning towards rationalism, but a deep re- 
ligious view of the subject which conducted 
him to the doctrines he maintained. 

The result of Zwingle's studies were in ac- 
cordance with these tendencies. In studying 
the Scriptures, not only in detached passages, 
but as a whole, and having recourse to clas- 
sical antiquity to solve the difficulties of lan- 
guage, he arrived at the conviction, that the 
word " is" in the words of institution of this 
sacrament, should be taken in the sense of 
" signifies ,•" and, as early as the year 1523, 
he wrote to a friend, that the bread and wine 
in the Lord's Supper are exactly what the 
water is in baptism. "In vain," added he, 
" would you plunge a thousand times under 
the water a man who does not believe. Faith 
is the one thing needful." 

Luther, at first, set out from principles 
nearly similar to those of the Reformer of Zu- 
rich. "It is not the sacrament which sancti- 
fies," said he, " it is faith in the sacrament." 
But the extravagances of the Anabaptists, 
whose mysticism spiritualzied every thing, 
produced a great change in his views. When 
lie saw enthusiasts, who pretended to inspira- 
tion, destroying images, rejecting baptism, 
and denying the presence of Christ in the 
Eucharist, he was affrighted ; he had a kind 
of prophetic presentiment of the dangers which 
would threaten the Church if this tendency 
to over-spiritualize, should gain the ascendant ; 
hence he took a totally different course, like 
the boatman, who, to restore the balance of 
his foundering skiff, throws all his weight on 
the side opposed to the storm. 

Thenceforward, Luther assigned to the sac- 
raments a higher importance. He maintained 
they were not only signs by which Christians 
were outwardly distinguished, but evidences 
of the Divine will, adapted to strengthen our 
faith. He went farther : Christ, according to 
him, desired to give to believers a full assur- 
ance of salvation, and, in order to seal this 
promise to them with most effect, had added 
thereto his real body in the bread and wine. I 
"Just," continued he, "as iron and fire, 
though two different substances, meet and are! 
blended in a red hot bar, so that in every part 
of it there is at once iron and. fire ; so, a for-\ 



tiori, the glorified body of Christ exists in 
every part of the bread." 

Thus, at this period of his career, Luther 
made, perhaps, a partial return to the scho- 
lastic theology. He had openly divorced 
himself from it on the doctrine of jusification 
by faith ,• but on the doctrine of this Sacra- 
ment, he gave up but one point, viz. trcn- 
substantiation, and retained the other, the 
real presence. He even went so far as to say 
that he would rather receive the mere blood 
with the Pope, than the mere wine with 
Z wingle. 

Luther's great principle was never to de- 
part from the doctrines or customs cf the 
Church, unless the words of Scripture abso- 
lutely required him to do so. " Where has 
Christ commanded us to elevate the host, 
land exhibit it to the people?" had been 
Carlstadt's question. "Where has he for- 
bidden it?" w T as Luther's reply. Herein 
lies the difference of the two Reformations 
i we are considering. The traditions of the 
Church were dear to the Saxon Reformer. 
If he separated from them on many points, 
it was not till after much conflict of mind, 
and because, above all, he saw the necessity 
of obeying the word of God. But wherevei 
the letter of God's word appeared to him in 
accordance with the tradition and practice of 
the Church, he adhered to it with unaltera- 
ble resolution. Now this was the case in the 
question concerning the Lord's Supper. He 
did not deny that the word "is" might be 
taken in the sense ascribed to it by Zwingle 
He admitted, for example, that it must be 
so understood in the passage, " That rock 
ivas Christ ," (1 Cor. x. 4 :) but what he did 
deny was that the word should be taken in 
this sense in the institution of the Lord's 
Supper. 

In one of the later schoolmen Occam, 
whom he preferred to all others, he found 
an opinion which he embraced. With Oc- 
cam, he gave up the continually repeated 
miracle, in virtue whereof, according to the 
Romish Church, the body and blood take the 
place of the bread and wine after every act 
of consecration by the priest, — and with 
Occam, substituted for it a universal miracle, 
wrought once for all, — that is, the ubiquity 
or omnipresence of Christ's body. " Christ," 
said he, "is present in the bread and w r ine, 
because he is present every where, — and in 
an especial manner where he wills to be." 

The inclination of Zwingle was the reverse 
of Luther's. He attached less importance 
to the preserving a union, in a certain sense, 
with the universal church, and thus main- 
taining our hold upon the tradition of past 
ages. As a theologian, he looked to Scrip- 
ture alone; and thence only would he freelv, 
and without any intermediary channel, de- 
rive his faith ; not stopping to trouble himself 
with what others had in. former times be- 
lieved. As a republican, he looked to the 
commune of Zurich. His mind was occu- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



363 



pied with the idea of the church of his own 
time, not with that of other days. He re- 
lied especially on the words of St. Paul, — 
" Because there is but one bread, we being 
many are One body;* and he saw in the 
supper the sign of a spiritual communion 
between Christ and all Christians. "Who- 
ever," said he, "acts unworthily, is guilty 
of sin against the body of Christ, of which he 
is a member." Such a thought had a great 
practical power over the minds of commu- 
nicants ; and the effects it wrought in the 
lives of many, was to Zwingle the confirma- 
tion of it. 

Thus Luther and Zwingle had insensibly 
separated from one another. Nevertheless 
peace, perhaps, might have continued be- 
tween them, if the turbulent Caristadt, who 
spent some time in passing to and fro be- 
tween Germany and Switzerland, had not 
inflamed their conflicting opinions. 

A step, taken with a view to preserve 
peace, led to the explosion. The Council 
of Zurich, wishing to put a stop to contro- 
versy, prohibited the sale of Caristadt' s wri- 
tings. Zwingle, though he disapproved the 
violence of Caristadt, and blamed his mystic 
and obscure expressions, upon this, thought 
it right to defend his doctrine, both from the 
pulpit and before the Council; and soon af- 
terwards he wrote a letter to the minister, 
Albert of Reutlingen, in which he said: 
" Whether or not Christ is speaking of the 
sacrament in the sixth chapter of St. John's 
gospel, it is, at least, evident, that he therein 
teaches a mode of eating his flesh and drink- 
ing his blood, in which there is nothing cor- 
poreal." He then endeavoured to prove 
that the Supper of the Lord, by reminding 
the faithful, according to Christ's design, of 
his body which ' was broken' for them, is 
the procuring cause of that spiritual-mandu- 
cation, which is alone truly beneficial to 
them. 

Nevertheless, Zwingle still shrunk from a 
rupture with Luther. He trembled at the 
thought that distressing discussions would 
rend asunder the little company of believers 
forming in the midst of effete Christendom. 
Not so with Luther. He did not hesitate to 
include Zwingle in the ranks of those en- 
thusiasts with whom he had already broken 
so many lances. He did not reflect that if 
images had been removed from the churches 
of Zurich, it had been done legally, and by 
public authority. Accustomed to the forms 
of the German principalities, he knew but 
little of the manner of proceeding in the 
Swiss republics; and he declared against the 
grave Swiss divines, just as he had done 
against the Miintzers and the Carlstadts. 

Luther having put forth his discourse 
(C against celestial prophets" Zwingle's re- 
solution Avas taken ; and he published almost 



* The passage referred to is 1 Cor. x. 17, and 

the original stands thus : — 'On as aproj, lv <rw^a ol 
troXXoi iajjLCv. (Tr.) 



immediately after, his Letter to Albert, and 
his Commentary on true and false Religion, 
dedicated to Francis I. In it he said, " Since 
Christ, in the sixth of John, attributes to 
faith the power of communicating eternal 
life, and uniting the believer to him in the 
most intimate of all unions, what more can 
we need ? Why should we think that he 
would afterwards attribute that efficacy to 
His flesh, when He himself declares that the 
flesh profiteth nothing? So far as the suf- 
fering death for us, the flesh of Christ is of 
unspeakable benefit to us, — for it saves us 
from perdition; — but as being eaten by us, it 
is altogether useless." 

The contest began. Pomeranus, Luther's 
friend, took the field, and attacked the Evan- 
gelist of Zurich somewhat too contemptu- 
ously. Then it was that (Ecolampadius 
began to blush that he had so long struggled 
with his doubts, and preached doctrines 
which were already giving way in his own 
mind. Taking courage, he wrote from 
Basle to Zwingle. " The dogma of the 
' real presence' is the fortress and stronghold 
of their impiety; so long as they cleave to 
this idol, none can overcome them." After 
this, he, too, entered the lists, by publishing 
a tract on the import of the Lord's words, 
" This is my body."* 

The bare fact that (Ecolampadius had 
joined the Reformer of Zurich, excited an 
immense sensation, not only at Basle, but 
throughout all Germany. Luther was deeply 
affected by it. Brentz, Schnepff, and twelve 
other ministers in Suabia, to whom (Eco- 
lampadius had dedicated his tract, and who 
had almost all been disciples under him, 
testified the most lively sorrow. In taking 
up the pen to answer him, Brentz said, 
" Even at this moment, when I am separa- 
ting from him for just reasons, I honour and 
admire him as much as it is possible to do. 
The tie of love is not severed because we 
differ in judgment." And he proceeded, in 
concert with his friends, to publish the cele- 
brated Suabian Syngramma, in which he 
replied to the arguments of (Ecolampadius 
with boldness, but with respect and affec- 
tion. "If an emperor," say the authors of 
the Syngramma, " were to give a baton or a 
wand to a judge, saying, 'Take — this is the 
power of judging:' — the wand, no doubt, is 
a mere sign ; but, the words being added 
thereto, the judge has not merely the sign of 
the power, he has the power itself." 

The true children of the Reformation 
might admit this illustration. The Syn- 
gramma was received with acclamations, 
and its authors were looked upon as the de- 
fenders of the truth. Several divines, and 
even some laymen, in their desire to share in 
their glory, undertook the defence of the doc- 
trine that was assailed, and wrote against 
(Ecolampadius. 



* He retained the usual signification of the word 
is, but he understood, b'y body, a sign of the body 



364 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Then it was Strasburg interposed, and 
sought to mediate between Switzerland and 
Germany. Capito and Bucer were disposed 
for peace; and, in their view, the question 
under discussion was of secondary import- 
ance. Accordingly stepping between the two 
parties, they sent George Cassel, one of their 
colleagues, to Luther, to conjure him not to 
snap the link of brotherhood which united 
him with the Swiss divines. 

No where does Luther's character display 
itself more strikingly than in this controversy 
cm the Lord's Supper. Never did it more 
clearly appear with what firmness he main- 
tained the convictions he believed to be those 
of a Christian, — with what faithfulness he 
established them on the authority of Scrip- 
ture alone, — his sagacity in defending them, 
and his animated, eloquent, and often over- 
powering argumentation. But, on the other 
hand, never was there a more abundant exhi- 
bition of the obstinacy with which he brought 
up every argument for his own opinion, the 
little attention he gave to his opponents'. rea- 
soning, and the uncharitable haste with which 
he attributed their errors to the wickedness of 
their hearts, and the machinations of the 
devil. To the mediator of Strasburg he 
said, — "Either the one party or the other, — 
either the Swiss or we, — must be ministers of 
Satan." 

Such were what Capito termed "the furies 
of the Saxon Orestes ;" and these furies were 
succeeded by exhaustion. Luther's health 
suffered. One day he fainted in the arms of 
his wife and friends ; and, for a whole week, 
he was as if "in death and hell." He had 
lost Jesus Christ, he said, and was driven 
hither and thither by tempests of despair. 
The world was about to pass away, and prodi- 
gies announced that the last day was at hand. 

But these divisions among the friends of 
the Reformation were to have after conse- 
quences yet more to be deplored. The Ro- 
mish divines in Switzerland especially boasted 
of being able to oppose Luther to Zwingle. 
And yet, if, — now that three centuries have 
passed away, — the recollection of these divi- 
sions should teach Evangelical Christians the 
precious lesson of Unity in diversity, and 
Love in liberty, they will not have happened 
in vain. Even at the time, — the Reformers, 
by thus opposing one another, proved that 
they were not governed by blind hatred of 
Rome, but that Truth was the great object of 
their hearts. It must be admitted that there 
is something generous in such conduct; and 
its disinterestedness did not fail to produce 
some fruit, and extort from enemies them- 
selves a tribute of interest and esteem. 

But we may go further, and here again we 
discern the Sovereign hand which governs all 
events, and allows nothing to happen but 
what makes part of its own wise plan. Not- 
withstanding his opposition to the Papacy, 
Luther had a strong conservative instinct. 
Zwingle, on the contrary, was predisposed to 
radical reforms. Both these divergent tenden- 



cies were needed. If Luther and his follow- 
ers had been alone in the work, it would have 
stopped short in its progress; and the princi- 
ciple of Reformation would not have wrought 
its destined effect. If, on the other hand, 
Zwingle had been alone, — the thread would 
have been snapped too abruptly, and the Re- 
formation would have found itself isolated 
from the ages which had gone before. 

These two tendencies, which, on a superfi- 
cial view, might seem present only to conflict 
together, were, on the contrary, ordained to 
be the complement of each other, — and now 
that three centuries have passed away, w T e 
can say that they have fulfilled their mission. 

Thus, on all sides, the Reformation had to 
encounter resistance; and, after combating 
the rationalist philosophy of Erasmus, and 
the fanatical enthusiasm of the Anabaptists, 
it had, in addition, to settle matters at home. 
But its great and lasting struggle was against 
the Papacy ; — and the assault, commenced in 
the cities of the plain, was now carried to the 
most distant mountains. 

The summits of Tockenburg had heard the 
sound of the Gospel, and three ecclesiastics 
were prosecuted by order of the bishop, as 
tainted with heresy. " Only convince us by 
the word of God," said Militus, Doring, and 
Farer, " and we will humble ourselves, not 
only before the chapter, but before the very 
least of the brethren of Jesus Christ. Other- 
wise, we will obey no one ; not even the 
greatest among men." 

The genuine spirit of Zwingle and of the 
Reformation speaks out in these words. It • 
was not long before a new incident occurred 
to inflame the minds of the mountaineers. A 
meeting of the people took place on St. Ca- 
therine's day; the townsmen gathered in 
groups, and two men of Schwitz, whose busi- 
ness had called them to the Tockenburg, were 
seated together at one of the tables. They 
entered into conversation: — " Ulric Zwin- 
gle," exclaimed one of them, " is a heretic 
and a robber." The Secretary Steiger de- 
fended the Reformation. Their loud voices 
attracted the attention of the meeting. George 
Bruggman, uncle to Zwingle, who was seated 
at an adjoining table, angrily left his seat, 
exclaiming, " Surely they are speaking of 
Master Ulric;" on which the guests all rose 
up and followed, apprehending a disturbance. 
The tumult increased ; the bailiff hastily col- 
ected the Town-council in the open street, 
and Bruggman was requested, for the sake of 
peace, to content himself with saying, " If 
you do not retract your words, it is yourselves 
who are liars and thieves." " Recollect what 
you have just said," answered the men of 
Schwitz, " we will not forget it." This said, 
they mounted their horses, and set forward at 
full speed for Schwitz. 

The government of Schwitz addressed to 
the inhabitants of the Tockenburg, a letter, 
which spread terror wherever it came. " Stand 
firm and fear nothing," wroteZwingie to the 
Council of his native place: "Let not the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



365 



lies they circulate concerning me disturb you. 
There is no brawler but has the power to call 
me heretic ; but do you avoid all insulting 
language, tumults, excesses, and mercenary 
war. Relieve the poor; espouse the cause 
of the oppressed ; and whatever insults may 
be heaped upon you, hold fast your confidence 
in Almighty God."* 

Zwingle's exhortations had the desired 
effect. The Council were still hesitating; 
but the people gathering together in their 
several parishes, unanimously resolved that 
the Mass should be abolished and the word of 
God adhered to. 

The progress of the work was not less 
marked in Rhetia, from whence Salandronius 
had been compelled to take his departure, but 
where Comander was preaching with much 
boldness. It is true that the Anabaptists, by 
their fanatical preachings in the country of 
the Grisons, had at first been a great hind- 
rance to the progress of the Reformation. 
The people had split into three parties. Some 
had embraced the doctrines of those pretended 
prophets : others in silent astonishment me- 
ditated with anxiety on the schism that had 
declared itself. And, lastly, the partisans of 
Rome were loud in their exultations. 

A meeting was held at Ilantz, in the 
Grison league, for the purpose of a discus- 
sion. The supporters of the Papacy, on one 
hand, the favourers of the Reformation on 
the other, collected their forces. The bishop's 
vicar at first laboured to avoid the dispute. 
" Such disputations are attended with consi- 
derable expenses," said he; " I am ready to 
put down ten thousand florins, in order to 
defray them, but I expect the opposite party 
to do as much." " If the bishop has ten 
thousand florins at his disposal," exclaimed 
the rough voice of a countryman in the crowd, 
"it is from us he has extorted them ; to give 
such poor priests as much more would be a 
little too bad." " We are a poor set of peo- 
ple," said Comander, the pastor of Coira, 
" we can scarcely pay for our soup, where 
then can we raise ten thousand florins." 
Every one laughed at this stratagem, and the 
business proceeded. 

Among those present were Sebastian Hof- 
meister and James Amman of Zurich. They 
held in their hands the Holy Scriptures, in 
Hebrew and Greek. The bishop's vicar 
moved that strangers be desired to withdraw. 
Hofmeister understood this to be directed 
against him. " We have come provided," 
said he, " with a Hebrew and Greek Bible, 
in order that none may in any way do violence 
to the Scripture. However, sooner than stand 
in the way of the conference we are willing 
to retire." " Ah !" cried the curate of Dint- 



* Verbis diris abstinete .... opem ferte egenis 
.... spem certissimam in Deo reponatis omnipo- 
tente. (Ibid.) Either the date of one of the let- 
ters, 14th and 23d of 1524, must be a mistake, or 
one letter from Zwingle to his fellow-countrymen 
of the Tockenburg must be lost. 



zen, as he glanced at the books the two Zu> 
richers held in their hands, "if the Hebrew 
and Greek languages had never obtained 
entrance into our country, there would be 
fewer heresies among us." " St. Jerome," 
observed another, "has translated the Bible 
for us, and we don't want the Jewish books." 
"If the Zurichers are excluded," said the 
banneret of Ilantz, the commune will move in 
the affair." " Well," replied the others, 
" let them listen, but let them be silent." The 
Zurichers were accordingly allowed to remain, 
and their Bible with them. 

Comander, rising in his place, read from 
the first of his published theses — " The Chris- 
tian Church is born of the word of God. Its 
duty is to hold fast that W T ord, and not to 
give ear to any other voice." He proceeded 
to establish what he advanced by numerous 
passages from the Scriptures. "He went 
boldly forward," says an eye-witness, "plant- 
ing his foot, at every step, with the firmness 
of an ox's tread." "This will last all day," 
said the vicar. — "When he is at table with 
his friends, listening to those who play the 
flute, he does not grudge the time," remarked 
Hofmeister. 

Just then one of the spectators left his seat, 
and elbowing his passage through the crowd, 
forced his way up to Comander, waving his 
arms, scowling on the Reformer, and knitting 
his brows. He seemed like one beside him- 
self; and as he bustled up to Comander, 
many thought he was going to strike him. 
He was a schoolmaster of Coira. " I have 
written down various questions for you to 
answer," said he to Comander: "answer 
them directly." "I stand here," said the 
Reformer of the Grisons, " to defend my 
teaching. Do you attack it, and I will answer 
you ; or, if not, go back to your place. I 
will reply to you when I have done." The 
schoolmaster deliberated for an instant. 
" Well," said he, at last, — and returned to 
his seat. 

It was proposed to proceed to consider the 
doctrine of the Sacrament. The abbot of St. 
Luke's declared that it was not without awe 
that he approached such a subject; and the 
vicar devoutly crossed himself in fear. 

The schoolmaster of Coira, who had before 
showed his readiness to attack Comander, 
with much volubility began to argue for the 
received doctrine of the Sacrament, grounding 
what he said on the words, — " This is my 
body." " My dear Berre," said Comander 
to him, "how do you understand these 
words, — John is Elias ?" "I understand," 
replied Berre, who saw Comander's object in 
the question, " I understand that he was truly 
and essentially Elias." "And why then," 
continued Comander, "did John the Baptis 
himself say to the Pharisees that he was not 
Elias ?" The schoolmaster was silent; and 
at last ejaculated, — "It is true." All laughed, 
— even the friends who had urged him to 
speak. 

The abbot cf Saint -Luke's spoke at much 



366 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



.ensfth on the Supper; and the conference was 
finally closed. Seven priests embraced the 
Gospel. The most perfect religious liberty 
was proclaimed ; and in several of the churches 
the Romish worship was abolished. " Christ," 
to use the words of Salandronius, " grew up 
every where in the mountains, like the tender 
grass of the spring, and his ministers were 
like living fountains, watering those Alpine 
pastures." 

The Reformation was advancing, with yet 
more rapid strides, in Zurich. Dominicans, 
Augustines, Capucins, so long opposed to 
each other, were reduced to the necessity of 
living together; — an anticipated purgatory 
for these poor monks. In place of those de- 
generated institutions were founded schools, 
an hospital, a theological seminary. Learn- 
ing and charity every where took the place 
of sloth and selfishness. 

These triumphs of the Reformation could 
not escape notice. The monks, the priests, 
and their prelates, not knowing how to move, 
every where felt that the ground was passing 
from under their feet; and that the Church 
was on the point of sinking under its unpre- 
cedented dangers. The oligarchs of the can- 
tons, — the hired supporters of foreign capitu- 
lations, perceived there was no time to be 
lost, if they wished to preserve their own 
privileges ; and at the moment when the 
Church, in her terror, was sinking into the 
earth, they again tendered her the support of 
their arms bristling with steel. A John Faber 
was reinforced by a Stein or John Hug of 
Lucerne, and the civil authority came forward 
to assist that power of the hierarchy which 
opens his mouth to blaspheme and makes war 
against the saints. Rev. xiii. 

Public opinion had for a long while de- 
manded a conference. No other way appeared 
of quelling the people. " Only convince us 
from the Scriptures," said the Council of 
Zurich to the Diet, "and we will fall in with 
your desires." "The Zurichers," said the 
people, "have given you their promise; if 
you are able to refute them from the Scriptures, 
why not do it? And if not able, why not 
yourselves conform to the Bible?" 

The conferences at Zurich had had a mighty 
influence ; it seemed politic to oppose to them 
a conference held in a city in the interest of 
Rome; taking at the same time all necessary 
precautions to secure the victory to the Pope's 
party. 

It is true that the same party had declared 
such discussions unlawful, — but a door of 
evasion was found to escape that difficulty ; 
for, said they, all that it is proposed to do is 
to declare and condemn the pestilent doctrine 
of Zwingle.* This difficulty obviated, they 
looked about them -for a sturdy disputant and 
Doctor Eck offered himself. He had no fear 
of the issue. " Zwingle, no doubt, has more 
knowledge of cows than of books," observed 
he, as Hofmeister reports. 



* Diet of Lucerne, 13th of March, 1526. 



The Grand Council of Zurich despatched 
a safe-conduct for Eck to repair direct to 
Zurich ; but Eck answered that he would 
await the answer of the Confederation. 
Zwingle, on this, proposed to dispute at St. 
Gall, or at Schaffhausen, but the Council, 
grounding its decision on an article in the 
federal compact, which provided that any 
person accused of misdemeanor should be tried 
in the place of his abode, enjoined Zwingle to 
retract his offer. 

The Diet at length came to the decision 
that a conference should take place at Baden, 
and appointed the 16th of May, 1526. This 
meeting promised important consequences: 
for it was the result and the seal of that alliance 
that had just been concluded between the 
power of the Church and the aristocrats of 
the Confederation. "See," said Zwingle to 
Vadian, "what these oligarchs and Faber are 
daring enough to attempt." 

Accordingly, the decision to be expected 
from the Diet was a question of deep interest 
in Switzerland. None could doubt that a 
conference held under such auspices would be 
any thing but auspicious to the Reformation. 
Were not the five cantons most devoted tc 
the Pope's views paramount in influence in 
Baden] Had they not already condemned 
Zwingle's doctrine, and pursued it with fire 
and sword 1 At Lucerne had he not been 
burnt in effigy with every expression of con- 
tempt 1 At Friburg had not his writings berrn 
consigned to the flames? Throughout the 
five cantons was not his death demanded by 
popular clamour ? The cantons that exercised 
a sort of suzerainty in Baden, had they not* 
declared that Zwingle should be seized if he 
set foot on any part of their territory ] Had 
not Uberlinger, one of their chiefs, declared 
that he only wished he had him in his power 
that he might hang him, though he should be 
called an executioner as long as he lived) 
And Doctor Eck himself, had he not for years 
past called for fire and sword as the only 
methods to be resorted to against heretics'? — 
What then must be the end of this conference, 
and what result can it have but the death of 
the Reformer? 

Such were the fears that agitated the com- 
mission appointed at Zurich, to examine into 
the matter. Zwingle. beholding their agita- 
tion rose and said, "You know what happen- 
ed at Baden to the valiant men of Stammheim, 
and how the blood of the Wirths stained the 
scaffold — and yet we are summoned to the 
very place of their execution! Let Zurich, 
Berne, Saint Gall, or, if they will, Basle, 
Constance, or Schaffhausen be chosen for 
the conference ; let it be agreed that none but 
essential points shall be discussed, that the 
word of God shall be the only standard of 
authority which nothing shall be allowed to 
supersede, and then I am ready to come for- 
ward." 

Meanwhile, fanaticism was already aroused 
and was striking down her victims. On the 
10th of May, 1526, that is, about a week be- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



367 



fore the discussion at Baden, a consistory, 
neaded by the same Faber who challenged 
Zwingle, condemned to the flames, as a here- 
tic, an evangelical minister named John 
Hiigle, pastor of Lindau, who sang the Te 
Deum while walking to the place of execu- 
tion. At the same time, another minister, 
named Peter Spengler was drowned at Fri- 
burg, by order of the bishop of Constance. 

Gloomy tidings reached Zwingle from all 
sides. His brother-in-law, Leonard Tremp, 
wrote to him from Berne: "I conjure you as you 
value your life, not to repair to Baden. I know 
that they will not respect yoursafe conduct." 

It was confidently asserted that a project 
had been formed to seize, gag, and throw him 
into a boat which should carry him off to 
some secret place. Taking into consideration 
these threats of danger and death, the Council 
of Zurich resolved that Zwingle should not go 
to Baden. 

The day for the discussion being fixed for 
the 19th of May, the disputants and represen- 
tatives of the cantons and bishops slowly col- 
lected. First, on the side of the Roman Ca- 
tholics, appeared the pompous and boastful 
Eck; on the Protestant side, the modest and 
gentle 03colampadius. The latter was fully 
sensible of the perils attending this discus- 
sion: — "Long had he hesitated," says an 
ancient historian, " like a timid stag, worried 
by furious dogs;" at length he decided on 
proceeding to Baden; first making this solemn 
protestation — " I recognise no other rule of 
judgment than the word of God." He had, 
at*first, much wished that Zwingle should 
share his perils; but he soon saw reason to 
believe that if the intrepid doctor had shown 
himself in that fanatical city, the anger of the 
Roman Catholics, kindling at the sight of 
him, would have involved them both in de- 
struction. 

The first step was to determine the laws 
which should regulate the controversy. Eck 
proposed that trie deputies of the Forest Can- 
tons should be authorised to pronounce the 
final judgment, — a proposal which, if it had 
been adopted, would have decided beforehand 
the condemnation of the reformed doctrines. 
Thomas Plater, who had come from Zurich 
to attend the conference, was despatched by 
CEcolampadius to ask Zwingle's advice. Ar- 
riving at night, he was with difficulty ad- 
mitted into the Reformer's house. Zwingle, 
waking up and rubbing his eyes, exclaimed, 
" You are an unseasonable visitant, — what 
news do you bring? For these six weeks 
past I have had no rest; thanks to this dis 
pnte." Plater stated what Eck required 
"And how," replied Zwingle, "can those 
peasants be made to understand such matters 
they would be much more at home in milking 
their cows." 

On the 21st of May the conference began. 
Eck and Faber, accompanied by prelates, 
magistrates, and doctors, robed in damask and 
silk, and bedizened with rings, chains, and 
crosses, repaired to thechurch. Eck haughtily 
25 



ascended a pulpit superbly decorated, whilst 
the humble 03colampadius, meanly clad, sat 
facing his adversary upon a rudely construct- 
ed platform. "During the whole time the 
conference lasted," says the chronicler Bul- 
linger, " Eck and his party were lodged in the 
parsonage house of Baden, faring sumptuous- 
ly, living gaily and disorderly, drinking freely 
the wine with which they were supplied by 
the abbot, of Wettingen. Eck, it was said, 
takes the baths of Baden, but it is in unne 
that he bathes. The Reformers, on the con- 
trary, made but a sorry appearance, and were 
scoffed ai as a troop of mendicants. Their 
manner of life afforded a striking contrast to 
that of the Pope's champions. The landlord 
of the Pike, the inn at which QEcolampadius 
lodged, curious to see how the latter spent his 
time in his room, reported that whenever he 
looked in on him, he found him either reading 
or praying. It must be confessed, said he, 
that he is a very pious heretic." 

The discussion lasted eighteen days; and 
every morning the clergy of Baden went in 
solemn procession, chaunting litanies, in order 
to ensure victory. Eck was the only one who 
spoke in defence of the Romish doctrines. 
He was at Baden exactly what he was at 
Leipsic, with the same German twang, the 
same broad shoulders and sonorous voice, re- 
minding one of a town crier, and in appear- 
ance more like a butcher than a divine. He 
was vehement in disputing, according to his 
usual custom; trying to wound his opponents 
by insulting language, and even now and ther 
breaking out in an oath. The president neve/ 
called him to order — 

Eck stamps his feet, and claps his hands, 

He raves, he swears, he scolds ; 
" I do," cries he, " what Rome commands, 

And teach what'er she holds." 

03colampadius, on the contrary, with his 
serene countenance, his noble and patriarchal 
air, spoke with so much mildness, but at the 
same time with so much ability and courage, 
that even his antagonists, affected and im- 
pressed, whispered to one another, " Oh that 
the tall sallow man were on our side." 
Sometimes, indeed, he was moved at behold- 
ing the hatred and violence of his auditors : 
"Oh," said he, " with what impatience do 
they listen to me ; but God will not forego His 
glory, and it is that only that we seek." 

QScolampadius havingcombated Eck's first 
thesis, which turned on the real presence, 
Haller, who had reached Baden, after the 
commencement of the discussion, entered the 
lists against the second. Little used to such 
discussions constitutionally timid, fettered 
by the instructions of his government, and 
embarrassed by the presence of its chief ma- 
gistrate, Gaspard Mullinen, a bitter enemy of 
the Reformation, Haller had none of the con- 
fident bearing of his antagonist ; but he had 
more real strength. When Haller had con- 
cluded, CEcolampadius again entered the lists, 
and pressed Eck so closely, that the lattet 



368 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



was compelled to fall back upon the custom 
of the church. "In our Switzerland," an- 
swered (Ecolampadius, "custom is of no 
force unless it be according to the constitu- 
tion; now, in all matters of faith, the Bible 
is our constitution." 

The third thesis,, regarding invocation of 
saints; the fourth, on images ; the fifth, on 
purgatory, were successively discussed. No 
one came forward to dispute the two last 
theses, which bore reference to original sin 
and baptism. 

Zwingle took an important part in the 
whole of the discussion. The Catholic party 
had appointed four secretaries, and prohi- 
bited all other persons from taking notes on 
pain of death. Nevertheless, a student from 
the Valais, named Jerome Walsch, gifted 
with a retentive memory, carefully impressed 
upon his mind all that he heard, and upon 
leaving the assembly privately committed his 
recollections to writing. Thomas Plater, and 
Zimmermann of Winterthur, carried these 
notes to Zwingle every day, as also letters 
from CEcolampadius, and brought back the 
Reformer's answers. The gates of Baden 
were guarded by halberdiers, and it was 
only by inventing different excuses that the 
two messengers could evade the questions 
of the soldiers, who were at a loss to com- 
prehend why these youths so frequently en- 
tered and quitted the city.* Thus Zwingle, 
though absent from Baden. in bodily pre- 
sence, was with them in spirit. 

He advised and strengthened his friends, 
and refuted his adversaries. "Zwingle," 
says Oswald Myconius, " has laboured more 
in meditating upon and watching the con- 
test, and transmitting his advice to Baden, 
than he could have done by disputing in 
person in the midst of his enemies." 

During the whole time of the conference 
the Roman Catholics were in a ferment, 
publishing abroad the report of advantages 
gained by them. "CEcolampadius," cried 
they, " vanquished by Eck, lies prostrate on 
the field, and sues for quarter; the Pope's 
authority will be every where restored." 
These statements were industriously circu- 
' lated throughout the cantons, and the many, 
prompt to believe every rumour, gave credit 
to these vauntings of the partisans of Rome. 

The discussion being concluded, the monk 
Murner of Lucerne, nicknamed the "tom- 
cat," came forward and read forty articles 
of accusation against Zwingle. " I thought," 
said he, " that the dastard would appear and 
answer for himself, but he has not done so: 
I am therefore justified by every law, both 
human and divine, in declaring forty times 
over, that the tyrant of Zurich and all his 



* When I was asked, ' ' What are you going to 
do?" I replied, " I am carrying chickens to sell 
to the gentlemen who are come to the baths :"— • 
the chickens were given me at Zurich, and the 
guards could not understand how it was that I 
always got them so fresh, and in so short a time. 
Plater's Autobiography.) 



partisans are rebels, liars, perjured persons, 
adulterers, infidels, thieves, robbers of tem- 
ples, fit only for the gallows; and that any 
honest man must disgrace himself if he hold 
any intercourse with them, of what kind so- 
ever." Such was the opprobrious language 
which, at that time, was honoured with the 
name of "Christian controversy," by divines 
whom the Church of Rome herself might 
well blush to acknowledge. 

Great agitation prevailed at Baden ; the 
general feeling was that the Reformers were 
overcome not by force of arguments, but by 
power of lungs. Only CEcolampadius and 
ten of his friends signed a protest against the 
theses of Eck, whilst they were adopted by 
no less than eighty persons, including those 
who had presided at the discussion, and all 
the monks of Wittengen. Haller had left 
Baden before the termination of the con- 
ference. 

The majority of the Diet then decreed, 
that as Zwingle, the leader in these perni- 
cious doctrines, refused to appear, and as 
the ministers who had come to Baden har- 
dened themselves against conviction, both 
the one and the others were in consequence 
cast out from the bosom of the church. 

But this celebrated contest, which had ori- 
ginated in the zeal of the oligarchs and the 
clergy, was yet in its effects to be fatal to 
both. Those who had contended for the 
Gospel, returning to their homes, infused 
into their fellow-citizens an enthusiasm for 
the cause they had defended ; and Berne and 
Basle, two of the most influential cantons of 
the Helvetic confederation, began thence- 
forth to fall away from the ranks of the 
Papacy. 

It was to be expected that CEcolampadius 
would be the first to suffer, the rather as he 
was not a native of Switzerland; and it was 
not without some fear that he returned to 
Basle. But his alarm was quickly dissipated. 
His gentle words had sunk deeply into those 
unprejudiced minds which had been closed 
against jthe vociferations of Eck; and he was 
received with acclamations by all men of 
piety. His adversaries, it is true, used all 
their efforts to exclude him from the pulpit, 
but in vain: he taught and preached with 
greater energy than before, and never had 
the people manifested a more ardent thirst 
for the word of the Lord. 

The course of events at Berne was of a 
similar character. The conference at Baden, 
which it had been hoped would stifle the 
Reformation, gave to it a new impulse in 
this the most powerful of the Swiss cantons. 
No sooner had Haller arrived in the capital, 
than the inferior council summoned him be- 
fore them, and commanded him to celebrate 
mass. Haller asked leave to answer before 
the Grand Council; and the people came 
together, thinking it behoved them to defend 
their pastor. Haller, in alarm, declared that 
he would rather quit the city than be the 
innocent occasion of disorders. Upon this, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



369 



tranquillity being restored, " If," said the 
Reformer, "I am required to perform mass 
I must resign my office : the honour of God 
and the truth of His holy Word lie nearer to 
my heart than any care what * I shall eat, or 
wherewithal I shall be clothed. ' " Haller 
uttered these words with much emotion; the 
members of the Council were affected; even 
some of his opponents were moved to tears. 
Once more was moderation found to be 
strength. To meet in some measure the re- 
quirements of Rome, Haller was removed 
from his office of canon, but appointed 
preacher. His most violent enemies, Lewis 
and Anthony von Diesbach and Anthony 
von Erlach, indignant at this decision, imme- 
diately withdrew from the Council and the 
city, and threw up their rank as citizens. 
"Berne stumbled," said Haller, "but she 
has risen up in greater strength than ever." 
This firmness of the Bernese made a power- 
ful impression in Switzerland. 

But the effects of the conference of Baden 
were not confined to Berne and Basle. 
While these events were occurring in those 
powerful cities, a movement more or less of 
the same character was in progress in seve- 
ral other states of the Confederation. The 
preachers of St. Gall, on their return from 
Baden, proclaimed the Gospel. At the con- 
clusion of a public meeting, the images were 
removed from the parish church of St. Law- 
rence, and the inhabitants parted with their 
costly dresses, jewels, rings, and gold chains, 
that they might, employ the money in works 
of charity. The Reformation did, it is true, 
strip men of their possessions, but it was in 
order that the poor might be clothed ; and 
the only wordly goods it claimed the sur- 
render of were those of the Reformed them- 
selves. 

At Mulhausen the preaching was continued 
with unwearied boldness. Thurgovia and the 
Rhenish provinces daily drew nearer to the 
doctrine held in Zurich. Immediately after 
the conference, Zurzach abolished the use of 
images in its churches, and almost the whole 
district of Baden received the Gospel. 

Nothing can show more clearly than such 
facts as these which party had really triumph- 
ed. Hence we find Zwingle, contemplating 
what was passing around him, giving thanks 
to God : — " Manifold are their attacks," said 
he, " but the Lord is above all their threaten- 
ings and all their violence ; — a wonderful 
unanimity in behalf of the Gospel prevails in 
the city and canton of Zurich — we shall over- 
come all things by the prayer of faith." 
Shortly afterwards, writing to Haller, he ex- 
pressed himself thus: "Every thing here 
below follows its appointed course : — after the 
rude northern blast comes the gentle breeze. 
The scorching heat of summer is succeeded by 
the treasures of autumn. And now after stern 
contests, the Creator of all things, whom we 
serve, has opened for us a passage into the 
enemy's camp. We are at last permitted to 
receive among us the Christian doctrine, that 



dove so long denied entrance, but which has 
never ceased to watch for the hour when she 
might return. Be thou the Noah to receive 
and shelter her." 

This same year Zurich made an important 
acquisition. Conrad Pellican, superior of the 
Franciscan convent at Basle, professor of the- 
ology when only twenty-four years of age, 
had, through the interest of Zwingle, been 
chosen to fill the office of Hebrew professor 
at Zurich. On his arrival he said, "I have 
long since renounced the Pope, and desired to 
live to Christ." Pellican's critical talents 
rendered him one of the most useful labourers 
in the great work of the Reformation. 

Early in 1527, Zurich, still excluded from 
the Diet by the Romish cantons, and wishing 
to take advantage of the more favourable dis- 
position manifested by some of the confede- 
rates, convened an assembly within her own 
walls. It was attended by deputies from 
Berne, Basle, Schaffhausen, Appenzell and 
Saint Gall. " We require," said the deputies 
of Zurich, "that God's word, which alone 
leads us to Christ crucified, be the one thing 
preached, taught and exalted. We renounce 
all doctrines of men, whatever may have been 
the custom of our forefathers; being well 
assured that if they had been visited by this 
divine light of the World, which we enjoy, 
they would have embraced it with more re- 
verence than we, their unworthy descendants." 
The deputies present promised to take into 
consideration the representations made by 
their brethren of Zurich. 

Thus the breach in the walls of Rome was 
every day widened. The Baden conference 
it was hoped would have repaired it ; but, on 
the contrary, from that time forward the can- 
tons that had hitherto been only doubtful ap- 
peared willing to make common cause with 
Zurich. The Reformation was already spread- 
ing among the inhabitants of the plain, and 
beginning to ascend the sides of the moun- 
tains ; — and the more ancient cantons, which 
had been as the cradle and are still the citadel 
of Switzerland — seemed in their alpine inci- 
sures alone to adhere faithfully to the religion 
of their fathers. These mountaineers, con- 
stantly exposed to violent storms, avalanches, 
and overflowing torrents, are all their lives 
obliged to struggle againstthese formidable ene- 
mies, and to sacrifice every thing for the preser- 
vation of the pastures where their flocks graze, 
and the roofs which shelter them from the 
tempest, and which at any moment may be 
swept away by an inundation. Hence a con- 
servative principle is strikingly developed 
among them, and has been transmitted from 
generation to generation. With these children 
of the mountains, wisdom consists in preserv- 
ing what they have inherited from their 
fathers. 

At the period we are recording these rude 
Helvetians struggled against the Reformation 
that came to change their faith and worship, 
as at this very hour they contend against the 
roaring waters which tumble from their snow- 



370 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



clad hills, or against those modern notions and 
politics which have established themselves 
in the adjoining cantons. They will probably 
be the very last to lay down their arms before 
that twofold power which has already planted 
Its standard on the adjacent hills, and is 
Steadily gaining ground upon these conserva- 
tive communities. 

Accordingly, these cantons, yet more irri- 
tated against Berne than against Zurich, and 
trembling lest that powerful state should de- 
sert their interests, assembled their deputies 
in Berne itself, eight days after the conference 
at Zurich. They called on the Council to de- 
prive the innovating teachers of their office, to 
proscribe their doctrines, and to maintain the 
ancient and true Christian faith, as confirmed 
by past ages and sealed by the blood of mar- 
tyrs. " Convene all the bailiwicks of the 
canton," added they, " if you refuse to do this, 
we will take it upon ourselves." The Ber- 
nese were irritated, and replied, " We require 
no assistance in the directing of those who hold 
authority under us." 

This answer only inflamed the anger of the 
Forest Cantons ; and those very cantons, 
which had been the cradle of the political 
liberty of Switzerland, affrighted at the pro- 
gress of religious liberty, began to seek even 
foreign alliances in order to destroy it. In 
opposing the enemies of the capitulations it 
seemed to them reasonable to seek the aid of 
capitulations ; and if the oligarchs of Switzer- 
land were not sufficiently powerful, it was 
natural to have recourse to the princes their 
allies. Austria, who had found it impossible 
to maintain her own authority in the Con- 
federation, was ready to interfere to strpngthen 
the power of Rome. Berne learnt with terror 
that Ferdinand, brother of Charles V., was 
preparing to march against Zurich, and all 
those who took part with the Reformation. 

Circumstances were becoming more trying. 
A. succession of events, more or less adverse, 



such as the excesses of the Anabaptists, the 
disputes with Luther concerning the Lord's 
Supper, and other causes, seemed to have 
compromised the prospects of the Reformation 
in Switzerland. The conference at Baden 
had disappointed the hopes of the Papists, and 
the sword which they had brandished against 
their opponents had been shivered in their 
hands; but their animosity and rage did but 
increase, and they began to prepare for a fresh 
effort. The Imperial power was in motion ; 
and the Austrian bands, which had been com- 
pelled to shameful flight from the defiles of 
Morgarten and the heights of Sempach, stood 
ready to enter Switzerland with flying ban- 
ners, to confirm the tottering authority of 
Rome. The moment was critical : it was no 
longer possible to halt between two opinions ; 
— to be " neither clear nor muddy." Berne 
and other cantons which had so long hesitated 
were reduced to the necessity of decision, 
either to return without loss of time to the 
Papal ranks, or to take their stand with bold- 
ness on the side of Christ. 

Just then William Farel, a Frenchman 
from the mountains of Dauphiny, communi- 
cated a powerful impulse to Switzerland, — 
decided the reformation of the western cantons, 
hitherto sunk in a profound slumber, and so 
caused the balance to incline in favour of the 
new doctrines throughout the Confederation. 
FarePs coming resembled the arrival of those 
fresh troops, who just when the battle hangs 
doubtfully, appear upon the field, throw them- 
selves into the thick of the fight and decide 
the victory. He led the way in Switzerland 
for another Frenchman, whose austere faith 
and commanding genius were ordained to 
terminate the Reformation, and render the 
work complete. In the persons of these dis- 
tinguished men France took her part in that 
vast commotion which agitated Christendom. 
It is therefore time that we should turn our 
attention to France. 



HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. 



371 



BOOK XII. 

THE FRENCH. 
1500—1526. 

The Reformation in France — Persecution of the Vaudois — Birthplace of Farel — La Saint Croix- 
The Priest's Wizard — Farel's Superstitious Faith— The Chevalier Bayard — Louis XII — Tho 
Two Valois — Lefevre — His Devotion — Farel's Reverence for the Pope — Farel and the Bible- 
Gleams of Light — Lefevre Turns to St. Paul — Lefevre on Works — University Amusements- 
Faith and Works — Paradoxical Truth — Farel and the Saints — Allman Refutes De Vio — Pierre 
Olivetan — Happy Change in Farel — Independence and Priority — Of the Reformation in France- 
Francis of Angouleme — Two Classes of Combatants — Margaret of Valois — Talents of the Queen 
of Navarre — The Bishop and the Bible — Francis Encourages Learning — Margaret Embraces the 
Gospel — Poetical Effusions — Of the Duchess of Alencon — Margaret's Danger — Violence of Beda 
— Louis Berquin — Opposition to the Gospel — The Concordat — The Concordat Resisted — Fanati- 
cism and Timidity — The Three Maries — Beda and the University — The King and the Sorbonne — 
Briconnet in His Diocese — The Bishop and the Curates — Martial Mazurier — Margaret's Sorrows 
— Strength Under Trial — Death of Phiiibert of Nemours — Alone, Not Lonely — The Wandering 
Sheep — Briconnet's Hope and Prayer — Sufficiency of the Scriptures — Lefevre's French Bible — 
The People "Turned Aside" — Church of Landouzy — The Gospel and the French Court — 
Margaret's Lamentations — Briconnet Preaches Against the Monks — Two Despotisms — Briconnet 
Draws Back — Leclerc the Wool-Comber — Leclerc's Zeal and Sufferings — A Mother's Faith and 
Love — Secret Meetings for Worship — Berquin Imprisoned by the Parliament — Charges Against 
Berquin — Liberated by the King — Pavanne's Recantation and Remorse — Zeal of Leclerc and 
Chatelain — Peter Toussaint — Leclerc Breaks the Images — Uproar among the People — Martyrdom 
of Leclerc and Chatelain — The Gospel Expelled from Gap — Anemond's Zeal — Farel Preaches to 
His Countrymen — Pierre De Sebville — Anemond Visits Luther — Luther's Letter to the Duke of 
Savoy — Farel's Arrival in Switzerland — QHcolampadius and Farel — Cowardice of Erasmus — ■ 
French Frankness — "Balaam" — Farel's Propositions — Faith and Scripture — The Reformation 
Defended — Visits Strasburg — Ordination of Farel — Apostolical Succession — Farel at Montbeli- 
ard — The Gospel at Lyons — Anthony Papillon — Sebville Persecuted — Secret Meetings at Greno- 
ble — Effects of the Battle of Pavia — Trial and Arrest of Maigret — Evangelical Association — Need 
of Unity — Christian Patriotism — Influence of Tracts — The New Testament in French — Bible 
and Tract Societies — Farel at Montbeliard — Oil and Wine— Toussaint's Trials — Farel and Ane- 
mond — The Image of Saint Anthony — Death of Anemond — Defeat and Captivity of Francis I — 
Consternation of the French — Opposers of the Faith — The Queen-Mother and the Sorbonne — 
Cry for " Heretical" Blood — Parliament Establishes the Inquisition — Charges Against Briconnet 
—Cited Before the Inquisition — Dismay of the Bishop — Refused a Trial by His Peers — Bricon- 
net's Temptation and Fall — Retractation of Briconnet — Compared with Lefevre — Beda Attacks 
Lefevre — Lefevre at Strasburg — Meets Farel — Berquin Imprisoned — Erasmus Attacked by the 
Monks and the Sorbonne — Appeals to the Parliament and the King — More Victims in Lorraine— 
Bonaventure Rennel — Courage of Pastor Schuch — Martyrdom of Schuch — Peter Caroli and 
Beda — The Martyrdom of James Pavanne — The Hermit of Livry — Seized and Condemned- 
Resources of Providence — John Calvin — The Family of Mommor — Calvin's Parentage — Calvin's 
Childhood — His Devotion to Study — Infant Ecclesiastics — Calvin Proceeds to Paris — Reforma- 
tion of Language — Protestant France — System of Terror — The "Babylonish Captivity" — Tous- 
saint Goes to Paris — Toussaint in Prison — " Not Accepting Deliverance" — Spread of Persecution — 
Project of Margaret — For the Deliverance of Francis — Margaret's Resolution — She Sails for Spain. 



One essential character of Christianity, is 
us Universality. Very different in this re- 
spect are the religions of particular countries 
that men have invented. Adapting them- 
selves to this or that nation, and the point of 
progress which it has reached, they hold it 
fixed and motionless at that point — or if from 
any extraordinary cause the people are carried 
forward, their religion is left behind, and so 
becomes useless to them. 

There has been a religion of Egypt — of 
Greece — of Rome, and even of Judea. Chris- 
tianity is the only religion of Mankind. 

It has for its origin in man — Sin ; and this 
is a character that appertains not merely to 
one race, but which is the inheritance of all 
mankind. Hence, as meeting the highest 
necessities of our common nature, the Gospel 
is received as from God, at once by the most 
barbarous nations, and the most civilized com- 



munities, Without deifying national pecu- 
liarities, like the religions of antiquity, it 
nevertheless does not destroy them, as modern 
cosmopolism aims to do. It does better, for 
it sanctifies, ennobles, and raises them to a 
holy oneness, by the new and living principle 
it communicates to them. 

The introduction of the Christian religion 
into the world has produced an incalculable 
change in history. There had previously 
been only a history of nations, — there is now 
a history of mankind ; and the idea of an 
education of human nature as a whole, — an 
education, the work of Jesus Christ himself, 
— is become like a compass for the historian, 
the key of history, and the hope of nations. 

But the effects of the Christian religion are 
seen not merely among all nations, bat in all 
the successive periods of their progress. 

When it first appeared, the world resem- 



372 



HTSTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



b. ed a torch about to expire in darkness, and 
Christianity called forth anew a heavenly 
flame. 

In a later age, the barbarian nations had 
rushed upon the Roman territories, carrying' 
havoc and confusion wherever they came ; 
and Christianity, holding up the cross against 
the desolating torrent, had subdued, by its in- 
fluence, the half-savage children of the north, 
and moulded society anew. 

Yet an element of corruption lay hidden in 
the religion carried by devoted missionaries 
among these rude populations. Their faith 
had come to them almost as much from Rome 
as from the Bible. Ere long that element ex- 
panded ; man every where usurped the place 
of God, — the distinguishing character of the 
church of Rome; and a revival of religion be- 
came necessary. This Christianity gave to 
man in the age of which we are treating. 

The progress of the Reformation in the 
countries we have hitherto surveyed has 
shown us the new teaching rejecting the 
excesses of the Anabaptists, and the newly 
arisen prophets: but it is the shallows of 
Incredulity which it especially encountered 
in the country to which we are now to turn 
our attention. Nowhere had bolder protests 
been heard against the superstitions and 
abuses of the Church. Nowhere had there 
been a more striking exhibition of that love 
of learning, apart from, or independent of, 
Christianity, which often leads to irreliirion. 
France bore within it at once two reforma- 
tions, — the one of man, the other of God. 
"Two nations were in her womb, and two 
manner of people were to be separated from 
her bowels." Gen. xxv. 23. 

In France not only had the Reformation to 
combat incredulity as well as superstition, it 
found a third antagonist which it had not en- 
countered, at least in so much strength, among 
the Germanic population, and this was immo- 
rality. Profligacy in the church was great. 
Debauchery sat upon the throne of Francis 
the First and Catharine de Medicis ; and the 
rigid virtues of the Reformers provoked the 
anger of the Sardanapaluses. Wherever it 
came, doubtless, — but especially in France — 
the Reformation was necessarily not only 
dogmatic and ecclesiastical, but, moreover, 
moral. 

These violent opposing influences, which 
the Reformation encountered at one and the 
same moment among the French people, 
gave to it a character altogether peculiar. 
Nowhere did it so often have its dwelling in 
dungeons, or bear so marked a resemblance 
to the Christianity of the first ages in faith 
and love, and in the number of its martyrs. 
If in those countries of which we have here- 
tofore spoken the Reformation was more illus- 
trated by its triumphs, in those we are about 
to speak of it was more glorious in its re- 
verses ! If elsewhere it might point to more 
thrones and council chambers, here it could 
appeal to more scaffolds and hill-side meet- 
ings. Whoever knows in what consists the 
real glory of Christianity upon earth, and the 



features that assimilate it to its Author, will 
study with a deep feeling of veneration and 
affection the history, often marked with blood, 
I which we are now to recount. 

Of those who have afterwards shone on the 
stage of life, the greater number have been 
born and have grown up in the provinces. 
Paris is like a tree which spreads out to view 
its flowers and its fruit, but of which the roots 
j draw from a distance and from hidden depths 
of the soil the nutritive juices which they trans- 
form. The Reformation followed this law. 

The Alps, which had witnessed the rise of 
fearless Christian men in every canton, and 
almost in every valley of Switzerland, were 
destined in France also to shelter, with their 
lengthened shadows, the infancy of some of 
the earliest Reformers. For ages they had 
preserved their treasure more or less pure in 
their lofty valleys, among the inhabitants of 
the Piedmontese districts of Luzerne, An- 
grogne, and Peyrouse. The truth, which 
Rome had not been able to wrest from them, 
had spread from the heights to the hollows 
and base of the mountains in Provence and in 
Dauphiny. 

The year after, the accession of Charles 
VIII., the son of Louis XL and a youth of 
feeble health and timid character, — Innocent 
VIII. had been invested with the Pontiff's 
tiara. (1484.) He had seven or eight sons 
by different women : — hence, according to an 
epigram of that age, the Romans unanimously 
gave him the name of Father. 

There was, at this time, on the southern 
declivities of the Alps of Dauphiny and along 
the banks of the Durance, an after-growth of 
the ancient Vaudois opinions. "The roots," 
says an old chronicler, "were continually 
putting forth fresh shoots in all directions." 
Bold men were heard to designate the Church 
of Rome the 'church of evil spirits,' and to 
maintain that it was quite as profitable to 
pray in a stable as in a church. 

The clergy, the bishops, and the Roman 
legates were loud in their outcries, and on the 
5th of May, 1487, Innocent VIII. the 'Father' 
of the Romans, issued a bull against these 
humble Christians. "To arms," said the 
Pontiff, "to arms! and trample those here- 
tics under your feet as you would crush the 
venomous serpent." 

At the approach of the Legate, at the head 
of an army of eighteen thousand men, and a 
host of voluntaries, drawn together by the 
hope of sharing in the plunder of the Vaudois, 
the latter abandoned their dwellings and re- 
tired to the mountains, caverns, and clefts of 
the rocks, as the birds flee for shelter when 
a storm is rising. Not a valley, a thicket, 
or a rock escaped their persecutors' search. 
Throughout the adjacent Alps, and especially 
on the side of Italy, these defenceless disci- 
ples of Christ were tracked like hunted deer. 
At last the Pope's satellites were warn out 
with the pursuit; their strength was exhaust- 
ed, their feet could no longer scale the inac- 
cessible retreats of the "heretics," and their 
arms refused their office. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



373 



Tn these Alpine solitudes, then disturbed 
by Roman fanaticism, three leagues from the 
ancient town of Gap,* in the direction of 
Grenoble, not far from the flowery turf that 
clothes the table land of Bayard's mountain, 
at the foot of the Mont de 1' Aiguille, and near 
to the Col de Glaize, toward the source of the 
Buzon, stood, and still stands, a group of 
houses, half hidden by surrounding trees, and 
known by the name of Farel, or, in patois, 
Fareau. On an extended plain above the 
neighbouring cottages, stood a house of the 
class to which, in France, the appellation 
of " gentilhommiere" is attached, — a country 
gentleman's habitation. f It was surrounded 
by an orchard, which formed an avenue to 
the village. Here, in those troublous times, 
lived a family bearing the name of Farel, of 
long-established reputation for piety, and, as 
it would seem, of noble descent.^: In the 
year 1489, at a time when Dauphiny was 
groaning under a weight of papal oppression, 
exceeding what it had ever before endured, 
a son was born in this modest, mansion, 
who received the name of William. Three 
brothers, Daniel, Walter, and Claude, and a 
sister, grew up with W T illiam, and shared his 
sports on the banks of the Buzon, and at the 
foot of Mount Bayard. 

His infancy and boyhood were passed on 
the same spot. His parents were among the 
most submissive thralls of Popery. " My 
father and mother believed every thing," he 
tells us himself; and accordingly they brought 
up their children in the strictest observances 
of Romish devotion. 

God had endowed William Farel with ma- 
ny exalted qualities, fitted to give him an 
ascendancy over his fellow-men. Gifted at 
once with a penetrating judgment, and a 
lively imagination, sincere and upright in 
his deportment, characterised by a loftiness 
of soul which never, under any temptation, 
allowed him to dissemble the convictions of 
his heart; — he was still more remarkable for 
the earnestness, the ardour, the unflinching 
courage which bore him up and carried him 
forward in spite of every hindrance. But, 
at the same time, he had the faults allied to 
these noble qualities, and his parents found 
frequent occasion to repress the violence of 
his disposition. 

William threw himself with his whole soul 



*Principal town of the High Alps. 

tGrenoble to Gap, distant a quarter of an hour's 
journey from the last posthouse, and a stone's 
throw to the right from the high road is the vil- 
lage of the Farels. The site of the house which 
belonged to the father of the Farels is still pointed 
out. Though it is now occupied by a cottage 
only, its dimensions are sufficient to prove that 
the original structure must have been a dwelling 
of a superior order. The present inhabitant of 
the cottage bears the name of Farel. For these 
particulars I am indebted to M. Blanc, the pastor 
of Mens. 

■ tGulielmum Farellum Delphinatum, nobili fa- 
milie ortum. t,BezaB Icones.) Calvin, writing to 
Cardinal Sadolet, dwells upon the disinterested- 
ness of Farel, — a man of such noble birth. (Opus- 
cula, p 148.) 

/ 



into the same superstitious course which his 
credulous family had followed before him. 
"I am horror struck," said he, at a later pe- 
riod, "" when I think on the hours, the prayers, 
the divine honours, which I have offered my- 
self, and caused others to offer, to the cross, 
and such like vanities." 

Four leagues distant from Gap, to the south, 
near Tallard, on a hill which overlooks the 
impetuous waters of the Durance, was a place 
in high repute at that time, called La Sainte 
Croix. William was but seven or eight years 
eld when his parents thought fit to take him 
thither on a pilgrimage. 8 " The cross you will 
see there," said they, "is made of the wood 
of the very cross on which Jesus Christ was 
crucified." 

The family set forth on their journey, and, 
on reaching the object of their veneration, cast 
themselves prostrate before it. After they had 
gazed awhile on the holy wood of the cross, 
and the copper appertaining to it, — the latter, 
as the priest told them, " made of the basin 
in which our Saviour washed the feet of his 
disciples," — the pilgrims cast their eyes on a 
little crucifix which was attached to the cross. 
" When the devils send us hail and thunder," 
resumed the priest, "this crucifix moves so 
violently, that one would think it wanted to 
get loose from the cross to put the devils to 
flight, and all the while it keeps throwing ol 
sparks of fire against the storm ; were it not foi 
this, the whole country would be swept bare. 

These pious pilgrims were greatly affected 
at the recital of such prodigies. " Nobody," 
continued the priest, " sees or knows any 
thing of these things, except myself and this 
man here . . . ." The pilgrims turned their 
heads, and saw a strange looking man stand 
ing beside them. " It would have frightened 
you to look at him," says Farel : " the pupils 
of both his eyes seemed to be covered with 
white specks ; whether they were so in reality, 
or that Satan gave them that appearance." 
This uncouth looking man, whom the unbe- 
lieving called the "priest's wizard," on being 
appealed to by the latter, bore testimony at 
once to the truth of the miracle. 

A new episode was now accidentally intro- 
duced to complete the picture, and mingle 
suggestions of guilty excess with the dreams 
of superstition. " Up comes a young woman 
on some errand very different from devotion to 
the cross, carrying a little child wrapped in a 
cloak. And, behold, the priest goes to meet 
her, and takes hold of her and the child, and 
carries them straight into the chapel : never, 
believe me, did couple in a dance amble off 
more lovingly than did these two. But so 
blinded were we that we took no heed of their 
gestures or their glances, and even had their 
behaviour been still more unseemly, we should 
have deemed it altogether right and reverent: 
— of a truth, both the damsel and the priest 
understood the miracle thoroughly, and how 
to turn a pilgrim-visit to fair account."* 



* Du vray usage de la croux, par Guillaume 
Farel, p. 235. Some phrases of this narrative have 
been a little softened. 



374 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Here we are presented with a faithful pic- 
ture of the religion and manners of France at 
the commencement of the Reformation. Mo- 
rals and belief had alike been vitiated, and 
each stood in need of a thorough renovation. 
In proportion as a higher value was attached 
to outward rites, the sanctification of the heart 
nad become less and less an object of con- 
cern ; — dead ordinances had every where 
usurped the place of a christian life ; and, by 
a revolting yet natural alliance, the most scan- 
dalous debauchery had been combined with 
the most superstitious devotion. Instances 
are on record of theft committed at the altar — 
seduction practised in the confessional, — poi- 
son mingled with the eucharist, — adultery 
perpetrated at the foot of a cross ! Supersti- 
tion, while ruining Christian doctrine, had 
ruined morality also. 

There were, however, numerous exceptions 
to this pitiable state of things in the Christiani- 
ty of the middle ages. Even a superstitious 
faith may be a sincere one. William Farel is 
an example of this. The same zeal which 
afterwards urged him to travel incessantly 
from place to place, that he might spread the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ, then incited him 
to visit every spot where the church exhibited 
a miracle, or exacted a tribute of adoration. 
Dauphiny could boast of her seven wonders, 
which had long been sanctified in the imagi- 
nation of the people.* But the beauties of 
nature, by which he was surrounded, had also 
their influence in raising his thoughts to the 
Creator. 

The magnificent chain of the Alps, — the 
pinnacles covered with eternal snow, — the 
enormous rocks, sometimes rearing their 
pointed summits to the sky, — sometimes 
stretching their naked ridges on-and-on above 
the level clouds, and presenting the appear- 
ance of an island suspended in the air, — all 
these wonders of creation, which even then, 
were dilating the soul of Ulric Zwingle, in the 
Tockenburg, spoke with equal force to the 
heart of William Farel, among the mountains 
of Dauphiny. He thirsted for life, — for 
knowledge — for light; he aspired to be some- 
thing great : he asked permission to study. 

It was an unwelcome surprise to his father, 
who thought that a young noble should know 
nothing beyond his rosary and his sword. — 
The universal theme of conversation at that 
time was the prowess of a young countryman 
of William's, a native of Dauphiny, like him- 
self, named Du Terrail, but better known by 
the name of Bayard, who had recently per- 
formed astonishing feats of valour in the battle 
of Tar, on the other side of the Alps. " Such 
sons as he," it was currently remarked, " are 
like arrows in the hand of a mighty man. — 
Blessed is the man who has his quiver full of 
them ! " Accordingly, Farel's father resisted 
his wish to become a scholar. But the youth's 
resolution was not to be shaken. God de- 
signed him for nobler conquests than any that 
are to be achieved by such as Bayard. He 



* The boiling spring, the cisterns of Sasscnage, 
the manner of Briancon, &.c. 



urged his request with repeated importunity, 
and the old gentleman at length gave way. 

Farel immediately applied himself to study 
with surprising ardour. The masters whom 
he found in Dauphiny were of little service to 
him; and he had to contend with all the dis- 
advantages of imperfect methods of tuition and 
incapable teachers. But difficulties stimula- 
; ted instead of discouraging him; and he soon 
| surmounted these impediments. His brothers 
I followed his example. Daniel subsequently 
j entered on the career of politics, and was em- 
| ployed on some important negociations con- 
| cerning religion. * Walter was admitted into 
the confidence of the Count of Furstemberg-. 

Farel, ever eager in the pursuit of know- 
ledge, having learned all that was to be learned 
in his native province, turned his eyes else- 
where. The fame of the university of Paris 
had long resounded through the Christian 
world. He was anxious to see "this mother 
of all the sciences, this true luminary of the 
Church, which never knew eclipses, — this 
pure and polished mirror of the faith, dimmed 
by no cloud, sullied by no foul touch. He ob- 
tained permission from his parents, and set out 
for the capital of France. 

In the course of the year 1510, or shortly 
after the close of that year, the young Dau- 
phinese arrived in Paris. His native province 
had sent him forth a devoted adherent of the 
Papacy, — the capital was to convert him into 
something far different. In France the Re- 
formation was not destined, as in Germany, to 
take its rise in a petty city. By whatever 
movement the population of the former country 
may at any time be agitated, the impulse is 
always to be traced to the metropolis. A con- 
currence of providential circumstances had 
made Paris, at the commencement of the six- 
teenth century, the focus from which a spark 
of vivifying fire might easily be emitted. — 
The stranger from the neighbourhood of Gap, 
who had just found his way to the great city, 
an obscure and ill-instructed youth, was to re- 
ceive that spark into his bosom, and to share 
it with many around him. 

Louis XII., the father of his people, had 
just convened an assembly of the representa- 
tives of the French clergy at Tours. This 
prince seems to have anticipated the times of 
the Reformation, so that if that great revolu- 
tion had taken place during his reign, all 
France, probably, would have become Protest- 
ant. The assembly at Tours had declared 
that the King had a right to make war against 
the Pope, and to carry into effect the decrees 
of the Council of Basle. These decisions 
were the subject of general conversation in the 
colleges, as well as in the city, and at the 
court, and they could not fail to make a deep 
impression on the mind of young Farel. 

Two children of royal blood were then grow 
ing up in the court of Louis. The one was a 
young prince of tall stature, and striking cast 
of features, who evinced little moderation of 
character, and yielded himself unreflectingly 



* Life of Farel, MS. at Geneva. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



375 



to the mastery of his passions, so that the king 
was often heard to say, " That great boy will 
spoil all."* This was Francis of Angouleme, 
Duke of Valois, the king's cousin. Boisy, his 
governor, had taught him, however, to show 
great respect to letters. 

The companion of Francis was his sister 
Margaret, who was two years older than him- 
self. " A princess," says Brantome, '» of vig- 
orous understanding, and great talents, both 
natural and acquired." Accordingly, Louis 
had spared no pains in her education, and 
the most learned men in the kingdom were 
prepared to acknowledge Margaret as their 
patroness. 

Already, indeed, a group of illustrious men 
was collected round the two Valois. William 
Bude who, in his youth, had given himself 
up to self-indulgence of every kind, and espe- 
cially to the enjoyment of the chase, — living 
among his hawks, and horses, and hounds ; 
and who, at the age of twenty-three, had sud- 
denly altered his course of life, sold off his 
equipage, and applied himself to study with 
all the eagerness he had formerly displayed 
when cheering on his pack to follow the scent 
through field and forest, j- — Cop, the physician, 
— Francis Vatable, whose proficiency in He- 
brew learning was admired by the Jewish 
doctors themselves, — James Tusan, the cele- 
brated Hellenist; — these and other men of 
letters besides, — encouraged by Stephen Pon- 
cher, the bishop of Paris, Louis Ruze, the 
" Lieutenant-Civil," and Francis de Luynes, 
and already protected by the two young Va- 
lois, — maintained their ground against the vio- 
lent attacks of the Sorbonne, who regarded the 
study of Greek and Hebrew as the most fearful 
heresy. At Paris, as in Germany and Swit- 
zerland, the restoration of religious truth was 
preceded by the revival of letters. But in 
France the hands that prepared the materials 
were not appointed to construct the edifice. 

Among all the doctors who then adorned 
the French metropolis, one of the most re- 
markable was a man of diminutive stature, of 
mean appearance and humble birth; whose 
wit, erudition, and eloquence had an indescri- 
bable charm for all who approached him. — 
The name of this doctor was Lefevre; he was 
born in 1455 at Etaples, a little town in Pi- 
cardy. He had received only an indifferent 
education, — a barbarous one, Theodore Beza 
calls it; but his genius had supplied the want 
of masters; and his piety, his learning, and 
the nobility of his soul shone with a lustre so 
much the brighter. He had been a great 
traveller, — it would even appear that his de- 
sire to acquire knowledge had led him into 
Asia and Africa.:}: So early as the year 1493, 
Lefevre, being then a doctor of theology, oc- 
cupied the station of a professor in the Uni- 

* Mezeray, vol. iv. p. 127. 

t His wife and sons came to' Geneva in 1540, 
after his death. 

t In the 2nd chapter of his Commentary on the 
Second Epistle to the Thessalonians is a curious 
story- regarding Mecca and the temple there, which 
he relates in the style of a traveller. 



versity of Paris. He immediately assumed a 
distinguished place among his colleagues, and 
in the estimation of Erasmus ranked above 
them all. 

Lefevre soon discovered that he had a pe- 
culiar task to fulfil. Though attached to the 
practices of the Romish church, he conceived 
a desire to reform the barbarous system which 
then prevailed in the University; he accord- 
ingly began to teach the various branches of 
philosophy with a precision hitherto unknown. 
He laboured to revive the study of languages 
and classical antiquities. He went further 
than this; he perceived that when a mental 
regeneration is aimed at, philosophy and litera- 
ture are insufficient instruments. Abandon- 
ing, therefore, the scholastic theology, which 
for so many ages had held an undisputed sway 
in the seats of learning, he applied himself to 
the Bible, and again introduced the study of 
the Holy Scriptures and evangelical science. 
They were no barren researches to which he 
addicted himself; he went straight to the 
heart of the Bible. His eloquence, his can- 
dour, his affability, captivated every heart. — 
Earnest and fervent in the pulpit, — in his pri- 
vate intercourse with his pupils he conde- 
scended to the most engaging familiarity. — 
" He loves me exceedingly," was the language 
of Glareanus, one of the number, when wri- 
ting to his friend Zwingle; " he is all frankness 
and kindness, — he sings, he plays, he disputes, 
and then laughs with me. Accordingly, a 
great number of disciples from every country 
were gathered around his chair. 

This man, learned as he was, submitted 
himself all the while, with childlike sim- 
plicity, to the ordinances of the church. He 
passed as much time in the churches as in his 
closet, — so that a sympathetic union seemed 
established beforehand between the old doctor 
of Picardy and the young student of Dauphi- 
ny. When two natures, so congenial as these, 
are brought within the same sphere, though it 
be the wide and agitated circle of a capital 
city, their reciprocal attraction must at last 
place them in contact with each other. In his 
pious pilgrimages, young Farel soon observed 
an old man, by whose devotion he was greatly 
interested. He remarked how he fell on his 
knees before the images, how long he remain- 
ed in that posture, how fervently he seemed to 
pray, and how devoutly he repeated his hours. 
" Never," says Farel, "had I heard a chanter 
chant the mass more reverently." This was 
Lefevre. Farel immediately felt a strong de- 
sire to become acquainted with him ; — and 
great, indeed, was his joy when the venerable 
man met his approaches with kindness. He 
had now found what he had come to the capi- 
tal to seek. Henceforth his chief delight w as 
to converse with the doctor of Etaples, to 
listen to his instructions, to practise his admi- 
rable precepts, and to kneel with him in pious 
adoration at the same shrine. Often were the 
aged Lefevre and his youthful disciple seen 
assisting each other to adorn the image of the 
Virgin with flowers, — while far removed from 
Paris, far removed from the throng of the col 



376 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Iegiate hall, they murmured in concert their 
earnest prayers to the blessed Mary. 

The attachment of Farel to Lefevre was 
generally noticed, and the respect inspired by 
the old doctor was reflected on his pupil. This 
illustrious connection was the means of with- 
drawing the young Dauphinese from his 
obscurity. He soon acquired a reputation for 
his zeal; and many pious persons of the. 
wealthier order entrusted him with sums of 
money, to be applied to the support of poor 
students.* 

Some time elapsed before Lefevre and his 
disciple attained to a clear perception of the 
truth. It was neither the hope of a rich bene- 
fice, nor any propensity to an irregular life, 
that bound Fare! so firmly to the cause of 
Popery : a spirit like his was not to be influ- 
enced by motives so sordid. The Pope, in 
his eyes, was the visible chief of the church, — 
a sort of divinity, at whose bidding, souls were 
rescued from perdition. If any one, in his 
hearing, presumed to say a word against the 
venerable Pontiff, he gnashed his teeth like a 
raging wolf, and, if he could, would have called 
down thunder from heaven to overwhelm the 
guilty wretch in ruin and confusion. "I be- 
lieve," he said, " in the cross, in pilgrimages, 
in images, in vows, in relics. What the 
priest holds in his hands, shuts up in the box, 
eats himself, and gives to be eaten by others, 
—that is my only true God, — and to me there 
is no God beside, in heaven or on earth]" 
" Satan," he says afterwards, " had lodged the 
Pope, and Popery, and all that is of himself, 
so deeply in my heart, that, even in the Pope's 
own heart, they could have sunk no deeper." 

And thus it was, that while Farel seemed 
to be seeking God, his piety decayed, and 
superstition gathered strength in his soul. He- 
has himself, in forcible language, described 
his condition at that time. " Oh !" says he, 
" how I shudder at myself and my sins, when 
I think on it all; and how great and wonder- 
ful a work of God it is, that man should ever 
be delivered from such an abyss !" 

The deliverance in his own case was 
wrought by little and little. In the course of 
his reading, kis attention had at first been en- 
gaged by profane authors ; but, finding no 
food for his piety in these, he had set himself 
to study the lives of the saints : infatuation 
had led him to these legends, and he quitted 
them more miserably infatuatedstill. He then 
addressed himself to several of the celebrated 
doctors of the age; but these, instead of im- 
parting tranquillity to his mind, only aggra- 
vated his wretchedness. He next resolved to 
study the ancient philosophers, and attempted 
to learn Christianity from Aristotle; but again 
his hopes were frustrated. Books, images, 
relics, Aristotle, the Virgin, and the saints, — 
all were unavailing. His eager spirit wan- 
dered from one broken cistern of human wis- 
dom to another, and turned away from each in 
succession, unrelieved of the thirst that con- 
sumed it. 

* Manuscript at Geneva. 



At last, remembering that the Pope allowed 
the writings of the Old and New Testament 
to be called the "Holy Bible" Farel betook 
himself to the perusal of these, as Luther, in 
the cloister of Erfurth had done before him; 
and then, to his dismay, he found that the 
existing state of things was such as could in 
I no way be reconciled with the rule of Scrip- 
ture. He was now, we might think, on the 
very point of coming at the truth, when, all at 
once, the darkness rolled back upon him with 
redoubled weight, and the depths closed over 
him again. " Satan," says he, " started up 
in haste, that he might not lose his possession, 
and wrought in me as he was wont." A ter- 
rible struggle between the word of God and 
the word of the Church now ensued in his 
heart. If he fell in with any passage of Scrip- 
ture opposed to the practice of the Romish 
Church, he cast down his eyes in perplexity, 
not daring to credit what he read. "Ah!" 
he would say, shrinking away from the Bible, 
" I do not well understand these things ; — I 
must put a different construction on these pas- 
sages from that which they seem to me to 
bear. 1 must hold to the interpretation of the 
Church, — or rather, of the Pope !" 

One day, when he was reading the Bible, 
a doctor, who chanced to come in, rebuked 
him sharply. " No one," said he, " ought to 
read the Holy Scriptures until he has studied 
philosophy, and taken his degree in arts." 
This was a preparation the Apostles never re- 
quired; — but Farel believed him. "I was 
the most unhappy of men," he tells us, "fori 
turned away my eyes from the light." 

The young Dauphinese was now visited 
with a fresh paroxysm of Romish fervour. 
His imagination was inflamed by the legends 
of the saints. The severities of monastic dis- 
cipline were to him a powerful attraction. 
There was a cluster of gloomy cells in a 
wood not far distant from Paris, occupied by 
an establishment of Carthusians : hither he 
often repaired as an humble visitor, and took 
part in the austerities of the monks. " I was 
busied day and night," he says, " in serving 
the devil after the fashion of the Pope — that 
man of sin. I had my Pantheon in my heart, 
and so many intercessors, so many saviours, 
so many gods, that I might well have passed 
for a Popish register." 

The darkness could never grow thicker, — 
but now the morning star was to arise ; and 
the voice of Lefevre was to give the signal of 
its appearance. The Doctor of Etaples had 
already caught some gleams of light: an in- 
ward conviction assured him that the Church 
could not remain in the state in which she then 
was; — and often on his way homeward, after 
chanting the mass, or paying adoration to an 
image, the old man would turn to his youthful 
disciple, and say in a solemn tone, as le 
grasped him by the hand : — " My dear Wil- 
liam, God will change the face of the world — 
and you will see it !" Farel did not properly 
conceive his meaning. But Lefevre did noi 
stop at these mysterious words; and the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



377 



great change which was wrought in his mind 
aljout this time was appointed to produce a 
similar change in the mind of his pupil. 

The old Doctor had undertaken a task of 
immense labour; he was carefully collecting 
the legends of the saints and martyrs, and ar- 
ranging them in the order in which their names 
are inserted in the calendar. Two months had 
already been printed, when one of those rays 
of light that come from on high flashed on a 
sudden into his soul. He could no longer 
overcome the disgust which superstitions so 
puerile must ever excite in a christian heart. 
The grandeur of the word of God made him 
perceive the wretched folly of such fables. — 
They now appeared to him but as " brimstone, 
fit only to kindle the fire of idolatry." He 
abandoned his work, and, casting aside all 
these legends, turned affectionately to the. 
Holy Scriptures. At that moment, when Le- 
fevre, forsaking the marvellous histories of the 
saints, laid his hand on the word of God, a 
new era opened in France, — and the Reforma- 
tion commenced its course. 

Wearied, as we have seen, from the fictions 
of the Breviary, Lefevre began to study the 
Epistles of St. Paul : the light grew rapidly 
in his heart, and he soon communicated to his 
disciples that knowledge of the truth, which 
we find in his Commentaries.* Those were 
strange doctrines for the schools and for the 
world around him, which were then first heard 
in Paris, and disseminated by printing presses 
through all Christendom. We may imagine 
that the young students who listened were 
aroused, impressed, and changed; and that in 
this way the aurora of a brighter day had 
dawned upon France prior to the year 1512. 

The great truth of Justification by Faith, 
which at once overturns the subtilties of the 
schools and the Popish doctrine of the efficacy 
of works, was boldly proclaimed in the very 
bosom of Sorbonne itself. " It is God alone," 
said the teacher, (and it might have seemed 
as if the very roofs of the university would 
cry out against such new sounds,) "It is God 
alone, who by His grace justifies unto eternal 
life. There is a righteousness of our own 
works, and a righteousness which is of grace, 
— the one a thing of man's invention, the other 
coming from God, — the one earthly and pass- 
ing away, the other divine and everlasting, — 
the one the shadow and semblance, the other 
the light and the truth, — the one discovering 
sin and bringing the fear of death — the other 
revealing grace for the attainment of life ! " 

" What will you then say 1 " inquired the 
hearers, to whom such sounds appeared to 
contradict the teaching of four centuries, "will 
you say that any one man was ever justified 

* The first edition of his Commentary on the 
Epistles of St. Paul bears the date, if I mistake 
not, of 1512. There is a copy of it in the Royal 
Library at Paris. The second' edition is that to 
which my citations refer. The learned Simon, in 
his observations on the New Testament, says, 
" James Lefevre must be ranked among the most 
able commentators of his age." 



without works ? " — " One, do you ask 1 " re- 
turned Lefevre, " why they are innumerable. 
How many shameful sinners have eagerly 
asked to be baptized, having nothing but faith 
in Christ alone, and who, if they died the mo- 
ment after, entered into the life of the blessed 
without works." — "If, then, we are not justi- 
fied by works, it is in vain that we should do 
them," replied some. To this the Doctor 
made answer, — and possibly the other- Refor- 
mers might not have altogether gone with him 
in his reply : — " Quite the contrary, — it is not 
in vain. If I hold up a mirror to the Sun, it 
receives in it his image : the more I polish and 
clean the mirror, the brighter does the reflec- 
tion of the sun shine in it; but if 1 suffer it to 
tarnish and dull, the solar brilliancy is lost. 
So it is with justification in those who lead an 
unholy life." In this passage, Lefevre, like 
St. Augustin, in several parts of his writings, 
does not perhaps sufficiently mark the distinc- 
tion between justification and sanctification. 
The Doctor of Etaples often reminds us of him 
of Hippone. Those who lead an unholy life 
have never received justification, — hence such 
cannot lose it. But Lefevre perhaps intended 
to say that the Christian, when he falls into 
any sin, loses the assurance of his salvation, 
and not his salvation itself.* To this way 
of stating it there would be nothing to ob- 
ject. 

Thus a new life and character of teaching 
had penetrated within the University of Paris. 
The doctrine of Faith, which in the first ages 
had been preached in Gaul by Potinus and 
Irenaeus, was again heard. Thenceforward 
there were two different parties and two dif- 
ferent people in that celebrated school. The 
instructions given by Lefevre, — the zeal of his 
disciples, formed a striking contrast to the dry 
teaching of the majority of its doctors, and the 
frivolous conversation of the generality of the 
students. In the colleges, more time was lost 
in committing to memory different parts in 
comedies, masquerading, and mountebank 
farces, than was given to the study of God's 
word. In such farces it not unfrequently 
happened that the respect due to the higher 
classes, the nobility, and even royalty itself, 
was forgotten. At the very time we are wri- 
ting of, the Parliament intervened, and sum- 
moning before them the principals of several 
of the colleges, prohibited those indulgent tit- 
tors from suffering such comedies to be acted 
in their houses. 

But a mightier intervention than the man- 
dates of Parliament came to the correction of 
these disorders in the University: Christ 
was preached among its inmates. Great was 
the commotion on its benches; and the minds 



* The believer may well bless God for this 
truth, namely, that he may lose the (' sentiment'' ) 
assurance of his salvation without his salvation 
being endangered. The cloud may, and it is be- 
lieved often has, involved the vessel during the 
greater part of her course, which is not the less ad- 
vancing unto the haven she would be. Ts Christ 
in the vessel ? — is that .which concerns us. — Tr. 



378 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of the students were almost as generally oc- 
cupied with discussions of the doctrines of the 
Gospel, as in scholastic subtilties or theatrical 
exhibitions. Some of those whose lives were 
least able to bear the light, were yet heard 
taking the part of works, and feeling instinc- 
tively that the doctrine of Faith condemned 
the licentiousness of their lives, — they main- 
tained that St. James, in his epistle, was at 
variance with the writings of St. Paul. Le- 
fevre, resolving to stand by and protect the 
treasure he had found, showed how the two 
Apostles agreed : "Does not St. James say," 
asked he " that every good and perfect gift 
cometh down/row above, — and who will con- 
test that justification is the perfect gift, the 
excellent grace? . . . If we see a man moving, 
the breathing we see in him is to us the sign 
of life. Thus works are necessary, but only 
as signs of that living faith which is accom- 
panied by justification. Is it the eye-salve or 
lotion which gives light to the eye? No; it 
is the light of the sun. Just so our works are 
but as eye-salves and lotions; the beam that 
the sun sends forth from above is justification 
itself." 

Farel hung upon these sounds with intense 
interest. Instantly this word of a Salvation 
by Grace had upon his soul an unspeakable 
power of attraction. Every objection fell, — 
every difficulty vanished. Scarcely had Le- 
fevre brought forward this doctrine, when 
Farel embraced it with all his heart and mind. 
He had known enough of labour and conflict 
to be convinced that he had no power to save 
himself; therefore, when he saw in God's 
woTd that God saves freely, he believed 
God. " Lefevre," exclaimed he, "extricated 
me from the delusive thought of human deser- 
vings, and taught me how that all is of Grace, 
— which I believed as soon as it was spoken." 
Thus was gained to the faith by a conversion 
as prompt and decisive as that of St. Paul 
himself, that Farel who, to use the words of 
Theodore Beza, undismayed by threatening, 
despising the shame and enduring his cross, 
won for Christ, — Montbelliard, Neufchatel, 
Lausanne, Aigle, and at last Geneva itself. 

Meanwhile Lefevre, following up his teach- 
ing, and taking delight in employing contrasts 
and paradoxes, embodying weighty truths, 
extolled the sublime mysteries of redemp- 
tion. " Oh !" he exclaimed, " the unspeakable 
greatness of that exchange, — the sinless One 
is condemned, and he who is guilty goes free, 
— the Blessing bears the curse, and the cursed 
is brought into blessing, — the Life dies, and 
the dead live, — the Glory is whelmed in dark- 
ness, and he who knew nothing but confusion 
of face is clothed with glory." The pious 
teacher, going yet deeper into his theme, re- 
cognised that all salvation emanates from the 
sovereignity of God's love: "They who are 
saved," said he, " are saved by the electing 
grace and will of God, not by their ow r n will. 
Our eleciton, our will, our working is all in 
vain ; the alone election of God is all power- 
ful ! When we are converted, it is not our 



conversion which makes us the elect of God, 
but it is the grace, will, and election of God 
which work our conversion." 

But Lefevre did not stop short in doctrines; 
if he gave to God the glory, — he turned to 
man for "the obedience," and urged the obli- 
gations flowing from the exceeding privileges 
of the Christian. " If thou art a member of 
Christ's church," said he, "thou art a mem- 
ber of his body ; if thou art of his body, then 
thou art full of the divine nature, for the ' ful- 
ness of the Godhead dwelleth in him bodily.' 
Oh ! if men could but enter into the under- 
standing of this privilege, how purely, chaste- 
ly, and holily would they live, and how 
contemptible, when compared with the srlory 
within them, — that glory which the eye of 
flesh cannot see, — would they deem all the 
glory of this world." 

Lefevre felt that the office of a teacher in 
heavenly things was a high distinction: he 
discharged that office with unvarying fidelity. 
The dissolute morals of the age, and more 
especially of the clergy, roused his indigna- 
tion, and was the theme of many a stern 
rebuke: "What a reproach," said he, "to 
hear a bishop asking persons to drink with 
him, gambling, shaking the dice, and spend- 
ing his w r hole time in hawking, sporting, 
hunting, hallooing in the chase of wild beasts, 
and sometimes with his feet in houses of ill- 
fame. . . men worthy of a more signal re- 
tribution than Sardanapalus himself!" 

Such was the preaching of Lefevre. Fa*el 
listened, trembling with emotion, — received 
all into his soul, and went forward in that 
new path now suddenly made plain before 
him. Nevertheless there was one article of 
his former creed w T hich he could not as yet 
entirely relinquish; it w T as the invocation of 
the saints. The noblest minds have often 
these lingering remains of darkness after the 
I light has broken in upon them. Farel heard 
j with astonishment the teacher declare that 
Christ alone should be invoked: "Our reli- 
gion," said Lefevre, "has only one founda- 
tion, one object, one head, Jesus Christ, 
blessed for ever ! He hath trodden the wine- 
press alone. Let us not then take the name 
of Paul, ofApollos, or of Peter. The cross 
of Christ alone opens heaven, and shuts the 
gate of hell." These words wakened a strug- 
gle in the soul of Farel. On the one hand he 
beheld the whole army of saints with the 
Church, — on the other, Jesus Christ and His 
preacher. One moment he inclined to the 
one side, the next to the other. It was the 
last hold of ancient error, and his final strug- 
gle. He hesitated; still clinging to those 
venerated names before which Rome bends 
adoringly. At last the decisive blow T was 
struck from above; the scales fell from his 
eyes ; Jesus was seen by him as the only cb 
ject of adoration. "From that moment," 
said he, "the Papacy was dethroned from my 
mind. I began to abhor it as devilish, and 
the holy word of God held the supreme place 
in my heart." 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



379 



Events m the great world accelerated the 
advance of Farel and his friends. Thomas 
De Vio, who was subsequently opposed at 
Augsburg against Luther, having contended 
in a printed work that the Pope was absolute 
monarch of the Church, Louis XII. called the 
attention of the University of Paris to the 
work in February, 1512. James Allman, one 
of the youngest of its doctors, a man of rare 
genius and unwearied application, read at one 
of the meetings of the faculty of theology a 
refutation of the Cardinal's arguments, which 
drew forth the plaudits of the assembly. 

What must have been the effect of siich 
discussions on the young disciples of Lefevre 1 ? 
Could they hesitate when the university itself 
manifested an impatience of the Papal yoke 1 
If the main body were in motion, should not 
they be skirmishing at the advanced posts ] 
" It was necessary," said Farel, " that the Pa- 

{>al authority should be very gradually expel- 
ed from my mind, for the first shock did not 
bring it down." He contemplated the abyss 
of superstitions in which he had been 
plunged ; standing on its brink, he again sur- 
veyed its gloomy depths, and drew back with 
a feeling of terror: — "Oh!" ejaculated he, 
" what horror do I feel for myself and my 
sins when I think of the past. Lord," he 
continued, "would that my soul served Thee 
with living faith after the example of thy faith- 
ful servants ! Would that I had sought after 
and honoured Thee as I have yielded my 
heart to the mass and served that magic wa- 
fer, — giving all honour to that !" Grieving 
over his past life, he with tears repeated those 
words of St. Augustine, " I have come too 
late to the knowledge of Thee ! too late have 
I begun to love Thee !" 

Farel had found Christ ; and safe in har- 
bour he reposed in peace after the storm. 
" Now," said he, " every thing appears to me 
to wear a different aspect. Scripture is eluci- 
dated, prophecy is opened, and the epistles 
carry wonderful light into my soul. A voice 
before unknown — the voice of Christ, my 
shepherd and my teacher, speaks to me with 
power." So great was the change in him 
that "instead of the murderous heart of a ra- 
vening wolf," he came back, as he himself 
tells us, " like a gentle and harmless lamb, 
with his heart entirely withdrawn from the 
Pope and given to Jesus Christ." 

Escaped from so great an evil, he turned 
toward the Bible, andapplied himself zealous- 
ly to the acquirement of Greek and Hebrew.* 
He was unremitting in his study of the Holy 
Scriptures, esteeming them more and more, 
and daily receiving more light. He continued 
to resort to the churches of the established 
worship — but what did he there hear]— Re- 
sponses and chantings innumerable, words 
spoken without understanding. Often, when 
standing among the throng that gathered round 
an image or an altar, he would exclaim, — 
"Thou alone art God ! Thou alone art wise ! 
Thou alone art good! Nothing should be 



• Life of Farel. MSS. of Geneva and of Choupard. 



taken away — nothing added to thy hcly law 
— for Thou only art the Lord, and it is Then 
alone who claimest and hast a right to oui 
obedience." 

Thus all human teachers were brought down 
from the height to which his imagination had 
raised them, and he recognised no authority 
but God and his word. The doctors of Paris, 
by their persecution of Lefevre, had long 
since lost all place in his esteem ; hut ere 
long Lefevre himself, his well-beloved guide 
and counsellor, was no more to him than 
his fellow-man : he loved and venerated him 
as long as he lived — but God alone was be- 
come his teacher. 

Of all the Reformers, Farel and Luther are 
the two best known to us in their early spi- 
ritual history, and most memorable for the 
struggles they had to pass through. Earnest 
and energetic, men of conflict and strife, they 
bore the brunt of many an onset before they 
were permitted to be at peace. Farel is the 
pioneer of the Reformation in Switzerland and 
in France. He threw himself into the wood, 
and with his axe cleared a passage through a 
forest of abuses. Calvin followed, as Luther 
was followed by Melancthon, resembling him 
in his office of theologian and " master- 
builder." These two men, — who bear some 
resemblance to the legislators of antiquity, 
the one in its graceful, the other in its severer 
style, — settle, establish, and give laws to the 
territory won by the two former. And yet if 
Farel reminds us of Luther, we must allow 
that it is only in one aspect of the latter that 
we are reminded of him. Luther, besides his 
superior genius, had, in all that concerned the 
Church, a moderation and prudence, an ac- 
quaintance with past experience, a compre- 
hensive judgment, and even a power of order, 
which was not found in an equal degree in 
the Reformer of Dauphiny. 

Farel was not the only young Frenchman 
into whose soul a new light was, at this time, 
introduced. The doctrines which flowed from 
the lips of the far-famed doctor of Etaples 
fermented among the crowd of his hearers ; 
and in his school were formed and trained the 
bold men who were ordained to struggle, even 
to the very foot of the scaffold. They listen- 
ed, compared, discussed, and argued with cha- 
racteristic vivacity. It is a probable conjec- 
ture, that we may number among the handful 
of scholars who then espoused the Truth, 
young Pierre Olivetan, born at Noyon, at the 
end of the fifteenth century, who afterwards 
revised Lefevre's translation of the Bible into 
French, and seems to have been the first who 
so presented the doctrine of the Gospel as to 
draw the attention of a youth of his family, 
also a native of Noyon, who became the most 
distinguished of all the leaders of the Re- 
formation. 

Thus, before 1512, at a time when Luther 
had made no impression on the world, but was 
taking a journey to Rome on some business 
touching the interests of some monks, and 
when Zwingle had not even begun to apply 
himself in earnest to Biblical studies, but was 



380 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



traversing the Alps, in company with the 
confederated forces, to fight under the Pope's 
banner, — Paris and France heard the sound 
of those life-giving truths, whence the Re- 
formation was destined to come forth — and 
there were found souls prepared to propagate 
those sounds, who received them with holy 
affection. Accordingly, Theodore Beza, in 
speaking of Lefevre of Etaples, observes that 
" it was he who boldly began the revival of 
the holy religion of Jesus Christ:" and he 
remarks that, "as in ancient times, the school 
of Isocrates had the reputation of furnishing 
the best orators, so, from the lecture-rooms of 
the doctor of Etaples, went forth many of the 
best men of the age and of the Church." 

The Reformation was not, therefore, in 
France, an importation from strangers ; it took 
its birth on the French territory. Its seed 
germinated in Paris — its earliests shoots were 
struck in the University itself, that ranked se- 
cond in power in Romanized Christendom. 
God deposited the first principles of the work 
in the kindly hearts of some inhabitants of 
Picardy and Dauphiny, before it had begun in 
any other country of the globe. The Swiss 
Reformation was, as we have seen,* inde- 
pendent of that of Germany ; the French Re- 
formation was, in like manner, independent 
of that of Switzerland and that of Germany. 
The work sprung up in these different coun- 
tries at one and the same time, without com- 
munication between them, as in a field of bat- 
tle, the various divisions that compose the 
army are seen in motion at the same instant, 
although the order to advance has not passed 
from one to the other, but all have heard the 
word of command proceeding from a higher 
authority. The time had come — the nations 
were ripe, and God was everywhere begin- 
ning the revival of His Church. 

If we regard dates, we must then confess 
that neither to Switzerland nor to Germany 
belongs the honour of having been first in the 
work, although, hitherto, only those countries 
have contended for it. That honour belongs 
to France. This is a fact that we are the 
more careful to establish, because it has pos- 
sibly, until now, been overlooked. Without 
dwelling upon the influence exercised by 
Lefevre, directly or indirectly, on many per- 
sons, and especially on Calvin, — let us con- 
sider that which he had on one of his disci- 
ples, Farel himself, — and the energy of action 
which that servant of God from that hour 
manifested. Can we, after that, withhold 
our conviction, that even though Zwingle 
and Luther should never have been born, 
there would still have been a movement of 
Reformation in France? It is, of course, 
impossible to estimate how far it might have 
extended : we must even acknowledge that 
the report of what was passing on the other 
side of the Rhine and the Jura, afterwards 
accelerated and animated the progress of the 
Reformers of France. But it was they who 
were first awakened by the voice of that 



* See page 214. 



trumpet which sounded from heaven in the 
sixteenth century, and who were earliest in 
the field, on foot, and under arms. 

Nevertheless, Luther is the great workman 
of the sixteenth century, and, in the fullest 
import of the term, the first Reformer. Le- 
fevre is not as complete as Calvin, Farel, or 
Luther. There is about him that which 
reminds us of Wittemberg — of Geneva — but 
a something besides that tells of the Sor- 
bonne; he is the foremost Catholic in the 
Reformation movement, and the latest of the 
Reformers in the Catholic movement. To 
the last, he continues a go-between, — a me- 
diator, — not well understood; reminding us 
that there is some connection between the 
old things and the new, which might seem 
forever separated as by a great gulf. Re- 
pulsed and persecuted by Rome, he yet holds 
to Rome, by a slender thread which he is 
unwilling to sever. Lefevre of Etaples has 
a place to himself in the theology of the six- 
teenth century : he is the connecting link be- 
tween ancient and modern times, and the 
man in whom the theology of the middle 
ages passed into the theology of the Refor- 
mation. 

Thus, in the University, the truth was 
already working. But the Reformation was 
not to be an affair of college life. It was to 
establish its power among the great ones of 
the earth, and to have some witnesses even 
at the King's court. 

The young Francis of Angouleme, cousin- 
german and son-in-law to Louis XII., suc- 
ceeded him on the throne. His manly beauty 
and address, his eourage, and his love of 
pleasure, rendered him the most accomplish- 
ed knight of his time. His ambition, how T - 
ever, rose higher; it was Ks aim to be a 
great and even a gracious prince ; provided, 
only, that all should bend before his so- 
vereign authority. Valour, taste for litera- 
ture, and gallantry, are three w-ords that well 
express the genius of Francis, and of the age 
in which he figured. At a somewhat later 
period, the like features appear in Henry IV. 
and Louis XIV. These princes wanted that 
which the Gospel communicates; and, al- 
though there has been no time when the 
nation did not contain in it the elements of 
sanctity and of Christian elevation, it may 
be said that these great monarchs of modern 
France have, in a measure, stamped upon 
that people the impress of their own charac- 
ters, if it be not more correct to say that they 
themselves were the faithful expression of 
the character of the nation over which they 
presided. If the evangelic doctrine had en- 
tered France under the auspices of the moat 
famed of the Valois princes, it might have 
brought with it to the nation that which 
France has not, — a spiritual turn of mind, a 
Christian purity, and an intelligence in hea- 
venly things, which would have been the 
completion of the national character in what 
most contributes to the strength and great- 
ness of a people. 

It w T as under the rule of Francis I. that 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



381 



Europe, as well as France, passed from the 
middle ages to the range of modern history. 
It was then that that new world which was 
bursting forth on all sides when that prince 
ascended the throne, grew and entered upon 
possession. Two different classes of men 
exercised an influence in moulding the new 
order of society. On the one hand were the 
men of faith, who were also men of wisdom 
and moral purity, and close to them, the 
writers of the court, — the friends of this 
world and its profligacy, — who, by their 
licentious principles, contributed to the de- 
pravation of morals as much as the former 
served to reform them. 

If, in the days of Francis the First, Europe 
had not witnessed the rise of the Reformers, 
but had been given up by God's righteous 
judgment to the uncontrolled influence of 
unbelieving innovators, her fate and that of 
Christianity had been decided. The danger 
seemed great. For a considerable time, the 
two classes of combatants, the opposers of the 
Pope, and those who opposed the Gospel, 
were mixed up together ; and as both claimed 
liberty, they seemed to resort to the same 
arms against the same enemies. In the 
cloud of dust raised on the field, an unprac- 
tised eye could not distinguish between them. 
If the former had allowed themselves to be 
led away by the latter all would have been 
lost. Those who assailed the hierarchy 
passed quickly into extremes of impiety, 
urging on the people to a frightful catastrophe. 
The Papacy itself contributed to bring about 
that catastrophe, accelerating by its ambition 
and disorders the extinction of any truth and 
life still left in the Church. 

But God called forth the Reformation, — 
and Christianity was preserved. The Re- 
formers, who had shouted for liberty, were, 
ere long, heard calling to obedience. The 
very men who had cast down that throne 
whence the Roman Pontiff issued his oracles, 
prostrated themselves before the "word of the 
Lord." Then was seen a clear and definite 
separation, and war was declared between 
the two divisions of the assailants. The one 
party had desired liberty only that themselves 
might be free, — the others had claimed it for 
the word of God. The Reformation became 
the most formidable antagonist of that incre- 
dulity to which Rome can show leniency. 
Having restored liberty to the Church, the 
Reformers restored religion to society; and 
this last was, of the two, the gift most 
needed. 

The votaries of incredulity, for a while, 
hoped to reckon among their number Margaret 
of Valois, Duchess of Alencon, whom Francis 
loved with especial tenderness, and, as Bran- 
tome informs us, used to call his "darling." 
The same tastes and general information 
distinguished both brother and sister. Of 
fine person like Francis, Margaret united to 
those eminent qualities, which in their com- 
bination constitutes remarkable characters, 
these gentler virtues which win the affection. | 
In the gay world, the festive entertainment, I 



the royal, the imperial court, she shone in 
queenly splendour, charming and captivating 
all hearts. Passionately fond of literature, 
and gifted with no ordinary genius, it was 
her delight to shut herself in her apartment, 
and there indulge in the pleasures of reflec- 
tion, study, and meditation. But her ruling 
desire was to do good and prevent evil. 
When ambassadors from foreign countries 
had presented themselves before the king, 
they were accustomed afterwards to pay their 
respects to Margaret, and " they were greatly 
pleased with her," observes Brantome, " and 
returning to their homes, noised abroad the 
fame of her:" and he adds that "the king 
would often hand over to her matters of im- 
portance, leaving them for her to decide." 

This celebrated princess was through life 
distinguished by her strict morals; but 
whilst many who carry austerity on their 
lips, indulge laxity in conduct, the very 
reverse of this was seen in Margaret. 
Blameless in conduct, she was not altogether 
irreproachable in the use of her pen. Far 
from wondering at this, we might rather 
wonder that a woman dissolute as was 
Louisa of Savoy, should have a daughter so 
pure as Margaret. Attending the court, in 
its progress through the provinces, she em- 
ployed herself in describing the manners of 
the time, and especially those of the priests 
and monks. " On these occasions," says 
Brantome, " I often used to hear her recount 
stories to my grandmother, who constantly 
accompanied her in her litter, as dame 
d'hnnneur, and had charge of her writing 
desk." According to some, we have here 
the origin of the Heptameron; but more 
recent and esteemed critics have satisfied 
themselves that Margaret had no hand in 
forming that collection, in some parts charge- 
able with worse than levity, but that it was 
the work of Desperiers, her gentleman of the 
chamber.* 

This Margaret, so charming, so full of wit, 
and living in so polluted an atmosphere, was 
to be one of the first won over by the religious 
impulse just then communicated to France. 

* This is proved by one of the most distinguish- 
ed critics of the age, M. Ch. Nodier. in the Re- 
vue des Deux Mondes, t. xx. wherein he observes, 
p. 350 — " Desperiers is in reality and almost ex- 
clusively author of the Heptameron. I scruple 
not to say I have no doubt of this, and entirely 
coincide in the opinion of Bouistuan, who, solely 
on this account, omitted and withheld the name 
of the Queen of Navarre." If. as I think, Mar- 
garet did compose some tales, doubtless the most 
harmless of those in the Heptameron, it must 
have been inner youth — just after her marriage 
with the Duke of Alencon, (1509.) The circum- 
stances mentioned by Brantome, p. 346, that the 
king's mother and Madame de Savoy "being 
young." wished to "imitate" Margaret, is a 
proof of this. To this may be added the evidence 
of De Thou, who says, "Si tempora et juvenilem 
aetatem in qua scriptum est respicias, non prorsus 
damnandum, certe gravitate tantae heroinae et 
extrema vita minus dignum." (Thuanus. t. vi. 
p. 117.) Brantome and De Thou are two unob- 
jectionable witnesses.' 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



But how, in the centre of so profane a court, 
and amid the sounds of its licentious gossip, 
was the Duchess of Alencon to be reached 
by the Reformation 1 Her soul, led to look 
to Heaven, was conscious of wants that the 
Gospel alone could meet. Grace can act in 
every place, and Christianity, — which, even 
before an apostle had appeared in Rome, had 
some followers among the household of Nar- 
cissus, and in the palace of Nero,* — in the 
day of its revival rapidly made its way to 
the court of Francis the First. There were 
ladies and lords who spoke to that princess 
concerning the things of faith, and the sun 
which was then rising on France sent forth 
one of its earliest beams on a man of emi- 
nent station, by whom its light was immedi- 
ately reflected on the Duchess of Alencon. 

Among the most distinguished lords of the 
court was Count William of Montbrun, a son 
of Cardinal Briconnet of St. Malo, who had 
entered the church on his being left a widower. 
Count William, devoted to studious pursuits, 
himself also took orders, and was bishop, first 
of Lodeva, and afterwards of Meaux. Al- 
though twice sent on an embassy to Rome, 
he returned to Paris unseduced by the attrac- 
tions and splendours of Leo X. 

At the period of his return to France, a fer- 
ment was beginning to manifest itself. Farel, 
as Master of Arts, was lecturing in the col- 
lege of Cardinal Lemoine, one of the four 
leading establishments of the faculty of theolo- 
gy at Paris, ranking equal with the Sorbonne. 
7 wo countrymen of Lefevre, Arnaud, and 
Gerard Roussel, and some others, enlarged 
this little circle of free and noble spirits. 
Briconnet, who had so recently quitted the 
festivals of Rome, was all amazement at what 
had been doing in Paris during his absence. 
Thirsting after the truth, he renewed his for- 
mer intercourse with Lefevre, and soon passed 
precious hours in company with the Doctor 
of the Sorbonne, Farel, the two Roussels, and 
theirfriends. Full of humility, the illustrious 
prelate sought instruction from the very hum- 
blest, but above all, he sought it of the 
Lord himself. "/ am all dark," said he, 
" waiting for the grace of the divine favour, 
from which my sins have banished me." His 
mind was, as if dazzled by the glory of the 
Gospel. His eyelids sank under its unheard- 
of brightness. "The eyes of all mankind," 
exclaimed he, " cannot take in the whole 
light of that sun !"| 

Lefevre had commended the Bishop to the 
Bible, — he had pointed to it as that guiding 
clue which ever brings us back to the original 
truth of Christianity, such as it existed before 
all schools, sects, ordinances, and traditions, 
and as that mighty agent by means of which 

* Romans xvi. 11. Phil. iv. 22 . 

1 These expressions of Briconnet are from a 
manuscript in the Royal Library at Paris — enti- 
tled Letters of Margaret Queen of Navarre, and 
which is marked S. F. 337. I shall more than 
once have occasion to quote this manuscript, 
which I found not easy to decipher. I quote the 
language oT the time. 



the religion of Jesus Christ is renewod in 
power. Briconnet read the Scriptures. " Sucn 
is the sweetness of that heavenly manna," said 
he, " that it never cloys ; the more we taste of it, 
the more we long for it." The simple and pre- 
vailing truth of Salvation filled him with joy ; 
he had found Christ, he had found God Him- 
self. " What vessel," he exclaimed, " is ca- 
pable of receiving into it such vast and inex- 
haustible grace. But the mansion expands 
with our desire to lodge the good guest. 
Faith is the quartermaster who alone can 
find room for him, or rather who alone can 
enable us to dwell in him.''' But, at the same 
time, the excellent bishop grieved to see that 
living word which the Reformation gave to 
the world so slighted at court, in the city, and 
among the people ; and he exclaimed, u Singu- 
lar innovation, so worthy of acceptation, and 
yet so ill received!" 

Thus did evangelical truth open itself a 
way into the midst of the frivolous, dissolute, 
and literary court of Francis I. Several of 
those who composed it and enjoyed the unli- 
mited confidence of that prince, — as John du 
Bellay, du Bude, Cop^ the court physician, 
and even Petit, the king's confessor, seemed 
favourable to the views of Briconnet and Le- 
fevre. Francis, who loved learning, and in- 
vited to his court scholars " suspected " of 
Lutheranism, " in the thought," observes 
Erasmus, " that he should, in that way, adorn 
and illustrate his reign better than he could 
do by trophies, pyramids, or buildings," — 
was himself persuaded by his sister, by Bri- 
connet, and the learned of his court and col- 
leges. He was present at the discussions of 
the learned, — enjoyed listening to their dis- 
course at table, — and would call them "his 
children." He assisted to prepare the way 
for the word of God, by founding professor- 
ships of Hebrew and Greek, — accordingly, 
Theodore Beza thus speaks, when placing 
his portrait at the head of the Reformers, — 
"Pious Reader! do not shudder at the sight 
of this adversary. Ought not he to have his 
part in this honour who banished barbarism 
from society, and with firm hand established 
in its place the cultivation of three languages 
and profitable studies that should serve as the 
portals of that new structure that was shortly 
to arise." 

But there was at the court of Francis I. one 
soul which seemed prepared for the reception 
of the evangelic doctrines of the teachers of 
Etaples and of Meaux. Margaret, hesitating, 
and not knowing on what to lean in the midst 
of the profligate society that surrounded her, 
sought somewhat on which her soul might 
rest, — and found it in the Gospel. She turned 
toward that fresh breath of life which was 
then reviving the world, and inhaled it with 
delight as coming from Heaven. She gathered 
from some of the ladies of her court the 
teaching of the new preachers. Some there 
were who lent her their writings, and certain 
little books, called, in the language of the 
time "tracts;'* — they spoke of "the primi- 
tive church, of the pure word of God, of a 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



383 



worship 'in spirit and truth,' of a Christian 
liberty that rejected the yoke of human tradi- 
tions and superstitions, that it might adhere 
singly to God." It was not long before this 
princess sought interviews with Lefevre, Fa- 
rel, and Roussel. Their zeal, piety, and walk, 
and all she saw of them, impressed her, — but 
it was her old friend, the bishop of Meaux, 
who was her guide in the path of faith. 

Thus, at the glittering court of Francis I. 
— and in the dissolute house of Louisa of Sa- 
voy, was wrought one of those conversions 
of the heart which in every age are the work 
of the word of God. Margaret subsequently 
recorded in her poetical effusions the various 
emotions of her soul at this important period 
of her life, and we may there trace the course 
by which she was lead. We see that the 
sense of sin had taken strong hold upon her, 
and that she bewailed the levity with which 
she had once viewed the scandals of the 
court. 

Is there in the abyss's lowest depth 
A punishment that equals e'en the tenth 
Of all my sin. 

The corruption which she had so long over- 
looked, now that her eyes were opened, was 
seen in every thing about her — 

Surely in me there dwells that evil root 

That put teth forth mothers branch and fruit.* 

But amid all the horror she felt at her own 
■state of heart, she yet acknowledged that a 
God of Peace had manifested himself to her 
soul — 

Thou, my God, hast in Thy Grace come down 
To me, a worm of earth, who strength had none. 

And soon a sense of the love of God in 
Christ was shed abroad in her heart: — 

My Father, then, — but what a Father Thou, 
Unseen, — that changest not, — endless of days, 

Who graciously forgivest all my sins. 
Dear Lord, Emanuel, behold me fall 
Low at Thy sacred feet, a criminal ! 

Pity me, Father, — perfect in Thy love! 
Thou art the sacrifice, and mercy-seat, 
And Thou hast made for us an offering meet, 

Well pleasing unto Thee, oh God above. 

Margaret had found the faith, and her soul 
in its joy gave free expression to holy delight, — 

Oh ! Saviour Jesus — oh most holy Word ! 

Only begotten of Thy Father God, 

The First — the Last — for whom all things were 

made — 
Bishop and King, set over all as Head, 
/fhrough death, from fear of death, Thou sett'st 

us free ! 
Making us children by our faith in Thee, 
Righteous and pure and good by faith to be. 
Faith plants our souls in innocence again, 
Faith makes us kings with Christ as kings to reign, 
Faith gives us all things in our Head to gain. 



* Marguerites de la Marguerite des princesses 
(Lyon 1547), rome ler, Miroir de l'ame pecheresse, 
p. ]5. The copy I have used seems to have be- 
longed to the Queen of Navarre herself, and some 
notes appearing in it are, it is said, in her hand- 
writing. It is now in the possession of a friend. 
26 



From that time a great change was seen in 
the Duchess of Alencon — 

Though poor, untaught, and weak I be, 
Yet feel I rich, wise, strong in Thee. 

However, the power of sin was not yet sub- 
dued — Her soul was still conscious of a want 
of blessed harmony, and of a degree of inward 
struggle that perplexed her — 

By spirit noble, yet by nature serf, 
Of heavenly seed, — begotten here on earth ;' 
God's temple, — wherein things unclean find roonr, 
Immortal, — and yet hastening to the tomb; 
Though fed by God in earthly pastures roving ; 
Shrinking from ill, — yet sinful pleasures loving ; 
Cherishing truth — yet not to truth conformed ; 
Long as my days on earth prolonged are, 
Life can have nought for me but constant war. 

Margaret, seeking in nature symbols that 
might express the felt want and desire of her 
soul, chose for her emblem, says Brantdme, the 
marigold, " which in its flower and leaf has the 
most resemblance to the sun, and, turning, fol- 
lows it in its course." She added this device, 
Non inferiorasecutus — I seek not things below 
— " signifying," continues the annalist of the 
court, "that her actions, thoughts, purposes, 
and desires were directed to that exalted Sun, 
namely God, — whereupon it was suspected 
that she had imbibed the religion of Luther." 

In fact, the princess shortly after experienced 
the truth of that word, "JLll that will live godly 
in Jesus Christ shall suffer persecution.'''' The 
new opinions of Margaret were the subject of 
conversation at court, and great was the sen- 
sation ; — What ! could the king's sister be one 
of those people ] — For a moment it might have 
been feared that Margaret's disgrace was cer- 
tain. But the king, who loved his sister, af- 
fected to disregard the rumour of the court. 
The conduct of Margaret gradually dissipated 
the opposition ; — " Every one loved her, for," 
says Brantome, " she was very kind, gentle, 
condescending, and charitable, very easy of 
access, giving away much in alms, overlook- 
ing no one, but winning all hearts by her gra- 
cious deportment." 

In the midst of the corruption and frivolity 
of that age, the mind may joyfully contemplate 
this elect soul, which the grace of God ga- 
thered from beneath all its pomps and vanities. 
But her feminine character held her back. If 
Francis the First had had the convictions of 
his sister, we can hardly doubt he would have 
followed them out. The fearful heart of the 
princess trembled at the thought of facing the 
anger of her king. She continued to fluctuate 
between her brother and her Saviour, unwilling 
to give up either one or the other. We do 
not recognise in her the Christian who has at- 
tained to the perfect liberty of God's children, 
but the exact type of those souls — at all times 
so numerous, and especially among her sex, 
— who, drawn powerfully to look to heaven, 
have not strength sufficient to disengage 
themselves entirely from the bondage of earth. 

Nevertheless, such as she is here seen, he? 
appearance is a touching vision on the stage 
of history. Neither Germany nor England 



384 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



presents such a picture as Margaret of Valois. 
She is a star, slightly clouded, doubtless, but 
shedding a peculiarly soft light. And at the 
period we are contemplating, her light even 
shines forth with much radiance. Not till 
afterwards, when the angry glance of Francis 
the First denounces a mortal hatred of the 
Gospel, will his sister spread a veil over her 
holy faith. But at this period she is seen 
erect in the midst of a degraded court, and 
moving in it as the bride of Jesus Christ. 
The respect paid to her, the high opinion en- 
tertained of her understanding and character, 
pleads, more persuasively than any preacher, 
the cause of the Gospel at the court of France, 
and the power of this gentle female influence 
gains admission for the new doctrines. Per- 
haps it is to this period we may trace the dis- 
position of the noblesse to embrace Protestant- 
ism. If Francis had followed in the steps of 
his sister, if the entire nation had opened its 
arms to Christianity, the conversion of Mar- 
garet might have been the channel of salvation 
to France. But whilst the nobles welcomed 
the Gospel, the throne and the people adhered 
faithful to Rome, — and a day came when it 
was a source of heavy misfortune to the Re- 
formation to have numbered in its ranks the 
names of Navarre and Conde. 

Thus already had the Gospel made converts 
in France. Lefevre, Briconnet, Farel, Marga- 
ret, in Paris, joyfully followed in the direction 
of the movement. It seemed as if Francis 
himself were more attracted by the light of 
learning than repelled by the purity of the 
Gospel. The friends of God's word encour- 
aged the most hopeful anticipations, and were 
pleasing themselves with the thought that the 
heavenly doctrine would spread, unresisted, 
through their country, when suddenly a pow- 
erful opposition was concocted in the Sorbonne, 
and at the court. France, which was to sig» 
nalize herself among Roman Catholic states 
by three centuries of persecution of the Re- 
formed opinions, arose against the Reforma- 
tion with pitiless sternness. If the seventeenth 
century was, in France, an age of bloody 
persecution, the sixteenth was that of cruel 
struggle. In no country, perhaps, have 
those who professed the reformed faith met 
with more merciless opposers on the very 
spots where they brought the Gospel. In 
Germany, the anger of the enemy came upon 
them from other states, where the storm had 
Deen gathering. In Switzerland, it fell upon 
them from the neighbouring cantons; but in 
France it everywhere met them face to face. 
A dissolute woman and a rapacious minister 
then took the lead in the long line of enemies 
of the Reformation. 

Louisa of Savoy, mother of the king and of 
Margaret, notorious for her gallantries, of over- [ 
bearing temper, and surrounded by ladies of ! 
honour, whose licentiousness was the begin- i 
ning of a long train of immorality and infamy I 
at the court of France, naturally ranged her- 
self on the side of the opposers of God's ! 
word What rendered her more formidable 
was the almost unbounded influence she pos- j 



sessed over her son. But the Gospel encoun- 
tered a still more formidable enemy in Anthony 
Duprat, Louisa's favourite, and, by her influ- 
ence, elevated to the rank of chancellor of the 
kingdom. This man, whom a contemporary 
historian has designated as the most vicious 
of bipeds, was yet more noted for avarice than 
Louisa for her dissolute life. Having beo-un 
with enriching himself by perverting justice, 
he sought to add to his wealth at the cost of 
religion; and took orders with a view to get 
possession of the richest benefices. 

Luxury and avarice thus characterized these 
two persons, who, being both devoted to the 
Pope, sought to cover the infamy of their lives 
by the shedding the blood of heretics. 

One of their first steps was to hand over 
the kingdom to the ecclesiastical supremacy 
of the Pope. The king, after the battle of 
Marignan, had a meeting with Leo X. at Bo- 
logna, and in that place was concluded the 
memorable Concordat, in virtue- of which those 
two princes divided between them the spoils 
of the Church. They annulled the supre- 
macy of Councils to ascribe supremacy to the 
Pope, and took from the respective churches 
the power of nominating to bishoprics, to give 
that power to the king. After this, Francis 
the First, supporting the Pontiff's train, re- 
paired publicly to the cathedral church of 
Bologna to ratify fih»3 treaty. Sensible of the 
iniquity of the Concordat, he turned to Du- 
prat, and whispered in his ear, — "There is 
enough in this to damn us both." But what 
signified to him salvation 1 ? — money and the 
Pope's alliance was w T hat he sought. 

The Parliament met the Concordat with a 
vigorous resistance. The king, after keeping 
its deputies waiting for some weeks at Am- 
boise, sent for them one day into his presence, 
upon rising from table, and said : " There is 
a king in France, and I don't at all under- 
stand that any men should form a senate after 
the manner of Venice." He then ordered 
them to depart before sunset. From such a 
prince, Gospel liberty had nothing to hope. 
Three days afterwards, the Grand Chamber- 
kin la Tremouille appeared in Parliament, 
and directed that the Concordat should be 
enregistered. 

On this, the University was in motion. 
On the 18th of March, 1518, a solemn pro- 
cession, at which were present the whole body 
of students and bachelors in their corps, re- 
paired to the church of St. Catherine of 
Scholars, to implore God to preserve the 
liberties of the Church and kingdom. "The 
halls of the different colleges were closed; 
strong bodies of students went armed through 
the streets, threatening and in some instances 
maltreating consequential persons, engaged 
pursuant to the king's directions, in making 
known the Concordat, and carrying it into 
effect." However, in the result, the Univer- 
sity allowed the compact to be fulfilled, but 
without rescinding the resolutions in which 
their opposition to it was declared ; and " from 
that time," says the Venetian ambassador 
Correro, "the king began to give away 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



335 



TTishoprics at the solicitation of the ladies of 
the court, and to bestow abbey lands on his 
soldiers, so that at the French court bishoprics 
and abbeys were counted merchandise, just 
as among the Venetians they trade in pepper 
and cinnamon." 

Whilst Louisa and Duprat were taking 
their measures to root up the Gospel by the 
destruction of the Gallican Church, a power- 
ful party of fanatics were gathering together 
against the Bible. The truth of the Gospel 
has ever had two great adversaries, — the pro- 
fligacy of the world, and the fanaticism of the 
priests. The scholastic Sorbonne and a shame- 
Jess court were now about to go forward hand 
in hand against the confessors of Jesus Christ. 
The unbelieving Sadducees, and the hypocri- 
tical Pharisees, in the early days of the Gospel , 
were the fiercest enemies of Christianity, and 
they are alike in every age. At their head 
stood Noel Bedier, commonly called Beda, a 
native of Picardy, syndic of the Sorbonne, 
who had the reputation of the first blusterer 
and most factious disturber of his time. Edu- 
cated in the dry maxims of scholastic mo- 
rality, he had grown up in the constant hearing 
of the theses and antitheses of his college, and 
had r^ore veneration for the hair-breadth dis- 
tinctions of the school than for God's word, 
so that his anger was readily excited when- 
ever any one ventured to give utterance to 
other thoughts. Of a restless disposition, 
that required continually to be engaged 
in pursuit of new objects, he was a tor- 
ment to all about him ; his very element 
was trouble; he seemed born for contention; 
and when adversaries were not at hand, he 
would fall upon his friends. Boastful and 
impetuous, he filled the city and the university 
with the noise of his disputation, — with his 
invectives against learning and the innova- 
tions of that age, — as also against those, who, 
in his opinion, did not sufficiently oppose 
them. Some laughed, others gave ear to the 
fierce talker, and in the Sorbonne his violence 
gave him the mastery. He seemed to be ever 
seeking some opponent, or some victim to 
drag to the scaffold — hence, before the "here- 
tics" began to show themselves, his imagina- 
tion had created them, and he had required 
that the vicar-general of Paris, Merlin, should 
be brought to the stake, on the charge of hav- 
ing defended Origen. But when he caught 
sight of the new teachers, he bounded like a 
wild beast that suddenly comes within view 
of its unsuspecting prey. "There are three 
thousand monks in one Beda," remarked the 
wary Erasmus. 

Yet his violence injured the cause he la- 
boured to advance. " What ! can the Romish 
Church rest for her support on such an Atlas 
as that] Whence all this commotion but 
from the insane violence of Beda]" was the 
reflection of the wisest. 

In truth the invectives that terrified the 
weak, revolted nobler minds. At the court 
of Francis the First, was a gentleman of 
Artois," by name Louis Berquin, -about thirty 
years of age, who was never married. The 



j purity of his life, his accurate knowledge, 
j which had won him the appellation of "most 
learned amongthe noble," hisingenuousness, 
compassron for the poor, and unbounded at- 
tachment to his friends, distinguished him 
above his equals. The rites of the Church, 
its fasts, festivals, and masses, had not a 
more devout observer, and he held in especial 
horror every thing heretical. His devotion 
was indeed the wonder of the whole court. 

Tt seemed as if no-thing could have given 
this man a turn in favour of the Reformation; 
nevertheless, some points of his character 
disposed him toward the Gospel. He had a 
horror of all dissimulation, and having him-" 
self no ill-will to any, he could not endure 
injustice in others. The overbearing violence 
of Beda and other fanatics, their shuffling and 
persecutions disgusted his generous heart, 
and, as he was accustomed in every thing to 
go heartily to work, he, ere long, wherever 
he came, in the city and at court, even in the 
first circles, was heard vehemently protesting 
against the tyranny of those doctors, and par- 
suing into their very holes the pestilent hor- 
nets who then kept the world in fear. 

But this was not all : for his opposition to 
injustice led Berquin to inquire after the 
truth. He resolved on knowing more of that 
Holy Scripture so dear to the men against 
whom Beda and his party were conspiring; — 
and scarcely had he begun to study it, than 
his heart was won by it. Berquin imme- 
diately sought the intimacy of Margaret, 
Briconnet, Lefevre, and those who loved the 
truth ; and in their society tasted of the purest 
delight. He became sensible that he had 
something else to do than to stand up against 
the Sorbonne, and gladly would he have 
communicated to all France the new convic- 
tions of his soul. With this view he sat 
down to compose and translate into French 
certain Christian writings. To him it seemed 
as if every one must confess and embrace the 
truth as promptly as he himself had done. 
The impatient zeal that Beda brought to the 
service of traditions of men, Berquin em- 
ployed in the cause of God's truth. Some- 
what younger than the syndic of the Sorbonne, 
less wary, less acute, he had in his favour the 
noble incentive of a love of truth. Berquin 
had a higher object than victory over his an- 
tagonist when he stood up against Beda. It 
was his aim to let loose the flood of truth 
among his countrymen. On this account, 
Theodore Beza observes, " that if Francis the 
First had been another Elector, Berquin might 
have come down to us as another Luther." 

Many were the obstacles in his way. Fa 
naticism finds disciples everywhere; it is a 
contagious infection. The monks and igno- 
rant priests sided with the syndic of the Sor- 
bonne. An esprit de corps pervaded their 
whole company, governed by a few intriguing 
and fanatical leaders, who knew how to work 
upon the credulity and vanity of their col- 
leagues, and by that means communicate to 
them their own animosities. At all their 
meetings these persons took the lead, lording 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



it over others, and reducing to silence the 
timid and moderate of their body. Hardly 
could they prop >se any thing, when this party 
exclaimed, in an overbearing tone, " Now we 
shall see who are of Luther's faction."' If 
the latter offered any reasonable suggestion, 
instantly a shudder passed from Beda to Le- 
couturier, Duchesne, and the rest, and all ex- 
claimed, " Why, they are worse than Luther." 
The manoeuvre answe-ed their purpose, and 
the timid, who prefer quiet to disputation, and 
are willing to give up their own opinion for 
their own ease, — those who do not understand 
the very simplest questions, — and, lastly, such 
as are easily turned round by mere clamour, 
were led away by Beda and his followers. 
Some silently, and some assenting aloud, 
submitted to the influence exercised over ordi- 
nary spirits by one proud and tyrannical mind. 
Such was the state of this association, regard- 
ed as venerable, and which, at this time, was 
found among the most determined opposers 
of the Christianity of the Gospel. Often 
would one glance within the interior of such 
bodies suffice to enable us to estimate at its 
true value the war they wage against truth. 

Thus the University w T hich, under Louis 
XII., had applauded the first inklings of in- 
dependence in Allman, abruptly plunged once 
more, under the guidance of Duprat and Loui- 
sa of Savoy, into fanaticism and servility. If 
we except the Jansenists, and a few others, 
nowhere in the Gallican clergy do we find a 
noble and genuine independence. It has done 
no more than vibrate between servility to the 
court and servility to the Pope. If, under 
Louis XII. or Louis XIV. we notice some 
faint semblance of liberty, it is because its 
master in Paris was at strife with its master 
in Rome. Herein we have the solution of the 
change we have noticed. The University and 
the Bishops forgot their rights and obliga- 
tions the moment the King ceased to enjoin 
the assertion of them ! 

Beda had long cherished ill-will against 
Lefevre. The renown of the doctor of Picar- 
dy irritated and ruffled the pride of his coun- 
tryman, who would gladly have silenced him. 
Once before, Beda had attacked the doctor of 
Eta-ples, and, having as yet but little discern- 
ment of the true point of the evangelic doc- 
trines, he had assailed his colleague on a 
point which, strange as it. must to us appear, 
Mas very near sending Lefevre to the scaf- 
fold. The doctor had asserted that Mary the 
sister of Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, and the 
woman who was a sinner, (mentioned by 
Luke in his seventh chapter,) were three dis- 
tinct persons. The Greek fathers had con- 
sidered them as distinct, but the fathers of 
the Latin Church had spoken of them as one 
and the same. This shocking heresy, in re- 
lation to the three Marys, set Beda and all 
his clique in motion. Christendom itself was 
roused. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and one 
of the most eminent prelates of the age, wrote 
against Lefevre, and the whole Church de- 
c'ared against a judgment that is now uni- 
»"?rsally received among Roman Catholics 



themselves. Already, Lefevie, condemned 
by the Sorbonne, was prosecuted by the Par- 
liament on the charge of heresy, when Fran 
cis I., not sorry to have an opportunity of 
striking a blow at the Sorbonne, and hum 
bling the monks, interfered, and rescued him 
from the hands of his persecutors. 

Beda, enraged at seeing his victim thus 
snatched from his grasp, resolved on taking 
his next measures more cunningly. The 
name of Luther was beginning to be noised 
in France. The Reformer, after disputing 
against Eck at Leipsic, had agreed to ac- 
knowledge the universities of Erfurth and of 
Paris as his judges. The zeal displayed by 
the University against the Concordat doubt- 
less led him to expect an impartial verdict. 
But a change had taken place, and the more 
decided their opposition to the encroachments 
of Rome, the more did the members of the 
University seem to have it at heart to make 
proof of their orthodoxy. Beda, accordingly, 
found them quite disposed to enter into all 
his views. 

On the 20th of January, 1320, the questor 
of France purchased twenty copies of Lu- 
ther's conference with Eck, to distribute 
them among the members of the commission 
charged to make its report on the matter. 
More than a year was taken up in the inves- 
tigation. The German Reformation was be- 
ginning to produce a strong sensation in 
France. The several universities, then truly 
Catholic institutions, resorted to from all 
parts of Christendom, maintained a more di- 
rect and intimate intercourse, on topics of 
theology and philosophy, between Germany, 
France, and England, than exists in our own 
day. The report, brought to Paris, of Lu- 
ther's labours and success, strengthened tb? 
hands of such men as Lefevre, Briconnet, 
and Farel. Some of the divines of the Sor- 
bonne were struck by the truths they saw in 
the writings of the Wittemberg monk. Now 
and then a bold confession was heard; but 
there were also fierce opposers. " Europe," 
says Crevier, "was all expectation of the 
decision of the University of Paris." The 
issue seemed doubtful ; but Beda finally tri- 
umphed. In April, 1521, the University de- 
creed that the writings of Luther should be 
publicly committed to the flames, and that 
the author should be compelled to retract. 

Further measures were resolved on. Lu- 
ther's disciples had crossed the Rhine, even 
before his writings. Maimbourg tells us that 
the University was quickly filled with foreign- 
ers, who, having obtained a reputation on the 
strength of some knowledge of Hebrew, and 
more of Greek, crept into the houses of per- 
sons of distinction, and took upon them the 
liberty of explaining the Scriptures. The 
faculty, therefore, sent a deputation to the 
king to call attention to these disorders. 

Francis the First, caring little for theolo- 
gical d : ssensions, was then pursuing the 
career of his pleasures. Passing from one 
chateau to another, in company with his gen- 
tlemen and the ladies of his mother's and his 




HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



387 



sister's court, he indulged in every species of 
dissolute excess, out of the range of the trou- 
blesome observation of his capital. In this 
way he passed through Brittany, Anjou, Gui- 
enne, Angoumois, Poitou ; requiring, in vil- 
lages and forests, the same attention and 
luxury as if he had been in the Chateau des 
Tournelles at Paris. Nothing was heard of 
but tournaments, single combats, masquer- 
ades, shows, and feastings, "such," says 
Brantome, " that Lucullus himself never saw 
the like." 

Suspending for a moment the course of his 
pleasures, he gave audience to the grave de- 
puties of the Sorbonne; but he saw only men 
of learning in those whom the faculty desig- 
nated as heretics ; and should a prince, who 
boasts of having eclipsed and put hors de page 
the kings, of France, stoop to humour a clique 
of fanatical doctors '? " I command you," was 
his answer, "not to molest those people. To 
persecute those who teach us, would prevent 
able scholars from settling in our country." 

The deputation quitted the royal presence 
in a rage. What then is to be the conse- 
quence'? The danger is everyday greater, 
already the heretical sentiments are counted 
as those of the best informed classes, — the 
devouring flame is circulating between the 
rafters, — the conflagration will presently burst 
forth, and the structure of the established faith 
will fall, with sudden crash, to the earth. 

Beda and his party, failing to obtain the 
king's permission to resort to scaffolds, had 
recourse to more quiet persecution. There 
was no kind of annoyance to which the evan- 
gelic teachers were not subjected. Every 
day brought with it new rumours and new 
charges. The aged Lefevre, wearied out by 
these ignorant zealots, panted for quiet. The 
pious Briconnet, who was unremitting in his 
attentions to the Doctor of Etaples, offered 
him an asylum. Lefevre, therefore, took 
leave of Paris, and repaired to Meaux. It 
was a first advantage gained by the enemies 
of the Gospel, and thenceforth it was seen 
that if the party cannot enlist the civil power 
on its side, it has ever a secret and fanatical 
police, which it knows how to use, so as to 
ensure the attainment of its ends. 

Thus Paris was beginning to rise against 
the Reformation, and to trace, as it were, the 
first lines of that enclosure which, for three 
centuries, was to bar the entrance of the Re- 
formation. God had appointed that in Paris 
itself its first glimmering should appear; but 
men arose who hastily extinguished it ; — the 
spirit of the sixteen chiefs was already work- 
ing, and other cities in the kingdom were 
about to receive that light which the eapital 
itself rejected. 

Briconnet, on returning to his diocese, 
there manifested the zeal of a Christian and 
of a bishop. He visited all the parishes, and 
having called together the deans, curates, vi- 
cars, church-wardens, and principal parish- 
ioners, he made inquiries respecting the teach- 
ing and manner of life of the preachers. " At 
the time of the gathering," they replied, " the 



' Franciscans of Meaux sally forth ; a single 

preacher goes over four or five parishes in one 

! day ; repeating as many times the same ser- 

j mon, not to feed the souls of his hearers, but 

| to fill his belly, and enrich his convent. The 

scrip once replenished, the object is answered ; 

the preaching is at an end, and the monks are 

not seen again in the churches until begging 

tkne comes round again. The only thing 

these shepherds attend to is the shearing of 

their flocks." 

The majority of the curates lived upon their 
kscomes at Paris. " Oh !" exclaimed the 
pious bishop, on finding the presbytery he 
had come to visit deserted, " must we not re- 
gard those who thus forsake the service of 
Christ, traitors to him V Briconnet resolved 
to apply a remedy to these evils, and con- 
voked a synod of all his clergy for the 13th 
of October, 1519. But these worldly priests, 
who gave but little heed to the remonstrances 
of their bishop, and for whom Paris pos- 
sessed so many attractions, took advantage 
of a custom, by virtue of which they were 
allowed to substitute one or more vicars to 
look after their flocks in their absence. Out 
of a hundred and twenty-seven vicars, Bri- 
Qonnet, upon examination, found only four- 
teen whom he could approve. 

Earthly-minded curates, imbecile vicars, 
monks whose God was their belly, such, then, 
was the state of the church. Briconnet forbade 
the pulpit to the Franciscans, and, being per- 
suaded that the only method of supplying able 
ministers in his diocese was himself to train 
them, he determined to found a school of 
theology at Meaux, under the superintendence 
of pious and learned doctors. It became ne- 
cessary to look around for such persons. 
Beda, however, supplied him with them. 

This fanatic and his troop continued their 
efforts, and complaining bitterly against the 
government for tolerating the new teachers, 
declared they would wage war against their 
doctrines without, and even against its orders. 
Lefevre had indeed quitted the capital, but 
were not Farel and his friends still there. 
Farel, it is true, did not preach, for he was 
not in priest's orders ; but in the university, 
in the city, with professors, priests, students, 
and citizens, he boldly maintained the cause 
of the Reformation. Others, emboldened by 
his example, circulated more freely the word 
of God. Martial Mazurier, president of St. 
Michael's college, and distinguished as a 
preacher, unsparingly depicted the disorders 
of the time, in the darkest and yet the truest 
colours, and it seemed scarce possible to with- 
stand the force of his eloquence. The rage 
of Beda, and those divines who acted with 
him, was at its height. " If we suffer these 
innovators," said Beda, " they will spread 
through our whole company, and there will 
be an end of our teaching and tradition, as 
well as of our places, and the respect France 
and all Christendom have hitherto paid us." 

The doctors of the Sorbonne were the 
stronger party. Farel, Mazurier, Gerard 
Ronssel, and his brother Arnaud, soon found 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



heir active service everywhere counteracted. 
The Bishop of Meaux pressed his friends to 
rejoin Lefevre, — and these worthy men, per- 
secuted and hunted by the Sorbonne, and 
hoping to form with Briconnet a sacred pha- 
lanx for the triumph of truth, accepted the 
bishop's invitation, and repaired to Meaux.* 
Thus, the light of the Gospel was gradually 
withdrawn from the capital where Providence 
had kindled its first sparks. " This is the 
condemnation, that light is come into the world, 
and men love darkness rather than light, he- 
cause their deeds are evil" (St. John iii. 19.) 
It is impossible not to discern that Paris 
then drew down upon it that judgment of 
God which is here conveyed in the words of 
Jesus Christ. 

Margaret of Valois, successively deprived 
of Brigonnet, Lefevre, and their friends, found 
herself alone in the centre of Paris, and of the 
dissolute court of Francis I. A young prin- 
cess, sister to her mother, Philibert of Savoy, 
lived on intimacy with her. Philibert, whom 
the king of France had given in marriage to 
Julian the Magnificent, brother of Leo X., in 
confirmation of the Concordat, had, after her 
nuptials, repaired to Rome, where the Pope, 
delighted with so illustrious an alliance, had 
expended no less than 150,000 ducats in fes- 
tive entertainments on the occasion. In 1516, 
Julian, who then commanded the Papal forces, 
died, leaving his widow only eighteen. She 
attached herself to Margaret, being attracted 
by the influence which the character and vir- 
tues of that princess gave her over all about 
her. The grief of Philibert unclosed her 
heart to the voice of religion. Margaret im- 
parted to her the fruit of her reading, and the 
widow of the lieutenant-general of the Church 
began to taste the sweetness of the saving 
truth. But Philibert had as yet too little ex- 
perience to be a support to her friend, and 
often did Margaret tremble at the thought of 
her own extreme weakness. If the love she 
bore her king, and her fear of offending him, 
led her to any action contrary to her con- 
science, instantly her soul was troubled, and, 
turning in sorrow to the Lord, she found in 
him a master and brother more gracious and 
sweet to her heart than Francis himself. It 
was in such a season she breathed forth those 
feelings : — 

Sweet Brother, who, in place of chastenings meet, 
Lead' st gently home thy wandering sister's feet, 
Giving thy Grace and Love in recompense 
Of murmurings, presumption, and offence. 
Too much, my Brother, — too much hast thou done: 
The blessing is too vast for such an one. 

When she saw all her friends retiring to 
Meaux, Margaret turned after them a look of 
sorrow from the midst of the festivities of the 
court. She seemed deserted of all, — her hus- 
band the Duke of Alencon was setting out for 
the army, — her young aunt Philibert was re- 
turning to Savoy. The Duchess wrote to 
Briconnet, as follows : — 

* It was the persecution which arose against 
them in Paris, in 1521, which compelled them to 
leave that city. (Vie de Farel, par Chaupard.) 



"Monsieur de Meaux, — Knowing that God is 
all-sufficient, I apply to you to ask your prayers 
that He will conduct in safety, according tc 
His holy will, M. d'Alencon, who is about 
to take his departure, by order of the kirg, as 
lieutenant-general of his army, which I appre- 
hend will not break up without a war; and, 
thinking that, besides the public good of the 
kingdom, you have an interest in all that con- 
cerns his and my salvation, I request your 
spiritual aid. To-morrow, my aunt leaves 
Nemours for Savoy. I must be mixed up 
with many things which I dread. Therefore, 
if you should know that master Michael could 
make a journey hither, it would be a comfort 
to me, which I desire only for the honour of • 
God." 

Michael Arand, whose counsel Margaret 
desired, was one of the members of the evan- 
gelic assembly at Meaux, who, at a later pe- 
riod, exposed himself to many dangers in 
preaching the Gospel. 

The pious princess trembled to see an oppo- 
sition gathering strength against the truth. 
Duprat and the retainers of the government, 
Beda and those who adhered to the Universi- 
ty, inspired her with terror. Briconnet wrote 
cheeringly — " It is the war which the gentle 
Jesus said he was come to send upon earth, — 
the fire, the fierce fire which transforms earth- 
liness into that which is heavenly. With ail 
my heart do I desire to help you, Madam ; but 
do not expect from my weakness any more 
than the will to serve you. Whoever has 
faith, hope, love, has all that is necessary, and 
needeth not any other help or protection. God 
will be all, — and out of Him we can hope for 
nothing. Take with you into the conflict that 
mighty giant, unconquerable Love. The war 
is led on by Love. Jesus requires to have our 
hearts in his presence : wo befalls the Chris- 
tian who parts company from Him. He who 
is present ii? person in the battle is sure of 
victory ; but if the battle is fought out of His 
own presence, he will often lose ground." 

The Bishop of Meaux was then beginning 
to experience what it is to contend for the 
word of God. The theologians and monks, 
irritated by the shelt-er he had afforded to the 
friends of the Reformation, vehemently accu- 
sed him, so that his brother, the Bishop of St. 
Malo, came to Paris to inquire into the 
charges brought against him. Hence Marga- 
ret was the more touched by the comfortings 
which Briconnet addressed to her ; and she 
answered by offering him her assistance. 

" If in any thing," wrote she, " you think 
that I can be of service to you or your's, be 
assured that I shall find comfort in doing all I 
can. Everlasting Peace be given to you after 
the long struggles you have waged for the 
faith — in the which cause pray that you may 
live and die. 

" Your devoted daughter, Margaret." 

Happy would -it have been if Briconnet had 
died while contending for the truth. Yet was 
he still full of zeal. Philibert of Nemours, 
universally respected for her piety, charity, 
and blameless life, read with increasing hv 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



339 



terest the evangelical writings sent her from 
time to time by the Bishop of Meaux. " I 
have received all the tracts you forwarded, 
wrote Margaret to Bri^onnet, " of which my 
aunt of Nemours has taken some, and I mean 
to send her the last, for she is now in Savoy, 
called thither by her brother's marriage. Her 
absence is no small loss to me ; — think of my 
loneliness in your prayers." Unhappily, 
Philibert did not live to declare herself openly 
in favour of the Reformation. She died, in 
1524, at the castle of Vireu le Grand in Bugey, 
at the age of twenty-six. Margaret was 
deeply sensible of the loss of one who was to 
her a friend — a sister ; one who could, indeed, 
"enter into her thoughts. Perhaps no loss by 
death was the occasion of more sorrow to her, 
if we except that of her brother. 

Alas ! nor earth nor heaven above appears 

To my sad eyes, so ceaseless are the tears 

That from them flow. 

Margaret, feeling her own weakness to bear 
up under her grief, and against the seductions 
of the court, applied to Briconnet to exhort her 
to the love of God : — " The gentle and gra- 
cious Jesus, who wills, and who alone is able 
to work that which he wills, in his infinite 
mercy, visit your heart, and lead it to love 
him with an undivided love. None but He, 
Madam, hath power to do this, and we must 
not seek light from darkness, nor warmth from 
cold. When he draws, he kindles, and by the 
warmth draws us after him, enlarging our 
hearts. You write to me to pity you because 
you are alone ; I do not understand that word. 
The heart that is in the world, and resting in 
it, is indeed lonely, — for many and evil are 
they who compass it about. But she whose 
heart is closed against the world and awake 
to the gentle and gracious Jesus, her true and 
faithful spouse, is really alone, living on sup- 
plies from One who is all to her, — and yet not 
alone, because never left by Him who replen- 
ishes and preserves all. I cannot and ought 
not to pity such solitude as this, which is more 
to be prized than the whole world around us, 
from which I am confident that God hath in 
his love delivered you, so that you are no 
longer its child. Continue, Madam, — alone, 
abiding in Him who is your all, and who 
humbled himself to a painful and ignominious 
death. 

" In commending myself to your favour, I 
humbly entreat you not to use the words of 
your last letters. You are the daughter and 
the spouse of God only. No other father 
hath any claim upon you. I exhort and ad- 
monish you to be to Him such and so good 
daughter as He is to you a Father ; and since 
you cannot attain to this, by reason that finite 
cannot compare with infinite, I pray Him to 
strengthen you, that you may love and serve 
Him with all your heart." 

Notwithstanding these counsels, Margaret 
was not yet comforted. She grieved over the 
loss of those spiritual guides who had been 
removed from her. The new pastors set over 
her to reclaim her, did not possess her confi- 
dence; and notwithstanding what the bishop 



had said, she felt alone amidst the court, and 
all around her seemed like a desolate wilder- 
ness. She wrote to Brigonnet as follows : — 
"As a sheep wandering in a strange land, 
and turning from her pasture in distrust of her 
new shepherds, naturally lifts her head to 
catch the breeze from that quarter of the field 
where the chief shepherd once led her to the 
tender grass, just so I am constrained to im- 
plore your love. Come down from your moun- 
tain, and look in pity on the blindest of all 
your fold, astray among a people living in 
darkness. 

(Signed) Marguerite." 

The Bishop of Meaux, in his reply, taking 
up the comparison of a wandering sheep 
under which Margaret had pictured herself) 
uses it to depict the mysteries of Salvation 
under the figuie of a wood. " The sheep," 
says he, "on entering this wood under the 
guidance of the Holy Spirit, is at once charm- 
ed by the goodness, beauty, height, length, 
breadth, depth, and refreshing odours of the fo- 
rest, and looking round about sees only Him in 
all, and all in Him ; and hastening onward 
through its gieen alleys, finds it so sweet that 
the way becomes life, joy, and consolation." 
The bishop then describes the sheep trying in 
vain to penetrate to the bounds of the forest, (as 
a soul would fathom the deep things of God,) 
meeting with mountains which it in vain en- 
deavours to ascend, being stopped on all sides 
by "inaccessible heights." He then shows 
the way by which the soul, inquiring after 
God, surmounts the difficulties, and how the 
sheep, among all the hirelings, finds out "the 
Chief Shepherd's nook," and " enters on the 
wing of meditation by faith;" then all is 
made plain and easy, and she begins to sing, 
"I have found him whom my soul loveth." 

Thus wrote the Bishop of Meaux. In 
the fervour of his zeal he would at this time 
have rejoiced to see France regenerated by 
the Gospel. Often would he dwell especially 
on those three individuals who seemed called 
to preside over the destinies of his country ; 
namely, the king, his mother, and his sister. 
He thought that if the royal family were but 
enlightened, the whole nation would be so ; 
and that the clergy, aroused to emulation, 
would awake from their deathlike stupor. 
" Madam," wrote he to Margaret, " I humbly 
pray God that He will please, in His good- 
ness, to kindle a fire in the hearts of the 
king, his mother, and yourself, so that from 
you three a flame may go forth through the 
nation, and reanimate especially that class. 
which, by its coldness, chills all the others." 

Margaret did not share in these hopes. 
She says nothing of her mother, nor yet of 
her brother. These were themes she did not 
dare to touch; but in her answer to the 
bishop, in January, 1522, oppressed at heart 
by the indifference and worldliness all around 
her, she said, — "The times are so cold, the 
heart so frozen up;" and she signed herself — 
"Your cold-hearted, hungering and thirsting 
daughter, Margaret " 



890 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



This etter did not discourage Briconnet, 
but it put him upon reflection; and feeling- 
how much he who sought to reanimate others 
required to be reanimated himself, he asked 
the prayers of Margaret and of Madame de 
Nemours. " Madam," said he, with perfect 
simplicity, "I pray you to re-awaken by 
3 r our prayers the poor drowsy one." 

And such, in 1521, were the expressions 
interchanged at the court of France. Strange 
words, doubtless ; and which now, after a 
lapse of above three centuries, a manuscript 
in the Royal Library reveals to us. Was 
this influence in high places favourable to the 
Reformation, or adverse to it? The spur of 
truth was felt indeed at the court, but perhaps 
did not arouse the slumbering beast, — excit- 
ing him to rage, — and causing him to dart 
more furiously on the weak ones of the flock. 

In truth, the time was drawing nigh when 
the storm was to burst upon the Reformation ; 
but first it was destined to scatter some seeds 
and gather in some sheaves. This city of 
Meaux which a century and a half later was 
to be honoured by the residence of the' noble 
defender of the Gallican church against the 
claims of Rome, was called to be the first 
town in France, wherein regenerated Chris- 
tianity should establish its hold. It was at 
this time the field on which the labourers 
profusely scattered their seed, and into which 
they had already put the sickle. Briconnet, 
less given to slumber than he had said, 
cheered, watched, and directed every thing. 
His fortune was equal to his zeal. Never 
did any one make a more noble use of his 
means — and never did so noble a devotion 
promise at first to yield such abundant fruit. 
Assembled at Meaux, the pious teachers took 
their measures thenceforward with more 
liberty. The word of God was not bound ; 
and the Reformation made a great advance 
in France. Lefevre, with unwonted energy, 
proclaimed that Gospel with which he would 
gladly have filled the world — "Kings, 
princes, nobles, the people, and all nations," 
he exclaimed, " ought to think and aspire 
only after Jesus Christ. Every priest should 
resemble hat angel seen by John in the 
A^ooinyuse, flying through the air, having in 
hif liand the everlasting Gospel, to preach to 
every nation, and k/ndred. and tongue, and 
peopie Draw near ye pontiffs, kings, and 
generous hearts. A wake, ye nations, to the 
light of the Gospel, and receive the breath of 
eternal life. Sufficient is the word of God!" 

Such, in truth, was the motto of the new 
school : sufficient, is (he word of God. The 
whole Reformation is imbodied in that truth. 
"To know Christ and his word," said Le- 
fevre, Roussel, Farel, "is the only true, 
living, and universal Theology. He who 
knows that, knows every thing." 

The truth produced a deep impression at 
Meaux. At first private meetings took place, 
then conferences, and lastly the Gospel was 
proclaimed in the churches. But a yet mere 
formidable blow was struck against the au- 
thority of Rome. 



Lefevre resolved to put it in the power of 
the Christians of France to read the Scrip- 
tures. On the 30th of October he published 
the French translation of the four Gospels ; 
j on the 6th of November the remaining books 
of the New Testament; and on the 12th of 
November, 1524, the whole of these collected 
in one volume at Meaux; and in 1525 a 
French version of the Psalms. Thus, in 
France, and almost at the same time as in 
Germany, we have the commencement of that 
publication of the Scriptures, in the vernacu- 
lar tongue, which, after a lapse of three cen- 
turies, was to receive such wonderful deve- 
lopment. In France, as in the countries be- 
yond the Rhine, the Bible produced a decided 
effect. Many there were who had learned 
by experience that when they sought the 
knowledge of divine things, darkness and 
doubt encompassed them on all sides. How 
many were the passing moments, — perhaps 
even years, — in which they had been tempted 
to regard the most certain truths as mere illu- 
sions. We want a ray from heaven to en- 
lighten our darkness. Such was the longing 
desire of many souls at the period of the Re- 
formation. With feelings of this sort many 
received the Scriptures from the hands of 
Lefevre. They read them in their families 
and in private. The Bible became increas- 
ingly the subject of conversation. Christ 
appeared to these souls, so long misled, as 
the sun and centre of all discovery. No 
longer did they want evidence that Scripture 
was of the Lord : they knew it, for it had de- 
livered them from darkness into light. 

Such was the course by which some re- 
markable persons in France were at this 
time brought to know God. But there were 
yet humbler and more ordinary steps by which 
many of the poorer sort arrived at the know- 
ledge of the truth. The city of Meaux was 
almost entirely peopled with artisans and 
dealers in woollen cloth. "Many," says a 
chronicler of the sixteenth century. " were 
taken with so ardent a desire so know the 
way of salvation, that artisans, carders, ful- 
lers, and combers, whue at work with their 
hands, had their thoughts engaged in conver- 
sation on the word of God, and getting com- 
fort from thence. On Sunday and on festi- 
vals, especially, they employed themselves 
in reading the Scriptures and inquiring into 
the good pleasure of the Lord." 

Briconnet rejoiced to see true piety take 
the place of superstition in his diocese. 
"Lefevre, availing himself of his great repu- 
tation for learning," observes a contemporary, 
(Fontaine,) " managed so to cajole and impose 
upon Messire Guillaume Briconnet by his 
specious words, that he turned him aside into 
gross error, so that it has been found impossi- 
ble to c^anse the town and diocese of Meaux 
from that wicked doctrine from that time to 
this, when it has marvellously spread abroad. 
The Subverting of that good bishop was a 
sad event, for he had, before that, been very 
devout in his service to God and the Virgin 
Mary." However, not all had been so 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



391 



grossly " turned aside," to adopt the expres- 
sion of the Franciscan. The townspeople 
were divided in two parties. On one side 
were the Franciscan monks, and the partisans 
of Romanism : on the other, Briconnet, Le- 
fevre, Farel, and those who loved the new 
preaching - . A man of low station, named 
Leclerc was one of the most servile adherents 
of the monks ; bat his wife and his two sons, 
Peter and John, had joyfully received the 
Gospel ; and John, who was by trade a wool- 
carder, soon attracted notice among the infant 
congregations. James Pavanne, a native of 
Picardy, a young man of open and upright 
character evinced an ardent zeal for the Re- 
formed opinions. Meaux was become a 
focus of light. Persons called thither by 
business, and who there heard the Gospel, 
returning, bore it with them to their respective 
homes. It was not merely in the city that 
the Scripture was the subject of inquiry ; 
" many of the adjacent villages were awaken- 
ed,", says a chronicler, " so that in that 
diocese seemed to shine forth a sort of image 
of the regenerated church." 

The environs of Meaux were, in autumn, 
clothed with rich harvests, and a crowd of 
labouring people resorted thither from the sur- 
rounding countries. Resting themselves, in 
the heat of the day, they would talk with the 
people of those parts of a seed-time and har- 
vest of another kind. Certain peasantry, who 
had come from the Thierachia, and more par- 
ticularly from Landouzy, after their return 
home continued in the doctrine they had heard, 
and, ere long, an evangelic church was formed 
in this latter place,* — a church, which is 
among the most ancient in the kingdom. 
"The report of this unspeakable blessing 
spread through France, says the chronicler. 
Briconnet himself preached the Gospel from 
the pulpit, and laboured to diffuse, far and 
wide, that free, gracious, true, and clear light, 
which dazzles and illuminates every creature 
capable of receiving it ; and, while it enlight- 
ens him, raises him by adoption to the dignity 
of a child of God.t He besought his hearers 
not to listen to those who would turn them 
aside from the Word. "Though an angel 
from heaven," exclaimed he, " should preach 
any other Gospel, do not give ear to him." 
At times melancholy thoughts presented them- 
selves to his mind. He did not feel confident 
in his own steadfastness, and he recoiled from 
the thought of the fatal consequences that 
might result from any failure of faith on his 
part. Forewarning his hearers, he would say, 
"Though I, your bishop, should change my 
voice and doctrine, take heed that you^hange 
not with me." At that moment nothing fore- 
boded such a calamity. " Not only," says 
the chronicler, " the word of God was preach- 
ed, but it was practised : all kinds of works 
of charity and love were visible; the morals 



* These facts are derived from old and much 
damaged papers discovered in the church of Lan- 
douzy-la-Ville (Aisne), by M. Colany, during the 
time he filled the office of pastor in that town. 

+ MS. in the Royal Library, S. F. No. 337. 



of the city were reformed, and its supersti- 
tions disappeared." 

Still indulging in the thought of gaining 
over the king and his mother, the bishop sent 
to Margaret a translation of St. Paul's Epis- 
tles, richly illuminated, humbly soliciting her 
to present it to the king, "which, coming 
through your hands," added he, "cannot fail to 
be acceptable. They make a truly royal dish," 
continued the worthy bishop, "of a fatness 
that never corrupts, and having a power to 
restore from all manner of sickness. The 
more we taste them the more we hunger after 
them, with desires that are ever fed and never 
cloyed."* 

What dearer commission could Margaret 
receive ....'? The moment seemed auspi- 
cious. Michel d'Arande was at Paris, de- 
tained there by command of the king's mother, 
for whom he was translating portions of the 
Scriptures. But Margaret would have pre- 
ferred that Briconnet should himself present 
St. Paul to her brother : " You would do well 
to come," wrote she, "for you know the con- 
fidence the king and his motherhaveinyou." 

Thus at this time (in 1522 and 1523) was 
God's word placed before the eyes of Francis 
the First and Louisa of Savoy. They were 
thus brought in contact with that Gospel of 
which they were afterwards to be the persecu- 
tors. We see nothing to indicate that that 
Word/made on them any saving impression ; 
curiosity led them to unclose that Bible which 
was the subject of so much discussion ; but 
they soon closed it again as they had opened it. 

Margaret herself with difficulty struggled 
against the worldliness which surrounded her. 
Her tender regard for her brother, respect for 
her mother, the flattery of the court, all con- 
spired against the love she had vowed to Jesus 
Christ. Many indeed were her temptations. 
At times, the soul of Margaret, assailed by so 
many enemies, and dizzy with the tumult of 
life, turned aside from her Lord. Then be- 
coming conscious of her sin, the princess shut 
herself in her apartments, and gave vent to her 
grief in sounds very different from those with 
which Francis and the young lords, who were 
the companions of his pleasures, filled the 
royal palaces in their carousings ; — 

I have forsaken thee, for pleasure erring ; 

In place of thee, my evil choice preferring ; 

And from thee wandering, whither am I come? 

Among the cursed, — to the place of doom. 

I have forsaken thee, oh Friend sincere ; 

And from thy love, the better to get free,' 

Have clung to things most contrary to thee. 

After this, Margaret, turning in the direc- 
tion of Meaux, wrote, in her distress, — "I 
again turn toward you, Mons. 'Fabry,' and 
your companions, desiring you in your pray-" 
ers to entreat of the unspeakable mercy an 
alarum that shall rouse the unwatchful weak 
one from her heavy and deathlike slumbers."* 

The friends of the Reformation were be- 
ginning to indulge in cheering anticipations. 
Who would be able to resist the Gospel if the 
authority of Francis the First should open the 



MS. in the Royal Library, S. F. No. 337. 



392 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



way for it The corrupting influence of the 
court would be succeeded by a sanctifying ex- 
ample, and France would acquire a moral 
power which would constitute her the bene- 
factress of nations. 

But the Romish party on their side had caught 
the alarm. One of their party at Meaux, was 
a Jacobin monk, of the name of Roma. One 
day, when Lefevre, Farel, and their friends 
were in conversation with him, and certain 
other partisans of the Papacy, Lefevre incau- 
tiously gave utterance to his hopes : " Alrea- 
dy," said he, " the Gospel is winning the 
hearts of the nobles and the common people, 
and ere long we shall see it spreading through- 
out France, and casting down the inventions 
that men have set up." The aged doctor was 
warmed by his theme, his eyes sparkled, and 
his feeble voice seemed to put forth new pow- 
er, resembling the aged Simeon giving thanks 
to the Lord because his eyes had seen His 
salvation. Lefevre's friends partook of his 
emotion; the opposers were amazed and si- 
lent .... Suddenly Roma rose from his seat, 
exclaiming, " Then I and all the monks will 
preach a crusade — we will raise the people, 
and if the king suffers the preaching of your 
Gospel, we will expel him from his kingdom 
by his own subjects." Thus did a monk ven- 
ture to stand up against the knightly monarch. 
The Franciscans applauded his boldness. It 
was necessary to prevent the fulfilment of the 
acred doctor's predictions. Already the men- 
dicant friars found their daily gatherings fall 
off. The Franciscans in alarm distributed 
themselves in private families. "Those new 
teachers are heretics," said they, " they call 
in question the holiest practices, and deny the 
most sacred mysteries." Then, growing 
bolder, the more violent of the party, sallying 
forth from their cloister, presented themselves 
at the bishop's residence, and being ad- 
mitted, — "Make haste," said they, "to crush 
this heresy, or the pestilence which now afflicts 
Meaux will extend its ravages through the 
kingdom." 

Briconnet was roused, and for a moment 
disturbed by this invasion of his privacy; but 
he did not give way. Despising the interest- 
ed clamour of a set of ignorant monks, he 
ascended the pulpit and preached in vindica- 
tion of Lefevre, designating the monks as 
Pharisees and hypocrites. Still this opposi- 
tion from without had already awakened 
anxiety and conflict in his soul. He tried to 
quiet his fears by persuading himself that it 
was necessary to pass through such spiritual 
struggles. " By such conflict," said he, in 
expressions that sound mystical to our ears, 
"we are brought to a death that ushers into 
life, and, while ever mortifying life, — living 
we die, and dying live."* The way had been 
more sure, if, turning to the Saviour, as the 
apostles, when "driven by the winds and 
tossed," he had cried out, — "Lord! save us, 
or we perish." 

The monks of Meaux, enraged at this re- 



MS. in the Royal Library, S. F. No. 337. 



pulse, resolved to carry their complaint before 
a higher tribunal. An appeal lay open to 
them; and if the bishop should be contuma- 
cious, he may be reduced to compliance. 
Their leaders set forth for Paris, and concerted 
measures with Beda and Duchesne. They 
presented themselves before the Parliament, 
and lodged information against the bishop and 
the heretical teachers. "The town," said 
they, "and all the neighbouring country, is 
infected with heresy, and the muddy waters 
go forth from the bishop's palace." 

Thus France began to hear the cry of per- 
secution raised against the Gospel. The 
priestly and the civil power, — the Sorbonne 
and the Parliament laid their hands upon the 
sword, and that sword was destined to be 
stained with blood. Christianity had taught 
men that there are duties anterior to all civil 
relationships ; it had emancipated the religious 
mind, laid the foundations of liberty of con- 
science, and wrought an important chano-e in 
society ; — for Antiquity, everywhere recognis- 
ing the citizen and nowhere the man, had 
made of religion a matter of mere state regu- 
lation. But scarcely had these ideas of liberty 
been given to the world when the Papacy 
corrupted them. In place of the despotism 
of the prince, it substituted that of the priest. 
Often, indeed, had both prince and priest been 
by it stirred up against the Christian people. 
A new emancipation was needed : the six- 
teenth century produced it. Wherever the 
Reformation established itself, the yoke of 
Rome was thrown off, and liberty of con- 
science restored. Yet is there such a prone- 
ness in man to exalt himself above the truth, 
that even among many Protestant nations of 
our own time, the Church, freed from the 
arbitrary power of the priest, is near falling 
again into subserviency to the civil authority! 
thus, like its divine Founder, bandied from 
one despotism to another ; still passing from 
Caiaphas to Pilate, and from Pilate to Caia- 
phas ! 

Briconnet, who enjoyed a high reputation 
at Paris, easily cleared himself. But in vain 
did he seek to defend his friends; the monks 
were resolved not to return to Meaux empty- 
handed. If the bishop would escape, he must 
sacrifice his brethren. Of a character natu- 
rally timid, and but little prepared for " Christ's 
sake" to give up his possessions and stand- 
ing, — alarmed, agitated, and desponding, he 
was still further misled by treacherous ad- 
visers: "If the evangelical divines should 
leave Meaux," said some, "they will carry 
the Reformation elsewhere." His heart was 
torn by a painful struggle. At length the 
wisdom of this world prevailed : on the 12th 
of April, 1523, he published an ordonnance 
by which he deprived those pious teachers of 
their license to preach. This was the first 
step in Briconnet's downward career. 

Lefevre was the chief object of enmity. 
His commentary on the four Gospels, and es- 
pecially the epistle " to Christian readers," 
which he had prefixed to it, inflamed the 
wrath of Beda and nis fellows. They de- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



393 



nounced the work to the faculty — " Has he 
not ventured," said the fiery syndic, "to re- 
commend to all the faithful the reading of the 
Holy Scriptures'? Does he not affirm that 
whosoever loyes not the word of Christ is no 
Christian; and again, that the word of God 
is sufficient of itself to lead us to eternal 
lifeT' 

But Francis I. saw nothing more in this 
accusation than a theological squabble. He 
appointed a commission, before which Lefevre 
successfully defended himself, and was ho- 
nourably acquitted. 

Farel, who had fewer protectors at court, 
found himself obliged to quit Meaux. It 
appears that he at firstrepaired to Paris, and 
that having there unsparingly assailed the 
errors of Rome, he again found himself obliged 
to remove, and left that city, retiring to Dau- 
phiny, whither he was desirous of carrying 
the Gospel. 

To have intimidated Lefevre, and caused 
Briconnet to draw back, and Farel to seek 
refuge in flight, was a victory gained, so that 
the Sorbonne already believed they had mas- 
tered the movement. Monks and doctors ex- 
changed congratulations; but enough was not 
done in their opinion, — blood had not flowed. 
They went, therefore, again to their work, and 
blood, since they wore bent on shedding it, 
was now to slake the thirst of Roman fana- 
ticism. 

The evangelical Christians of Meaux, see- 
ing their pastors dispersed, sought to edify 
one another. A wool-carder, John Leclerc, 
who had imbibed the true Christian doctrine 
from the instructions of the divines, the read- 
ing of the Bible, and some tracts, distin- 
guished himself by his zeal and his expound- 
ing of the Scripture. He was one of those 
men whom the Spirit of God inspires with 
courage, and places in the foremost rank of a 
religious movement. The Church of Meaux 
soon came to regard him as its minister. 

The idea of one universal priesthood, known 
in such living power to the first Christians 
had been revived by Luther* in the sixteenth 
century. But this idea seems then to have 
dwelt only in theory in the Lutheran Church, 
and was really acted out only among the con- 
gregations of the Reformed Churches. The 
Lutheran congregations (agreeing in this point 
with the Anglican Church) took, it seems, a 
middle course between the Romish and the 
Reformed Churches. Among the Lutherans, 
every thing proceeded from the pastor or 
priest ; and nothing was counted valid in the 
Church but what was regularly conveyed 
through its rulers.. But the Reformed 
Churches, while they maintained the divine 
appointment of the ministry, — by some sects 
denied, — approached nearer to the primitive 
condition of the apostolical communities. 
From thi« time forward, they recognised and 
proclaimed that the flock are not to rest satis- 
fied with receiving what the priest gives out; 
that, since the Bible is in the hands of every 



See pp. 154, 155. 



one, the members of the Church, as well as 
those who take the lead, possess the key of 
that treasury whence the latter derive their 
instructions ; that the gifts of God, the spirit 
of faith, of wisdom, of consolation, and of 
knowledge are not imparted to the minister 
alone; but that each is called upon to employ 
for the good of all whatever gift he has re- 
ceived : and that it may often happen that 
some gift needful for the edification of the 
Church may be denied to the pastor, and 
granted to some member of his flock. Thus 
the mere passive state of the Churches was 
changed into one of general activity ; and it 
was in France especially that this transforma- 
tion took place. In other countries, the Re- 
formers are found almost exclusively among 
the ministers and doctors ; but in France, the 
men who had read or studied had for fellow- 
labourers men of the lowest class. Among 
God's chosen servants in that country we 
have a doctor of the Sorbonne and a wool- 
comber. 

Leclerc began to visit from house to house, 
•strengthening and confirming the disciples in 
their faith. But not resting satisfied with 
these ordinary labours, he longed to see the 
papal edifice overthrown, and France coming 
forward to embrace the Gospel. His ungo- 
vernable zeal was such as to remind an ob- 
server of Hottinger at Zurich, and Carlstadt 
at Wittemberg. He wrote a proclamation 
against the Antichrist of Rome, in which he 
announced that the Lord was about to con- 
sume that wicked one with the spirit of his 
mouth, and proceeded boldly to post his pla- 
card at the very door of the cathedral. Soon 
all was confusion in the neighbourhood of the 
ancient edifice. The faithful were amazed, 
the priests enraged. What! shall a base 
wool-comber be allowed to assail the Pope? 
The Franciscans were furious. They insisted 
that at least on this occasion a terrible ex- 
ample should be made, — Leclerc was thrown 
into prison. 

His trial took place in the presence of 
Briconnet himself, who w T as now to witness 
and endure all that was done. The wool- 
comber w T as condemned to be publicly whip- 
ped through the city, three successive days, 
and on the third day to be branded on the 
forehead. The mournful spectacle began. 
Leclerc was led through the streets, his 
hands bound, his back bare, and receiving 
from the executioners the blows he had drawn 
upon himself by his opposition to the bishop 
of Rome. A great crowd followed the mar- 
tyr's progress, which was marked by his 
blood : some pursued the heretic with yells : 
others, b)' their silence, gave no doubtful 
signs of S3nnpathy with him ; and one woman 
encouraged the martyr by her looks and 
words— she w r as his mother. 

At length, on the third day, when the 
bloody procession was over, Leclerc was 
made to stop at the usual place of execution. 
The executioner prepared the fire, heated the 
iron which was to sear the flesh of the minis- 
ter of the Gospel, and approach? ng him 



394 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



branded him as a heretic on his forehead. 
Just then a shriek was uttered — but it came 
not from the martyr. His mother, a witness 
of the dreadful sight, wrung with anguish, 
endured a violent struggle between the en- 
thusiasm of faith and maternal feelings; but 
her faith overcame, and she exclaimed in a 
voice that made the adversaries tremble, 
*- Glory be to Jesus Christ and his witnesses." 
Thus did this Frenchwoman of the sixteenth 
century have respect to that word of the Son 
of God, — "Whosoever loveth his son more 
than me is not worthy of me." So daring a 
courage at such d moment might have seemed 
to demand instant punishment; but that 
Christian mother had struck powerless the 
hearts of the priests and soldiers. Their 
fury was restrained by a mightier arm than 
theirs. The crowd falling back and making 
way for her, allowed the mother to regain, 
with faltering step, her humble dwelling. 
Monks, and even the town-serjeants them- 
selves, gazed on her without moving; "not 
one of her enemies," says Theodore Beza, 
"dared put forth his hand against her/' 
After this punishment, Leclerc, being set at" 
liberty, withdrew, first to Rosay en Brie, a 
town six leagues from Meaux, and subse- 
quently to Metz, where we shall again meet 
with him. 

The enemy was triumphant. "The Cor- 
deliers having regained possession of the 
pulpit, propagated their accustomed false- 
hoods and absurdities." But the poor work- 
ing-people of Meaux, no longer permitted to 
hear the word of God in regular assemblies, 
began to hold their meetings in private, " imi- 
tating," says the chronicler, " the sons of 
the prophets in the da) T s of Ahab, and the 
Christians of the early church ; assembling, 
as opportunity offered, at one time in a house, 
at another in a cavern, and at times in a 
vineyard or a wood. On such occasions, he 
among them who was most conversant with 
the Holy Scriptures exhorted the rest; and 
this being done, they all prayed together with 
much fervency, cheered by the hope that the 
Gospel would be received in France, and the 
tyranny of Antichrist be at an end." Where 
is the power can arrest the progress of truth 1 

One victim, however, did not satisfy the 
persecutors ; and if the first against whom 
their anger was let loose was but a w T ocl- 
comber, the second was a gentleman of the 
court. It was become necessary to overawe 
the nobles as well as the people. The Sor- 
bonne of Paris was unwilling to be outstrip- 
ped by the Franciscans of Meaux. Berquin, 
" the most learned among the nobles," con- 
tinuing to gather more confidence from the 
Scriptures, had composed certain epigrams i 
against the " drones of the Sorbonne ;" and j 
had afterwards gone so far as to charge them 
with impiety. 

Beda and Duchesne, who had not ventured 
any reply in their usual style to the witticisms 
of a gentleman of the court, adopted a dif- 
ferent line of conduct when they discerned 
that serious convictions were at the bottom 



of these attacks. Berquin had become a 
Christian ; his ruin was therefore decided on. 
Beda and Duchesne having seized some of 
his translations, found in them sufficient to 
bring more than one heretic to the stake : 
" He asserts," they exclaimed, " that it is 
wrong to invoke the Virgin Mary in place of 
the Holy Spirit, and to call her the source 
of all grace! He declares himself against the 
custom of speaking of her as our hope and our 
life, and says that these titles belong only to 
the Son of God." There w T ere other charges 
against Berquin ; — his closet was as it were 
a library, whence the supposed tainted works 
were diffused through the kingdom. Above 
all, Melancthon's Loci Communes served to 
stagger the more learned. The man of piety, 
entrenched amid his folios and tracts, had, in 
his Christian love, made himself translator, 

corrector, printer, and bookseller It 

seemed indispensable to stop the stream at its 
source. 

Accordingly, one day, while Berquin was 
quietly engaged in his studies, the house was 
of a sudden surrounded by armed men, de- 
manding admittance. The Sorbonne and its 
agents, armed with authority from the Pai- 
liament, were at his door. Beda, the dreaded 
syndic, was at their head, and never did 
inquisitor more perfectly perform his func- 
tion. Followed by his satellites, he made 
his way to Berquin's study, communicated 
the object of his mission, and desiring his 
followers to keep an eye upon him, com- 
menced his search. Not a volume escaped 
his notice, and an exact inventory was made 
under his direction. Here lay a treatise by 
Melancthon ; there a pamphlet by Carlstadt: 
farther on a work of Luther's ; — here ' hereti- 
cal' books which Berquin had translated 
from Latin into French ; there — others of his 
own composition. With two exceptions, all 
the books seized abounded with Lutheran 
doctrine, and Beda quitted the house, carrying 
away his booty, and more elated than a ge- 
neral laden w-ith the spoil of conquered 
nations. 

Berquin perceived that a violent storm had 
burst upon his head, but his courage did not 
falter : — he had too much contempt for his 
adversaries to fear them. Meanwhile, Beda 
lost no time. On the 31st of May, 1523, the 
Parliament decreed that all the books seized 
at Berquin's house should be laid before the 
faculty of theology. Its decision was soon 
made known, and on the 25th of June, it con- 
demned all the works, except the two already 
mentioned, to be burnt as heretical; and 
enjoined that Berquin should be required to 
abjure his errors. The Parliament ratified 
the decision. Berquin appeared at the bar 
of this formidable body: he knew that the 
next step beyond it might be to the scaffold ; 
but, like Luther at Worms, he stood firm. It 
was in vain that the Parliament insisted on 
his retracting; he was not of those who fall 
away after being made partakers of the Holy 
Ghost. He that is begotten <f God keepeth 
himself and that wicked one touched him not* 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



m 



Hebrews vi. 4. 1 John v. 18. Every such 
fall proves that conversion has either been 
only apparent, or else partial ;* now Ber- 
quin's was a real conversion. He answered 
the court before which he stood with decision ; 
and the Parliament, using- more severity than 
the Diet of Worms, directed its officers to 
take the accused into custody, and lead him 
away to prison. This took place on the 1st 
of August, 1523. On the 5th, the Parlia- 
ment handed over the heretic to the Bishop 
of Paris, in order that that prelate might take 
cognisance of the affair, and, jointly with the 
doctors and counsellors, pass sentence on the 
culprit. Berquin was forthwith transferred 
to the official prison. 

Beda, Duchesne, and their companions 
had their victim in their clutches; but the 
court bore no favour to the Sorbonne, and 
Francis was more powerful than Beda. A 
feeling of indignation spread among the 
nobles : what do those monks and priests 
mean, not to respect the rank of a gentleman 1 
What charge do they bring against him 1 — 
was the question asked in the presence of 
Francis. Is it that he blames the practice of 
invoking the Virgin instead of the Holy Spi- 
rit] But Erasmus and many more have 
censured it. Is it on such frivolous charges 
they go the length of imprisoning an officer 
of the king ] This attack of theirs is a blow 
struck against knowledge and true religion ; 
an insult to nobles, knights, and royalty 
itself. The king decided on again making 
the Sorbonne feel the weight of his authority. 
He issued letters summoning the parties in 
the cause before his council, and on the 8th 
of August a messenger presented himself at 
the official prison, bearing a royal mandate 
enjoining that Berquin should be at liberty. 

It seemed at first doubtful whether the 
monks would yield compliance. Francis had 
anticipated some difficulty, and, in charging 
the messenger wiih the execution of his or- 
ders, had added, "If you meet with any 
resistance, I authorize you to break open the 
doors." There was no misunderstanding 
these words. The monks and the Sorbonne 
submitted to the affront put upon them ; and 
Berquin, released from durance, appeared be- 
fore the king's council, and was there ac- 
quitted. 

Thus did Francis I. humble the ecclesias- 
tical power. Under his reign Berquin fondly 
hoped that France might free herself from 
the Papal yoke ; and he began to meditate a 
renewal of hostilities. With this intent, he 
opened communications with Erasmus, who 
at once acknowledged his right intentions. 
But the philosopher, ever timid and tempo- 
rizing, replied, — "Remember to avoid irri- 
tating the drones; and pursue your studies 
in peace. Above all, do not implicate me in 
your affairs, for that will be of. no service to 
either of us." 

* This is believed to be a faithful rendering of 
the original. The interpretation and the applica- 
tion may be open to question. — (TV.) 



Berquin was not discouraged. If the great 
genius of the age draws back, he will put his 
I trust in God, who never deserts His work. 
J God's work will be effected, either by hum 
J ble instrumentality, or without it. Erasmus 
himself acknowledged that Berquin, like the 
palm tree, rose in renewed vigour from every 
new gust of persecution that assailed him. 

Not such were all who had embraced the 
Evangelical doctrines. Martial Mazurier had 
been one of the most zealous of preachers. 
He was accused of having advocated very 
erroneous opinions; and even of having com- 
mitted, while at Meaux, certain acts of vio- 
lence. "This Martial Mazurier, being ax 
Meaux," — such are the words of a manu- 
script preserved in that city, and which we 
have already had occasion to quote, — " enter- 
ing the church of the reverend Fathers, the 
Cordeliers, and seeing the statue of St. Fran- 
cis, in high relief, outside the door of the con- 
vent, where that of St. Roche is now placed, 
struck it down and broke it." Mazurier was 
arrested and thrown into prison, where he at 
once fell back upon his own reflections and 
the keenest perplexity. It was the Gospel 
rule of morals, rather than its great doctrines, 
that had won him over to the ranks of the 
Reformers ^ and that rule, taken alone, 
brought with it no strength. Terrified at the 
prospect of the stake awaiting him, and be- 
lieving that, in France, the victory would be 
sure to remain with Rome, he easily per- 
suaded himself that he should have more 
influence and honour by going back to the 
Papacy. Accordingly, he recanted his former 
teaching, and directed that doctrines altoge- 
ther opposed to those ascribed to him should 
be preached in his parish; and uniting, at a 
later period, with the most fanatical of the 
Romish party, and particularly with the cele- 
brated Ignatius Loyola, he became thence- 
forward the most zealous supporter of the 
Papal cause. From the days of the Emperor 
Julian, apostates have ever been among the 
sternest enemies of the doctrines which they 
once professed. 

An occasion soon offered for Mazurier to 
make proof of his zeal. The youthful James 
Pavanne had also been thrown into prison. 
Martial hoped to cover his own shame by in- 
volving another in the like fall. The youth, 
the amiable disposition, the learning, and the 
integrity of Pavanne, created a general inte- 
rest in his favour; and Mazurier imagined 
that he himself should be deemed less culpa- 
ble if he could but persuade Master James to 
a similar course. Visiting him in his cell, he 
began by pretending that he had advanced 
further in inquiry into the truth than Pavanne 
had done. " You are under a mistake, James," 
he often repeated to him: "You have not 
gone deep into these matters ; you have made 
acquaintance only with the agitated surface 
of them." Sophisms, promises, threats, were 
freely resorted to. The unfortunate youth, 
deceived, disturbed, and perplexed, yielded 
to these perfidious advances; and on the mor- 
row of Christmas day, 1524, lie publicly ab 



396 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



jured his pretended errors. But from that 
hour a spirit of melancholy and remorse, sent 
by the Almighty, weighed heavy on his soul. 
Deep sadness consumed him, and his sighs 
were unceasing. "Ah!" he repeated, "for 
me life has nothing left but bitterness." 
Such are the mournful consequences of apos- 
tasy. 

Nevertheless, among those Frenchmen who 
had received the word of God were found men 
of more intrepid hearts than Pavanne and 
Mazurier. Towards the end of 1523, Leclerc 
settled at Metz, in Lorraine, "and there," 
says Theodore JBeza, "he acted on the ex- 
ample of St. Paul, who, while labouring at 
Corinth as a tent-maker, persuaded both the 
Jews and the Greeks." Leclerc, while pur- 
suing his industry as a wool-comber, instruct- 
ed those of his own condition; and among 
these last there had been several instances of 
real conversion. Thus did this humble arti- 
san lay the foundations of a church which 
afterwards became celebrated. 

But at Metz, Leclerc did not stand alone. 
&mong the ecclesiastics of that city was one 
John Chatelain, an Augustine monk of Tour- 
nay, and doctor of theology, who had been 
brought to the knowledge of God through his 
acquaintance with the Augustines of Antwerp. 
Chatelain had gained the reverence of the 
people by the strictness of his morals; and 
the doctrine of Christ, when preached by 
him, attired in cope and stole, appeared less 
strange to the inhabitants of Metz than when 
it proceeded from the lips of a poor artisan, 
laying aside the comb with which he carded 
his wool, to take up and explain a French 
version of the Gospels. 

By the active zeal of these two men, the 
light of evangelical truth began to be diffused 
throughout the city. A very devout woman 
named Toussaint, one of the middle class of 
the people, had a son called Peter, with 
whom, in the hours of his childish sports, 
she would often speak of serious things. 
Every one, even to the humblest, lived then 
in expectation of some extraordinary event. 
One day the child was amusing himself in 
riding on a stick, in a room where his mother 
was conversing with some friends on the 
things of God, when she said, in a voice of 
emotion, "Antichrist will soon come with 
great power, and will destroy such as shall 
have been converted by the preaching of 
Elias." These words being frequently re- 
peated, arrested the attention of the child, 
and he afterwards recalled them. At the 
lime when the doctor of theology and the 
wool-comber were engaged in preaching the 
Gospel at Metz, Peter Toussaint was grown 
up. His relations and friends, wondering at 
his precocious genius, conceived the hope of 
seeing him in an exalted station in the 
Church. An uncle on his father's side was 
primicier, or head of the chapter of Metz. 
The cardinal John of Lorraine, son of Duke 
Rene, who kept a large establishment, ex- 
rn-essed much regard for the primicier and his 



nephew, the latter of whom, notwithstanding 
his youth, had just before obtained a prebend, 
when his attention was drawn to the study of 
the Gospel. Why may not the preaching of 
Chatalain and Leclerc be that of Elias? It is 
true, Antichrist is everywhere arming against 
it. But what matter? "Let us," said he, 
" lift up our heads, looking to the Lord, who 
will come and will not tarry." The light of 
truth was beginning to find entrance among 
the principal families of Metz. The knight 
Esch, an intimate friend of the primicier, or 
dean, and much respected, had been recently 
converted. The friends of the Gospel were 
rejoicing in this event: — Pierre was accus- 
tomed to term him " our worthy master the 
knight;" adding with noble candour, "if we 
may be allowed to call any man master on 
earth." 

Thus Metz was about to become a focus 
of light when the rash zeal of Leclerc ab- 
ruptly arrested its slow but sure progress, and 
excited a commotion which threatened ruin 
to the infant church. The populace of Metz 
had continued to observe their accustomed su- 
perstitions, and Leclerc's spirit was stirred 
within him at the sight of the city almost 
wholly given to idolatry. One of their high 
festivals drew nigh. About a league distant 
from the city stood a chapel enclosing statues 
of the Virgin and of the most venerated saints 
of the surrounding country, whither the peo- 
ple of Metz were in the habit of resorting in 
pilgrimage on a certain day in the year, to 
worship these images and obtain the pardon 
of their sims. 

On the eve of this festival the pious and 
the courageous spirit of Leclerc was deeply 
agitated. Had not God said — " Thou shalt 
not bow down to their gods, but thou shalt utter- 
ly overthrow them, and quite break down their 
images" 1 Exodus xx. 4 ; xxiii. 24. Leclerc 
understood the words as addressed to himself, 
and without conferring with Chatelain, Esch, 
or any of those whom he may have expected 
would dissuade him, quitted the city, and ap- 
proached the chapel. There he collected his ■ 
thoughts as he sat silently before these sta- 
tues. As yet the way was open to him to re- 
tire ; but to-morrow — in a few hours — the en- 
tire population of a city, which ought to be 
worshipping God alone, will be bowing be- 
fore these blocks of wood and stone. A strug- 
gle ensued in the heart of the humble wool- 
carder, similar to that which was so often en- 
dured in the hearts of the early Christians. 
What signified the difference, that here it 
was the images of the saints of the neigh- 
bouring country, and not of heathen gods 
and goddesses — did not the worship rendered 
to these images belong of right to God alone 1 
Like Polyeucte before the idols of the temple, 
his heart shuddered and his courage was 
roused : 

Ne perdons plus le temps, le sacrifice est pret, 
Aliens y du vrai Dieu soutenir I'interet ; 
Allons fouler aux pieds ce foudre ridicule 
Dom arme un bois pourri ce peuple trop credule 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



397 



Allons en eclairer 1'aveuglement fatal, 
Allons briser ces dieux de pierre et de metal ; 
Abandonnons nos jours, a cette ardeur celeste — 
Faisons triompher Dieu; qu'il dispose du reste. 
Corneille, Polyeucte* 

Leclerc accordingly rose from his seat, and 
approaching the images, removed them, and 
broke them, in his holy indignation scattering 
the fragments before the altar. He did not 
doubt that this action was by special inspira- 
tion of the spirit of the Lord, and Theodore 
Beza was of the same judgment. This done 
Leclerc returned to Metz, re-entering it at 
day-break, and noticed only a few persons at 
the moment of his passing the gate of the 
city. 

Meanwhile all were in motion in the ancient 
city of Metz. The bells rang, the various 
religious bodies mustered, and the entire popu- 
lation, headed by the priests and monks, left 
the city, reciting prayers and chanting hymns 
to the saints whom they were on their way to 
worship. Crosses and banners went forward 
in orderly procession, and drums and instru- 
ments of music mingled with the hymns of 
the faithful. After an hour's march, the pro- 
cession reached the place of pilgrimage. But 
what was the astonishment of the priests, 
when advancing with censers in hand, they 
beheld the images they had come to worship 
mutilated, and their fragments strewed upon 
the earth. They drew back appalled, — and 
announced to the crowd of worshippers the 
sacrilege that had been committed. Instantly 
the hymns were hushed — the music stopped 
— the banners were lowered, and agitation 
pervaded the assembled multitude. Canons, 
curates, and monks, laboured still further to 
inflame their anger and excited them to search 
out the guilty person, and require that he 
should be put to death. A shout was raised 
on all sides. "Death — Death to the sacri- 
legious wretch." They returned in haste and 
disorder to the city. 

Leclerc was known to all; several times 
he had been heard to call the images idols ,- 
moreover he had been observed at day-break 
returning from the direction of the chapel. 
He was apprehended, and at once confessed 
the fact, at the same time conjuring the peo- 
ple to worship God alone. But his appeal 
only the more inflamed the rage of the multi- 
tude, who would have dragged him to instant 
execution. Placed before his judges, he 
courageously declared that Jesus Christ — God 
manifest in the flesh — ought to be the sole 
object of their worship ; and was sentenced 
to be burnt alive ! He was conducted to the 
place of execution. 

Here an awful scene awaited him : his 
persecutors had been devising all that could 
render his sufferings more dreadful. At the 
scaffold they were engaged heating pincers, 
as instruments of their cruelty. Leclerc 
heard with calm composure the savage yells 



* Polyeucte, by P. Corneille. What many ad- 
mire in poetry, they pass condemnation on in his- 
tory. 



of monks and people. They began hy cui- 
tino - off his right hand ; then taking up the 
red-hot pincers, they tore away his nose ; af 
ter this, with the same instrument they lace- 
rated his arms, and having thus mangled him 
in many places, they ended by applying the 
burnings to his breasts. All the while that 
the cruelty of his enemies was. venting itself 
on his body, his soul was kept in perfect 
peace. He ejaculated solemnly, — "Their 
idols are silver and gold, the work of merCs 
hands. They have mouths, but they speak not .- 
eyes have they, but they see not .• they have ears, 
but they htar not: noses have they, but they 
smell not .• they have hands, but they handle not : 
feet have they, but they walk not ; neither speak 
they through their throat. They that make them 
are like unto them .• so is every one that trusteth 
in them. Israel, trust thou in the Lord : he 
is their help and their shield." The enemies 
were awed by the sight of so much compo- 
sure, — believers were confirmedin their faith, 
and the people, whose indignation had vented 
itself in the first burst of anger, were astonished 
and affected. After undergoing these tortures, 
Leclerc was burned by a slow fire in conform- 
ity to the sentence. Such was the death of 
the first martyr of the Gospel in France. 

But the priests of Metz did not rest there : 
in vain had they laboured to shake the 
fidelity of Chatelain — " He is like the deaf 
adder," said they, "he refuses to hear the 
truth." He was arrested by the servants of 
the Cardinal of Lorraine, and transferred to 
the castle of Nommeny. 

After this he was degraded by the officers 
of the bishop, who stripped him of his vest- 
ments, and scraped the tips of his fingers with 
a piece of broken glass, saying, " Thus do we 
take away the power to sacrifice, consecrate, 
and bless, which thou didst formerly receive 
by the anointing of thyhands." Then throwing 
over him the habit of a layman, they handed 
him over to the secular power, which doomed 
him to be burnt alive. The fire was quickly 
lighted, and the servant of Christ consumed 
in the flames. " Nevertheless," observe the 
historians of the Gallician Church, who, in 
other respects, are leud in commendation of 
these acts of rigour, "Lutheranism spread 
through all the district of Metz." 

From the moment this storm had descended 
on the church of Metz, distress and alarm had 
prevailed in the household of Toussaint. His 
uncle, the dean, without taking an active part 
in the measures resorted to against Leclerc 
and Chatelain, shuddered at the thought that 
his nephew was one among those people. His 
mother's fears were still more aroused : not a 
moment was to be lost: all who had given eai 
to th« evangelic doctrine felt their liberty and 
lives to be in danger. The blood shed by the 
inquisitors had but increased their thirst for 
more. New scaffolds would ere long be erect- 
ed : Pierre Toussaint, the knight Esch, and 
others besides, hastily quitted Metz, and 
sought refuge at Basle. 

Thus violently did the storm of persecution 
rage at Meaux and at Metz. Repulsed from 



398 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the northern provinces, the Gospel for a while 
seemed to give way ; but the Reformation did 
out change its ground, and the south-eastern 
provinces became the basis and theatre of the 
movement. 

Farel, who had retired to the foot of the 
Alps, was labouring actively in his work. It 
was a small thing to him to enjoy in the bo- 
som of his family the sweets of domestic life. 
The report of the events that had taken place 
at Meaux and at Paris had communicated a 
degree of terror to his brothers ; but a secret 
influence attracted them toward those new and 
wondrous truths which their brother William 
was in the habit of dwelling upon. The latter, 
with all the earnestness of his character, be- 
sought them to be converted to the Gospel; 
and Daniel, Walter, and Claude were at length 
won over to that God whom their brother de- 
clared to them. They did not at first relin- 
quish the worship of their forefathers, but 
when persecution arose, they boldly suffered 
the loss of friends, property, and country, for 
the liberty to worship Christ. 

The brothers of Luther and Zwingle do not 
appear to have been so decidedly converted to 
the Gospel. The Reformation in France had 
from its outset a peculiarly domestic charac- 
ter. 

Farel's exhortations were not confined to 
his brothers. He made known the truth to 
his relatives and friends at Gap and its vicini- 
ty. It would even appear, if we give credit 
to one manuscript, that, availing himself of 
the friendship of certain ecclesiastics, he be- 
gan to preach the Gospel in some of the 
churches; but other authorities affirm that he 
did not at this time occupy the pulpit. How- 
ever that may be, the opinions he professed 
were noised abroad, and both priests and peo- 
ple insisted that he should be silenced: 
" What new and strange heresy is this ?" said 
they ; " how can we think that all the prac- 
tices of devotion are useless 1 The man is 
neither monk nor priest : he has no business 
to preach." 

It was not long before the whole of the 
authorities, civil and ecclesiastical, were com- 
bined against Fare!. It was sufficiently evi- 
dent that he was acting with that sect which 
was everywhere spoken against. " Let us 
cast out from amongst us," cried they, "this 
firebrand of discord." Farel was summoned 
before the judges, roughly handled, and forci- 
bly expelled the city." 

Yet he did not. forsake his country, — the 
open plains and villages, — the banks of the 
Durance, — of the Guisanne, — of the Isere, — 
vras there not many a soul in those localities 
that stood in need of the Gospel 1 and if he 
should run any risk, were not those forests, 
caverns, and steep rocks, which had been the 
familiar haunts of his childhood, at hand to 
afford him their shelter 1 ? He began therefore 
to traverse the country, preaching in private 
dwellings and secluded meadows, and retiring 
for shelter to the woods and overhanging tor- 
rents. It was a training by which God was 
preparing him for other trials: " Crosses, per- 



secutions, and the lying-in-wait of Satan, of 
which I had intimation, were not wanting," 
said he; " they were even much more than I 
could have borne in my own strength, but God 
is my father: He has ministered, and will 
for ever minister tomeall needful strength." 
Very many of the inhabitants of these coun- 
tries received the truth from his lips ; and 
thus the same persecution that drove Farel 
from Paris and Meaux was the means of dif- 
fusing the Reformation in the countries of the 
Saone, the Rhone, and the Alps. In all ages, 
it has been found that they who have been 
scattered abroad, have gone everywhere preach- 
ing the word of God." (Acts viii.) 

Among the Frenchmen who were at this 
time gained over to the Gospel, was a Dauphin- 
ese gentleman, the Knight Anemond de Coct, 
the younger son of the auditor of Coct, the 
lord of Chatelard. Active, ardent, truly pious, 
and opposed to the generally received venera- 
tion of relics, processions and clergy, Ane- 
mond readily received the evangelic doctrine, 
and was soon entirely devoted to it. He could 
not patiently endure the formality that reign- 
ed around him, and it was his wish to see all 
the ceremonies of the Church abolished. The 
religion of the heart, the inward worship of 
the Spirit, was everything in his estimation: 
" Never," said he, " has my mind found any 
rest in externals. The sum of Christianity 
is in that text, — 'John truly baptized with 
water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy 
Ghost.' We must become 'new creatures.'" 

Coct, endued with the vivacity of his nation, 
spoke and wrote one day in French, the next 
in Latin. He read and quoted Donatus, 
Thomas Aquinas, Juvenal, and the Bible ! 
His style was brief, and marked by abrupt 
transitions. Ever restless, he would present 
himself wherever a door seemed to be open to 
the Gospel, or a famous teacher was to be 
heard. His cordiality won the affection of 
all his acquaintances. " He is a man of dis- 
tinction, both for his birth and his learning," 
observed Zwingle, at a later period, " but yet 
more distinguished for his piety and obliging 
disposition." Anemond is a sort of type of 
many Frenchmen of the Reformed opinions : 
vivacity, simplicity, a zeal which passes 
readily into imprudence, — such are the quali- 
ties often recurring among those of his coun- 
trymen who have embraced the Gospel. But 
at the very opposite extreme of the French 
character, we behold the grave aspect of Cal- 
vin, serving as a weighty counterpoise to the 
light step of Coct. Calvin and Anemond are 
as the two poles between whom the religious 
world of France revolves. 

No sooner had Anemond received from 
Farel the knowledge of Jesus Christ than he 
set about winning souls to that doctrine of 
"spirit and life." His father was no more. 
His elder brother, — of a stern and haughty 
temper, — disdainfully repulsed his advances. 
Laurent, — the youngest of the family, and af- 
fectionately attached to him, — seemed but 
half to enter into the understanding of his 
words, and Anemond, disappointed in his 







A CHRISTIAN S MAKTYBDOM. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



m 



own family, turned his activity in another di- ; 
rection. 

Hitherto it was among the laity only that' 
this awakening in Dauphiny had been known. 
Fare!, Anemond, and their friends, wished 
much to see a priest taking the lead in the 
movement, which promised to make itself 
felt throughout the Alps. There dwelt at 
Grenoble a curate, — a minorite, by name 
Pierre de Sebville, famed for the eloquence of 
his preaching, right-minded and simple, — 
"conferring not with flesh and blood," — and 
whom God, by gradual process, was drawing 
to the knowledge of Himself. It was not 
long before Sebville was brought to the ac- 
knowledgment that there is no unerring 
Teacher save the word of the Lord; and, re- 
linquishing such teaching as rests only on the 
witness of men, he determined in his heart to 
preach a Gospel, at once "clear, pure, and 
holy." These three words exhibit the com- 
plete character of the Reformation. Coct and 
Farel rejoiced to hear this new preacher of 
Grace * raising his powerful voice in their 
country; and they concluded that their own 
presence would thenceforth be less neces- 
sary. 

The 'more the awakening spread, the more 
violently did opposition arise. Anemond, 
longing to know more of Luther, Zwingle, 
and of the countries which had been the'birth- 
place of the Reformation, — and indignant at 
finding the Gospel rejected by his own coun- 
trymen, resolved to bid farewell to his coun- 
try and family. He made his will, — settling 
his property, then in the hands of his elder 
brother, the lord of Chatelard, on his brother 
Laurent.* This done, he quitted Dauphiny 
and France, and passing over, with impetu- 
ous haste, countries which were then not tra- 
versed without much difficulty, he went 
through Switzerland, and scarcely stopping 
at Basle, arrived at Wittemberg, where Lu- 
ther then was. It was shortly after the second 
diet at Nuremberg. The French gentleman 
accosted the Saxon Doctor with his accus- 
tomed vivacity, — spoke with enthusiastic 
warmth concerning the Gospel, — and dwelt 
largely on the plans he had formed for the 
propagation of the truth. The grave Saxon 
smiled as he listened to the southern imagi- 
na'ion of the speaker; and Luther, who had 
some prejudices against the national character 
of the French, — was won and carried away 
by Anemond. The thought that this gentle- 
man had made the journey from France to 
Wittemberg, for the Gospel's sake, affected 
him. "Certainly," remarked the Reformer 
to his friends, " that French knight is an ex- 
cellent man, and both learned and pious:" 
and Zwingle formed a similar opinion of him. 
Anemond having seen what had been ef- 
fected by the agency of Luther and Zwingle, 
imagined that if they would but. take in hand 
France and Savoy, nothing could stand against 



* "My brother Anemond Coct, when setting 
forth from this country, made me his heir." (MS, 
Letters in the Library at Neufchatel.) 
27 



them; and accordingly, failing to persuade 
them to remove thither, he earnestly desired 
of them that, at least, they would write. He 
particularly besought Luther to address a let- 
ter to Charles Duke of Savoy, brother of 
Louisa and of Philibert, and uncle to Francis 
the First and Margaret. "That prince," ob- 
served he to Luther, " is much drawn to piety 
and true religion, and he takes pleasure in 
conversing concerning the Reformation with 
certain persons at his court. He is just the 
one to enter into your views, — for his motto 
is, ' Nihil deest iimentibus Deum ,•'* and that 
is your own maxim. Assailed alternately by 
the Empire and by France, humbled, broken 
in spirit, and continually in danger, his heart 
knows its need of God and His grace : all he 
wants is to be impelled to action : once gain- 
ed over to the Gospel, his influence would be 
immense in Switzerland, Savoy, and France. 
Pray write to him." 

Luther was a thorough German, and would 
not have been at ease beyond the frontier of 
his own nation. Yet, in true catholicity of 
heart, his hand was immediately put ou' 
where he recognised brethren ; and wherever 
a word might be spoken with effect, he took 
care to make it heard. .Sometimes on the 
same day he would write letters to countries 
separated by the widest distances, — as the 
Netherlands, Savoy, Livonia. 

" Assuredly," he answered Anemond, " a 
love for the Gospel is a rare and inestimable 
jewel in a prince's crown." And he pro- 
ceeded to write to the Duke a letter which 
Anemond probably carried with him as far as 
Switzerland. 

" 1 beg your Highness's pardon," wrote 
Luther, " if I, a poor and unfriended monk, 
venture to address you; or rather I would 
ask of your Highness to ascribe this boldness 
of mine to the glory of the Gospel, — for I can- 
not see that glorious light arise and shine in 
any quarter, without exulting at the sight. . . . 
My hope is, that my Lord Jesus Christ may 
win over many souls by the power of your 
Serene Highness's example. Therefore it is 
I desire to instruct you in our teaching. We 
believe that the very beginning of salvation 
and the sum of Christianity consists in faith 
in Christ, who, by his blood alone, — and not 
by any works of ours, — has put away Sin, 
and destroyed the power of death. We be- 
lieve that this faith is God's gift, formed in 
our hearts by the Holy Spirit, and not at- 
tained by any effort of our own ; — for faith is 
a principle of life, begetting man spiritually, 
and making him a new creature." 

Luther passed thence, to the effects of faith, 
and showed that it was not possible to be 
possessed of that faith without the superstruc- 
ture of false doctrine and human merits, — 
built up so laboriously by the Church, — being 
at once swept away. " If Grace," said he, 
" is the purchase of Christ's blood, it follows 



* "They that fear God shall want no good 
thing." (Hist. Gen.de la'Maison de Savoie pai 
Guichenon, ii. p. 228.". 



400 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that it is not the purchase of works of ours, j 
Hence the whole train of works of all the 
cloisters in the world are, — *for this pur.pose, | 
— useless ; and such institutions should be | 
abolished, as opposed to the blood of Jesus 
Christ, and as leading men to trust in their 
own good works. Ingrafted in Christ, no- 
thing remains for us but to do good ; because 
being become good trees, we ought to give 
proof of it by bearing good fruits." 

*' Gracious Prince and Lord," said Luther, 
in conclusion : " May your Highness, having 
made so happy a beginning, help to spread 
this doctrine, — not by the sword, which would 
be a hinderance to the Gospel, — but by inviting 
to your states teachers who preach the Word. 
It is by the breath of His mouth that Jesus 
will destroy Antichrist; so that, as Daniel 
describes, he may be broken without hand. 
Therefore, most Serene Prince, let your High- 
ness cherish that spark that has been kindled 
in your heart. Let a flame go forth from the 
house of Savoy, as once from the house of 
Joseph. May all France be as stubble before 
that fire. May it burn, blaze, purify, — that 
so that renowned kingdom may truly take the 
title of '■Most Christian,'' — which it has hith- 
erto received only in reward of blood shed in 
the cause of Antichrist." 

Thus did Luther endeavour to diffuse the 
Gospel in France. We have no means of 
knowing the effect of this letter on the Prince ; 
but we do not find that he ever gave signs of 
a wish to detach himself from Rome. In 
1523, he requested Adrian VI. to be god- 
father to his first-born son ; and at a later 
period, we find the Pope promising him a 
cardinal's hat for his second son. Anemond, 
after making an effort to be admitted to see 
the court and Elector of Saxony, and,foTthis 
purpose, providing himself with a letter from 
Luther, returned to Basle, more than ever re- 
solved to risk his life in the cause of the Gos- 
pel. In the ardour of his purpose he would 
have roused the entire nation. " All that I 
am, or ever can be," said he, — " All I have or 
ever can have, it is my earnest desire to de- 
vote to the glory of God." 

At Basle, Anemond found his countryman 
Farel. The letters of Anemond had excited 
in him a great desire to be personally ac- 
quainted with the Swiss and German Re- 
formers. Moreover, Farel felt the need of a 
sphere in which his activity might be more 
freely put forth. He accordingly quitted 
France, which already offered only the scaf- 
fold to the preachers of a pure Gospel. 
Taking by-paths, and hiding in the woods, 
ne with difficulty escaped out of the hands 
•>f his enemies. Often had he mistaken 
the direction in which his route lay. "God," 
observes he, " designs, by my helpless- 
ness in these little matters, to teach me 
how helpless I am in greater things." At 
length he entered Switzerland, in the begin- 
ning of 1524. There he was destined to 
spend his life in the service of the Gospel: 
and then it was that France began to pour 
into Switzerland those noble heralds of the 



Gospel who were to seat the Reformation in 
Humane Switzerland, and communicate to it 
a new and powerful impulse throughout and 
far beyond the limits of the confederated 
cantons. 

The catholicity of the Reformation is a 
beautiful character in its history. The Ger- 
mans pass into Switzerland — the French into 
Germany — and, at a somewhat later period, 
we see the English and the Scotch passing to 
the Continent, and the Continental teachers 
to Great Britain. The Reformations of the 
several countries take their rise independently 
of each other ; but as soon as they look around 
them, their hands are held out to each other. 
To them there is one Faith, one Spirit, one 
Lord. It is an error to treat the history of 
the Reformation in connection with any sin- 
gle country : the work was one and the same 
in all lands ; and the Protestant Churches 
were from the very beginning, a "whole 
body fitly joined together." Eph. iv. 16. 

Certain persons who had fled from France 
and Lorraine, at this time, formed in the city 
of Basle a French Church, whose members 
had escaped from the scaffold. These per- 
sons had spread the report of Lefevre, Farel, 
and the events that had occurred at Meaux ; 
and when Farel entered Switzerland he was 
already known as one of the most fearless 
heralds of the truth. 

He was immediately introduced to GEco- 
lampadius, who, some time before this, had 
returned to Basle. Seldom does it happen 
that two characters more opposite are brought 
together. G^colampadius charmed by his gen- 
tleness ; Farel carried away his hearers by his 
earnestness ; but from the moment they met, 
these two men felt themselves one in heart. 
It resembled the first meeting of Luther and 
Melancthon. CEcolampadius bade him wel- 
come, gave him an apartment in his house, 
received him at his table, and introduced him 
to his friends ; and it was not long before the 
learning, piety, and courage of the young 
Frenchman won the hearts of his new friends. 
Pellican, Imelia, Wolf hard, and others of the 
preachers of Basle, were fortified in their faith 
by the energy of his exhortations. CEcolam- 
padius was just then suffering under depres- 
sion of spirits : — " Alas," he wrote to Zwin- 
gle, " it is in vain I preach ; I see no hope of 
any effect being produced. Perhaps among 
the Turks I might succeed better." " Oh," 
added he, sighing, " I ascribe the failure to 
myself alone." But the more he saw of Fa- 
re!, the more his heart felt encouragement; 
and the courage he derived from the French- 
man laid the ground of an undying affection. 
"Dear Farel," said he to him, "I trust the 
Lord will make ours a friendship for all eter 
nity ; and if we are parted below, our joy will 
only be the greater when we shall be gathered 
j in presence of Christ in the heavens] 5 ' Pious 
; and affecting thoughts. The coming of Farel 
j was evidently help from above. 

But whilst the Frenchman took delight in 

; the society of CEcolampadius, he drew oack 

with cool independence from a man at wr ose 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



401 



feet the principal nations of Christendom paid 
homage. The prince of scholars, the man 
whose smile and words were objects of gene- 
ral ambition, the teacher of that age — Eras- 
mus, was passed over by Farel. The young 
Dauphinese had declined, to pay his respects 
to the venerated philosopher of Rotterdam — 
having no relish fur those who are never more 
than half-hearted for truth, and who in the 
clear understanding of the consequences of 
error, are nevertheless full of allowances for 
those who propagate it. Accordingly, we 
have in Farel that decision which has become 
one of the distinguishing characters of the 
Reformation in France, and in those cantons 
of Switzerland bordering on France — charac- 
ters which have been by some deemed stiff- 
ness, exclusiveness, and intolerance. A con- 
troversy had commenced between Erasmus 
and Lefevre, arising out of the commentaries 
put forth by the latter; and in all companies, 
parties were divided for the one and against 
the other. Farel had unhesitatingly ranged 
himself on the side of his teacher. But that 
which chiefly roused his indignation was the 
cowardly course pursued by the philosopher 
tow T ard the evangelical party ; — Erasmus's 
doors were closed against them. That being 
the case, Farel will not enter them ! To him, 
this w T as felt to be no loss ; convinced as he 
was that the very ground of a true theology, 
the piety of the heart, was wanting to Eras- 
mus. " Frobenius's wife knows more of the- 
ology than he does," remarked Farel ; and 
stung by the intelligence that Erasmus had 
written to the Pope, advising him how to set 
about "extinguishing the spread of Luther- 
anism," hepublicly declared that Erasmus 
was endeavouring to stifle the Gospel. 

This independence of young Farel disturb- 
ed the composure of the man of learning. 
Princes, kings, learned men, bishops, priests, 
and men of the world, all were ready to offer 
him the tribute of their admiration. Luther 
himself had treated him with respect, srj far 
as he was personally mixed up in this con- 
troversy; and this Dauphinese, a nameless 
refugee, ventured to brave his power. So 
insolent a freedom caused Erasmus more an- 
noyance than the homage of the world at 
large could give him joy; and hence he lost 
no opportunity of venting his spite against 
Farel. Moreover, in assailing him, he con- 
tributed to clear himself, in the judgment of 
the Roman Catholics, of the suspicion of he- 
resy. " I never met with such a liar, such a 
restless seditious spiritasthatman," observ- 
ed he; "his heart is full of vanity, and his 
tongue charged with malice." But the anger 
of Erasmus did not stop at Farel ; it was di- 
rected against all the Frenchmen who had 
sought refuge at Basle, and whose frankness 
and decision were an offence to him. They 
paid evidently no respect to persons; and 
wherever the truth was not frankly confessed, 
they took no notice of the man, how "great 
soever his genius might be. Wanting, per- 
haps, in the graciousness of the Gospel, there 
was in their faithfulness that which reminds 



one of the prophets of old: and it is truly a e- 
lightful to contemplate men who stand erect 
before that to which the world bows down. 
Erasmus, astonished by this lofty disdain, 
complained of it in all companies. " What 
mean we," wrote he to Melancthon, " to re- 
ject pontiffs and bishops, only to submit to 
the insolence of more cruel ragamuffin tyrants 
and madmen ; for such it is that France Jias 
given us." "There are some Frenchmen," 
he wrote to the Pope's secretary, (at the same 
time sending him his book on Free Will.) 
" who are even more insane then the Ger- 
mans themselves. They have ever on their 
lips these five words : Gospel, Word of God, 
Faith, Christ, Holy Spirit,- and yet I doubt 
not but that it is the spirit of Satan that urges 
them on." Inplace of Farellus he often wrote 
Fa/i/cus, thus designating as a cheat and de- 
ceiver one of the most frank-hearted men of 
his age. 

The rage and anger of Erasmus were at 
their height, when information arrived that 
Farel had termed him a Balaam. Farel 
thought that Erasmus, like that prophet, was 
(perhaps unconsciously) swayed by gifts to 
curse the people of God. The man of learn- 
ing, no longer able to restrain himself, resolved 
to chastise the daring Dauphinese; and one 
day, when Farel was discussing certain topics 
of Christian doctrine with some friends, in 
the presence of Erasmus, the latter rudely in- 
terrupted him with the question, — " On what 
ground do you call me Balaam ?" Farel, who 
was at first disconcerted by the abruptness of 
the question, soon recovered himself, and made 
answer that it was not he who had given him 
that name. Being pressed to say who it was, 
he mentioned Du Blet of Lyons, who like him- 
self had sought refuge at Basle. "Perhaps 
he may have made use of the expression," re- 
plied Erasmus, " but it is yourself who taught 
it him." Then ashamed to have lost his tem- 
per, he hastily changed the subject: — " Why 
is it," asked he, " that you assert that we are 
not to invoke the saints'? Is it because Holy 
Scripture does not enjoin the practice V — " It 
is," answered the Frenchman. " Well," said 
the man of learning, " I call on you to show 
from Scripture that we should invoke the Holy 
Ghost"?" Farel gave this clear and solid an- 
swer : "If He be God, we must invoke Him." 
"I dropt the conversation," said Erasmus, 
" for the night was closing in."* From that 
time, whenever Farel's name came under his 
pen, the opportunity w r as taken to represent 
him as a hateful person, on every account to 
be shunned. The Reformer's letters are, on 
j the contrary, marked by moderation as regards 
! Erasmus. Even in those most constitution- 
| ally hasty, the Gospel is a more gracious thing 
I than Philosophy. 

The Evangelic doctrine had already many 
j friends in Basle, in the town-council, and 
'among the people; but the Doctors and the 

j * Omissa disputatione, nam imminebat nox. 
(Ibid.) We have only Erasmus's account of this 
conversation; he himself reports that Farel gave 
a very dilferent account of it. 



402 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



University opposed it to the utmost of their 
power. (Ecolampadius and Stor, pastor at 
Liestal, had maintained certain theses against 
them. Farel thought it well to assert in 
Switzerland also the great maxim of the Evan- 
gelic school of Paris and of Meaux, — God's 
Word is all-sufficient. He requested permis- 
sion of the University to maintain some theses, 
— "the rather," he modestly added, "to be 
reproved if I am in error, than to teacli others." 
But the University refused its permission. 

Farel then appealed to the Council, and the 
Council issued public notice, that a Christian 
man, by name William Farel, having, by 
the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, prepared 
certain articles conformable to the Gospel, 
leave was given him to maintain the same in 
Latin. The University forbade all priests 
and students to be present at the conference, 
and the Council met the prohibition by one of 
an opposite tenor. 

The following are some of the thirteen pro- 
positions that Farel put forth : — 

" Christ has left us the most perfect rule of 
life; no one can lawfully take away, or add 
any thing thereto." 

" To shape our lives by any other precepts 
than those of Christ leads directly to im- 
piety." 

" The true ministry of priests is to attend 
only to the ministry of the Word ; and for 
them there is no higher dignity." 

" To take from the certainty of the Gospel 
of Christ is to destroy it." 
. " He who thinks to be justified by any 
strength or merits of his own, and not hy faith, 
puts himself in the place of God." 

' ; Jesus Christ, who is head overall things, 
is our polar star, and the only guide we ought 
to follow." 

Thus did this native of France stand up at 
Basle. A child of the mountains of Dauphiny, 
brought up at Paris, at the feet of Lefevre, 
thus boldly proclaimed in the celebrated Swiss 
University, and in presence of Erasmus, the 
great principles of the Reformation. Two 
leading ideas pervaded Farel's theses, — the 
one involved a return to the Scripture, the 
other a return to the Faith, — two movements 
distinctly condemned by the Papacy at the 
beginning of the eighteenth century as here- 
tical and impious, in the celebrated constitu- 
tion Ums;enitus, and which, ever closely con- 
nected with each other, in reality overturn the 
whole of the Papal system. If Faith in Christ 
is the beginning and end of Christianity, the 
word of Christ, and not the voice of the Church 
is that to which we must adhere. Nor is this 
all ; for if Faith unites in one the souls of be- 
lievers, what signifies an external bond 1 Can 
that holy union depend for its existence on 
cioziers, bulls, or tiaras'? Faith knits to- 
gether in spiritual and true oneness all those 
in whose hearts it has taken up its abode. 
Thus at one blow disappeared the triple de- 
lusion of human deservings, traditions of men, 
and simulated unity. And these compose the 
sum of Roman Catholicism. 

The discussion was opened in Latin. Farel 



! and (Ecolampadius stated and established 
j their articles, calling repeatedly upon those 
j who differed from them to make answer ; but 
I none answered to the call. The sophists, as 
, (Ecolampadius terms them, boldly denied 
them, -butfromtheir skulking corners. The 
people, therefore, began to look with contempt 
upon the cowardice of their priests, and learn- 
ed to despise their tyranny. 

Thus did Farel take his stand among the 
defenders of the Reformation. So much learn- 
ing and piety rejoiced the hearts of observers, 
and already more signal victories were looked 
forward to. — " He is singly more than a match 
for all the Sorbonne put together," said they. 
His openness, sincerity, and candour, charmed 
all. But in the very height of his activity he 
did not forget that every mission must begin 
at our own souls. The mild (Ecolampadius 
made with the earnest-hearted Farel an agree- 
ment, by which they mutually engaged to ex- 
ercise themselves in humility and gentleness 
in their familiar intercourse. Thus on the 
very field of contention were these courageous 
men engaged in composing their souls to peace. 
— The impetuous zeal of Luther and of Farel 
were not unfrequently necessary virtues ; for 
a degree of effort is required to move society 
and recast the Church. In our days we are 
very apt to forget this truth, which then was 
acknowledged by men of the mildest charac- 
ter. " Some there are," said (Ecolampadius to 
Luther, in introducing Farel to him, " who 
would moderate his zeal against the opposers 
of the truth; but I cannot help discerning in 
that same zeal a wonderful virtue, and which, 
if but well directed, is not less needed than 
gentleness itself." Posterity has ratified the 
judgment of (Ecolampddius. 

In the month of May, 1524, Farel, with 
some friends from Lyons, repaired to Schaif- 
hausen, Zurich, and Constance. Zwingle 
and Myconius welcomed with the liveliest 
joy the French refugee, and Farel never forgot 
the kindness of that welcome. But on his 
return to Basle he found Erasmus and others 
of his enemies at work, and received an order 
to quit the city. His friends loudly express- 
ed their displeasure at this stretch of autho- 
rity — but in vain, and he was driven from that 
Swiss territory which was even then regarded 
as an asylum for signal misfortunes. — " Such 
is our hospitality !" ejaculated (Ecolampadius 
in indignation: "We are a people like unto 
Sodom." 

At Basle, Farel had contracted a close 
friendship with the knight D'Esch — the latter 
resolved to bear him company, and they set 
forth, provided by (Ecolampadius with letters 
for Capito and Luther, to whom the doctor of 
Basle commended Farel as the same William 
who had laboured so abundantly in the work 
of God. At Strasburg, Farel formed an inti- 
macy with Capito, Bucer, and Hedio — but 
we have no account of his having gone to 
Wittemberg. 

When God withdraws his servants from 
the field of combat, it is commonly that they 
may be again brought forward in increased 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



403 



strength and more completely armed for the 
conflict. Farel and his companions from 
Meaux, from Metz, from Lyons, and from 
Dauphiny, driven by persecution from France, 
had been tempered with new firmness in 
Switzerland and in Germany, in the society 
of the early Reformers ; and now, like sol- 
diers scattered by the first charge of the enemy, 
but instantly collecting again their force, they 
were about to turn round and go forward in 
the name of the Lord. Not only on the 
frontiers, but in the interior of France, the 
friends of the Gospel were beginning to take 
courage. The signal was made — the com- 
batants were arming for the assault — the word 
was given. " Jesus, his truth and grace" — 
a word of more power than the clang of arms 
in the tug of war, filled all hearts with enthu- 
siasm, and all gave omen of a campaign 
pregnant with new victories and new and 
more wide-spreading calamities. 

Montbeliard at this time stood in need of a 
labourer in the Gospel. Duke Ulric of Wur- 
temberg — young, impetuous and cruel — hav- 
ing been dispossessed of his hereditary states 
in 1519 by the Suabian league, had retired to 
that province, his last remaining possession. 
[n Switzerland he became acquainted with 
the Reformers. His misfortunes had a whole- 
some effect, and he listened to the truth. 
OZcolampadius apprized Farel that a door 
was opened at Montbeliard, and the latter 
secretly repaired to Basle. 

Farel had not regularly entered on the mi- 
nistry of the word ; but at this period of his 
life we see in him all the qualifications of a 
sprvant of the Lord. It was not lightly or 
rashly that he entered the service of the 
Church. — "If I considered my own qualifi- 
cations," said he, " I would not have pre- 
sumed to preach, but would have preferred to 
wait till the Lord should send more gifted 
persons." But he received at this time three 
several calls. No sooner had he reached 
Basle than 03coiampadius, moved by the 
wants of France, besought him to give him- 
self to the work there. " Consider," said he, 
*' how little Jesus is made known in their 
language- — will you not teach them a little in 
their own dialect, to enable them to under- 
stand the Scriptures." At the same time the 
inhabitants of Montbeliard invited hirn among 
them, and lastly, the prince of that country 
gave his assent to the invitation. Was not 
this a thrice repeated call from God ?" .."I 
did not see," said he, " how I couid refuse to 
act upon it. It was in obedience to God that 
I complied with it." Concealed in the house 
of GScolampadius, little disposed to take the 
responsible post offered to him, and yet con- 
strained to yield to so manifest an indica- 
tion of God's will, Farel undertook the task — 
and CEcolampadius, calling upon the Lord, 
ordained him, giving him at the same time 
some wise counsels. — "The more you find 
yourselves inclined to vehemence," said he, 
"the more must you exercise yourself to 
maintain a gentle bearing; — temper your lion 



I heart with the softness of the dove." Tub 
soul of Farel responded to such an appeal. 

Thus Farel, — once the devoted adherent of 
the ancient Church, — was about to enter on 
the life of a servant of God, and of the Church 
in its renewed youth. If, in order to a valid 
ordination, Rome requires the imposition of 
the hands of a bishop deriving uninterrupted 
succession and descent from the Apostles, 
she does so — because she sets the tradition 
of men above the authority of the word of 
God. Every church in which the supremacy 
of the Word is not acknowledged, must needs 
seek authority from some other source ; — and 
then what more natural than to turn to the 
most revered servants of God, and ask of 
them what we do not know that we have in 
God himself? If we do not speak in the 
name of Jesus Christ, is it not at least some- 
thing gained to be able to speak in the name 
of St. John or of St. Paul"? One who has 
with him the voice of antiquity is indeed 
more than a match for the rationalist, who 
speaks only his own thought. But Christ's 
minister has yet a higher authority. He 
preaches, — not because he is the successor of 
St. Chrysostom or St. Peter — but because the 
Word which he proclaims is from God. Suc- 
cessional authority, — venerable as it may ap- 
pear, — is yet no more than a thing of man's 
invention, in place of God's appointment. In 
Farel's ordination, we see nothing of succes- 
sionally derived sanction. Nay, more, we do 
not see in it that which becomes the congre- 
gations of the Lord, — among whom every thing 
should be done " decently and in order" and 
whose God is "not the God of confusion.' 1 ' 1 In 
his case there was no setting apart by the 
Church: but then extraordinary emergencies 
justify extraordinary measures. At this 
eventful period, God himself was interposing, 
and Himself ordaining, by marvellous dis- 
pensations, those whom he called to Dear a 
part in the regeneration of society ; and that 
was an ordination that abundantly compen- 
sated for the absence of the Church's seal. 
In Farel's ordination we see the unchanging 
word of God, intrusted to a man of God, to 
bear it to the world; — the calling of God and 
of the people, and the consecration of the 
heart. — And perhaps no minister of Rome or 
of Geneva was ever more lawfully ordained 
for that holy ministry. Farel took his de- 
parture for Montbeliard, in compan} r with the 
knight D'Esch. 

Thus did Farel find himself occupying an 
advanced post. Behind him were Basle and 
Strasburg, assisting him by their advice and 
by the productions of their printing presses. 
Before him lay the provinces of Franchecomte, 
Burgundy, Lorraine, Lyons, and other dis- 
tricts of France ; wherein men of God wene 
beginning to stand up against error, in the 
thick darkness. He set himself immediately 
to preach Christ, — exhorting believers not to 
suffer themselves to be turned aside from the 
Holy Scriptures, either by threatenings or 
artifice. Taking the part long afterwards 



404 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



taken by Calvm on a grander scale, Farel, at 
Montbeliard, was like a general stationed on 
a height, surveying, with searching vigilance, 
the field of battle, cheering those who were 
actively engaged, rallying those whom the 
enemy's charge had forced to give way, and 
by his courage animating those who hung 
back.* Erasmus wrote directly to his Ro- 
man Catholic friends, informing them that a 
Frenchman, escaped out of France, was mak- 
ing a great noise in these regions. 

The efforts of Farel were not without 
effect. People wrote to him: ".On all sides 
seem to multiply men who devote their lives 
to the extension of Christ's kingdom." The 
friends of the CJospel gave thanks to God for 
the daily increasing brilliancy in which the 
Gospel shone in France. Gainsayers were 
confounded, and Erasmus, writing to the 
bishop of Rochester, observed, — " The fac- 
tion is every day spreading, and has pene- 
trated into Savoy, Lorraine, and France." 

For a considerable time Lyons seemed the 
centre of the Evangelic movement in the 
interior, as Basle was of that beyond the 
frontiers. Francis the First, called to the 
south, on an expedition against Charles V., 
arrived in those countries, attended by his 
mother and sister, and by his court. Marga- 
ret had with her, in her company, certain 
men who had embraced the Gospel. "■ The 
rest of her people she left behind," remarks 
a letter written at the time. Whilst under 
the eyes of Francis, 14,000 Swiss, 6,000 
Frenchmen, and 1,500 noble knights, were 
defiling through Lyons, on their way to repel 
the Imperial army that had invaded Provence, 
and that great city resounded with the clang 
of arms, the tramp of cavalry, and the sound 
of trumpets,— the friends of the Gospel were 
on their way to the more peaceful triumphs. 
They w r ere intent on attempting, at Lyons, 
wmat they had not been able to realize at 
Paris. Remote from the Sorbonne and the 
Parliament, a freer course might be open to 
God's word. Perhaps the second city of the 
kingdom was destined to be the first wherein 
the Gospel should be received. Was it not 
there that the excellent Peter Waldo had 
begun to make known the divine Word 1 In 
that earlier age he had roused the national 
mind. Now that God had made all things 
ready to emancipate His church, was there 
not ground to hope for more extensive and 
decisive results ? Accordingly, the Lyonese, 
who in general were not, it must be confess- 
ed, " poor men," began to handle, with more 
confidence, the " sword of the Spirit, which 
is the word of God." 

Among those about Margaret's person, 
was her almoner, Michel d'Arande. The 
Duchess gave direction that the Gospel 
should be publicly preached in Lyons, and 

* The comparison is in the words of a friend 
who was acquainted with Farel, during his abode 
at Montbeliard : — Strenuum et oculatum impera- 
torem, qui iis etiarn animum facias qui in acie 
versantur. (Tossanus Farello, MS. de Neuf- 
chatel, 2d Sept. 1524.) 



master Michel boldly proclaimed the pure word 
, of God to a numerous auditory, — attracted 
I partly by the good tidings, and partly by the 
favour with which the preacher and his preach- 
ing were regarded by the sister of their king. 

Anthony Papillon, a man of cultivated 
mind, an accomplished Latinist, a friend of 
Erasmus, the earliest of his countrymen 
thoroughly instructed, in the Gospel, accom- 
panied the Princess. At Margaret's request 
he had translated Luther's tract on the monk's 
vows, " on which account he was often called 
in question by that vermin of the city of Pa- 
ris," remarks Sebville. But Margaret had 
protected the scholar from the enmity of the 
Sorbonne, and had obtained for him the ap- 
pointment of chief master of requests to the 
Dauphin, with a seat in the council. He 
was almost equally useful to the Gospel by 
the sacrifices he made for its cause as by his 
great prudence. Vaugris, a merchant, and 
Anthony Du Blet, a gentleman, and a friend 
of Farel, were the principal persons who 
took part w r ith the Reformation at Lyons. 
The latter, w T hose activity was untiring, 
served as a sort of connecting link between 
the Christians scattered throughout those 
countries, and was the medium of their inter- 
course with Basle. The armed bands of 
Francis the First had done no more than tra- 
verse Lyons, whilst the spiritual soldiery of 
Jesus Christ had paused within it, and leav- 
ing the former to carry war into Provence, 
they commenced the " fight of faith" in the 
city of Lyons itself. 

But their efforts Avere not confined to Ly- 
ons. Casting their eyes over the surround- 
ing country, their operations were carried on, 
at one and the same time, at different points ; 
and the Christians of Lyons supported and 
encouraged the confessors of Christ in the 
adjacent provinces, and bore His name where 
as yet it was not known. The new teaching 
reascended the banks of the Saone, and the 
voice of one "bringing the glad tidings" was 
heard in the narrow and irregular streets of 
Macon. Michel d'Arande, the almoner of 
the king's sister, himself visited that plaes 
in 1524, and, by Margaret's intercession, ob- 
tained license to preach in a town w T hich was 
afterwards deluged with blood, and became 
forever memorable for its sauteries. 

After extending their travels in the direc- 
tion of the Saone, the Christians of Lyons, 
ever looking for an open door, reascended tht 
acclivities of the Alps. There was, at Ly- 
ons, a Dominican named Maigret, who had 
been expelled from Dauphiny, where he had 
preached the new doctrine with singular 
boldness, and w r ho earnestly requested that 
some one would go over and help his brethren 
of Grenoble and Gap. Papillon and Du 
Blet repaired thither.* A violent storm had 



* II y a eu deux grands personages a Grenoble. 
(Cocta Farel, Dec. 1524, MS. de Neufchatel.; 
The title Messire is given to Du Blet, indicating 
a person of rank. I incline to think that that or 
negotiator, elsewhere given him, refers to his 
activity : yet he might be a merchant of Lyons 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



405 



just broken out there against Sebville and 
his preaching. The Dominicans moved hea- 
ven and earth, and, in their rage at the escape 
of Farel, Anemone!, Maigret, and the other 
preachers, sought to crush such as were 
within their clutches. They, therefore, in- 
sisted that Sebville should be arrested. 

The friends of the Gospel at Grenoble 
caught the alarm. Was Sebville, also, on 
the eve of being lost to them'? Margaret 
interceded with her brother. Some persons 
of distinction at Grenoble, including the 
king's advocate, either secretly or avowedly 
favourable to the Gospel, exerted themselves 
in his behalf; and he was happily rescued 
from the fury of his enemies. 

His life was indeed saved, out his mouth 
was stopped. "Remain silent," said, his 
friends, " or you will be brought to the 
scaffold." " Only think what it is," wrote 
he to De Coct, "to have silence imposed 
upon me, under pain of death." Some, 
whose firmness had been most relied on, 
were overawed by these threatenings. The 
king's advocate, and others, exhibited mark- 
ed coldness, and many returned to the Roman 
Catholic communion, alleging that they 
would still offer to God a spiritual worship 
in the privacy of their hearts, and give to the 
outward observances of Catholicism a spirit- 
ual interpretation : — a melancholy snare, and 
one that leads men from one act of unfaith- 
fulness to another. There is no false system 
adhesion to which may not in this way be 
justified. The unbeliever, taking up with 
fancied myths and allegories, will preach 
Christ from the pulpit: — and the follower of 
a* superstition held in abhorrence among the 
heathen, will, by a moderate exercise of in- 
genuity, trace in it the S3^mbol of a pure and 
elevated thought. In religion the very first 
essential is truth. There were, however, 
some of the Christians of Grenoble,' and 
among them Amedee Galbert and a cousin of 
Anemond, who held fast to their faith. 
These men of piety were accustomed secretly 
to meet together with Sebville at each other's 
houses, and thus " spake often one to an- 
other." Their place of meeting was chosen 
for the sake of its retirement; they met at 
night in the apartment of a brother, with 
closed doors, to pray to Christ,— as if they 
had been robbers meeting for some guilty 
purpose ! Rumour would often follow them 
to their humble meeting with some ground- 
less alarm. Their enemies winked at such 
secret conventicles, but they had inwardly 
doomed to the stake any one who should 
venture to open his lips in public to speak 
the word of God. 

It was at this juncture that Du Blet and 
Papiljon arrived in Grenoble. Finding that 
Sebville had been silenced, they exhorted 
him to go to Lyons, and there preach Christ. 
The following Lent promised to afford him 
the favourable opportunity of a vast crowd of 
hearers. Michel d'Arande, Maigret, and 
Sebville agreed together to put themselves in 
front of the battle, and thus all was arranged 



for an impressive testimony to the truth in 
the second city of the kingdom. The rumour 
of the appro-aching Lent spread into Switzer- 
land : " Sebville is at large, and is purposing 
to preach at Lyons, in the church of St. 
Paul," wrote Anemond to Farel. But dis- 
asters, bringing with them confusion through- 
out France, intervened, and prevented thb 
spiritual contest. It is in periods of tran- 
quillity that the Gospel achieves its blessed 
conquests. The battle of Pavia, which took 
place in the month of February, disconcerted 
the bold project of the Reformers, 

Meanwhile, without waiting for Sebville, 
Maigret, amidst much opposition from the 
clergy and the monks, had from the begin- 
ning of the winter been preaching at Lyons, 
Salvation by Christ alone. In his sermons, 
he passed over the worship of the creature, — 
the saints, — the Virgin, — and the power of 
the priesthood. The great mystery of Godli- 
ness, — " God manifest in the flesh," — was 
the one great doctrine exalted by him. " The 
early heresies of the Poor Men of Lyons were 
again showing themselves under a more dan- 
gerous form than ever," it was remarked. In 
spite of opposers, Maigret continued his 
preaching : the faith that animated him found 
utterance in emphatic words ; it is in the 
very nature of Truth to embolden the heart 
that receives it. Nevertheless, it was de- 
creed that at Lyons, as at Grenoble, Rome 
should get the upper hand. Under the very 
eyes of Margaret, the preacher was arrested, 
dragged through the streets, and committed 
to prison. Vaugris, a merchant who was 
just then leaving the town on his way to 
Switzerland, carried with him the news of 
what had happened. One thought cheered 
the melancholy these tidings diffused among 
the friends of the Reformation, — "Maigret is 
seized," said they, "but thanks be to God, 
Madame d'Jllengon is on the spot." 

Their hopes soon left them. The Sor- 
bonne had formally condemned certain pro- 
positions maintained by the faithful preacher; 
Margaret, whose position was every day be- 
coming more embarrassing, beheld the daring 
of the Reformers and the hatred of those, in 
power both rising at the same moment. 
Francis the First was beginning to lose pa- 
tience at the restless zeal of the preachers, 
and to regard them as fanatics whom it was 
good policy to reduce to submission. Mar- 
garet, therefore, fluctuating between her 
desires to serve her brethren in Christ, and 
the failure of her ability to preserve them, 
sent them word that they were to abstain 
from rushing into new difficulties, seeing that 
she could not again make application to the 
king in their behalf. The friends of the 
Gospel believed that this resolution could not 
be irrevocable : "God give her grace," said 
they "to say and write only what is needful 
to poor souls." Rut even if they should lose 
this help of man, Christ was with them, — 
and it seemed well that the soul should be 
stripped of other dependence, that it might 
lean upon God alone. 



406 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



The friends of the Gospel h'ad lost their 
power, and the powerful were declaring 
against it. Margaret was alarmed. Soon — 
heavy news, received from beyond the Alps, 
was to plunge the whole kingdom into 
mourning, — absorbing attention in the one 
object of saving France and her king. But 
if the Christians of Lyons were motionless, 
did not Basle contain within its walls soldiers 
escaped from the battle, and ready to renew 
it '? The exiles from France have never for- 
gotten her: banished for three centuries by 
Roman fanaticism, we see their last descend- 
ants carrying to the towns and plains of their 
father-land, the treasure of which the Pope 
deprives them. At the crisis, when the good 
soldiers of Christ in France dejectedly threw 
away their arms, we see the refugees at 
Basle preparing for renewed efforts. With 
the example before their eyes of the sceptre 
of St. Louis and of Charlemagne falling from 
the grasp of a Francis the First, should they 
not be incited to lay hold on a "kingdom 
which cannot be moved ?" Heb. xii. 28. 

Farel, Anemond, Esch, Toussaint, and 
their friends in Switzerland, composed an 
Evangelical Association, having for its object 
the deliverance of their country from spiritual 
darkness. Intelligence reached them from 
all sides, that there was an increasing thirst 
after God's word in France; it was desirable 
to take advantage of it, and to water and sow 
the seed while yet it was seed-time. CEco- 
lampadius, Oswald Myconius, and Zwingle, 
continually encouraged them to this. The 
Swiss teacher, Myconius, wrote thus in 
January, 1525, to De Coct: "Exiled as you 
are from your country by the tyranny of Anti- 
christ, your presence amongst us is the proof 
that you have courageously stood forth in the 
cause of Truth. The oppressions of Christian 
Bishops will lead the people to regard them 
as no better than deceivers. Standfast; the 
time is not distant when we shall arrive in 
the wished-for haven, whether we be struck 
down by the oppressors or they themselves 
be cast down, and all will then be well with 
us, if we do but continue faithful to Jesus 
Christ." 

These cheering words were precious indeed 
to the French refugees ; but just then, a blow 
struck by those very Christians of Switzer- 
land, and of Germany, who sought to cheer 
thern, carried grief to their hearts. In the 
feeling of their recent. escape from the fires 
of persecution, they, at this time, beheld with 
dismay the evangelical Christians beyond 
the TJhine disturbing their repose hj their 
deplorable differences. The controversy, in 
relation to the Lord's Supper, had begun. 
Deeply affected, and feeling the need of mu- 
tual love, the French Reformers would have 
made any sacrifice to conciliate the divergent 
parties. It became the great object of their 
desire. None more than they felt from the 
outset the need of Christian unity. At a 
later period, Calvin afforded proof of this. 
"Would to God," said Peter Toussaint, 
" that, by my worthless blood, I could pur- 



chase peace, concord, and union in Christ 
Jesus." _The French, gifted with quick dis- 
cernment, saw T , from the very beginning, how 
the rising dissensions would stand in the way 
of the Reformation. " All would go favour- 
ably beyond our hopes, if we were but agreed 
among ourselves. Many there are who woula 
gladly come to the light, but they are pre- 
vented by seeing such divisions among the 
learned." 

The French were the first to suggest con- 
ciliatory advances : " Why," wrote they fr;.»rn 
Strasburg, " why not send Bucer or some 
other man of learning to confer with Luther'? 
The more we delay the wider will our dif- 
ferences become." These fears seemed every 
day more founded. 

Failing in their endeavours, these Chris- 
tians turned their eyes towards France, and 
the conversion of their own country to the faith 
thenceforth exclusively engaged the hearts 
of these generous men, whom history, — so 
loud in praise of men who have sought only 
their own glory, — has, for three centuries, 
scarcely mentioned. Cast upon a foreign 
soil, they threw themselves on their knees, 
and, daily in their solirude, called down bless- 
ings from God upon their fatherland. Prayer 
was the great instrument by which the Gos- 
pel spread through the kingdom, and the great 
engine by which the conquests of the Re- 
formation were achieved. 

But there were other men of prayer besides 
these. Never, perhaps, have the^anks of the 
Gospel comprised combatants more prompt to 
suffer in the hour of conflict. They felt the 
importance of scattering the Scriptures and 
pious writings in their country, which was 
still overclouded with the thick darkness of 
superstition. A spirit of inquiry was dawn- 
ing in their nation, and it seemed necessary 
on all sides to unfurl the sails to the wind. 
Anemond, ever prompt in action, and Michel 
Bentin, another refugee, resolved to employ, 
in concert, their zeal and talents. Bentin de- 
cided to establish a printing-press at Basle, 
and the knight to turn to account the little he 
knew of German, by translating out of that lan- 
guage the more striking tracts written by the 
Reformers. " Oh !" exclaimed they, rejoicing 
in their project; "would to God that France 
were so supplied with Gospel writings that 
in cottages, and in palaces, in cloisters, and 
in presbyteries, and in the inner sanctuary of 
all hearts, a powerful witness miffht be borne 
for the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

For such an undertaking funds were neces« 
sary, — and the refugees were destitute of 
funds. Vaugris was then at Basle. Ane- 
mond, on parting with him, gave him a letter 
to the brethren of Lyons, some of whom had 
considerable possessions in lands, and, not- 
withstanding they were oppressed, remained 
faithful to the Gospel. In his letter, he asked 
their assistance ; but that could not at all meet 
the extent of the need. The Frenchmen re- 
solved to establish several presses at Basle, 
that should be worked day and night, so as to 
inundate all France with God's word. At 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



407 



Meaux, Metz, and other places,' there were ! 
those rich enough to contribute to this work ; 
and as no one could appeal to Frenchmen with 
more authority than Farel, it was to him that ! 
.Anemond made application. 

We do not find that the scheme of Anemond 
was realized; but the -work was carried out 
by others. The presses of Basle were inces- 
santly employed in printing French works, 
which were forwarded to Farel, and by him 
introduced into France. One of the earliest 
of the issues of this Religious Tract Society 
was Luther's Exposition of the Lord's Prayer. 
" We sell the Pater at four deniers de Bale to 
private persons," wrote Vaugris — " but to the 
wholesale dealer, we supply copies at the rate 
of 200 for two florins, which is something less." 

Anemond was accustomed to transmit from 
Bale to Farel any profitable books published 
or received in that city — at one time a tract on 
ordination, at another, an essay on the educa- 
tion of children. Farel looked through them, 
composing, translating, and seeming, at one 
and the same time, all activity, and yet all 
meditation. Anemond urged on and superin- 
tended the printing, and these letters, requests, 
and books, all these little single sheets, were 
among the instruments of regeneration to that 
age. While dissoluteness and profligacy de- 
scended from the throne to the lower orders, 
and darkness spread from the very steps of 
the altar, these writings, so inconsiderable and 
unnoticed, alone diffused the beams of light 
and the seeds of holiness. 

But it was especially God's word that the 
evangelic merchant of Lyons required for his 
fellow-countrymen. That generation of .the 
sixteenth century, so eager for all that could 
satisfy the re-awakened intellect, was to 
receive in its vernacular tongue those early 
records of the first ages, redolent with the 
young breath of human nature, — and those 
holy oracles of apostolic times, bright with 
the fulness of the revelation of Christ. Vau- 
gris wrote to Farel — " Pray, see if it be not 
possible to have the New Testament trans- 
lated by some competent hand ; — it would he 
a great blessing to France, Burgundy, and 
Savoy. And if you should not be already 
provided with the proper types, I would order 
some from Paris or Lyons — but if we have 
the types at Basle, it would be all the better." 

Lefevre had previously published at Meaux, 
but by detached portions, the books of the 
New Testament in the French language. 
Vaugris wished some one to undertake a re- 
vision of the whole for a new edition. Lefe- 
vre undertook to do so, and, as we have alrea- 
dy related, published the entire volume on the 
12th October, 152*4. Conrad, an uncle of 
Vaugris, who had also sought an asylum in 
Basie, sent for a copy. De Coct, happening 
to be in company with a friend on the 18th 
November, first saw the book, and was over- 
joyed. " Lose no time in going to press 
again," said he, "for I doubt not a vast num- 
ber of copies will be called for."* 



MS. of the Conclave of Neufchatel. 



Thus was the word of God offered to France 
side by side with those traditions of the 
Church which Rome .s still continually pre- 
senting to her. " How can we discern," 
asked the Reformers, " between what is of 
man in your traditions and that which is of 
God, save only by the Scriptures of truth 1 — 
The maxims of the Fathers, the decretals of 
the Church, cannot be the rule of faith : they 
show us what was the judgment of those 
earlier divines, but only from the Word can 
we gather the thoughts of God. Every thing 
must be tested by Scripture." 

In this manner, for the most part, these 
printed works were circulated. Farel and his 
friends transmitted the sacred books to certain 
dealers or colporteurs — poor men of good cha- 
racter for piety, who, bearing their precious 
burden, went through towns and villages — 
from house to house — in Franchecomte, Bur- 
gundy, and the neighbouring districts, knock- 
ing at every door. The books were sold to 
them at a low price, that the interest they had 
in the sale might make them the more indus- 
trious in disposing of them. Thus as early 
as 1524 there existed in Basle, and having 
France for the field of their operations, a Bi- 
ble society — an association of colporteurs — 
and a religious tract society. It is, then, a mis- 
take to conceive that such efforts date only 
from our own age ; they go back, — at least in 
the identity of the objects they propose, — not 
merely to the days of the Reformation, but 
still further, to the first ages of the Church. 

The attention which Farel bestowed on 
France did not cause him to neglect the places 
where he resided. Arriving at Montbeliard, 
towards the end of July, 1524, he had no 
sooner sown the seed, than, to use the lan- 
guage of (Ecolampadius, the first-fruits of the 
harvest began to appear. Farel, exulting, 
communicated his success to his friend. — " It 
is easy," replied the doctor of Basle, "to in- 
stil a few dogmas into the ears of our audi- 
tors ; butGodalonecanchangetheirhearts." 

De Coct, overjoyed with this intelligence, 
hurried to Peter Toussaint's house. _ "To- 
morrow," said he, with his usual vivacity, " I 
set off to visit Farel." Toussaint, more 
calm, was then writing to the evangelist of 
Montbeliard : " Have a care," wrote he ; " the 
cause you have taken in hand is of solemn 
importance, and should not be contaminated 
by the counsels of men. The great ones may 
promise you their favour, assistance, ay, and 
heaps of gold — but to put put confidence in 
these things is to forsake Jesus Christ, and 
to walk in darkness." Toussaint was in the 
act of closing - his letter when De Coct enter- 
ed ; and the latter, taking charge of it, set 
off for Montbeliard. 

He found all the city in commotion. Seve- 
ral of the nobles, in alarm, and casting;- a look 
of contempt on Farel, exclaimed, " What can 
this poor wretch want with us 1 Would that 
he had never come amongst us. He must not 
remain here, or he will bring ruin upon us as 
well as upon himself." These nobles, who 
had retired to Montbeliard in company with 



408 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the duke for shelter, feared lest the stir which 
everywhere accompanied the spread of the Re- 
formation, should by drawing upon them the 
notice of Charles V. and Ferdinand, lead to 
their being driven from their only remaining 
asylum. But the ecclesiastics were Farel's 
bitterest opponents. The superior of the 
Franciscans at Besancon hastened to Montbe- 
liard, and concocted defensive measures with 
the clergy of that place. The following Sun- 
day Farel had scarcely begun to preach when 
he was interrupted, and called a liar and. a 
heretic. Immediately the whole assembly 
was in an uproar. The audience rose, and 
called for silence. The duke hastened to the 
spot, put both the superior and Farel under ar- 
rest, and insisted that the former should prove 
his charges, or else retract them. The supe- 
rior chose the latter course, and an official re- 
port was published of the transaction. 

This attack only rendered Farel more zeal- 
ous than before : thenceforward he believed it 
his duty fearlessly to unmask these interested 
priests ; and, drawing the sword of the Word, 
he applied it unsparingly. He was now more 
than ever led to imitate Jesus, rather in his 
character as the purifier of the temple, driving 
out thence the traffickers and money-changers, 
and overthrowing their tables — than as the 
one of whom prophecy declared, "i/e shall not 
strive nor cry, neither shall his voice be heard in 
the streets." CEcolampadius was affrighted. 
These two men were the perfect types of two 
charac^rs diametrically opposite, and yet both 
worthy of our admiration. "Your mission," 
wrote CEcolampadius to Farel, "is gently to 
draw men to the truth, not to drag them with 
violence ; to preach the Gospel, — not to pro- 
nounce maledictions. Physicians resort to 
amputation, only when external applications 
have failed. Act the part of the physician, not 
of the executioner. In my judgment, it is 
not enough that you are gentle towards the 
friends of the Truth. You must likewise win 
over the adversaries. Or if the wolves are to 
be driven from the fold, at least let the sheep 
hear the voice of the shepherd. Pour oil and 
wine into the wounded heart -and be the he- 
rald of glad tidings, not a judge or tyrant." 
The report of these things spread both in 
France and Lorraine, and this gathering to- 
gether of refugees in Basle and Montbeliard 
began to alarm the Sorbonne and the Cardi- 
nal. Gladly would they have broken up so 
ominous an alliance ; for error knows no greater 
triumph than the enlisting a renegade in its 
,-anks. Already had Martial Mazurier and 
ethers 'given the papal party in France an op- 
portunity of rejoicing over shameful deser- 
tions; but if they could only succeed in se- 
ducing one of those confessors of Christ who 
had fled for safety to the banks of the Rhine, 
— one who had suffered much for the name of 
the Lord,— that were indeed a victory for the 
hierarchy. Measures were concerted and di- 
rected in the first instance against the young- 
est. 

The Dean, the Cardinal of Lorraine, and all 
the circle which assembled at the prelate's 



house, deplored the sad fate of Peter Tous- 
saint, once the object of so many hopes. He 
is at Basle, said they, living in the very house 
of CEcolampadius, in close intercourse with 
that leader in this heresy. They wrote to 
him movingly, as though his salvation was at 
stake. These letters were the more distress- 
ing to the poor young man, because they bore 
evident marks of sincere affection. One of 
his relations, probably the Dean himself, 
urged him to remove to Paris, Metz, or what- 
ever place he pleased, provided it were but ata 
distance from the Lutherans. This relation, 
bearing in mind how much Toussaint was in- 
debted to him, doubted not his immediate 
compliance with the injunction ; when there- 
fore he found his efforts unavailing, his affec- 
tion was succeeded by violent hatred. This 
resistance, on the part -of the young refugee, 
exasperated against him all his family and 
friends. Recourse was had to his mother, who 
was entirely under the influence of the monks: 
the priests came about her, frightening her, and 
persuading her that her son had been guilty 
of crimes which could not be named without 
shuddering. On this the distressed parent 
wrote to her son an affecting letter, "full of 
tears," as he says, in which she described her 
misery in heart-rending terms. " Oh ! wretch- 
ed mother," said she, "Oh! unnatural son! 
— Cursed be the breasts that suckled thee, 
cursed be the knees that bare thee." 

Poor Toussaint was overwhelmed with con- 
sternation. What was he to do? Return to 
France he could not. To leave Basle and 
proceed to Zurich or Wittemberg, beyond the 
reach of his kindred, would only have added 
to their distress. GEcolampadius suggested 
a middle course. " Leave my house," said 
he. With a sorrowful heart Toussaint com- 
plied, and went to lodge with a priest, both 
ignorant and obscure, and so well fitted to 
quiet the fears of his relations. What a change 
for him ! He had no intercourse with his host 
except at meals. At such times they were 
continually differing on matters of faith, but 
— no sooner was his meal ended, than Tous- 
saint hastened to shut himself in his chamber; 
where, undisturbed by noise and controversy, 
he carefully studied the word of God. "The 
Lord is my witness," said he, " that in this 
valley of tears, I have but one desire, and that 
is, to see Christ's kingdom extend itself, that 
all with one mouth may glorify God." 

One incident took place and cheered Tous- 
saint. The enemies of the Gospel at Metz 
were becoming more and more powerful. At 
his entreaty, the Chevalier d'Esch undertook 
a journey, in July, 1525, to strengthen the 
evangelical Christians of that city. He tra- 
versed the forests of Vosges, and reached the 
place where Leclerc had laid down his life, 
bringing with him several books with which 
Farel had supplied him. 

But the French exiles did not confine their 
attention to Lorraine. De Coct received let- 
ters from one of Farel's brothers, depicting, 
in gloomy colours, the condition of Dauphiny. 
He carefully avoided showing them, lest he 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



409 



should alarm the faint-hearted, but bore them 
on his heart before God in fervent prayer, for 
His all-powerful aid. In December, 1524, 
one Peter Verrier, a messenger from Dauphiny, 
intrusted with commissions for Farel and 
Anemond, arrived on horseback at Montbe- 
liard. The knight, with his usual impetuosi- 
ty, immediately resolved on returning into 
France. " If the said Peter has brought mo- 
ney,'' wrote he to Farel, "do you take it: if 
he has brought letters, open them, take copies, 
and send them to me. Do not however sell 
the horse, but keep it, since I may perhaps 
need it. I am minded to enter France se- 
cretly, and visit Jacobus Faber (Lefevre) and 
Arandius. Write me your opinion of this 
plan." 

Such was the unreserved confidence which 
existed among these refugees. De Ooct, it is 
true, was already indebted thirty-six crowns 
to Farel, whose purse was ever at the service 
of his friends. The knight's plan of return- 
ing, to France was one of more zeal than wis- 
dom. His habitual want of caution would 
have exposed him to certain death. This 
Farel doubtless explained to him. Leaving 
Basle he withdrew to a small town, having, 
as he said, " great hopes of acquiring the 
German tongue, God willing." 

.Fare! continued to preach the Gospel at 
Montbeliard. His spirit was grieved within 
him, beholding the great body of the people 
of that place wholly given to the worship of 
images. In his opinion it was no better than 
a return to heathen idoiatry. 

Nevertheless the exhortations of CEcolam- 
padius, and the fear of compromising the 
truth, would, perhaps, have long restrained 
them, but for an unforeseen circumstance. 
One day, towards the end of February, (it 
was the feast of St. Anthony,) Farel was 
walking near the banks of a little river that 
runs through the town, below the lofty rock 
on which stands the citadel, when, as he 
reached the bridge, he met a procession re- 
citing prayers to St. Anthony, and headed by 
two priests bearing the image of that saint. 
He thus found himself suddenly brought into 
contact with these superstitions. A violent 
struggle took place in his soul ; shall he be 
silent, or conceal himself? would it not be a 
cowardly want of faith 1 These dumb idols, 
borne on the shoulders of ignorant priests, 
made his blood boil. He boldly advanced, 
snatched from the priests' arms the shrine of 
the holy hermit, and threw it from the bridge 
into the stream. Then, turning toward the 
astonished crowd, he exclaimed aloud, " Poor 
idolaters, will ye never put away your 
idols?" 

The priests and people were motionless in 
astonishment. A holy fear for a while para- 
lyzed them ; but soon recovering, they ex- 
claimed, " The image is sinking," and their 
motionless silence was succeeded by trans- 
ports of rage. The crowd would have rushed 
upon the sacrilegious wretch who had hurled 
into the river the object of their adoration; 



but Farel, we know not how, escaped thei 
fury.* 

Many may regret that the Reformer allow- 
ed himself to be hurried into an act which 
tended to check the progress of the truth. 
We can enter into their feelings. Let no man 
think himself authorized to attack with vio- 
lence an institution which has the public sanc- 
tion. Yet is there in this zeal of the Refor- 
mer a something more noble than that cold 
prudence so common in the world, and which 
shrinks from incurring the smallest danger or 
making the most trifling sacrifice for the ad- 
vancement of God's kingdom. Farel well 
knew that by this act he was exposing him- 
self to the death which Leclerc had suffered. 
But his own conscience bore testimony that 
he desired only to promote the glory of God, 
and this elevated him above all fear. 

After this incident of the bridge, in which 
we discern his natural character, Farel was 
obliged to conceal himself, and soon after- 
wards to quit the city. He took refuge with 
(Ecolampadius at Basle ; but he ever retained 
that attachment to Montbeliard, which a seiv- 
vant of God never ceases to cherish for the 
scene of the first-fruits of his ministry. 

At Basle, sad tidings awaite'd him. Him- 
self a fugitive, he now learned that Anemond 
de Coct was dangerously ill, Farel imme- 
diately remitted to him four gold crowns : but 
on the 25th of March, a letter from Oswald 
Myconius brought him intelligence of the 
knight's death. "• Let us so live," wrote Os- 
wald, " that we may enter into that rest which 
we trust the soul of Anemond has now entered 
upon." 

Thus prematurely died Anemond ; — still 
young, full of activity and energy, — in him- 
self a host, — ready to undertake every labour, 
and brave every danger in the hope of evan- 
gelizing France. God's ways are not our 
ways. Not long before, and near Zurich too, 
another noble, Ulric von Hiitten, had breathed 
his last. Points of resemblance are not want- 
ing between the two; but the piety and Chris- 
tian virtues of the native of Dauphiny en- 
title him to rank far above the level of the 
witty and intrepid enemy of the Pope and 
monks. 

Shortly after Anemond's death, Farel, find- 
ing it impossible to remain at Basse whence 
he had already been expelled, joined his 
friends Capito and Bucer at Strasburg. 

Thus at Montbeliard and at Basle, as well 
as at Lyons, the ranks of the Reformers were 
thinned. Of those who most zealously con- 
tended for the faith, some had been removed 
by death — others were scattered by persecu- 
tion, and in exile. In vain did the combatants 
turn their efforts in every direction. On all 



* M. Kirchhoffer, in his Life of Farel, gives 
this circumstance as an uncertain tradition : luit 
it is related by Protestant writers, and besides 
seems- to be perfectly consistent with the charac- 
ter of Farel and the, fears of CEcolampadius. It 
is our duty to admit the weaknesses oi the Re- 
formation. 



410 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



sides they were repulsed. But though the 
forces concentrated first at Meaux, then at 
Lyons, and lastly at Basle, had been suc- 
cessively broken up, there remained here and 
there, in Lorraine, at Meaux, and even in 
Paris, good soldiers, who struggled, more or 
less openly, in support of God's word in 
France. Though the Reformation saw its 
ranks broken, it still had its single cham- 
pions. Against these the Sorbonne and the 
Parliament now turned their anger. The re- 
solution was taken to exterminate from the 
soil of France the devoted men who had un- 
dertaken to plant thereon the standard of 
Jesus Christ; — and unprecedented misfor- 
tunes seemed at this season to conspire with 
the enemies of the Reformation to favour the 
attainment of their purpose. 

During the latter part of Farel's stay at 
Montbeliard, great events had indeed taken 
place on the theatre of the world. Lannoy, 
and Pescara, Charles's generals, having quit- 
ted France on the approach of Francis I., that 
Prince crossed the Alps, and blockaded Pa- 
via. On the 24th of February, 1525, Pescara 
attacked him. Bonnivet, la Tremouille, la 
Palisse, and Lescure died fighting by his side. 
The Duke of Alencon, the first prince of the 
blood and husband of Margaret, fled, carrying 
with him the rear-guard, and died of shame 
and grief at Lyons. Francis himself, thrown 
from his horse, surrendered his sword to 
Charles de Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, who 
received it kneeling on one knee. The King 
of France was the Emperor's prisoner ! His 
captivity seemed to be the greatest of all mis- 
fortunes. " Nothing is left me but honour 
and life," wrote that Prince to his mother. 
But to none was this event more affecting 
than to Margaret. The glory of her country 
overclouded, France without a monarch, and 
exposed to accumulated dangers, her beloved 
brother the captive of his haughty foe, her 
husband dishonoured and dead, — what an 
overflowing cup of bitterness ! But she had 
a Comforter: — and whilst her brother sought 
to comfort himself by repeating, " Tout est 
perdu, for s Fhonneur !" (All is lost save ho- 
nour !) . . She was able to say, " Fors Jesus 
seul, monfrere,fils de Dieu" — " Save Christ 
alone, my brother, Son of God !" 

All France, nobles, parliament, and people, 
were overwhelmed in consternation. Ere 
long, as in the first three centuries of the 
Church the calamity which had overtaken 
the state was charged upon the Christians,— 
and the cry of fanatics on all sides demanded 
their blood as the means of averting further 
misfortunes. The moment, therefore, was 
favourable to the opposers of the truth ; it 
was not enough to have dislodged the evan- 
gelical Christians from the three strong posi- 
tions they had taken up, it was necessary to 
profit by the popular panic to strike while the 
iron was hot, and utterly to extirpate a power 
which was becoming so formidable to the 
Papacy. 

At the head of this conspiracy, and loudest 
in these clamours, were Bed a, Duchesne, and 



Lecouturier. These irreconcilable enemies of 
the Gospel flattered themselves that they 
might easily obtain, from public terror, the 
victims hitherto refused. They went imme- 
diately to work, employing fanatical ha- 
rangues, lamentations, threats, and libels, to 
arouse the angry passions of the nation and 
its governors, — vomiting fire and flame against 
their adversaries, and heaping insults upon 
them. 

They stopped at nothing; — dishonestly 
quoting their words, without reference to any 
explanatory context, substituting expressions 
of their own in place of those used by the 
teachers they wished to inculpate, and omit- 
ting or adding according as was necessary to 
blacken the character of their opponents. 
Such is the testimony of Erasmus himself. 

Nothing so much excited their anger as 
the doctrine of Salvation by Free Grace, — 
the corner-stone of Christianity and of the 
Reformation. " When I contemplate," said 
Beda, "these three men, Lefevre, Erasmus, 
and Luther, in other respects gifted with so 
penetrating a genius, leagued together in a 
conspiracy against meritorious works, and 
resting all the weight of salvation on faith 
alone, I am no longer astonished that thou- 
sands, led away by such teaching, begin to 
say, 'Why should I fast and mortify my 
body?' Let us banish from France this 
hateful doctrine of grace. This neglect of 
good works is a fatal snare of the devil." 

Thus did the syndic of the Sorbonne fight 
against the faith. He would naturally find 
supporters in a profligate court, and likewise 
in another class of people, more respectable, 
but not less opposed to the Gospel; — we 
mean those grave men, and rigid moralists, 
who, devoted to the study of laws and judi- 
cial forms, discern in Christianity no more 
than a system of laws, and in the Church 
only a sort of moral police, and who, unable 
to make the doctrines of man's spiritual help- 
lessness, the new birth, and justification by 
faith, square with the legal habit of their 
minds, are induced to regard them as fanciful 
imaginations, dangerous to public morals and 
to national prosperity. This aversion to the 
doctrine of free grace manifested itself in the 
sixteenth century under two widely different 
forms. In Italy and in Poland it took the 
form of Socinianism, so called from its ori- 
ginator, w r ho was descended from a celebrated 
family of jurists at Sienna; while in France, 
it showed itself in the stern decrees and 
burnings of the Parliament. 

Contemning the great truths of the Gospel, 
as promulgated by the Reformers, and think- 
ing it necessary to do something at this 
season of overwhelming calamity, the Par- 
liament presented an address to Louisa of 
Savoy, remonstrating strongly on the conduct 
of the government towards the new teaching: 
" Heresy," said they, " has raised its head 
amongst us, and the king, by his neglecting 
to bring the heretics to the scaffold, has 
drawn down upon us the wrath of heaven " 

At the same time the pulpits resounue^ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



411 



with lamentations, threatening^, and male- 
dictions ; and prompt and signal punishments 
were loudly demanded. Martial Mazurier 
took a prominent part among the preachers 
of Paris, and endeavouring by his violence 
to efface the recollection of his former con- 
nection with the partisans of the Reforma- 
tion, inveighed against such as were " secretly 
the disciples of Luther." " Know you," 
cried he, " the rapid progress of this poison] 
Know you its strength 1 It acts with incon- 
ceivable rapidity; in a moment it may de- 
stroy tens of thousands of souls. Ah ! well 
may we tremble for France." 

It was not difficult to excite the Queen- 
mother against the favourers of the Reforma- 
tion. Her daughter Margaret, the chief per- 
sonages of the court, she herself, Louisa of 
Savoy, who had ever been devoted to the 
Roman Pontiff, had been by certain of the 
fanatics charged with countenancing Lefevre, 
Berquin, and the other innovators. Had she 
not been known, insinuated her accusers, to 
read their tracts and translations of the Bible ] 
The Queen-mother was not unwilling to 
clear herself of such dishonouring suspicions. 
Already she had despatched her confessor to 
the Sorbonne to inquire of that body as to the 
best method of extirpating this heresy. " The 
detestable doctrine of Luther," said she in 
her message to the faculty, " every day gains 
new adherents." The faculty smiled on the 
receipt of this message. The time had been 
when the representations they had made 
were dismissed without so much as a hear- 
ing ; but now their advice was humbly soli- 
cited in the matter. At length they held 
within their grasp that heresy which they 
had so long desired to stifle. They deputed 
Noel Beda to return an immediate answer to 
the Queen-regent. " Since," said the fana- 
tical syndic, " the sermons, discussions, and 
books, with which we have so often opposed 
heresy, have failed to arrest its progress, a 
proclamation ought to be put forth, prohibit- 
ing the circulation of the writings of the 
heretics — and if these measures should prove 
insufficient, force and restraint should be 
employed against the persons of the false 
teachers ; for they who resist the light must 
be subdued by punishments and terror." 

But Louisa had not even waited for their 
answer. Scarcely had Francis fallen into 
the hands of Charles V., when she wrote to 
the Pope, consulting him as to his wishes 
with respect to heretics. It was important 
to Louisa's policy to secure to herself the 
favour of a pontiff who had power to raise 
all Italy against the conqueror of Pavia ; and 
she did not think that favour would be too 
dearly bought at the cost of some French 
blood. The Pope, delighted at the opportu- 
nity of letting loose his vengeance in the 
"most Christian kingdom,"- against a heresy 
of which he had failed to arrest the progress 
either in Switzerland or Germany, gave 
instant directions for the establishment of the 
Inquisition in France, and despatched a bull 
to that effect to the Parliament. At the same 



time Duprat, whom the Pontiff had created a 
cardinal, at the same time bestowing upon 
him the archbishopric of Sens and a rich 
abbey, laboured to testify his gratitude for 
these favours, by his indefatigable opposition 
to the heretics. Thus the Pope, the Regent, 
the doctors of the Sorbonne and the Parlia- 
ment, the Chancellor and the fanatics, were 
now combining to ruin the Gospel and put 
its confessors to death. 

The Parliament was first in motion. The 
time had arrived, when it was necessary that 
the first body in the state should take steps 
against the new doctrine : moreover, it might 
seem called to act, inasmuch as the public 
tranquillity was at stake. Accordingly, the 
Parliament, " under the impulse of a holy 
zeal against the innovations," issued an 
edict, " that the Bishop of Paris, and certain 
other bishops, should be held responsible to 
M. Philippe Pott, president of requests, arid 
Andrew Verjus, its counsellor, and to Mes- 
sires William Duchesne, and Nicolas Le- 
clerc, doctors of divinity, to institute and 
conduct the trial of persons tainted with the 
Lutheran doctrine." 

" And with a purpose of making it appear 
that those persons were acting rather under 
the authority of the Church than of the Par- 
liament, it pleased his Holiness, the Pope, to 
forward a brief, dated 20th May, 1525, in 
which he approved the commissioners that 
had been named." 

" Accordingly, in pursuance of these mea- 
sures, all who, being called before these 
deputies, were by the bishop or by the eccle- 
siastical judges, pronounced Lutherans, were 
handed over to the secular arm, — that is, to 
the said Parliament, who forthwith condemn- 
ed them to the flames."* We quote the very 
words of a manuscript of that age. 

Such was the dreadful court of Inquisition, 
appointed, during the captivity of Francis I., 
to take cognisance of the charge against the 
evangelic Christians of France, as dangerous 
to the state. Its members were two laymen 
and two ecclesiastics : and one of these latter 
was Duchesne, next to Beda the most fana- 
tical of the adverse party. Shame had pre- 
vented their placing Beda himself in the 
commission, but his influence was only the 
more secured by the precaution. 

Thus the machinery was set up, its various 
springs in order, — and every one of its blows 
likely to be mortal. It was an important 
point to settle against whom its first proceed- 
ings should be taken. Beda, Duchesne, anil 
Leclerc, M. Philip Pott, the president, and 
Andrew Verjus, the counsellor, met to delibe- 
rate on this point. Was there not the Count 
of Montbrun, the old friend of Louis XII., 
and the former ambassador at the court of 
Rome, Briconnet, then Bishop of Meaux 1 
This committee of public safety, of 1525, 



* The MS. of the Library of St. Genevieve, 
whence I have derived this fragment, bears the 
name of Lczeau, but in the catalogue that of 
Lefebre. 



412 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



thought that by singling out its object from an 
elevated station, it should strike terror through 
all hearts. This consideration seems to have 
decided them ; and the venerable bishop re- 
ceived notice of trial. 

Far from quailing before the persecution 
of 1523, Briconnet had persisted, in conjunc- 
tion with Lefevre, in opposing tbe popular 
superstitions. The more eminent his station 
in the Church and in the State, the more fatal 
did the effect of his example appear, and the 
more did his enemies judge it necessary to 
extort from him a public recantation, or to 
bring him to a yet more public retribution. 
The court of Inquisition lost no time in col- 
lecting and preparing the evidence against 
him. He was charged with harbouring the 
teachers of the new heresy: it was alleged 
that a week after the superior of the Corde- 
liers had preached in St. Martin's church at 
Meaux, by direction of the Sorbonne, to re- 
store sound doctrine, — Briconnet had himself 
occupied the pulpit, and, in publicly refuting 
him, had designated the preacher and his 
brother Cordeliers impostors, false prophets, 
and hypocrites ; and that, not satisfied with 
that, he had, through his official, summoned 
the superior to appear personally to answer 
to him. 

It would even seem, if we ma}^ trust to one 
manuscript of the time, that the Bishop had 
gone much further, and that he in person, at- 
tended by Lefevre, had in the autumn of 1524, 
gone over his diocese, committing to the 
flames, wherever he came, all images, the 
crucifix alone excepted. So daring a conduct, 
which would go to prove so much decision, 
combined with much timidity in the charac- 
ter of Briconnet — if we give credit to the fact 
— would not fix upon him the blame visited 
on other iconoclasts ; for he was at the head 
of that Church whose superstitions he then 
sought to reform, and was therefore acting at 
least in the sphere of his rights and duties.* 

However we may regard it, in the eyes of 
the enemies of the Gospel the charge against 
Briconnet was of a very aggravated character. 
He had not merely impugned the Church's 
authority, he had erected himself against the 
Sorbonne itself, — that society, all the energies 
of which were directed to the perpetuation of 
its own greatness. Great, therefore, was the 
joy in the society at the intelligence that its 

* In the library of the pastors of Neufchatel is 
a letter of Sebville. in which the following pas- 
sage occurs: " Je te notifie que l'eveque de 
Means! en Brie pres Paris cumJacobo Fabro sfapu- 
lensi, depuis trois mois, en visitant l'eveche ont 
brule actu tous les images, reserve le crucifix, et 
sont personellement ajournes a Paris a ce mois de 
mars venant pour repondre coram suprema curia et 
universilate." I am rather disposed to think the 
fact truly stated, though Sebville was not on the 
spot. Mezeray, Daniel, and Maimbourgmake no 
mention of it. These Roman Catholic writers, 
who are not very circumstantial, may have had 
motives for passing over the fact in silence, con- 
sidering the issue of the trial ; and moreover, the 
report of Sebville agrees with all the known facts. 
f-[o\veve*\ the matter is open to question. 



adversary was to stand a trial before the In- 
quisition, and John Bochart, one of the lead- 
ing lawyers of the time, pleading before the 
Parliament against Briconnet, exclaimed 
aloud, — "Neither the Bishop nor any sin- 
gle individual can lawfully exalt himself 
or open his mouth against the faculty. 
Neither is the faculty called to discuss or give 
its reasons at the bar of the said Bishop, 
whose duty it is to offer no opposition to the 
wisdom of that holy society, but to esteem it 
as under the guidance of God himself." 

In conformity with this representation, the 
Parliament put forth an edict on the 3d Octo- 
ber, 1525, wherein, after authorizing the ar- 
rest of all those who had been informed 
against, it gave orders that the bishop should 
be examined by Master James Menager and 
Andrew Verjus, counsellors of the court, 
touching the matters charged against him. 

The order of the Parliament struck terror 
to the Bishop's heart. Briconnet, twice 
honoured with the post of ambassador at 
Rome, — Briconnet, a bishop, a noble, the in- 
timate friend of Louis XII. and Francis I., — 
to undergo an interrogatory by two counsel- 
lors of the court He who had fondly 

dreamed that God would kindle in the hearts 
of the king, his mother, and his sister, a flame 
that would run through the kingdom, now be- 
held that kingdom turning against him in the 
endeavour to quench that fire which it had re- 
ceived from heaven. The king was a captive ; 
his mother was placing herself at the head of 
the enemy's force ; and Margaret, dismayed 
by the misfortunes of her country, no longer 
dared to avert the blow directed against her 
dearest friends, and falling first on the spirit- 
ual father who had so often cheered and com- 
forted her. Not long before this, she had 
written to Briconnet a letter full of pious emo- 
tions. "Oh," she had said, "that this poor 
languid heart might experience some warmth 
of that love with which I would that it were 
burnt to ashes." But the time had arrived 
when the question was one of literal burn- 
ings. Such mystical expressions were not 
now in season; and one who resolved to con- 
fess the faith must brave the scaffold ! The 
poor Bishop, who had been so sanguine in 
the hope to see the Reformation gradually 
and gently winning its w T ay in men's minds, 
trembled in dismay, when he found, that, at 
the eleventh hour, it must be purchased, at 
the sacrifice of life itself. It is possible such 
a thought may never before have occurred 
to him, and he recoiled from it in an agony of 
fear. 

One hope, however, remained for Bricon- 
net ; and that was, that he might be allowed 
to appear before the Chambers of Parliament 
in general assembly, agreeably to the privilege 
belonging, by custom, to his rank. Doubt- 
less, in that august and numerous assembly, 
some generous hearts w T ould respond to his 
appeal and espouse his cause. Accordingly, 
he humbly petitioned the court to grant him 
this indulgence ; but his enemies had equally 
with himself calculated the possible issue ct 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



413 



such a hearing-. Had they not learned a les-' 
son when Luther, in presence of the Germanic 
Diet, at Worms, had shaken the resolution of 
those who had previously seemed most decid- 
ed ] Carefully closing every avenue of escape, 
they had exerted themselves with such effect, 
that the Parliament, <on the 25th October, 
1525, in an edict affirming- that previously is- 
sued, refused Briconnet the favour he had pe- 
titioned for. 

Behold the Bishop of Meaux, placed like 
a common priest of the lowest order before 
Masters James Menager and Andrew Verjus. 
Those two jurisconsults, the obedient tools 
of the Sorbonne, were not likely to be swayed 
by those higher considerations to which the 
Chambers of Parliament might be accessible ; 
they were men of facts : — was it, or was it 
not, a fact that the Bishop had set himself in 
opposition to the society ] With them, this 
was the only question. Accordingly, Bri- 
connet's conviction was secured. 

Whilst the sword was thus impending- over 
the head of the Bishop, the monks, priests, 
and doctors made the best use of their time ; 
they saw plainly that if Briconnet could be 
persuaded to retract, their interests would be 
better served than by his martyrdom. His 
death would but inflame the zeal of those 
who were united with him in their faith, 
while his apostasy would plunge them in the 
deepest, discouragement. They accordingly 
went to work. They visited him, and pressed 
him with their entreaties. Martial Mazurier 
especially strained every nerve to urge him 
to a fall, as he himself had fallen. Arguments 
were not wanting, which might, to Briconnet, 
seem specious. Would he then take the con- 
sequence, and be rejected from his office ] If 
he remained in the church, might not he use 
his influence with the king and the court to 
an extent of good which it was not easy to 
estimate 1 What would become of his friends 
when his power was at an end 1 Was not his 
resistance likely to compromise the success 
of a Reformation which, to be salutary and 
lasting, ought to be carried into effect by the 
legitimate influence of the clergy 1 How 
many would be stumbled by his persisting in 
opposition to the Church ; and, on the other 
hand, how many would be won over by his 
concessions'? His advisers pretended that 
they, too, were anxious for a Reformation; — 
" All is going on by insensible steps," said 
they; " both at the court, in the city, and in 
the provinces, things are progressing — and 
would he, in the mere lightness of his heart, 
dash the fair prospect in view ! After all, he 
was not asked to. relinquish what he had 
taught, but merely to comply with the estab- 
lished order of the Church. Could it be 
well, at a time when France was suffering 
under the pressure of so many reverses, — to 
stir up new confusions 1 ". In the name of 
religion, country, friends — nay, even of the 
Reformation itself — consent l"*"* said they. Such | 
are the sophisms that are the ruin of man} 7 a 
noble enterprise. 

Yet every one of these considerations had 



its influence on the Bishop's mind. The 
Tempter, who came to Jesus in the wilder- 
ness, presented himself to Briconnet in fail 
and specious colours; — and instead of saying, 
with his Master, " Get thee behind me, Sci' 
tan!" he heard, listened, and considered his 
suggestions. . . . Thenceforward his faithful- 
ness was at an end. 

Briconnet had never been embarked, with 
all his heart, like Farel or Luther in the move- 
ment which was then remoulding the Church. 
There was in him a sort of mystical tendency, 
which enfeebles the souls in which it gains 
place, and takes from them the firmness and 
confidence which are derived from a Faith 
that rests simply on the word of God. The 
cross he was called to take up, that he might 
follow Christ, was too heavy for him. Shaken 
in resolution, alarmed, dizzy, and not know- 
ing which way to turn, he faltered, and 
stumbled against the stone that had been art- 
fully laid in his path . . he fell; — and, in- 
stead of throwing himself into the arms of 
Christ, he cast himself at the feet of Mazurier, 
and by a shameful recantation, brought a dark 
cloud upon the glory of a noble fidelity. 

Thus fell Briconnet, the friend of Lefevre 
and of Margaret; and thus the earliest pro- 
tector of the Gospel in France, denied that 
good news of Grace, in the criminal thought 
that his abiding faithful would compromise 
his influence in the Chucch, at the court, and 
in the kingdom. But what his enemies repre- 
sented as the saving of his country, was, per- 
haps, the greatest of its misfortunes. What 
might not have been the consequence, if Bri- 
connet had possessed the courage of Luther? 
If one of the most eminent of the French 
bishops, enjoying the respect of the king and 
the love of the people, had ascended the 
scaffold, and there, like " the poor of this 
world," sealed, by a courageous confession 
and a Christian death, the truth of the Gos- 
pel, — would not France herself have been 
put upon reflection] Would not the blood 
of the Bishop of Meaux have served, like 
that of Polycarp and Cyprian, as seed of the 
Church,- and should we not have seen those 
provinces, so famed for many recollections,, 
emancipating themselves, in the sixteenth 
century, from the spiritual darkness in which 
they are still enveloped 1 

Briconnet underwent the form of an inter- 
rogatory, in presence of Masters James 
Menager and Andrew Verjus, who declared 
that he had sufficiently vindicated himself 
from the crime charged against him. He 
was then put under penance, and convened a 
synod, at which he condemned the writing^ 
of Luther, retracted whatever he had taught 
at variance with the Church's teaching, re- 
stored the custom of invocation of saints, 
persuading such as had left the rites of the 
Church to return to them; and, as if desiring 
to leave no doubt as to his reconciliation with 
the Pope and the Sorbonne, kept a solemn 
fast on All-saints-eve, and issued orders 
for pompous processions, in which he ap- 
peared personally, evidencing still further 



414 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



his faith by his largesses and apparent de- 
votion.* 

The fall of Briconnet is perhaps the most 
memorable of all those recorded of that period. 
There is no like example of one so deeply 
engaged in the work of the Reformation so 
abruptly turning against it; yet must we 
carefully consider both his character and his 
fall. Briconnet stood relatively to Rome as 
Lefevre stood in relation to the Reformation. 
Both represented a sort of juste milieu, — ap- 
pertaining, in strictness of speech, to neither 
party, — as it were, one on the right and the 
other on the left centre. The Doctor of Eta- 
ples leans towards the Word ; the Bishop in- 
clines towards the Hierarchy ; — and when 
these men, who touch each other, are driven 
to decision, we see the one range himself on 
the side of Christ, and the other on the side 
of Rome. We may add, that it is not pos- 
sible to think that Briconnet can have entirely 
laid aside the convictions of his faith ; and at 
no time did the Roman doctors put confidence 
in him ; not even after he had retracted. But 
he did, as did afterwards the Bishop of Cam- 
bray, whom he in some points resembled ; he 
flattered himself he might outwardly submit 
to the Pope's authority, while he in his heart 
continued subject to the divine Word. Such 
weakness is incompatible with the principle 
of the Reformation. Briconnet was one of 
the most distinguished of the quietist or 
mystic school ; and it is well known that one 
of the leading maxims of that school has 
ever been to settle down in, and adapt itself 
to, the church in which it exists, whatever 
that church may be. 

The mournful fall of Briconnet was felt as 
a shock to the hearts of his former friends, 
and was the sad forerunner of those deplor- 
able apostasies to which the friendship of the 
world so often led, in another age of French 
history. The man who seemed to hold the 
reins of the movement was abruptly precipi- 
tated from his seat, and the Reformation was, 
in that country, thenceforth to pursue its 
course without a leader or guide, in loneliness 
and secrecy. But the disciples of the Gospel 
from that time lifted up their eyes, regarding, 
with more fixedness of faith, their Head in 
neaven, whose unchanging faithfulness their 
souls had known. 

The Sorbonne was triumphant. A great 
advance toward the final ruin of the Reforma- 
tion in France had been made, and it was 
important to follow up their success. Lefevre 
stood next after Briconnet, and Beda had, 
therefore, without loss of time, turned his 
hostility against him, publishing a tract 
against the celebrated doctor, full of such 
gross calumnies, that we have Erasmus's 
judgment of them, that "even cobblers and 
smiths could lay their finger on the falsehood 
of them." What seemed above all to enrage 
him was that doctrine of Justification by Faith, 
which Lefevre had proclaimed in the ears of 

* Mezeray. ii. p. 981 ; Daniel v p 64^ ; Mo- 
eri, article Bri§onnet. 



Christians. To this Beda continually re- 
curred as an article which, according to him, 
overturned the Church. "What?" he ex* 
claimed, " Lefevre affirms that whoever as- 
cribes to himself the power to save himself 
will be lost, whilst whosoever, laying aside 
all strength of his own, casts himself into 

the arms of Christ, shall be saved Oh, 

what heresy ! thus to teach the uselessness 
of meritorious works What hellish doc- 
trine! — what delusion of the devil! Let us 
oppose it with all our power." 

Instantly that engine of persecution, which 
took effect in the recantation or in the death 
of its victims, was turned against Lefevre; 
and already hopes were entertained that he 
would share the fate of Leclerc the wool- 
comber, or that of the Bishop Briconnet. 
His trial was quickly gone through ; and a 
decree of Parliament condemned nine propo- 
sitions extracted from his commentaries on 
the Gospels, and placed his translation of the 
Scriptures in the list of prohibited works. 

These measures were felt by Lefevre to be 
only the prelude of others. From the first 
intimation of the approaching persecution he 
had clearly perceived, that in the absence of 
Francis the First he would not be able to 
bear up under his enemies' attacks, and that 
the time had arrived to act on the direction, 
'•'•When they persecute you in one city, Jlee ye 
unto another.'''' Matt. x. 14 — 23. Lefevre 
quitted Meaux, where, ever since the bishop's 
apostasy, he had experienced nothing but 
bitterness of soul, and had found his efforts 
paralyzed ; and as he looked back upon his 
persecutors, he shook off the dust from his 
feet, — " not to call down evil upon them, but 
in testimony of the evils that were coming 
upon them : for," says he, ." as that dust is 
shaken from off our feet, just so are they cast 
off from the favour andpresenceoftheLord." 

The persecutors beheld their victim at 
large ; but they derived comfort from the 
thought that, at least, France was delivered 
from this father of heresy. 

Lefevre, a fugitive from his enemies, ar- 
rived at Strasburg under an assumed name. 
There he was immediately introduced to the 
friends of the Reformation; and w T hat must 
have been his joy, to hear publicly taught 
that same Gospel of which he had caught the 
first gleams in the Church ; — why, it was just 
his own faith ! It was exactly what he had 
intended to express! It was as if he had 
been a second time born to the Christian life. 
Gerard Roussel, one of those Evangelical 
Christians, who, nevertheless, like the Doc- 
tor of Etaples, attained not to complete en- 
franchisement, had been likewise compelled 
to quit France. Both together attended the 
lectures ofCapitoandBucer, and met in pri- 
vate intercourse with those faithful teachers. 
It was even rumoured that they had been 
commissioned to do so by Margaret, the 
king's sister. But the adoring contemplation 
of the ways of God, rather than polemical 
questions, engaged Lefevre's attention. Cast- 
ing a glance upon the state of Christendom, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



415 



and filled with wonder at what he beheld 
passing on : ts stage, moved with feelings of 
gratitude, and full of hopeful anticipation, he 
threw himself on his knees, and prayed to the 
Lord " to perfect that which he saw then be- 
ginning." 

At Strasburg one especially agreeable sur- 
prise awaited him : his pupil, " his son in the 
faith," Farel, from whom he had been parted 
by persecution for nearly three years, had 
arrived there just before. The aged doctor 
of the Sorbonne found, in his young pupil, a 
man in the vigour of life, a Christian " strong 
in the faith;" and Farel grasped with affec- 
tionate respect the shrivelled hand which had 
guided its earliest steps, conscious of the 
liveliest joy at thus recovering his spiritual 
father in the society of faithful men, and in a 
city that had received the truth. They at- 
tended in company the pure teaching of emi- 
nent teachers ; broke bread together in the 
supper of the Lord, according to Christ's in- 
stitution, and received touching proofs of the 
love of the brethren. " Do you recollect," 
said Farel to Lefevre, "an expression you 
once let fall to me, when we were both as yet 
in darkness? '•William, God will renew the 
world; and you will live to see UP See here 
the beginning of what you then foretold." 
"Yes," answered the pious old man, "God 
is renewing the world. . . . O, my son, con- 
tinue to preach boldly the holy Gospel of 
Jesus Christ." 

Lefevre, from an excess of prudence, doubt- 
less, chose to remain incognito at Strasburg, 
and took the name of Anthony Peregrinus, 
whilst Roussel chose that of Solnin. But the 
celebrated doctor could not elude notice ; and 
soon the whole city, even to the very child- 
ren, saluted him with marks of respect. He 
did not dwell by himself, but lodged in the 
same house with Capito, Farel, Roussel, and 
Vedastus, (known and loved for his retiring 
diffidence,) and a certain converted Jew named 
Simon. The houses of Capito, CEcolampa- 
dius, Zwingle, and Luther, offered a kind of 
open table and lodging. Such, in those days, 
was the attraction of " brotherly love." Many 
Frenchmen, besides, were residing in this 
city on the banks of the Rhine, and there 
composed a church in which Farel often 
preached the doctrine of Salvation. Such 
Christian communion soothed the feeling of 
banishment from their native land. 

Whilst these brethren were thus enjoying 
the asylum afforded them by brotherly love, 
those in Paris and other parts of France were 
exposed to,great danger. Brironnet had re- 
canted ; Lefevre was beyond the frontier : all 
this was something gained, but the Sorbonne 
was still without those public examples of 
punishment which it, had advised. Beda and 
his followers were without victims. One man 
there was who gave them more annoyance 
than either Briconnet or LefeVre, and he was 
Louis Berquin. The gentleman of Artois, 
more fearless than his tutors, allowed no op- 
portunity to pass of teasing the monks and 
theologians, and unmasking their fanaticism. 
28 



Passing from the capital to the provinces, he 
would collect the writings of Erasmus and of 
Luther. These he would translate; at othei 
times himself composing controversial tracts, 
and defending and disseminating the new 
teaching with the zeal of a young convert. 
Louis Berquin was denounced by the bishop 
of Amiens, Beda seconded the accusation, 
and the Parliament committed him to prison. 
"This one," said the enemy, "shall not es- 
cape so easily as Briconnet or Lefevre." But 
their bolts and bars had no effect on Berquin. 
In vain did the superior of the Carthusians 
and other persons labour to persuade him to 
apologize ; he declared he would not retract 
an iota. " It seemed then," says a chronicler, 
" that no way remained but to send him to 
the stake." 

Margaret, in consternation at what had 
happened to Briconnet, dreaded to see Ber- 
quin dragged to that scaffold which the 
bishop had so shamefully eluded. Not 
daring to visit him in his prison, she en- 
deavoured to convey a few words of consola- 
tion to him — and he may have been upon 
her heart — when the princess composed that 
touching complaint in which a prisoner thus 
addresses the Lord : 

O refuge free to all who feel distress ! 
Their help and stay ' — Judge of the fatherless . 
Exhaustless treasure of consoling grace ! 
The iron doors, the rnoat, the massive wall 
Keep far from me, — a lone, forgotten thrall — 
Friend, kinsman, brother, — each familiar face: 
Yet mercy meets even this extremity ; 
For iron doors can never shut out Thee ! — 
Thou, Lord ! art, with me here^— here in this dis- 
mal place. 

But Margaret did not rest there, she imme- 
diately wrote to her broker to solicit a pardon 
for her attendant. Fortunate might she deem 
herself if her efforts w T ere not too late to rescue 
him from the hatred of his enemies. 

While awaiting this victim, Beda resolved 
to strike terror into the adversaries of the Sor- 
bonne and monks, by crushing the most cele- 
brated man among them. Erasmus had de- 
clared himself against Luther : — But this mat- 
tered little; — if the ruin of Erasmus could be 
accomplished, then beyond all doubt the de- 
struction of Farel, of Luther, and their associ- 
ates would be sealed. The surest way of 
reaching our mark is to aim beyond it. Let 
the ecclesiastical power only set its heel on 
the neck of the philosopher of Rotterdam, and 
where was the heretical doctor who could hope 
to escape the vengeance of Rome 1 The at- 
tack had already been commenced by Lecou- 
turier, better known by his Latin name of 
Sutor, who, from the solitude of a Carthusian 
cell, launched against Erasmus a publication 
of the most violent character, in which he 
called his adversaries, theologasters and 
miserable apes, and charged them with scan- 
dalous offences, with heresy and blasphemy. 
Handling subjects which he did not under- 
stand, he reminded his readers, as Erasmus 
sarcastically remarks, of the old proverb : — 
" Ne sutor ultra crepid'am." 



416 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Beda hastened to the assistance of his con- 
federate. He ordered Erasmus to write no 
more; and himself taking up the pen, which 
he had enjoined the greatest writer of the age 
to lay down, he made a selection of all the 
calumnies which the monks had invented 
against the philosopher, translated them into 
French, and formed them into a book which 
he circulated at court and in the city, in the 
hope that all France would join in the outcry 
he was raising. This book was the signal 
for a general onset; the enemies of Erasmus 
started up on every side. Nicolas D'Ecmond, 
an old Carmelite of Louvain, used to exclaim, 
as often as he mounted the pulpit, "There is 
no difference between Erasmus and Luther, 
unless it be that Erasmus is the greater here- 
tic of the two;" and wherever the Carmelite 
might be, — at the table or on a journey, on 
the land or on the water, — he was raving 
against Erasmus, the heresiarch and forger. 
The faculty of Paris, excited by these cla- 
mours, drew up a decree of censure against 
the illustrious writer. 

Erasmus was astounded. Was this, then, 
the fruit of all his politic forbearance, — was it 
for this that he had even engaged in hostilities 
against Luther] He with an intrepidity which 
no one else had displayed, had flung himself 
into the breach, — and was he now to be tram- 
pled down only that the common enemy might 
be reached more safely over his prostrate body 1 
His indignation is raised at the thought, he 
turns sharply round, and while yet warm from 
his attack upon Luther, deals his retributive 
blows on the fanatical doctors who have as- 
sailed him in the rear. Never was his corres- 
pondence more active than now. He takes a 
survey of his position, and his piercing eye 
immediately discovers in whose hands rests 
the balance of his fate. He hesitates not an 
instant; — he will at once lay his complaint 
and his protest at the feet of the Sorbonne, — 
of the Parliament, — of the King, — of the Em- 
peror himself. — " How was this fearful flame 
of Lutheranism kindled ?" — says he, writing 
to those among the divines of the Sorbonne in 
whose impartiality he still reposed some con- 
fidence : — " How has it been fanned into fury, 
— except by such outrages as these which Beda 
has committed 1 In war, — a soldier who has 
done his duty receives a reward from his gene- 
rals,— but the only reward that you, — the 
generals in this war, — have to bestow upon 
me, — is to deliver me up to the calumnies of 
Beda and Lecouturier !" 

" What," he exclaims, addressing the Par- 
liament of Paris, " when I had these Luther- 
ans on my hands, — when, under the auspices 
of the Emperor, the Pope and the other princes, 
I was struggling against them, even at the 
peril of my life, must I be assailed behind my 
back by the foul libels of Lecouturier and Beda? 
Ah, if evil fortune had not deprived us of 
King Francis, I might have appealed to that 
avenger of the muses against these insults of 
the barbarians. But now it rests with you to 
restrain their malignity." 

No sooner did an opportunity present itself 



of conveying a letter to the King, than he wrote 
to him also. His penetrating glance detected 
in these fanatical doctors of the Sorbonne, the 
germs of the League, the precursor of the 
three Priests, who at a later period were to set 
up the sixteen against the last of the race of 
Valois ; — his genius enabled him to warn the 
King of future crimes and miseries which the 
experience of his successors would but too 
fully realize. — "Religion," said he, "is their 
pretext, — but their true aim is despotic power, 
to be exercised even over princes. — They are 
moving onward with a steady step, though 
their path lies under ground. Should the 
sovereign not be inclined to submit himself in 
all things to their guidance, they will imme- 
diately declare that he may be deposed by the 
Church,- that is to say, by a few false monks, 
and a few false divines conspiring together 
against the public peace." Erasmus, when 
writing to Francis the First, could not have 
touched a more sensitive string. 

Finally, that he might still more effectually 
secure himself against the malice of his ene- 
mies, Erasmus invoked the protection of 
Charles the Fifth himself. — "Invincible Em- 
peror," said he, "a horrible outcry has been 
raised against me, by men who, under the 
pretence of religion, are labouring to establish 
their own tyrannical power, and to gratify 
their own sensual appetites. I am fighting 
under your banner, and under the standard of 
Jesus Christ. It is by your wisdom and your 
authority that peace must be restored to the 
Christian world." 

It was in language like this that the prince 
of literature addressed himself to the rulers of 
the age. The danger which impended over 
his head was averted ; the secular power in- 
terposed, and the vultures were compelled to 
abandon the prey which in fancy they had al- 
ready clutched. They then turned their eyes 
elsewhere in search of other victims, and they 
were soon found. 

It was in Lorraine first that blood was ap- 
pointed to flow afresh. From the earliest days 
of the Reformation, there had been an alliance 
in fanaticism between Paris and the country 
of the Guises. IffrParis was at peace for a 
while, Lorraine took up the work, and then 
Paris began, again, to give time for Nancy 
and Metz to recruit their strength. The first 
blow, apparently, was destined to fall upon an 
excellent man, one of the refugees of Basle, a 
friend of Farel and Toussaint. The Cheva- 
lier d'Esch, while residing at Metz, had not 
been able to screen himself from the suspicions 
of the priests. It was ascertained that he car- 
ried on a correspondence with Christians of the 
Evangelic Faith, and on that discovery he 
was thrown into prison at Pont-a-Mousson. a 
place situated five miles from Metz. on the 
banks of the Moselle. The tidings filled the 
French refugees, and the Swiss themselves, 
with the deepest concern. " Alas ! for that 
innocent heart !' exclaimed (Ecolampadius : 
" I have full confidence in the Lord," added 
he, "that he will preserve this man to us, 
either in life as a preacher of righteousness 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



417 



to make known His name ; or in death to con- 
fess Him as a martyr." But at the same time 
CEcolampadius censured the thoughtlessness, 
— the precipitancy, — and what he termed the 
imprudent zeal for which the French refugees 
were distinguished. " I wish," said he, " that 
my dear friends, the worthy gentlemen of 
France, would not be so eager to return to 
their own country, until they have made all 
due inquiries beforehand ; for the devil lays 
his snares everywhere. Nevertheless, let 
them obey the Spirit of Christ, and may that 
Spirit never forsake them. 

There was reason, indeed, to tremble for 
the fate of the chevalier. The rancour of the 
enemy had broken out in Lorraine with re- 
doubled fury. Brother Bonaventure Renel, 
the principal of the Cordeliers, and the confes- 
sor of Duke Anthony the Good, a man of an 
audacious temper, and of very questionable 
moral character, allowed that weak prince, 
who reigned from 1508 to 1544, a large mea- 
sure of license in his pleasures ; and persuaded 
him, on the other hand, by way of atonement, 
as it were, to exercise a merciless severity 
against all innovators. " It is quite sufficient 
for any one," said the prince, profiting by the 
able instructions of Renel, " if he can repeat 
the Pater and the Jive-Maria; the greatest 
doctors are those who occasion the greatest 
disorders." 

Towards the end of the year 1524, informa- 
tion was conveyed to the Duke's court, that a 
pastor, named Schuch, was preaching a new 
kind of doctrine in the town of Saint Hippo- 
lyte, at the foot of the Vosages. " Let them 
return to their duty," said Anthony the Good, 
" or I will march against the town, and lay 
it waste with fire and sword !" 

Hereupon the faithful pastor resolved to de- 
vote himself for his flock : he repaired to 
Nancy, where the prince resided. Imme- 
diately on his arrival, he was lodged in a 
noisome prison, under the custody of brutal 
and cruel men : and now at last brother Bona- 
venture had the heretic in his power. It was he 
who presided at the tribunal before which he 
was examined, "Heretic!" cried he addressing 
the prisoner, " Judas ! Devil !" Schuch, pre- 
serving the utmost tranquillity and composure, 
made no reply to these insults ; but holding 
in his hand a little Bible, all covered with 
notes which he had written in it, he meekly 
and earnestly confessed Jesus Christ and him 
crucified ! On a sudden, he assumed a more 
animated mein, — stood up boldly, raised his 
voice as if moved by the Spirit from on high, 
— and, looking his judges in the face, de- 
nounced against them the fearful judgments 
of God. 

Brother Bonaventure and his companions, 
inwardly appalled, yet agitated with rage, 
rushed upon him at once with vehement cries, 
snatched away the Bible, from which he read 
those menacing words, — and "raging like 
bo many mad dogs," says the chronicler, 
" because they could not wreak their fury on 
the. doctrine, carried the book to their convent, 
and burnt it there." 



The whole court of Lorraine resounded with 
the obstinacy and presumption of the minis- 
ter of St. Hippolyte; and the prince, impelled 
by curiosity to hear the heretic, resolved to 
be present at his final examination, — se- 
cretly, however, and concealed from the 
view of the spectators. But as the interro- 
gatory was conducted in Latin, he could not 
understand it: only he was struck with the 
steadfast aspect of the minister, who seemed to 
be neither vanquished nor abashed. Indignant 
at this obstinacy, Anthony the Good started 
from his seat, and said as he retired, — " Why 
dispute any longer 1 He denies the sacrament 
of the mass ; let them proceed to execution 
against him." Schuch was immediately con- 
demned to be burnt alive. When the sen- 
tence was communicated to him, he lifted up 
|his eyes to heaven, and mildly made answer; 
" I was glad when they said unto me, Let us 
go into the house of the Lord." (Psalm 
cxxii. 1.) 

On the 19th of August, 1525, the whole 
city of Nancy was in motion. The bells 
gave notice of the death of a heretic. The 
mournful procession set out. It must pass 
before the convent of the Cordeliers, and 
there the whole fraternity were gathered in 
joyful expectation before the door. As soon 
as Schuch made his appearance, Father Bona- 
venture, pointing to the carved images over 
the convent gateway, cried. out, " Heretic, pay 
honour to God, his mother, and the saints !" 
— " O hypocrites !" replied Schuch, standing 
erect before those pieces of wood and stone, 
" God will destroy you, and bring your de- 
ceits to light!" 

When the martyr reached the place of exe- 
cution, his books were first burnt in his pre- 
sence, and then he was called upon to recant ; 
but he refused, saying, "Thou, God, hast 
called me, and thou wilt strengthen me to the 
end;" 3 and immediately he began, with a 
loud voice, to repeat the 51st Psalm, "Have 
mercy upon me, O God ! according to thy 
loving-kindness !" Having mounted the pile, 
he continued to recite the psalm until the 
smoke and flames stifled his voice. 

Thus did the persecutors in France and 
Lorraine behold a renewal of their triumphs, 
— their counsels had at length been followed. 
At Nancy the ashes of a heretic had been 
scattered to the winds: this seemed a chal- 
lenge addressed to the capital of France. 
What! should Beda and Lecourturier be the 
last to show their zeal for the Pope? Rather 
let one blazing pile serve as the signal for 
another, and heresy, swept from the soil of 
France, would soon be driven back beyond 
the Rhine. 

But Beda was not to pursue his successful 
career, until a contest, half serious, half ludi- 
crous, had taken place between him and one 
of those men with vtfhom the struggle against 
Popery was only a capricious effort of the 
intellect, not the solemn engagement and 
willing duty of the heart. 

Among the learned men whom Briconnet 
had allured to his diocese was a doctor of the 



418 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Sorbonne, named Peter Caroli, a man of a 
vain and frivolous cast of mind, and as quar- 
relsome and litigious as Beda himself. Caroli 
viewed the new doctrine as the means of 
making an impression, and of thwarting Beda, 
whose ascendancy he could not endure — 
Accordingly, on his return from Meaux to 
Paris he caused a great sensation, by intro- 
ducing into every pulpit what was called 
" the new way of preaching." Then began 
a pernicious strife between the two doctors ; 
it was blow for blow and trick for, trick. 
Beda cites Caroli before the Sorbonne, and 
Caroli summons him before the episcopal 
court to answer for an infringement of privi- 
lege. The Sorbonne proceeds with the 
inquiry, and Caroli gives intimation of an 
appeal to the Parliament. A provisional 
sentence excludes him from the pulpit, and 
still he goes on preaching in all the churches 
of Paris. Being absolutely forbidden to 
preach in any pulpit, he takes to publicly 
expounding the Psalms in the college of 
Cambray. The Sorbonne prohibits him from 
continuing that practice, but he asks permis- 
sion to conclude the exposition of the twenty- 
second Psalm which he has begun. Finally, 
on this petition being rejected, he posts the 
following placard on the college-gates : — 
"Peter Caroli, being desirous to obey the injunc- 
tions of the sacred faculty, has ceased to teach ,• 
he will resume his lectures, whenever it shall 
please God, at the verse where he left off.- 
' They have pierced my hands and my 
feet.' " Thus had Beda at length found an 
opponent with whom he was fairly matched. 
If Caroli had defended the truth in right 
earnest, the stake would have been his re- 
ward ; but he was of too carnal a spirit to 
expose himself to the risk of death. How 
could capital punishment be inflicted on a 
man who laughed his judges out of counte- 
nance 1 Neither the episcopal court, nor the 
parliament, nor the council, could ever pro- 
ceed to a definitive judgment in his cause. 
Two such men as Caroli would have wearied 
out the activity of Beda himself; — but two 
like him the Reformation did not produce. 

This troublesome contest concluded, Beda 
applied himself to matters of more serious 
concern. Happily for the syndic of the Sor- 
bonne, there were men who gave persecution 
a better hold of them than Caroli. Briconnet, 
indeed, and Erasmus, and Lefevre, and Ber- 
quin had escaped him ; but since he cannot 
reach these distinguished personages, he will 
content himself with meaner victims. The 
poof youth, James Pavanne, ever since his 
abjuration at Christmas, 1524, had done no- 
thing but weep and sigh. He was constantly 
seen with a gloomy brow, his eyes fixed on 
the ground, groaning inwardly, and muttering 
reproaches against himself for having denied 
his Lord and Saviour. 

Pavanne undoubtedly was the most retiring 
and the most inoffensive of men; — but what 
of that 1 — he had been at Meaux, and this, in 
those days, was sufficient. " Pavanne has 
relapsed!" was the cry: "the dog has re- 



turned to his vomit, and the swine that was 
washed to his wallowing in the mire." He 
was seized immediately, cast into prison, 
and after a while brought before the judges. 
This was all that young Pavanne desired.— 
He felt his mind relieved as soon as the fet- 
ters w r ere fastened on his limbs, and recovered 
all his energy in the open confession of Jesus 
Christ! The persecutors smiled when they 
saw that this time nothing could disappoint 
them of their victim, — no recantation, — no 
flight, — no intervention of a powerful protec- 
tion. The meekness of the youth, his candour, 
his courage, were altogether unavailing to ap- 
pease the malice of his enemies. He, on the 
contrary, looked on them with affection, — for 
by loading him with chains, they had restored 
his peace of mind and his joy, — but that 
benevolent look of his only hardened their 
hearts the more. The proceedings against 
him were conducted with all despatch, and a 
very short time had elapsed before a pile was 
erected in the Place de Greve, on which 
Pavanne made a joyful end, — strengthening 
by his example all who in that great city had 
openly or secretly embraced the Gospel of 
Christ. 

But this was not enough for the Sorbonne. 
If men of mean condition only are to be 
sacrificed, their number at least must make 
amends for their want of rank. The flames 
in the Place de Greve have struck terror into 
Paris and into the whole of France ; but an- 
other pile, kindled on some other spot, will re- 
double that terror. It will be the subject of 
conversation at the court, in the colleges, in 
the workshop of the artisan : and tokens like 
these, better than all the edicts that can be 
issued, will prove that Louisa of Savoy, the 
Sorbonne, and the Parliament, are determined 
to sacrifice the very last heretic to the anathe- 
mas of Rome. 

In the forest of Livry, three leagues distant 
from Paris, and not far from the site of an an- 
cient abbey of the order of St. Augustin, 
lived a hermit, who, having chanced in his 
wanderings to fall in with some of the men of 
Meaux, had received the truth of the Gospel 
into his heart. The poor hermit had felt 
himself rich indeed that day in his solitary re- 
treat, when, along with the scanty dole of 
bread which public charity had afforded him, 
he brought home Jesus Christ and his grace. 
He understood from that time how much bet- 
ter it is to give than to receive. He went 
from cottage to cottage in the villages around, 
and as soon as he crossed the threshold, be- 
gan to speak to the poor peasants of the Gos- 
pel, and the free pardon which it offers to 
every burdened soul, a pardon infinitely more 
precious than any priestly absolution. The 
good hermit of Livry was soon widely known 

J in the neighbourhood of Paris ; many came to 
visit him at his poor hermitage, and he dis- 

' charged the office of a kind and faithful mis- 
sionary to the simple-minded in all the adja- 

1 cent districts. 

It was not long before intelligence of what 
was doing by the new evangelist reached the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



419 



ear? of the Sorbonne, and the magistrates of j 
Paris. The hermit was seized, — dragged i 
from his hermitage — from his forest — from | 
the fields he had daily traversed, — thrown 
into a dungeon in that great city which he 
had always shunned, — brought to judgment, 
— convicted, — and sentenced to " the exem- 
plary punishment of being burnt by a slow 
fire." 

In order to tender the example the more 
striking, it was determined that he should be 
burnt in the close of Notre Dame ; before that 
celebrated cathedral, which typifies the ma- 
jesty of the Roman Catholic Church. The 
whole of the clergy were convened, and a 
degree of pomp was displayed equal to that 
of the most solemn festivals. A desire was 
shown to attract all Paris, if possible, to the 
place of execution. "The great bell of the 
church of Notre Dame swinging heavily," 
says an historian, " to rouse the people all 
over Paris." And accordingly from every 
surrounding avenue, the people came flocking 
to the spot. The deep-toned reverberations 
of the bell made the workman quit his task, 
the student cast aside his books, the shop- 
keeper forsake his traffic, the soldier start 
from the guard-room bench, — and already the 
close was filled with a dense crowd, which 
was continually increasing. The hermit, at- 
tired in the robes appropriated to obstinate 
heretics, bareheaded, and with hare feet, was 
led out before the doors of the cathedral. 
Tranquil, firm, and collected, he replied to 
the exhortations of the confessors, who pre- 
sented him with the crucifix, only by declar- 
ing that ii is hope rested solely on the mercy 
of God. The doctors of the Sorbonne, who 
stood in the front rank of the spectators, ob- 
serving his constancy, and the effect it pro- 
duced upon the people, cried aloud — " He is 
a man foredoomed to the fires of hell." The 
clang of the great bell, which all this while 
was rung with a rolling stroke, while it 
stunned the ears of the multitude, served to 
heighten the solemnity of that mournful spec- 
tacle. At length the bell was silent, — and 
the martyr having answered the last interro- 
gatory of his adversaries by saying that he 
was resolved to die in the faith of his Lord 
Jesus Christ, underwent his sentence of be- 
ing " burnt by a slow fire." And so, in the 
cathedral close of Notre Dame, beneath the 
stately towers erected by the piety of Louis 
the younger, amidst the cries and tumultuous 
excitement of a vast population, died peace- 
ably, a man whose name history has not deign- 
ed to transmit to us, — "the hermit of Livry." 
While men were thus engaged in destroying 
the first confessors of Jesus Christ in France, 
God was raising up others gifted with ampler 
powers for his service. A modest student — 
a humble hermit — might be dragged to the 
stake, and Beda might almost persuade him- 
self that the doctrine they proclaimed would 
perish with them. But Providence has re- 
sources which the world knows not of. The 
Gospel, like the fabled bird of antiquity, con- 
tains within itself a principle of life which the 



flames can never reach, and from the ashes in 
which it seemed to lie extinguished, it springs 
afresh, pure and vigorous as ever. Often, 
when the storm is at its height, when the 
fiery holt of persecution appears to have laid 
the truth prostrate, and enduring, impenetra- 
ble darkness to have closed over it, — even at 
that moment there comes a gleam of light, 
and announces a great deliverance at hand 
So, when all earthly powers were leagued 
together in France to effect the ruin of the Re- 
formation, God was preparing an instrument; 
apparently feeble, to maintain His rights a* 
a future day, and with more than human in- 
trepidity to defend His cause. Averting our 
eyes from the persecutions and cruelties which 
have succeeded each other so rapidly since 
Francis I. became the prisoner of Charles, — 
let us turn them on a child who shall here- 
after be called forth to take his station as a 
leader of a mighty host in the holy warfare 
of Israel. 

Among the inhabitants of the city and uni- 
versity of Paris who listened to the sound of 
the great bell, was a young scholar of sixteen, 
a native of Noyon, in Picardy, of middle sta- 
ture, and pale, and somewhat dark complexion, 
whose powerful and sagacious mind was in- 
dicated by the keenness and peculiar bright- 
ness of his eye, and the animated expression 
of his countenance. His dress, which was 
extremely neat, but perfectly unostentatious, 
corresponded to the modesty and decorum of 
his character This young man, whose name 
was John Cauvin or Calvin, was a student at 
the college of La Marche, of which Mathurin 
Cordier, a man celebrated for his integrity, 
learning, and peculiar skill in the instruction 
of youth, was at that time the regent. Edu- 
cated in all the superstitions of Popery, the 
student of Noyon was blindly submissive to 
the Church, dutifully observant of all the prac- 
tices she enjoined, and fully persuaded that 
heretics well deserved the flames to which 
they were delivered. The blood which was 
then flowing in Paris was, in his eyes, an 
additional aggravation of the crime of heresy. 
But, although by natural disposition timid, 
and, to use his own words, soft and pusillani- 
mous, he was endowed with that uprightness 
of mind, and that generosity of heart which 
j induce men to sacrifice everything to the con- 
victions of their conscience. Vainly, there- 
fore, were those appalling spectacles presented 
to him in his youth ; vain was the example 
of the murderous flames kindled in the Place 
de Greve and in the close of Notre Dame, for 
the destruction of the faithful followers of the 
Gospel. The remembrance of such horrors 
could not, afterwards, deter him from entering 
on that " new way" which seemed to lead 
only to the dungeon and the scaffold. In 
other respects the character of the youthful 
Calvin afforded indications of what he was 
hereafter to become. The austerity of his 
morals was the precursor of equal austerity 
in his doctrine, and the scholar of sixteen 
already gave promise' of a man who would 
take up in earnest all that should he imparted 



420 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to him, and would rigidly exact from others 
what, in his own case, he felt it so much a 
matter of course to perform. Silent and grave 
while attending on the college lectures, taking 
no pleasure in the sports and idle frolics which 
others pursued duringthehoursof recreation; 
— shrinking in disgust from all participation 
in vice, he sometimes censured the disorders 
of his fellow-pupils with severity — with a 
measure, even, of acrimony. 325 Accordingly, 
a canon of Noyon assures us that his com- 
panions had surnamed him the "accusative." 
He stood among them as the representative 
of conscience and duty, — so far was he from 
being in reality what some calumniators en- 
deavoured to make him. The pale aspect, the 
piercing eye of a student of sixteen already 
inspired his associates with more respect than 
the black gowns of their masters ; and this 
boy from Picardy, low in stature, and timid 
in aemeanour, who came day by day to take 
his seat on the benches of the college of La 
Marche, was, even then, by the seriousness 
of his conversation and sobriety of his life 
unconsciously discharging the office of a min- 
ister and a Reformer. 

Nor was it in these particulars alone that 
the stripling of Noyon evinced his superiority 
to his compeers. His extreme timidity some- 
times restrained him from manifesting the an- 
tipathy he felt to vanity and to vice ; but in 
his studies he was already exerting all the 
force of his genius, and all the intensity of 
his will, — and any one who observed him, 
might have predicted that his life would be 
consumed in labour. The facility of his com- 
prehension was wonderful, — while his class- 
fellows were advancing by painful steps, he 
was bounding lightly over the course, — and 
the knowledge which others were long in 
acquiring superficially, was instantaneously 
seized by his youthful genius, and perma- 
nently impressed on his memory. His mas- 
ters, therefore, were obliged to withdraw him 
from the ranks, and introduce him singly to 
the higher branches of learning. 

Among his fellow-students were the young 
men of the family of Mommor, a house reck- 
oned among the first nobility of Picardy. 
John Calvin was intimately connected with 
these young noblemen, especially with Claude, 
who at a later period was abbot of St. Eloi, 
and to whom he dedicated his Commentary 
on Seneca. It was in their company that he 
had come to Paris. His father, Gerard Cal- 
vin, notary apostolic, and procurator-fiscal of 
the county of Noyon, secretary of the diocese, 
and proctor of thechapter, wasa man of judg- 
ment and ability, whose talents had raised 
him to offices which were sought after by the 
best families ; and all the noblesse of the pro- 
vince, but particularly the illustrious family 
of Mommor, entertained the highest esteem 
for him. Gerard, who resided at Noyon,* 

* "On the spot where now stands a house, dis- 
tinguished by the sign of the Stag." (Desmay, 
Doct. de la Sorbonne. Vit. de Jean Calvin, 
heresiarque, p. 30. Levasseur, Ann. de Noyon, 
p. 1157.) 



had married a young woman from Cambray 
named Jane Lefranq, remarkable for her beau 
ty, and worthy of esteem for her humble piety, 
by whom he had already had a son called 
Charles, when on the 10th of July, 1509, she 
gave birth to a second son, who received the 
name of John, and was baptized in the church 
of St. Godebert.* A third son, named An- 
thony, who died young, and two daughters, 
made up the entire family of the procurator- 
fiscal of Noyon. 

Gerard Calvin, living in habits of familiar 
intercourse with the ecclesiastical dignitaries 
and chief men of the province, was desirous 
that his children should receive the same edu- 
cation as those of the highest rank, John, in 
whom he had perceived an early development 
of talent, was brought up with the children of 
the family of Mommor: he lived in the house 
as one of themselves, and shared in the les- 
sons of the young Claude. The effect of early 
discipline and culture in such a family was to 
impart to his intellectual character a degree 
of refinement which otherwise it could scarce- 
ly have acquired. He was afterwards sent to 
the college of Capettes, an establishment 
within the city of Noyon. The child had but 
few recreations. That severity, which was 
one feature in the character of the son, found 
a place likewise in the temperament of the 
father. Gerard brought him up rigidly, — 
from his earliest years he was obliged to bend 
to the inflexible rule of duty, — which after a 
little while became habitual to him, — and thus 
the influence of the father counteracted that 
of the family of Mommor. Timid by nature, 
— with something, as he tells us himself, of 
rustic bashfulness in his disposition, and 
rendered still more diffident by his father's se- 
verity, John would often escape from the 
splendid mansion of his protectors, to bury 
himself in solitude and obscurity. In hours 
of seclusion like this, his youthful spirit grew 
familiar with lofty conceptions. It appears 
that he sometimes went to the neighbouring 
village of Pont l'Eveque, where his grand- 
father inhabited a cottage,f and where other 
relatives also, who at a later period changed 
their name through hatred of the heresiarch, 



* The calumnious and extravagant tales which 
have been circulated in regard to the person of 
Calvin, may be traced to a very early origin. 
J. Levasseur, who was afterwards dean of the 
chapter of Noyon, relates that when his mother 
brought him into the world, the birth of the child 
was preceded by the preternatural appearance of 
a swarm of large flies. — "a sure presage that he 
would be an evil speaker and slanderer." (An- 
nates de la Cathedrale de Noyon, p. 115.) These 
absurdities, and others of the same stamp, which 
have been invented to the prejudice of the Re- 
former may be safely left to refute themselves 
without any effort on our part In our own day, 
those among the Romish doctors who are not 
ashamed to employ the weapons of calumny, 
make a selection of" these coarse and ridiculous 
stories, not daring *o repeat them all ; yet they 
are all of equal value. 

t " It is reported that his grandfather was a 
cooper." (Drelincourt, p. 36. Levasseurann.de 
Noyon, p. 1151.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



421 



then offered a kindly welcome to the son of 
the procurator-fiscal. But it was to study, 
chiefly, that young Calvin devoted his days. 
While Luther, who was to act upon the mass 
of the people, was brought up at first as a 
peasant's son, Calvin, ordained to act chiefly 
as a theologian and a reasoner, and to become 
the legislator of the renovated Church, re- 
ceived, even in his childhood, a more liberal 
education. 

A spirit, of piety evinced itself betimes in 
the child's heart. One of his biographers 
tells us that he was taught, while yet young, 
to pray in the open air, under the vault of 
heaven, — a practice which helped to awaken 
within his soul the sentiment of an omni- 
present Deity.* But although Calvin may, 
even in his earliest years, have heard the voice 
of God addressed to his heart, no one in the 
city of Noyon was more exact than he in the 
observance of every rule established by the 
Church. Gerard, therefore, remarking the 
bent of his mind, conceived the design of de- 
voting his son to theology. The knowledge 
of his destination contributed undoubtedly to 
impress upon his mind that serious and theo- 
logical cast by which it was afterwards dis- 
tinguished. His intellect was formed by na- 
ture to take a decided bias from the first, and 
to nourish the most elevated thoughts at an 
early age. The report that he was a chorister 
boy at this time is admitted by his adversaries 
themselves to be destitute of foundation ; but 
they confidently affirm that while yet a child, 
he was seen in religious processions carrying, 
instead of a cross, a sword with a cross-shaped 
hilt. "A presage," they add, "of what he 
was one day to become." "The Lord has 
made my mouth like a sharp sword," says 
the servant of the Lord, in Isaiah. The same 
may be said of Calvin. 

Gerard was poor : the education of his son 
was burthensome to him, and he wished to 
attach him irrevocably to the church. The 
Cardinal of Lorraine had been appointed co- 
adjutor to the Bishop of Metz, when only four 
years old. It was then a common practice to 
bestow ecclesiastical titles and revenues upon 
children. Alphonso of Portugal was created 
a cardinal by Leo the Tenth, at the age of 
eight: Odet de Chatillon received the same 
dignity from Clement the Seventh at the age 
of eleven ; and at a later period, the celebrated 
Mother Angelica, of Port Royal, was made 
coadjutrix of that convent at the age of seven. 
Gerard, who died a faithful Catholic, was re- 
garded with favour by Charles de Hangest, 
bishop of Noyon, and his vicars-general. Ac- 
cordingly, the chaplaincy of La Gesine having 
become vacant by the resignation of the in- 
cumbent, the bishop, on the 15th May, 1521, 
bestowed that benefice on John Calvin, whose 
age was then nearly twelve. He was inducted 
by the chapter a week after. On the eve of 
Corpus Christi, the bishop solemnly cut the 

* Calvin's Leben von Fisfter, Leipzig, 1794. — 
The author does not quote the authority'on which 
ne relates this fact. 



| child's hair; and by this ceremony of tonsure 

j John was invested with the clerical character, 
and became capable of entering into sacred 
orders, and holding a benefice without residing 
on the spot. 

Thus was it ordered that Calvin, in his 

j childhood, should have personal experience 
of the abuses of the Church of Rome. There 

I was not a tonsured head in the kingdom more 
sincerely pious than the chaplain of La Ge- 
sine, and the thoughtful child was himself 
perhaps a little astonished at the operation 
performed by the bishop and his vicars-gene- 
ral. But in the simplicity of his heart, he 
revered those exalted personages too highly 
to harbour the least suspicion regarding the 
lawfulness of his tonsure. He had enjoyed 
the distinction about two years, when Novon 
was visited with a terrible pestilence. Seve- 
ral of the canons petitioned the chapter that 
they might be allowed to quit the city. Al- 
ready many of the inhabitants had been struck 
by the " great death;" and Gerard began to 
reflect with alarm that his son John, the hope 
of his age, might, in a moment, be snatched 
from his tenderness by this scourge of God. 
The children of the Mommor family were 
going to Paris to continue their studies. This 
was the very opportunity that the procurator- 
fiscal had always desired for his son. Why 
should he separate John from his fellow-pupils! 
On the 15th August, 1823, therefore, he pre. 
sented to the chapter a petition that the young 
chaplain might have " liberty to go whither- 
soever he would, during the continuance of 
the plague, without losing his allowances; 
which was granted accordingly, until the feast 
of St. Remigius."* Thus it was that John 
Calvin, at the age of fourteen, quitted his 
paternal home. Calumny must be intrepid 
indeed, to attribute his departure to other 
causes, and, in sheer wantonness, provoke 
that disgrace which justly recoils on all who 
give currency to evil reports, after their false- 
hood has been demonstrated. It would ap- 
pear, that on his arrival in Paris, Calvin was 
received into the house of one of his uncles, 
Richard Calvin, who lived near the church of 
St. Germain l'Auxerois. "And so, while flying 
from the plague," says the canon of Noyon, 
"he encountered a more fatal pestilence." 

A new world opened itself to the young 
man in this metropolis of literature. He de- 
termined to profit by his fortune, applied him- 
self to study, and made great progress in 
latinity. He became intimately acquainted 
with the writings of Cicero, and learned from 
that great master to employ the language of 
the Romans with an ease, a purity, an idioma- 
tic grace which excited the admiration of his 
enemies themselves. But he also discovered 



* The particulars here given rest on the testi- 
mony of the priest, and vicar-general Desmay, 
(Jean Calvin, heresiarque. p. 32,) and the canon 
Levasseu, (Ann. de Noyon, p. 1160,) who found 
them, as they assure us, in the registers of the 
chapter of Noyon. These Romish authors, there 
fore, refute the inventions or mistakes of Riche- 
lieu and other writers. — See the preface. 



423 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



in that language a store of wealth which he 
was afterwards to transfer into his own. 

Hitherto the latin had been the sole lan- 
guage of literature. It was, and even to our 
own days it has continued, the language of 
the Romish church. The modern tongues of 
Europe were created, — at least they were 
emancipated, — by the Reformation. The ex- 
clusive agency of the priests was now at an 
end ; the people were called upon to learn and 
to know for themselves. In this single fact 
was involved the abrogation of the language 
of the priests, — the inauguration of the lan- 
guage of the people. It is not to the Sorbonne 
alone, — it is not to a few monks, a few 
divines, a few men of letters, that the new 
doctrine is to be addressed ; it is to the noble, 
to the burgher, to the artisan, — all men now 
are to be preached to : nay, more, — all men 
now are to become preachers; wool-combers 
and knights no less than curates and doctors. 
A new language, therefore, is wanted, or, at 
any rate, the ordinary language of the people 
must undergo a mighty transformation, — 
must experience a happy deliverance from its 
shackles: drawn from the common uses of 
life, it must be indebted to a renovated 
Christianity for its patent of nobility. The 
Gospel, so long laid to sleep, is now awake 
again: it appeals to the nation at large ; it 
kindles the most generous affections of the 
soul ; it opens the treasures of heaven to a 
generation whose thoughts were all confined 
within the petty circle of the world below ; it 
agitates the masses; it speaks to them of God, 
of man, of good and evil, of the Pope, of the 
Bible, of a crown in heaven, — it may be, also, 
of a scaffold upon earth. The popular idiom, 
which hitherto had been employed only by 
chronicler and the minstrel, was summoned, 
by the Reformation, to act a new r part, and 
consequently to receive a new development. 
Society finds a new world rising up around it; 
and for this new world there must needs be new 
languages. The Reformation freed the French 
language from the swaddling bands in which it 
had hitherto been confined, and reared it to a 
speedy and vigorous maturity. Since then, 
that language has had full possession of all the 
exalted privileges that belong to a dialect con- 
versant with the operations of mind and the 
great concerns of heaven, — privileges which, 
under the tutelage of Rome, it had never en- 
joyed. True it is that the people form their 
own language ; they, and they alone, invent 
those happy words, — those figurative and 
energetic phrases, which give colouring and 
animation to human speech. But there are 
latent pow r ers in language which they know 
not how to elicit, and which men of cultivated 
intellect can alone call into action. When the 
time arrived for Calvin to engage in discus- 
sion and controversy, he was forced, by the 
exigency of the case to enrich his native 
tongue with modes of expression hitherto 
unknown to it, — indicating the dependence,the 
connection, the minute diversity of ideas, the 
transition from one to another, and the various 
steps in the process of logical deductions. 



The elements of all this w r ere already work- 
ing in the brain of the young student of the 
college of La Marche. This child, who was 
to exert so powerful a mastery over the hu 
man heart, was destined to exhibit equal 
power in bending and moulding to his will the 
idiom which was to serve as his instrument. 
The French of Calvin eventually became the 
language of Protestant France, and when we 
speak of Protestant France, we speak of the 
most cultivated portion of the French nation; 
since out of that portion arose those families 
of scholars and dignified magistrates, who 
contributed so much to the refinement of the 
national, character — out of that portion arose 
also the society of Port Royal,* one of the 
great agents by which the prose and even the 
poetry of France have been modelled. — a so- 
ciety which aimed at introducing into the 
Catholicism of the Gallican Church both the 
doctrine and the language of the Reformation, 
and failing in one of these objects, succeeded 
in the other; for who can deny that Roman 
Catholic France had to learn from her anta- 
gonists among the Jansenists and Reformers 
how to handle those weapons of style, without 
which it would have been impossible for her 
to maintain her ground against them?f 

In the mean time, while the future Reformer 
of religion and of language, was ripening in 
the college of La Marche, all was in commo- 
tion around that young and thoughtful scholar, 
without his being at all affected by the mighty 
movement which agitated society. The flames 
that consumed the hermit and Pavanne, shed 
dismay over Paris. But the persecutors were 
not satisfied ; a system of terror was set on 
foot throughout the whole of France. The 
friends of the Reformation no longer dared to 
correspond with each other, lest their letters 
should be intercepted, and so betray to the 
vengeance of the tribunals, not only those who 
had written them, but those also to whom they 
were addressed.^: One man, however, was 
bold enough to undertake the office of convey- 
ing intelligence of what was passing in Paris 
and in France, to the refugees at Basle, — by 
means of an unsigned letter sewed up in his 
doublet. He escaped the scattered parties of 
arquebusiers, — the marechaussee of the dif- 
ferent districts, — the strict examinations of the 
provosts and their lieutenants, — and arrived at 
Basle with the doublet on his back and its 
hidden deposit untouched. The tidings of 
which he was the bearer, struck terror into the 
hearts of Toussaint and his friends. — "It is 
piteous to hear of the cruelties they are com- 
mitting yonder ! "|| — exclaims Toussaint. A 

* M. A. Arnauld, the grandfather of Mother 
Angelica and of all the Arnaulds of Port Royal, 
was a Protestant, — see "Port Royal, par M. 
Sainte-Beuve." 

* Etudes Liter, sur Calvin, par M. A. Sayers, 
Geneve, 1839. art. iv. This work has been fol- 
lowed by similar inquiries regarding Farel, Viret, 
and Beza. 

t " Not a person dares to write to me." — (Tous 
saint to Farel, 4th September, 1525. MS. of Neu£ 
ehatel.) 

II Toussaint to Farel, 4th Sept. 1525. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



423 



little before this, two Franciscan friars had ar- 
rived at Basle closely pursued by the officers 
of justice. One of these friars, named John 
Prevost, had preached at Meaux, and had af- 
terwards been thrown into prison in Paris.* — 
The accounts they brought from the capital, 
as well as from Lyons, through which city 
they had passed on their way. excited the 
deepest compassion in the minds of the refu- 
gees : " May our Lord visit them with his 
grace!" said Toussaint, writing to Farel; — 
"believe me when I tell you that at times I 
am in great anxiety and tribulation." 

These excellent men did not lose heart, 
however. In vain were all the Parliaments 
on the watch ; in vain did the spies of the Sor- 
bonne and the monks creep into churches and 
colleges, and even into private families, to 
catch up any word of Evangelic doctrine that 
might be dropped there; in vain did the king's 
gens cFarmes patrol the highways to intercept 
everything that seemed to bear the impress of 
the Reformation; — these Frenchmen, thus 
hunted and trodden on by Rome and her myr- 
midons, had faith in better days to come; and 
even now, the termination of what they called 
the Babylonish captivity was greeted by them 
ifar. " At length," said they, " the seventieth 
year, will arrive — the year of deliverance, and 
liberty of spirit and conscience will be ours." 
But the seventy years were to be extended to 
learly three centuries, and unheard-of calami- 
nes were to be endured before these hopes 
should be realized. It was not in man, how- 
ever, that the refugees put their trust. " They 
who have begun the dance," said Toussaint, 
"will not stop short in the middle of it." — 
But they believed that the Lord "knew those 
whom he had chosen, and would accomplish 
the deliverance of His people by the hand of 
His power." 

The Chevalier d'Esch had actually tasted 
the mercy of deliverance. Being dismissed 
from the prison of Pont-a-Mousson, he had 
hastened to Strasburg; but his stay there 
was short. For " the honour of God," wrote 
Toussaint to Farel, "immediately prevail on 
our worthy master, the Chevalier, to return 
as quickly as possible, for our other brethren 
have need of such a leader." In fact, the 
French refugees had now fresh cause of alarm. 
They were apprehensive that the dispute re- 
specting the Lord's Supper, which had afflict- 
ed them so grievously in Germany, would find 
its way across the Rhine, and prove the source 
of new troubles in France. Francis Lam- 
bert, the monk of Avignon, after visiting Zu- 
rich and VVittemberg, had arrived at Metz, 
where he was regarded with a measure of 
distrust, for it was feared that he mifrht 
introduce the sentiments of Luther, and by 
fruitless, and, as Toussaint calls them, " mon- 
strous" controversies, impede the progress of 
the Reformation. Esch, therefore, returned 
to Lorraine, to be again exposed to great dan- 
gers, "in common with all in that region who 
were seeking the glory of Christ." 



* Toussaint to Farel, 21st July, 1525. 



But Toussaint was not the man who would 
invite others to join the battle, while he him- 
self kept aloof from it. Deprived of the com- 
fort of daily intercourse with (Ecolampadius, 
reduced to the society of an ill-nurtured priest, 
he had sought more communion with Christ, 
and had gained an accession of courage. If 
he could not return to Metz, might he not at 
least go to Paris'? True, — the smoke that 
ascended from the piles on which Pavanne 
and the hermit of Livry had been sacrificed 
was scarcely yet cleared away, and its dark 
shadow might seem to repel from the capital 
all whose faith bore any resemblance to their's. 
But if, as he had heard, the terror that pre- 
vailed in the colleges of Paris and amidst her 
streets was such, that none dared even to 
name the Gospel or the Reformation, — was 
not this a reason why he should repair 
thither'? Toussaint quitted Basle, and took 
up his abode within those perilous walls, 
heretofore the seat of revelry and licentious 
pleasure, now the stronghold of fanaticism. 
His desire was to pursue his studies in Chris- 
tian literature, and at the same time to form 
a connection with the brethren who were in 
the colleges, particularly with those who 
were in the college of Cardinal Lemoine, 
where Lefevre and Farel had taught. But 
he was not long left at liberty to prosecute 
his design. The tyranny of the parliamen- 
tary commissaries and the doctors of the Sor- 
bonne now reigned supreme over the capital, 
and whosoever was obnoxious to these was 
sure to be accused of heresy. A duke and 
an abbot, whose names are not upon record, 
denounced Toussaint as a heretic; and, one 
day, the king's sergeants arrested the young 
Lorrainer, and threw him into prison. Sepa- 
rated from all his friends, and treated as a 
criminal, Toussaint felt his helplessness more 
as a sinner than a captive. " O Lord !" cried 
he, " withdraw not thy Spirit from me, for 
without that Holy Spirit I am altogether car- 
nal, and a sink of iniquity." While his body 
was held in chains, his heart turned for solace 
to the remembrance of those who were still at 
large to struggle for the Gospel. There was 
(Ecolampadius, his father, "whose work," 
says he, "we are in the Lord."* There was 
Lefevre, whom (obviously on account of his 
age,) he deemed "unmeet to bear the bur- 
then of the Gospel;" there was Roussel, " by 
whom he trusted that the Lord would do great 
things;" andVaugris,who had manifested all 
the zeal "of the most affectionate brother," in 
his efforts to rescue him from the power of his 
enemies. There was Farel also, to whom he 
wrote — " I entreat your prayers on my behalf, 
that 1 may not faint in this conflict." How 
effectual must he have found the repetition of 
those beloved names in awakening thoughts 
which mitigated the bitterness of his captivity 
—for he showed no signs of fainting. Death, 
it is true, seemed to be impending over his 

* This letter is without a date, but it appears to 
have been written shortly after the liberation of 
Toussaint, and it shows the thoughts which occu- 
pied him at that period. 



424 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



head, in a city where the blood of multitudes 
of his brethren was afterwards to be poured 
out like water; and, on the other hand, offers 
of the most lavish kind Were made by the 
friends of his mother, and of his uncle the 
dean of Metz, as well as by the Cardinal of 
Lorraine, to induce him to recant. But his 
reply to such offers was — "I despise them 
all. I know that God is now putting- me to 
the trial. I would rather endure hunger — I 
would rather be a very abject, in the house of 
the Lord, than dwell with great riches in the 
palaces of the ungodly." At the same time 
he made a clear and open confession of his 
faith : " I glory," he said, " in being called a 
heretic by those whose lives and doctrine I 
see to be directly opposite to those of Christ." 
And the young man subscribed himself, " Pe- 
ter Toussaint, unworthy of his name of Chris- 
tian." 

Thus, in the absence of the monarch, new 
attacks were levelled against the Reformation. 
Berquin, Toussaint, and many others were in 
bonds; Schuch, Pavanne, and the hermit of 
Livry had been put to death ; Farel, Lefevre, 
Roussel, and many other defenders of sound 
doctrine were in exile; and the tongues of 
the most eloquent were chained. The light 
of the Gospel waxed dim; the storm roared 
around, bending, and shaking as if it would 
uproot that tree which the hand of God had 
so recently planted on the French soil. 

To those humbler victims who had already 
fallen, others of more note were now to suc- 
ceed. The enemy, failing in their efforts 
when directed against persons of distinction, 
had submitted to work from beneath upwards ; 
hoping gradually to bring to bear on the more 
eminent in station the sentence of condemna- 
tion and death. It was a sort of countermarch 
which answered the purpose they had in view. 
Scarcely had the wind scattered the ashes with 
which persecution strewed the Place de Greve 
and the close of Notre Dame, when further 
blows were struck. The excellent Messire 
Anthony Du Blet, the " negociateur" of Lyons, 
sunk under the persecutions of the enemies of 
the truth ; as did also another disciple. Francis 
Moulin. No detailed account, of their deaths 
has come down to us.* Not stopping there, 
the persecutors proceeded to take a higher 
aim. One there was whose eminent rank 
placed her beyond their reach — but who 
might yet be stricken in the persons of 
those dear to her. — This was the Duchess 
of Alen§on. Michel d'Arende, her chaplain, 
— for the sake of whom Margaret had dis- 
missed her other preachers, and who was 
accustomed in her presence to publish a pure 
Gospel, was singled out for attack, and 
threatened with imprisonment and death. 
About the same time Anthony Papillon, for 
whom the princess had obtained the office of 
Chief Master of Requests to the Dauphin, 

* Periit Franciscus Molinus ac Dubletus. 
(Erasm. Epp. p. 1109.) Erasmus in his letter 
addressed to Francis I., in July, 1526, names 
all those who, during the captivity of that prince, 
fell victims to the Romish fanatics. J 



died suddenly, and a report, generally preva- 
lent even among the enemies, ascribed his 
death to poison. 

The persecution was spreading through the 
kingdom, and drawing nearer to the person of 
Margaret. The isolated champions of truth 
were, one after another, stretched upon the 
field. A few more such victories, and the 
soil of France would be purged from heresy. 
Underhand contrivances and secret practices 
took the place of clamour and the stake. The 
war was conducted in open day; but it was 
decided that it should also be carried on 
darkly and in secrecy. If, in dealing with the 
common people, fanaticism employs the tribu- 
nal and the scaffold, it has in reserve poison 
and the dagger for those of more note. The 
doctors of a celebrated school are but too well 
known for having patronized the use of such 
means; and kings themselves have fallen 
victims to the steel of the assassins. But if 
France has had in every age its Seides, it has 
also had its Vincents de Paul and its Fene- 
lons. Strokes falling in darkness and silence 
were well fitted to spread terror on all sides ; 
and to this perfidious policy and these fanati- 
cal persecutions, in the interior of the kingdom, 
were now added the fatal reverses experienced 
beyond the frontier. A dark cloud was spread 
over the whole nation. Not a family, espe- 
cially among the higher classes, but was 
either mourning for a father, a husband, or a 
son, who had fallen on the plains of Italy, or 
trembling for the liberty or life of one of its 
members. The signal misfortunes which had 
burst upon the nation diffused everywhere a 
leaven of hatred against the heretics. The 
people, the parliament, the Church, and even 
the throne, werejoined hand in hand. 

Was there not enough to bow the heart of 
Margaret in the defeat at Pavia, the death of 
her husband, and the captivity of her brother] 
Was she doomed to view the final extinction 
of that soft light of the Gospel in which her 
heart had found such joy 1 News arrived 
from Spain which added to the general dis- 
tress. Mortification and sickness had reduced 
the haughty Francis to the brink of the grave. 
If the king should continue a captive, or die, 
and the regency of his mother be protracted 
for some years, there was apparently an end 
of all prospect of a Reformation. " But when 
all seems lost," observed, at a later period, 
the young scholar of Noyon, " God interposes 
to deliver and guard His church in His own 
wondrous way.' The Church of France 
which was as if travailing in birth, was to 
have a brief interval of ease before its pains 
returned upon it; and God made use of a 
weak woman, — one who never openly de- 
clared for the Gospel, — in order to give to the 
Church this season of rest. Margaret herself, 
at this time, thought more of saving the king 
and the kingdom, than of delivering the com- 
paratively unknowm Christians, who were yet 
Testing many hopes upon her interference. 
But under the dazzling surface of human 
affairs, God often hides the mysterious ways 
in which He rules His people. A generous 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



425 



project was suggested to the mind of the 
Duchess of Alencon; it was, to cross the sea, 
or traverse the Pyrenees, and rescue Francis 
I. from the power of Charles V. Such was 
the object to which her thoughts were hence- 
forth directed. 

Margaret announced her intention, and 
France hailed it with grateful acclamation. 
Her genius, her great reputation, and the 
attachment existing between herself and her 
brother, helped much to counterbalance, in the 
eyes of Louisa and of Duprat, her partiality 
for the new doctrines. All eyes were turned 
upon her, as the only person capable of extri- 
cating the nation from its perilous position. 
Let Margaret in person make an appeal to the 
powerful emperor and his ministers, and em- 
ploy the admirable genius with which she was 
gifted, in the effort to give liberty to her bro- 
ther and her king. 

Yet very various feelings existed among 
the nobility and the people in the prospect of 
the Duchess trusting herself in the centre of 
the enemies' councils, and among the stern 
soldiery of the Catholic king. All admired, 
but without sharing in her confidence and 
devotedness: her friends had fears for her, 
which, in the result, were but too near being 
realized : but the evangelical party were full 
of hope. The king's captivity had been to 
them the occasion of hitherto unprecedented 
severities — his restoration to liberty they ex- 
pected would put a period to those rigours. 
Let the king once find himself beyond the 
Spanish frontier, — and the gates of those 
prison houses and castles, wherein the ser- 
vants of God's word were immured, would 
instantly be set open. Margaret was more 
and more confirmed in a project to which she 
felt herself drawn by so many various motives. 

My heart is fixed ; and not the heavens above 
From its firm purpose can my spirit move ; 



Nor hell, with all its powers, my course withstand 
For Jesus holds its keys within his hand... 

Her woman's heart was strengthened with 
that faith which overcomes the world, and her 
resolution was irrevocably settled. Prepara- 
tion was accordingly made for her journey. 

The archbishop of Emburn, afterwards car- 
dinal of Tournon, and the president of Selves, 
had already repaired to Madrid to treat for the 
ransom of the king. They were placed under 
the direction of Margaret, as was also the 
bishop of Tarbes, afterwards cardinal of 
Grammont; full powers being given to the 
Princess. At the same time Montmorency, 
afterwards so hostile to the Reformation, was 
despatched in haste to Spain to solicit a safe- 
conduct for the king's sister. The Emperor 
at first hesitated, alleging that it was for his 
ministers to arrange terms. — " One hour's con- 
ference between your majesty, the king my 
master, and Madame d'Alencon," remarked 
Selves, "would forward matters more than a 
month's discussion between the diplomatists." 
Margaret, impatient to attain her object, set 
out unprovided with a safe-conduct, accompa- 
nied by a splendid retinue. She took leave 
of the court and passed through Lyons, taking 
the direction of the Mediterranean ; but on her 
road she was joined by Montmorency, who 
was the bearer of letters from Charles, guar- 
anteeing her liberty for a period of three 
months. She reached Aigues-Mortes, and at 
that port the sister of Francis the First em- 
barked on board a vessel prepared for her. 
Led by Providence into Spain rather for the 
deliverance of nameless and oppressed Chris- 
tians, than for the liberation of the powerful 
monarch of France, Margaret committed her- 
self to that sea whose waves had borne her 
brother when taken prisoner after the fatal 
battle of Pavia. 



426 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK XIII. 

THE PROTEST AND THE CONFERENCE. 

1526—1529. 



Twofold Movement of Reform — Reform, the Work of God — First Diet of Spire — Palladium ot Re- 
form — Proceedings of the Diet — Report of the Commissioners — The Papacy described — Destruc- 
tion of Jerusalem — Instructions of Seville — Change of Policy — The Holy League — Religious 
Liberty proposed — Crisis of the Reformation — Italian War — Emperor's Manifesto — Italian Cam- 
paign — March on Rome — Revolt of the Troops — Papal Army — The Assault — The Sack — Ger- 
man Humours — Violence of the Spaniards — Profitable Calm — Constitution of the Church — Philip 
of Hesse — The Monk of Marburg — Lambert's Paradoxes — Friar Boniface — Disputation at Hum- 
burg — Triumph of the Gospel in Hesse — Constitution of the Church — Synods — Two Elements in 
the Church — Luther on the Ministry — Organiz|tion of the Church — Evils of State Interference — 
Luther's Letter to the Elector — German Mass — Melancthon's Instructions — Disaffeciion — Visita- 
tion of the Reformed Churches — Important Results — The Reformation Advances — Elizabeth of 
Brandenburg — A Pious Princess — Edict of Ofen — Persecutions — Windeler and Carpenter — Per- 
secutions — Keyser — Alarm in Germany — Pack's Forgery — League of the Reformed Princes — 
Advice of the Reformers — Luther's pacific Counsel — Surprise of the Papist Princes — Pack's Scheme 
not improbable — Vigour of the Reformation — Alliance between Charles and Clement — Omens — 
Hostility of the Papists — Arbitrary Proposition of Charles — The Schism completed — The Protest 
— Principles of the Protest — The Supremacy of the Gospel — Union of Truth and Charity — Fer- 
dinand rejects the Protest — Joy of the Protestants — Exultation of the Papists — Peter Muterstatt — 
Christian Unity a Reality — Escape of Grynasus — Melancthon's Dejection — The Princes, the true 
Reformers — Germany and Reform — Union necessary to Reform — Difficulty of Union — A Lu- 
theran Warning — Proposed Conference at Marburg — Melancthon and Zwingle — Zwingle's De- 
parture — Rumours in Zurich — Hoc est Corpus Meum — The Discussion — Figures — Scripture 
explained by Scripture — The Spiritual Eating — Zwingle's Old Song — Agitation in the Conference 
— Metaphor — Christ's Humanity Finite — Testimony of Augustin — Luther's Violence — End of the 
Conference — The Landgrave Mediates — Their Last Meeting — Zwingle's Emotion — Sectarian 
Spirit of the Germans — Brotherhood Rejected — Christian Charity Prevails — The Real Presence 
— Luther's Dejection — State of Political Affairs — Luther's Battle Sermon. 



I. We have witnessed the commence- 
ment, the struggles, the reverses, and the 
progress of the Reformation ; but the con- 
flicts that we have hitherto described have 
been but partial ; we are entering upon a 
new period, — that of general battles. Spire 
(1529) and Augsburg (1530) are two names 
that shine forth with more immortal glory 
than Marathon, Pavia, or Marengo. Forces 
that up to the present time were separate, 
are now uniting into one energetic band; 
and the power of God is working in these 
brilliant actions, which open a new era in 
the history of nations, and communicate an 
irresistible impulse to mankind. The pas- 
sage from the middle ages to modern times 
has arrived. 

A great protest is about to be accomplish- 
ed; and although there have been protest- 
ants in the Church from the very beginning 
of Christianity, since liberty and truth could 
not be maintained here below, save by pro- 
testing continually against despotism and 
error, Protestantism is about to take a new 
step. It is about to become a body, and 
thus attack with greater energy that " mys- 
tery of iniquity" which for ages has taken 
a bodily shape at Rome, in the very temple 
of God. 1 

But although we have to treat of protests, 

1 2 Thess. ii. 



it must not however be imagined that the 
Reformation is a negative work. In every 
sphere in which any thing great is evolved, 
whether in nature or society, there is a prin- 
ciple of life at work, — a seed that God fer- 
tilizes. The Reformation, when it appeared 
in the sixteenth century, did not, it is true, 
perform a new work, for a reformation is 
not a formation ; but it turned its (ace toward 
the beginnings of Christianity, thither were 
its steps directed ; it seized upon them with 
adoration, and embraced them with affection. 
Yet it was not satisfied with this return to 
primitive times. Laden with its precious 
burden, it again crossed the interval of ages, 
and brought back to fallen and lifeless Chris- 
tendom the sacred fire that was destined to 
restore it to light and life. In this twofold 
i movement consisted its action and its 
| strength. Afterwards, no doubt, it rejected 
; superannuated forms, and combatted error; 
but this was, so to speak, only the least of 
its works, and its third movement. Even 
the protest of which we have to speak had 
; for its end and aim the re-establishment of 
truth and of life, and was essentially a posi- 
tive act. 

This powerful and rapid twofold action 
of reform, by which the apostolic times 
were re-established at the opening of modern 
history, proceeded not from man. A refor- 
mation is not arbitrarily made, as charters 




PREACHING OF LUTHEE. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



427 



and revolutions are in some countries. A 
real reformation, prepared during many 
ages, is the work of the Spirit of God. Be- 
fore the appointed hour, the greatest geniuses 
and even the most faithful of God's servants 
cannot produce it; but when the reforming 
time is come, when it is God's pleasure to 
intervene in the affairs of the world, the 
divine life must clear a passage, and it is 
able to create of itself the humble instru- 
ments by which this life is communicated 
to the human race. Then, if men are silent, 
the very stones will cry out. 1 

It is to the protest of Spire (1529) that we 
are now about to turn our eyes ; but the way 
to this protest was prepared by years of 
peace, and followed by attempts at concord 
that we shall have also to describe. Never- 
theless the formal establishment of Pro- 
testantism remains the great fact that pre- 
vails in the history of the Reformation from 
1526 to 1529. 

The Duke of Brunswick had brought into 
Germany the threatening message of Charles 
the Fifth. The Emperor was about to re- 
pair from Spain to Rome to come to an un- 
derstanding with the Pope, and from thence 
to pass into Germany to constrain the here- 
tics. The last summons was to be address- 
ed to them by the Diet of Spire, 1526. 2 The 
decisive hour for the Reformation was about 
to strike. 

On the 25th June, 1526, the diet opened. 
In the instructions, dated at Seville, 23d 
March, the Emperor ordered that the Church 
customs should be maintained entire, and 
called upon the diet to punish those who 
refused to carry out the edict of Worms. 3 
Ferdinand himself was at Spire, and his 
presence rendered these orders more formi- 
dable. Never had the hostility which the 
Romish partisans entertained against the 
evangelical princes, appeared in so striking 
a manner. "The Pharisees," said Spalatin, 
" pursue Jesus Christ with violent hatred." 4 

Never also had the evangelical princes 
showed so much hope. Instead of present- 
ing themselves frightened and trembling, like 
guilty men, they were seen advancing, sur- 
rounded by the ministers of the Word, with 
uplifted heads and cheerful looks. Their 
lirst step was to ask for a place of worship. 
The Bishop of Spire, count-palatine of the 
Rhine, having indignantly refused this 
strange request, 5 the princes complained of it 
as of an injustice, and ordered their ministers 
to preach daily in the halls of their palaces. 
An immense crowd from the city and the 
country, which amounted to many thou- 



1 Luke xix. 40. 

2 See book x. chap. xiv. The Diet of Spire, 
held in 1526, must not be confounded with that 
of 1529, at which the protest took place. 

3 Sleidan, Hist. Ref. book vi. 

4 Christum pharisaeis vehementer fuisse invi- 
sum. (Seokend. ii. p. 46.) 

6 Fortiter interdixit. (Cochloeus, p. 138.) 



sands, immediately filled them. 1 In vain on 
the feast days did Ferdinand, the ultra-mon- 
tane princes, and the bishops assist in 'he 
pomps of the Roman worship in the beautiful 
cathedral of Spire ; the unadorned Word of 
God, preached in the Protestant vestibules, 
engrossed the hearers, and the Mass was 
celebrated in an empty church. 2 

It was not only the ministers, but the 
knights and the grooms, " mere idiots," 
who, unable to control their zeal, every- 
where extolled the Word of the Lord. 3 All 
the followers of the evangelical princes wore 
these letters braided on their right sleeves : 
V. D. M. I. M., that is to say, " The word 
of the Lord endureth for ever." 4 The same 
inscription might be read on the escutcheons 
of the princes, suspended over their hotels. 
The Word of God — such from this moment 
was the palladium of the Reform. 

This was not all. The Protestants knew 
that the mere worship was not sufficient : 
the Landgrave had therefore called upon the 
Elector to abolish certain "court customs" 
which dishonoured the Gospel. These two 
princes had consequently drawn up an 
order of living which forbade drunkenness, 
debauchery, and other vicious customs pre- 
valent during a diet. 5 

Perhaps the Protestant princes sometimes 
put forward their dissent beyond what pru- 
dence would have required. Not only they 
did not go to Mass, and did not observe the 
prescribed fasts, but still further, on the 
meagre days, their attendants were seen 
publicly bearing dishes of meat and game, 
destined for their masters' tables, and cioss- 
ing, says Cochloeus, in the presence of the 
whole auditory, the halls in which the wor- 
ship was celebrating. '•' It was," says this 
writer, " with the intent of attracting the 
Catholics by the savour of the meats and 
of the wines." 6 

The Elector in effect had a numerous 
court: seven hundred persons formed his 
retinue. One day he gave a banquet at 
which twenty-six princes with their gentle- 
men and councillors were present. They 
continued playing until a very late hour — 
ten at night. Everything in Duke John 
announced the most powerful prince of the 
empire. The youthful Landgrave of Hesse, 
full of zeal and knowledge, and in the 
strength of a first Christian love, made a 
still deeper impression on those who ap- 

! Ingensconcursusplebis et rusticorum. (Coch- 
loeus.) Multis millibus hominum accurrentibus. 
(Seckend. ii. p. 48.) 

2 Populum a sacris avertebant. (Cochloeus. 
p. 138.) 

3 Ministri eorum, equites et stabularii, idiotae, 
petulanter jactabant verbum Domini. (Ibid.) 

4 Verbum Domini Manet in Sternum. (Ibid.) 
» Adversus inveteratos illos et impios usus ni- 

tendum esse. (Seek. ii. p. 46.) 

6 Ut complures allicerentur ad eorum sectam, 
in ferculis portabantur carnes coctae in diebus je- 
junii, aperte in conspectu totius auditorii 'Coch 
loeus, p. 138.) 



428 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



proached him. He would frequently dis- 
pute with the bishops, and thanks to his 
acquaintance with the Holy Scriptures, he 
easily stopped their mouths.' 

This firmness in the friends of the Refor- 
mation produced fruits that surpassed their 
expectation. It was no longer possible to 
be deceived : the spirit that was manifested 
in these men was the spirit of the Bible. 
Every where the sceptre was falling from 
the hands of Rome. " The leaven of Lu- 
ther," said a zealous Papist, " sets all the 
people of Germany in a ferment, and for- 
eign nations themselves are agitated by for- 
midable movements. 2 

It was immediately seen how great is the 
strength of deep convictions. The states 
that were well disposed towards the Reform, 
but which had not ventured to give their ad- 
hesion publicly, became emboldened. The 
neutral states, which demanded the repose of 
the empire, formed the resolution of opposing 
the edict of Worms, the execution of which 
would have spread trouble through all Ger- 
many, and the Papist states lost their bold- 
ness. The bow of the mighty was broken. 3 

Ferdinand did not think proper, at so criti- 
cal a moment, to communicate to the diet 
the severe instructions he had received from 
Seville. 4 He substituted a proposition of a 
nature to satisfy both parties. 

The laymen immediately recovered the 
influence of which the clergy had dispos- 
sessed them. The ecclesiastics resisted a 
proposal in the college of princes that the 
diet should occupy itself with church abuses, 
but their exertions were unavailing. Un- 
doubtedly a non-political assembly would 
have been preferable to the diet, but it was al- 
ready something that religious matters were 
no longer to be regulated solely by the priests. 

The deputies from the cities having re- 
ceived communication of this resolution, 
called for the abolition of every usage con- 
trary to the faith in Jesus Christ. In vain 
did the bishops exclaim that, instead of abo- 
lishing pretended abuses, they would do 
much better to burn all the books with 
which Germany had been inundated dur- 
ing the last eight years. " You desire," 
was the reply, " to bury all wisdom and 
knowledge." 5 The request of the cities 



1 Annales Spalatini. 

2 Germaniae populi Lutherico fermento inescati, 
et in externis quoque nationibus, gravissimi erant 
motus. (Cochloeus, p. 138.) 

3 1, Samuel ii. 4. 

4 Some historians appear to think that these in- 
structions were communicated in reality at the 
very opening of the diet. Ranke shows that this 
wa6 not the case ; but adds, that he sees no rea- 
son why the commissaries should have thought 
themselves authorized to make any other propo- 
sition. The motives that I have assigned appear 
to me the true ones. I shall state below why the 
commissaries returned afterwards to the imperial 
instructions. 

5 Omnes libros esse comburendos. Sed rejec- 
tum est quia sic omnis doctrina et eruditio theo- 
logica interitura esset (Seckend. ii. p. 45.) 



was agreed to, 1 and the diet was divided 
into committees for the abolition of abuses. 

Then was manifested the profound dis- 
gust inspired by the priests of Rome. " The 
clergy," said the deputy from Frankfort, 
*' make a jest of the public good, and look 
after their own interests only." " The lay- 
men," said the deputy from Duke George, 
" have the salvation of Christendom much 
more at heart than the clergy." 

The commissions made their report : peo 
pie were astonished at it. Never had men 
spoken out so freely against the pope and 
the bishops. The commission of the princes, 
in which the ecclesiastics and the laymen 
were in equal numbers, proposed a fusion 
of Popery and Reform. " The Priests 
would do better to marry," said they, " than 
to keep women of ill-fame in their houses ; 
every man should be at liberty to commu 
nicate under one or both forms ; German 
and Latin may be equally employed in the 
Lord's Supper and in Baptism ; as for the 
other sacraments, let them be preserved, but 
let them be administered gratuitously. Fi- 
nally, let the Word of God be preached ac- 
cording to the interpretation of the Church 
(this was the demand of Rome,) but always 
explaining Scripture by Scripture" (this was 
the great principle of the Reformation.) Thus 
the first step was taken towards a national 
union. Still a kw more efforts, and the 
whole German race would be walking in 
the direction of the Gospel. 

The evangelical Christians, at the sight 
of this glorious prospect, redoubled their 
exertions. " Stand fast in the doctrine," 
said the Elector of Saxony to his council- 
lors. 2 At the same time hawkers in every 
part of the city were selling Christian pam- 
phlets, short and easy to read, written in 
Latin and in German, and ornamented with 
engravings, in which the errors of Rome 
were vigorously attacked. 3 One of these 
books was entitled. The Papacy with its 
Members painted and described by Doctor 
Luther. In it figured the pope, the cardinal, 
and then all the religious orders, exceeding 
sixty, each with their costumes and descrip- 
tion in verse. Under the picture of one of 
these orders were the following lines : 

Greedy priests, see, roll in gold 
Forgetful of the humble Jesu : 
under another: 

We forbid you to behold 
The Bible, lest it should mislead you ; 4 

and under a third : 

We can fast and pray the harder 
With an overflowing larder. 5 

1 Civitatum suffragia multum valuerunt. (Ibid.) 

2 Elector Saxoniae conciliarios suos exhortatus 
est, in doctrina evangelica firmi. (Ibid. p. 48.) 

3 Circumferebantur item libri Lutherani venales 
per totam civitatem. (Cochloeus. p. 138.) 

4 Dass die Schrift sie nicht verfiihre, 

Durft ihr keinen nich studir. 

(L. Opp. xix. p. 536.) 

5 Doch war ihr kiich mimmer leer. (Ibid.; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



429 



" ??ot one of these orders," said Luther to 
the reader, " thinks either of faith or charity. 
This one wears the tonsure, the other a hood ; 
this a cloak, that a robe. One is white, an- 
other black, a third gray, and a fourth blue. 
Here is one holding a looking-glass, there 
one with a pair of scissors. Each has his 
playthings Ah! these are the palmer- 
worms, the locusts, the canker-worms, and 
the caterpillars which, as Joel saith, have 
eaten up all the earth. m 

But if Luther employed the scourges of 
sarcasm, he also blew the trumpet of the 
prophets ; and this he did in a work entitled 
The Destruction of Jerusalem. Shedding 
tears like Jeremiah, he denounced to the 
German people a ruin like that of the Holy 
City, if like it they rejected the Gospel. 2 
" God has imparted to us all his treasures," 
exclaimed he ; " he became man, he has 
served us, 3 he died for us, he has risen again, 
and he has so opened the gates of heaven, 

that all may enter The hour of grace 

is come The glad tidings are proclaim- 
ed But where is the city, where is the 

prince that has received them? They in- 
sult the Gospel : they draw the sword/ and 

daringly seize God by the beard. 4 But 

wait He will turn round; with one 

blow will he break their jaws, and all Ger- 
many will be but one wide ruin." 

These works had a very great sale. 5 It 
was not only the peasants and townspeople 
who read them, but nobles also and princes. 
Leaving the priests alone at the foot of the 
altar, they threw themselves into the arms 
of the new Gospel. 6 The necessity of a re- 
form of abuses was proclaimed on the 1st 
of August by a general committee. 

Then Rome, which had appeared to 
slumber, awoke. Fanatical priests, monks, 
ecclesiastical princes, all beset Ferdinand. 
Cunning, bribery, nothing was spared. Did 
not Ferdinand possess the instructions of 
Seville? To refuse their publication was 
to effect the ruin of the Church and of the 
empire. Let the voice of Charles oppose 
its powerful veto to the dizziness that is hur- 
rying Germany along, said they, and Ger- 
many will be saved ! Ferdinand made up 
his mind, and at length, on the 3d August, 
published the decree, drawn up more than 
four months previously in favour of the 
edict of Worms. 7 

1 L. Opp. xix. p. 535. Joel i. 4. 

2 Libelli, parvuli quidem mole, sed virulentia 
perquam grandes, sermo Lutheri Teuthonicus de 
destructione Jerusalem, (Cochlceus, p. 138.) 

3 Wird Mensch, dienet uns, stirbt fur uns. 
'Xuih. Opp. xiv. (L.) p. 226.) 

4 Greiffen Gott zu frech in den Bart. (Ibid.) 
Deo nimis ferociter barbam vallicant. (Cochlceus.) 

5 Perquam plurima vendebantur exemplaria. 
(Cochlceus, p. 139.) 

6 Non solum plebs et rustica turba, verum etiam 
plerique optimatum et nobilium trahebantur in 
favorem novi Evangelii, atque in odium antiquae 
"■eligionis. (Cochlceus, p. 160.) 

7 Sleidan. Hist, de la Ref. liv. vi. p. 229. 



The persecution was about to begin ; the 
reformers would be thrown into dungeons, 
and the sword drawn on the banks of the 
Guadalquivir would pierce at last the bosom 
of Reform. 

The effect of the imperial ordinance was 
immense. The breaking of an axle-tree 
does not more violently check the velocity 
of a railway train. The Elector and the 
Landgrave announced that they were about 
to quit the diet, and ordered their attendants 
to prepare for their departure. At the same 
time the deputies from the cities drew to- 
wards these two princes, and the Reforma- 
tion appeared on the brink of entering im- 
mediately upon a contest with the Pope 
and Charles the Fifth. 

But it was not yet prepared for a general 
struggle. It was necessary for the tree to send 
out its roots deeper, before the Almighty 
unchained the stormy winds against it, 
A spirit of blindness, similar to that which 
in former times was sent out upon Saul and 
Herod, 1 then seized upon the great enemy 
of the Gospel; and thus was it that Divine 
Providence saved the Reform in its cradle. 

The first movement of trouble was over. 
The friends of the Gospel began to consider 
the date of the imperial instructions, and to 
weigh the new political combinations which 
seemed to announce to the world the most 
unlooked-for events. " When the Emperor 
wrote these letters," said the cities of Upper 
Germany, " he was on good terms with the 
Pope, but now everything is changed. It 
is even asserted that he had told Margaret, 
his deputy in the Low Countries, to proceed 
gently with respect to the Gospel. Let us 
send him a deputation." That was not ne- 
cessary. Charles had not waited until now 
to form a different resolution. The course 
of public affairs, taking a sudden turn, had 
rushed into an entirely new path. Years 
of peace were about to be granted to the 
Reform. 

Clement VII., whom -Charles was about 
to visit, according to the instructions of Se- 
ville, in order to receive in Rome itself and 
from his sacred hands the imperial crown, 
and in return to give up to the pontiff the 
Gospel and the Reformation, — Clement 
VII., seized with a strange infatuation, had 
suddenly turned against this powerful mo- 
narch. The Emperor, unwilling to favour 
his ambition in every point, had opposed 
his claims on the states of the Duke of Fer- 
rara. Clement immediately became exas- 
perated, and cried out that Charles wished 
to enslave the peninsula, but that the time 
was come for re-establishing the indepen- 
dence of Italy. This great idea of Italian 
independence, entertained at that period by 
a few literary men, had not, as now, pene- 
trated the mass of the nation. Clement 
therefore hastened to have recourse to po- 
litical combinations. The Pope, the Vene- 



1 1 Sam. xvi. 14—23 : Matt. 



430 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



tians, and the King of France, who had 
scarcely recovered his liberty, formed a holy 
league, of which the King of England was 
by a bull proclaimed the preserver and pro- 
tector. 1 In June 1526, the Emperor caused 
the most favourable propositions to be pre- 
sented to the Pope; but these advances 
were ineffectual, and the Duke of Sessa, 
Charles' ambassador at Rome, returning 
on horseback from his last audience, placed 
a court-fool behind him, who, by a thousand 
monkey-tricks, gave the Roman people to 
understand how they laughed at the projects 
of the Pope. The latter responded to these 
bravadoes by a brief, in which he threatened 
the Emperor with excommunication, and 
without loss of time pushed his troops into 
Lombardy, whilst Milan, Florence, and 
Piedmont declared for the Holy League. 
Thus was Europe preparing to be avenged 
for the triumph of Pavia. 

Charles did not hesitate. He wheeled to 
the right as quickly as the Pope had done 
to the left, and turned abruptly towards the 
evangelical princes. " Let us suspend the 
Edict of Worms," wrote he to his brother; 
" let us bring back Luther's partisans by 
mildness, and by a good council cause the 
evangelical truth to triumph." At the same 
time he demanded that the Elector, the 
Landgrave, and their allies should march 
with him against the Turks — or against Ita- 
ly, for the common good of Christendom. 

Ferdinand hesitated. To gain the friend- 
ship of the Lutherans was to forfeit that of 
the other princes. The latter were already 
beginning to utter violent threats. 2 The 
Protestants themselves were not very eager 
to grasp the Emperor's hand. "It is Cod, 
God himself, who will save his churches." 3 

What was to be done? The edict of 
Worms could neither be repealed ner carried 
into execution. 

This strange situation led of necessity to 
the desired solution : religious liberty. The 
first idea of this occurred to the deputies of 
the cities. "In one place," said they, "the 
ancient ceremonies have been preserved ; in 
another they have been abolished ; and both 
think they are right. Let us allow each one 
to do as he thinks fit, until a council shall 
re-establish the desired unity by the Word 
of God." This idea gained favour, and the 
recess of the diet, dated the 27th August, 
decreed that a universal, or at least a nation- 
al free council should be convoked within a 
year, that they should request the Emperor 
to return speedily to Germany, and that, 
until then, each state should behave in its 
own territory in a manner so as to be able 

1 Sleidan, Hist, de la Ref. liv. vi. ; Bullar. Mag. 
roman. x. 

2 Ferdinandus, ut audio, graviter minatur. — 
(Corp. Ref. i. p. 801.) 

3 Imperator pollicetur sed nemo his pro- 
missis movetur. Spero Deum defensurum esse 
euas Ecclesias. (IbiH 



to render an account to God and to the Em- 
peror. 1 

Thus they escaped from their difficulty 
by a middle course; and this time it was 
really the true one. Each one maintained 
his rights, while recognising another's. The 
diet of 1526 forms an important epoch in 
history : an ancient power, that of the mid- 
dle ages, is shaken; a new power, that of 
modern times, is advancing; religious liberty 
boldly takes its stand in front of Romish 
despotism ; a lay spirit prevails over the sa- 
cerdotal spirit. In this single step there is 
a complete victory : the cause of the Reform 
is won. 

Yet it was little suspected. Luther, on 
the morrow of the day on which the recess 
was published, wrote to a friend : "The diet 
is sitting at Spire in the German fashion. 
They drink and gamble, and there is nothing 
done except that." 2 " Le congres danse et 
ne marche pas," 3 has been said in our days. 
It is because great things are often trans- 
acted under an appearance of frivolity, and 
because God accomplishes his designs un- 
known even to those whom he employs as 
his instruments. In this diet a gravity and 
love of liberty of conscience were mani- 
fested, which are the fruits of Christianity, 
and which in the sixteenth century had its 
earliest, if not its most energetic develop- 
ment among the Geiman nations. 

Yet Ferdinand still hesitated. Mahomet 
himself came to the aid of the Gospel. Louis, 
king of Hungary and Bohemia, drowned at 
Mohacz on the 29th August, 1526, as he 
was fleeing from before Soliman II., had 
bequeathed the crown of these two king- 
doms to Ferdinand. But the Duke of Ba- 
varia, the Waywode of Transylvania, and, 
above all, the terrible Soliman, contested it 
against him. This was sufficient to occupy 
Charles' brother: he left Luther, and has- 
tened to dispute the two thrones. 

II. The Emperor immediately reaped the 
fruits of his new policy. No longer having 
his hands tied by Germany, he turned them 
against Rome. The Reformation had been 
exalted and the Papacy was to be abased. 
The blows aimed at its pitiless enemy were 
about to open a new career to the evangeli- 
cal work. 

Ferdinand, who was detained by his Hun- 
garian affairs, gave the charge of the Italian 
expedition to Freundsberg, that old general 
who had patted Luther in a friendly manner 
on the shoulder as the Reformer was about 
to appear before the diet of Worms. 4 This 



1 Unusquisque in sua ditione ita se gereret ut 
rationem Deo et imperatori reddere posset. — 
(Seckend. ii. p. 41.) 

2 Potatur et luditur, prasterea nihil. (L. Epp. 
iii. p. 126.) 

3 The congress dances, but does not move for- 
ward. 

4 See book vii. chap. viii. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



431 



veteran, observed a contemporary, 1 who 
" bore in his chivalrous heart God's holy- 
Gospel, well fortified and flanked by a strong 
wall," pledged his wife's jewels, sent re- 
cruiting parties into all the towns of Upper 
Germany, and owing to the magic idea of a 
war against the Pope, soon witnessed crowds 
of soldiers flocking to his standard." "An- 
nounce," Charles had said to his brother, 
— "announce that the army is to march 
against the Turks ; every one will know 
what Turks are meant." 

Thus the mighty Charles, instead of 
marching with the Pope against the Reform, 
as he had threatened at Seville, marches 
with the Reform against the Pope. A few 
days had sufficed to produce this change of 
direction : there are few such in history in 
which the hand of God is more plainly 
manifested. Charles immediately assumed 
all the airs of a reformer. On the 17th Sep- 
tember, he addressed a manifesto to the 
Pope, 2 in which he reproaches him for be- 
having not like the father of the faithful, but 
like an insolent and haughty man ; 3 and de- 
clares his astonishment that, being Christ's 
vicar, he should dare to shed blood to ac- 
quire earthly possessions, " which," added 
he, " is quite contrary to the evangelical doc- 
trine." 4 Luther could not have spoken bet- 
ter. " Let your holiness," continued Charles 
the Fifth, "return the sword of St. Peter 
into the scabbard, and convoke a holy and 
universal council." But the sword was 
much more to the pontiff's taste than the 
council. Is not the Papacy, according to 
the Romish doctors, the source of the two 
powers? Can it not depose kings, and con- 
sequently fight against them ? 5 Charles pre- 
pared to requite " eye for eye, and tooth for 
tooth." 6 

Now began that terrible campaign during 
which the storm burst on Rome and on the 
Papacy that had been destined to fall on 
Germany and the Gospel. By the violence 
of the blows inflicted on the pontifical city, 
we may judge of the severity of those that 
would have dashed in pieces the reformed 
churches. While we retrace so many scenes 
of horror, we have constant need of calling 
to mind that the chastisement of the seven- 
hilled city had been predicted by the Divine 
Scriptures. 7 



1 Haug marschalk, surnamed Zeller. 
^ 2 Caroli Imperat. Rescriptum ad dementis 
Heptimi criminationes. (Goldasti, Constitute Im- 
periales, i. p. 479.) 

3 Non jam pastoris seu communis patris lau- 
dem, sed superbi et in'solentis nomen. (Ibid. p. 
487.) 

4 Cum id ab evangelica doctrina, prorsus alie- 
num videtur. (Ibid p. 489.) 

5 UtriusquepotestatisapicemPapa tenet. (Tur- 
recrematn de Potestate Papali.) 

6 Exod. xxi. 24. 

7 Revel, xviii. We should not, however, re- 
strict this prediction to the incomplete sack of 
1527, and from which the city soon recovered. 

29 



In the month of November, Freundsberg, 
at the head of fifteen thousand men-, was 
at the foot of the Alps. The old general, 
avoiding the military roads, that were well 
guarded by the enemy, flung himself into 
a narrow path, over frightful precipices, that 
a few blows of the mattock would have 
rendered impassable. The soldiers are for- 
bidden to look behind them; nevertheless 
their heads turn, their feet slip, and horse 
and foot fall from time to time down the 
abyss. In the most difficult passes, the 
most sure-footed of the infantry lower their 
long pikes to the right and left of their aged 
chief, by way of barrier, and Freundsberg 
advances, clinging to the lansquenet in front, 
and pushed on by the one behind. In three 
days the Alps are crossed, and on the 19th 
November the army reaches the territory of 
Brescia. 

The Constable of Bourbon, who since the 
death of Pescara was commander-in-chief 
of the imperial army, had just taken posses- 
sion of the duchy of Milan. The Emperor 
having promised him this conquest for a re- 
compense, Bourbon was compelled to remain 
there some time to consolidate his power. 
At length, on the 12th February, he and his 
Spanish troops joined the army of Freunds- 
berg, which was becoming impatient at his 
delays. The Constable had many men, but 
no money : he resolved therefore to follow 
the advice of the Duke of Ferrara, that in- 
veterate enemy of the princes of the Church, 
and proceed straight to Rome. 1 The whole 
army received this news with a shout of joy. 
The Spaniards were filled with a desire of 
avenging Charles the Fifth, and the Germans 
were overflowing with hatred against the 
Pope : all exulted in the hope of receiving 
their pay and of having their labours richly 
recompensed at last by the treasures of 
Christendom that Rome had been accumu- 
lating for ages. Their shouts re-echoed 
beyond the Alps. Every man in Germany 
thought that the last hour of the Papacy had 
now come, and prepared to contemplate its 
fall. "The Emperor's forces are triumph- 
ing in Italy," wrote Luther; "the Pope is 
visited from every quarter. His destruction 
draweth nigh ; his hour and his end are 
come. 2 

A few slight advantages gained by the 
papal soldiers in the kingdom of Naples, led 
to the conclusion of a truce that was to be 
ratified by the Pope and by the Emperor. 
At this news a frightful tumult broke out in 
the Constable's army. The Spanish troops 
revolted, compelled him to flee, and pillaged 
his tent. Then approaching the lansquenets, 
they began to shout as loudly as they could, 



1 Guicciardini, History of the Wars in Italy, 
book xviii. p. 698. 

2 Papa ubique visitatur, ut destruatur ; venit 
enim finis et hora ejus. (Luther to Haussmann, 
10th January, 1527. Epp. iii. p. 156.) 



432 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the on.y German words they knew : Lance ! 
lance ! money ! money ! l These words found 
an echo in the bosoms of the Imperialists ; 
they were moved in their turn, and also 
began to cry with all their might: Lance ! 
lance! money! money! Freundsberg beat 
to muster, and having drawn up the soldiers 
around him and his principal officers, calmly 
demanded, if he had ever deserted them. All 
was useless. The old affection which the 
lansquenets bore to their leader seemed ex- 
tinct. One chord alone vibrated in their 
hearts: they must have pay and war. 
Accordingly, lowering their lances, they 
presented them, as if they would slay their 
officers, and again began to shout, " Lance! 
lance! money! money!" Freundsberg, 
whom no army however large had ever 
frightened, — Freundsberg, who was ac- 
customed to say, " the more enemies, the 
greater the honour," seeing these lansque- 
nets, at whose head he had grown gray, 
aiming their murderous steel against him, 
lost all power of utterance, and fell senseless 
upon a drum, as if struck with a thunder- 
bolt. 2 The strength of the veteran general 
was broken for ever. But the sight of their 
dying captain produced on the lansquenets 
an effect that no speech could have made. 
All the lances were upraised, and the agi- 
tated soldiers retired with downcast eyes. 
Four days later, Freundsberg recovered his 
speech. " Forward," said he to the Con- 
stable ; " God himself will bring us to the 
mark." Forward ! forward ! repeated the 
lansquenets. Bourbon had no other alter- 
native : besides, neither Charles nor Clement 
would listen to any propositions of peace. 
Freundsberg was carried to Ferrara, and 
afterwards to his castle of Mindelheim, 
where he died after an illness of eighteen 
months; and on the 18th April, Bourbon 
took the highroad to Rome, which so many 
formidable armies coming from the north 
had already trodden. 

Whilst the storm descending from the 
Alps was approaching the eternal city, the 
Pope lost his presence of mind, sent away 
his troops, and kept only his body-guard. 
More than thirty thousand Romans, it is 
true, capable of bearing arms, paraded their 
bravery in the streets, dragging their long 
swords after them, quarrelling and fighting ; 
but these citizens, eager in the pursuit of 

fain, had little thought of defending the 
'ope, and desired on the contrary that the 
magnificent Charles would come and settle 
in Rome, hoping to derive great profit from 
his stay. 

On the evening of the 5th May Bourbon 



1 Lanz, Ianz, gelt, gelt. 

2 Cum vero hastas ducibus obverterent indig- 
natione et segritudine animi oppressus, Fronsber- 
gius subito in deliquium incidit, ita ut in tympano 
quod adstabat desidere cogeretur, nullumque 
verbum proloqui amplius posset. (Seckend. ii. p. 
79.^ 



arrived under the walls of the capital ; and 
he would have begun the assault at that 
very moment if he had had ladders. On 
the morning of the 6th the army, concealed 
by a thick fog which hid their movements,' 
was put in motion, the Spaniards marching 
to their station above the gate of the Holy 
Ghost, and the Germans below. 2 The 
Constable wishing to encourage his soldiers, 
seized a scaling-ladder, mounted the wall, 
and called on them to follow him. At this 
moment a ball struck him : he fell, and ex- 
pired an hour after. Such was the end of 
this unhappy man, a traitor to his king and 
to his country, and suspected even by his 
new friends. 

His death, far from checking, served only 
to excite the army. Claudius Seidenstucker, 
grasping his long sword, first cleared the 
wall ; he was followed by Michael Hart- 
mann, and these two reformed Germans 
exclaimed that God himself marched before 
them in the clouds. The gates were opened, 
the army poured in, the suburbs were taken, 
and the Pope, surrounded by thirteen cardi- 
nals, fled to the Castle of St. Angelo. The 
Imperialists, at whose head was now the 
Prince of Orange, offered him peace on 
condition of his paying three hundred thou- 
sand crowns. But Clement, who thought 
that the Holy League was on the point o 
delivering him, and who fancied he alread) 
saw their leading horsemen, rejected every 
proposition. After four hour's repose, the 
attack was renewed, and by an hour aftei 
sunset the army was master of all the city. 
It remained under arms and in good order 
until midnight, the Spaniards in the Piazza 
Navona, and the Germans in the Campo- 
fiore. At last, seeing no demonstrations 
either of war or peace, the soldiers dis- 
banded and ran to pillage. 

Then began the famous " Sack of Rome." 
The Papacy had for centuries put Christen 
dom in the press. Prebends, annates, jubi- 
lees, pilgrimages, ecclesiastical graces, — she 
had made money of them all. These greedy 
troops, that for months had lived in wretch- 
edness, determined to make her disgorge. 
No one was spared, the imperial not more 
than the ultramontane party, the Ghibelines 
not more than the Guelfs. Churches, pal- 
aces, convents, private houses, basilics, 
banks, tombs — every thing was pillaged, 
even to the golden ring that the corpse of 
Julius II. still wore on its finger. The Span- 
iards displayed the greatest skill; they scent- 
ed out and discovered treasures in the most 
mysterious hiding-places; but the Neapoli- 
tans were still more outrageous. 3 " On 
every side were heard," says Guicciardini, 
"the piteous shrieks of the Roman women 



1 Guicciardini, vol. ii. p. 721. 

2 Since the new wall built by Urban VIII. on 
the top of the Janiculum, the gates of the Holy 
Ghost and of Seltimiana have become useless. 

3 Jovius Vila Pompeii Colonnae, p. 191 ; Ranke 
Deutsche Gesch. ii. p. 398. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



and of the nuns whom the soldiers dragged 
away by companies to satiate their lust." ' 

At first the Germans found a certain 
pleasure in making the Papists feel the 
weight of their swords. But ere long, hap- 
py at finding food and drink, they were 
more pacific than their allies. It was upon 
those things which the Romans called 
" holy " that the anger of the Lutherans 
was especially discharged. They took away 
the chalices, the pyxes, the silver remon- 
strances, and clothed their servants and 
camp-boys with the sacerdotal garments. 2 
The Campofiore was changed into an 
immense gambling-house. The soldiers 
brought thither golden vessels and bags full 
of crowns, staked them upon one throw of 
the dice, and after losing them, they went 
in search of others. A certain Simon Bap- 
tista, who had foretold the sack of the city, 
had been thrown into prison by the Pope; 
the Germans liberated him, and made him 
driak with them. But, like Jeremiah, he 
prophesied against all. " Rob, plunder," 
cried he to his liberators; " you shall how- 
ever give back all ; the money of the sol- 
diers and the gold of the priests will follow 
the same road." 

Nothing pleased the Germans more than 
to mock the papal court. " Many prelates," 
says Guicciardini, "were paraded on asses 
through all the city of Rome." 3 After this 
procession, the bishops paid their ransom ; 
but they fell into the hands of the Span- 
iards, who made them pay it a second 
time. 4 

One day a lansquenet named Guillaume 
de Sainte Celle, put on the Pope's robes, 
and placed the triple crown upon his head; 
others, adorning themselves with the red 
hats and long robes of the cardinals, sur- 
rounded him ; and all going in procession 
upon asses through the streets of the city, 
arrived at last before the castle of Saint 
Angelo, where Clement VII. had retired. 
Here the soldier-cardinals alighted, and lift- 
ing up the front of their robes, kissed the 
feet of the pretended pontiff. The latter 
drank to the health of Clement VII., the 
cardinals kneeling did the same, and exclaim- 
ed that henceforward they would be pious 
popes and good cardinals, who would have 
a care not to excite wars, as all their prede- 
cessors had done. They then formed a con- 
clave, and the Pope having announced to 
his consistory that it was his intention to 
resign the Papacy, all hands were immedi- 
ately raised for the election, and they cried 
out "Luther is Pope! Luther is Pope!" 5 



1 Guicciardini, ii. p. 724. 

2 Sacras vestes profanis induebant lixis. (Coch- 
loeus. p. 156.) 

3 Wars of Italy, ii. p. 723. 

4 Eundem civem seu curialem haud raro, nunc 
ab Hispanis, nunc a Germanis aere mutuato redi- 
mi. (Cochloeus, p. 156.) 

5 Milites itaque levasse manum ac exclamasse : 
Lutherus Papa! Lutherus Papa! (Ibid.) 



Never had pontiff been proclaimed with 
such perfect unanimity. Such were tbf 
humours of the Germans. 

The Spaniards did not let them ofi 
so easily. Clement VII. had called them 
" Moors," and had published a plenary in- 
dulgence for whoever should kill any of 
them. Nothing, therefore, could restrain 
their fury. These faithful Catholics put 
the prelates to death in the midst of horrible 
tortures, destined to extort their treasures 
from them : they spared neither rank, sex, 
nor age. It was not until after the sack 
had lasted ten days, and a booty of ten 
million golden crowns had been collected, 
and from five to eight thousand victims had 
perished, that quiet began to be in some 
degree restored. 

Thus did the pontifical city expire in the 
midst of a long and cruel pillage, and that 
splendour with which Rome from the be- 
ginning of the sixteenth century had filled 
the world faded in a few hours. Nothing 
could preserve this haughty city from chas- 
tisement, not even the prayers of its ene- 
mies. " I would not have Rome burnt," 
Luther had exclaimed; "it would be a 
monstrous deed." 1 The fears of Melanc- 
thon were still keener : " I tremble for the 
libraries," said he, " we know how hateful 
books are to Mars." 2 But in despite of 
these wishes of the reformers, the city of 
Leo X. fell under the judgment of God. 

Clement VII., besieged in the castle of 
Saint Angelo, and fearful that the enemy 
would blow his asylum into the air with 
their mines, at last capitulated. He renoun- 
ced every alliance against Charles the Fifth, 
and bound himself to remain a prisoner 
until he had paid the army four hundred 
thousand ducats. The evangelical Chris- 
tians gazed with astonishment on this judg- 
ment of the Lord. " Such," said they, 
" is the empire of Jesus Christ, that the 
Emperor, pursuing Luther on account of 
the Pope, is constrained to ruin the Pope 
instead of Luther. All things minister unto 
the Lord, and turn against his adversa- 
ries." 3 

III. And in truth the Reform needed 
some years of repose that it might increase 
and gain strength ; and it could not enjoy 
peace, unless its great enemies were at war 
with each other. The madness of Clement 
VII. was as it were the lightning-conductor 
of the Reformation, and the ruin of Rome 
built up the Gospel. It was not only a few 
months' gain.; from 1526 to 1529 there was 
a calm in Germany by which the Reforma- 
tion profited to organize and extend itself. 
A constitution was now to be given to the 
renovated Church. 

1 Roman nollem exustam, magnum enim por- 
tenfum esset. (Epp. iii. p. 221.) 

2 Metuo bibliothecis, (Corp. Ref. i. p. 869.) 

3 Ut Cassar pro Papa Lutherum persequens, pro 
Luthero papam cogatur .vastare. (L. Epp. iii. p. 
188.) 



434 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The papal yoke having been broken, the ec- 
clesiastical order required to be re-established. 
It was impossible to restore their ancient 
jurisdiction to the bishops; for these conti- 
nental prelates maintained that they were, 
in an especial manner, the Pope's servants. 
A new state of things was therefore called 
for, under pain of seeing the Church fall 
into anarchy. Provision was made for it. 
It was then that the evangelic nations sep- 
arated definitely from that despotic dominion 
which had for ages kept all the West in 
bondage. 

Already on two occasions the diet had 
wished to make the reform of the Church 
a national work ; the Emperor, the Pope, 
and a few princes were opposed it ; the 
Diet of Spire had therefore resigned to each 
state the task that it could not accomplish 
itself. 

But what constitution were they about to 
substitute for the papal hierarchy ? 

They could, wnile suppressing the Pope, 
preserve the Episcopal order : it was the 
form most approximate to that which was 
on the point of being destroyed. 

They might, on the contrary, reconstruct 
the ecclesiastical order, by having recourse 
to the sovereignity of God's Word, and by 
re-establishing the rights of the Christian 
people. This form was the most remote 
from the Roman hierarchy. Between these 
two extremes there were several middle 
courses. 

The latter plan was Zwingle's ; but the 
reformer of Zurich had not fully carried it 
out. He had not called upon the Christian 
people to exercise the sovereignity, and had 
stopped at the council of two hundred as 
representing the Church. 1 

The step before which Zwingle had hesi- 
tated might be taken, and it was so. A 
prince did not shrink from what had alarm- 
ed even republics. Evangelical Germany, 
at the moment in which she began to try 
her hand on ecclesiastical constitutions, be- 
gan with that which trenched the deepest 
on the papal monarchy. 

It was not, however, from Germany that 
such a system could proceed. If the aris- 
tocratic England was destined to cling to 
the episcopal form, the docile Germany was 
destined the rather to stop in a governmental 
medium. The democratic extreme issued 
from Switzerland and France. One of Cal- 
vin's predecessors then hoisted that flag 
which the powerful arm of the Genevese 
Reformer was to lift again in after-years and 
plant in France, Switzerland, Holland, Scot- 
land, and even in England, whence it was 
a century later to cross the Atlantic and 
summon North America to t-ake its rank 
among the nations. 

None of the evangelical princes was so 
enterprising as Philip of Hesse, who has 
been compared to Philip of Macedon in sub- 

1 Supra, b. xi. ch. x. 



tlety, and to his son Alexander in courage. 
Philip comprehended that religion was at 
length acquiring its due importance; and 
far from opposing the great development that 
was agitating the people, he put himself in 
harmony with the new ideas. 

The morning-star had risen for Hesse al- 
most at the same time as for Saxony. In 
1517, when Luther was preaching in Wit- 
temberg the gratuitous remission of sins 
men and women were seen in Marburg re- 
pairing secretly to one of the ditches of the 
city, and there, near a solitary loophole, 
listening to the words that issued from with- 
in, and that preached doctrines of consola- 
tion through the bars. It was the voice of 
the Franciscan James Limburg, who having 
declared that, for fifteen centuries, the priests 
had falsified the Gospel of Christ, had been 
thrown into this gloomy dungeon. These 
mysterious assemblies lasted a fortnight. — 
On a sudden the voice ceased; these lonely 
meetings had been discovered, and the Fran- 
ciscan, torn from his cell, had been hurried 
away across the Lahnberg towards some 
unknown spot. Not far irom the Ziegen- 
berg, some weeping citizens of Marburg 
came up with him, and hastily snatching 
aside the canvass that covered his car, they 
asked him, " Whither are you going?" — 
" Where God wills," calmly replied the 
friar. 1 There was no more talk of him, and 
it is not known what became of him. These 
disappearances are usual in the Papacy. 

Scarcely had Philip prevailed in the Diet 
of Spire, when he resolved on devoting him- 
self to the Reformation of his hereditary 
states. 

His resolute character made him incline 
towards the Swiss reform: it was not there- 
fore one of the moderates that he required. 
He had formed a connexion at Spire with 
James Sturm, the deputy from Strasburg, 
who spoke to him of Francis Lambert of 
Avignon, who was then at Strasburg. Of 
a pleasing exterior and decided character, 
Lambert added to the fire of the South the 
perseverance of the North. He was the 
first in France to throw off the cowl, and 
he had never since then ceased to call for a 
radical reform in the Church. "Formerly," 
said he, " when I was a hypocrite, I lived 
in abundance; now I consume frugally my 
daily bread with my small family ; 2 but I 
had rather be poor in Christ's kingdom, than 
possess abundance of gold in the dissolute 
dwellings of the Pope." The Landgrave 
saw that Lambert was such a man as he 
required, and invited him to his court. 

Lambert, desiring to prepare the reform 
of Hesse, drew up one hundred and fifty- 
eight theses, which he entitled " paradoxes," 
and posted them, according to the custom 
of the times, on the church doors. 



1 Rommel, Phil, von Hesse, i. p. 128. 

2 Nunc cum familiola mea panem manduco et 
potum capio in mensura. (Lamberti Commen 
tarii de Sacro Conjugio.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



435 



Friends and enemies immediately crowd- 
ed round them. Some Roman Catholics 
would have torn them down, but the re- 
foimed townspeople kept watch, and hold- 
ing a synod in the public square, discussed, 
developed, proved these propositions, and 
ridiculed the anger of the Papists. 

A young priest, Boniface Dornemann, 
full of self-conceit, whom the bishop, on the 
day of his consecration, had extolled above 
Paul for his learning, and above the Virgin 
for his chastity, finding himself too short to 
reach Lambert's placard, had borrowed a 
stool, and surrounded by a numerous audi- 
ence, had begun to read the propositions 
aloud. 1 

" All that is deformed, ought to be re- 
formed. The Word of God alone teaches 
us what ought to be so, and all reform that 
is effected otherwise is vain." 2 

This was the first thesis. " Hem !" said 
the young priest, " I shall not attack that." 
He continued. 

"It belongs to the Church to judge on 
matters of faith. Now the Church is the 
congregation of those who are united by the 
same spirit, the same faith, the same God, 
the same Mediator, the same Word, by 
which alone they are governed, and in 
which alone they have life." 3 

" I cannot attack that proposition," said 
the priest. 4 He continued reading from his 
stool. 

" The Word is the true key. The king- 
dom of heaven is open to him who believes 
the Word, and shut against him who be- 
lieves it not. Whoever, therefore, truly 
possesses the Word of God, has the power 
of the keys. All other keys, all the decrees 
of the councils and popes, and all the rules 
of the monks, are valueless." 

Friar Boniface shook his head and con- 
tinued. 

" Since the priesthood of the Law has 
been abolished, Christ is the only immortal 
and eternal priest, and he does not, like men, 
need a successor. Neither the Bishop of 
Rome nor any other person in the world 
is his representative here below. But all 
Christians, since the commencement of the 
Church, have been and are participators in 
nis priesthood." 

This proposition smelt of heresy. Dor- 
nemann, however, was not discouraged ; 
and whether it was from weakness of mind, 
or from the dawning of light, at each pro- 
position that did not too much shock his 
prejudices, he failed not to repeat: "Cer- 
tainly,! shall not attack that one!" The 

1 Cum statura homines hujusmodi essetut- inter 
Pygmaeos internosci difficulter posset, scahellum 
sibi dari postulabat, eoque conscenso, coepit, &c. 
(Othon. Melandri Jocorum Cent.) 

2 Vana est omnis Reformatio quae alioqui fit. 
(Paradoxa Lamberti : Sculteti Annal.) 

3 Ecclesia est congregatio eorum qups unit idem 
spirifus. (Ibid.) 

4 Hanc equidem haud impugnaverim. Illam 
\tt quidem attigerim. (Othon. Mel. Joe Cent.) 



people listened in astonishment, when one 
of them, — whether he was a fanatical Ro- 
manist, a fanatical Reformer, or a mischiev 
ous wag, I cannot tell — tired of these con- 
tinual repetitions, exclaimed : " Get down, 
you knave, who cannot find a word to im- 
pugn." Then rudely pulling the stool from 
under him, he threw the unfortunate clerk 
flat in the mud. 1 

On the 21st October, at seven in the 
morning, the gates of the principal Church 
of Homburg were thrown open, and the 
prelates, abbots, priests, counts, knights, 
and deputies of the towns, entered in suc- 
cession, and in the midst of them was Philip, 
in his quality of first member of the Church. 

After Lambert had explained and proved 
his theses, he added : " Let him stand forth 
who has anything to say against them." — 
There was at first a profound silence; but 
at length Nicholas Ferber, superior of the 
Franciscans of Marburg, who in 1524, ap- 
plying to Rome's favourite argument, had 
entreated the Landgrave to employ the sword 
against the heretics, began to speak with 
drooping head, and downcast eyes ; but as 
he invoked Augustin, Peter Lombard, and 
other doctors to his assistance, the Land- 
grave observed to him : " Do not put for- 
ward the wavering opinions of men, but the 
Word of God, which alone fortifies and 
strengthens our hearts." The Franciscan 
sat down in confusion, saying : " This is 
not the place for replying." The disputa- 
tion, however, recommenced, and Lambert, 
showing all the fire of the South, so as- 
tonished his adversary, that the superior, 
alarmed at what he called "thunders of 
blasphemy and lightnings of impiety," 2 
sat down again, observing a second time, 
" This is not the place for replying." 

In vain did the Chancellor Feige declare 
to him that each man had the right of main- 
taining his opinion with full liberty; in vain 
did the Landgrave himself exclaim that the 
Church was sighing after truth : silence had 
become Rome's refuge. " I will defend the 
doctrine of purgatory," a priest had said 
prior to the discussion ; " I will attack the 
paradoxes under the sixth head, (on the true 
priesthood,") had said another; 3 and a third 
had exclaimed, "I will overthrow those un- 
der the tenth head, (on images;") but now 
they were all dumb. 

Upon this Lambert, clasping his hands, 
exclaimed with Zacharias : Blessed be the 
Lord God of Israel ; for he hath visited and 
redeemed his people. 

After three days of discussion, which 
had been a continual triumph for the evan- 
gelical doctrine, men were selected and 

1 Apagesis, nebulo ! qui quod impugnes infir- 
mesque invenire hand possis ! bisque dietis sea- 
bellum ei mox subtrahit, ut miser ille prseceps 
in lutum ageretur. (Oth. Mel. Joe. Cent.) 

2 Fulgura impietatum, toniiruablasphemiarum. 

3 Erant enim prius qui dicerent : Ego asseram 
purgatorium ; alius. Ego impugnabo paradoxa 
tituli sexti, etc. (Lamberti Epistola ad Cc Ion.) 



436 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



commissioned to constitute the churches 
of Hesse in accordaoce with the Word of 
God. They were more than three days oc- 
cupied in the task, and then their new con- 
stitution was published in the name of the 
synod. 

The first ecclesiastical constitution pro- 
duced by the Reformation should have a 
place in history, so much the more as it was 
then set forward as a model for the new 
Churches of Christendom. 1 

The autonomy or self-gorernment of the 
Church is its fundamental principle : it is 
from the Church, from its representatives 
assembled in the name of the Lord, that this 
legislation emanates ; there is no mention 
in the prologue either of state or of Land- 
grave. 2 Philip, content with having broken 
for himself and for his people the yoke of a 
foreign priest, had no desire to put himself 
in his place, and was satisfied with an ex- 
ternal superintendence, necessary for the 
maintenance of order. 

A second distinctive feature in this consti- 
tution is its simplicity both of government 
and worship. The assembly conjures all 
future synods not to load the Churches with 
a multitude of ordinances, " seeing that 
where orders abound, disorder supera- 
bounds." They would not even continue 
the organs in the churches, " because," said 
they, " men should understand wmat they 
hear." 3 The more the human mind has 
been bent in one direction, the more violent 
is the reaction in the contrary direction 
when it is unbent. The Church passed at 
that time from the extreme of symbols to 
that of simplicity. These are the piincipal 
features of this constitution : — 

••The Church can only be taught and 
governed by the Word of its Sovereign Pas- 
tor. Whoever has recourse to any other 
word shall be deposed and excommunicated. 4 

•• Every pious man, learned in the Word 
of God, whatever be his condition, may be 
elected bishop if he desire it, for he is called 
•nwardly of God. 5 

" Let no one believe that by a bishop we 
jnderstand any thing else than a simple 
minister of the Word of God. 6 

" The ministers are servants, and conse- 
quently they ought not to be lords, princes, 
or governors. 

" Let the faithful assemble and choose 



1 This constitution will be found in Schminke, 
Monumenta Hassiaca, vol. ii. p. 583 : " Pro Has- 
siae Ecclesiis. et si deinde nonnullae alice ad idem 
nostro exawplo provocarentur." 

2 Svnodus in nomine Domini congregata. (Ibid.) 

3 Ne homines non inielligant. (Ibid. cap. 3.) 

4 Non admittimus verbum aliud quam ipsius 
pastoris nostri. (Ibid. cap. 2.) 

5 Si quis pius, in verbo sancto et exercitatus, 
docere petit verbum sanctum, non repellatur, a 
Deoenim interne mittitur. (Ibid. cap. 23.) 

6 Ne quis putet. nos hie per episcopos, alios in- 
teliigere, quam ministros Dei verbi. (Ibid.; 



their bishops and deacons. Each church 
should elect its own pastor.' 

" Let those who are elected bishops be 
consecrated to their office by the imposition 
of the hands of three bishops ; and as for 
the deacons, if there are no ministers pre- 
sent, let them receive the laying on of hands 
from the elders of the Church. 2 

"If a bishop causes any scandal to the 
Church by his effeminacy, or by the splen- 
dour of his garments, or by the levity of his 
conduct, and if, on being warned, he per- 
sists, let him be deposed by the Church. 2 

"Let each church place its bishop in a 
condition to live with his family,, and to be 
hospitable, as St. Paul enjoins; but let the 
bishops exact nothing for their casual duties. 4 

"On every Sunday let there be in some 
suitable place an assembly of all the men 
who are in the number of the saints, to 
regulate with the bishop, according to God's 
Word, all the affairs of the Church, and to 
excommunicate whoever gives occasion of 
scandal to the Church; lor the Church of 
Christ has never existed without exercising 
the power of excommunication. 5 

" As a weekly assembly is necessary for 
the direction of the particular churches, so a 
general synod should be held annually for the 
direction of all the churches in the country. 6 

"All the pastors are its natural members; 
but each church shall further elect from its 
body a man full of the Spirit and of faith, to 
whom it shall intrust its powers for all that 
is in the jurisdiction of the synod. 7 

"Three visiters shall be elected yearly, 
with commission to go through ail the 
churches, to examine those who have been 
elected bishops, to confirm those who have 
been approved of, and to provide for the ex- 
ecution of the decrees of the synod." 

It will no doubt be found that this first 
evangelical constitution went in some points 
to the extreme of ecclesiastical democracy ; 
but certain institutions had crept in that 
were capable of increase and of changing 
its nature. Six superintendents for life were 
afterwards substituted for these annual visi- 
ters, (who, according to the primitive insti- 

1 Eligat queevis ecclesia episcopum suum. (Ibid, 
cap. 23.) 

2 Manus imponant duo ex senioribus. nisi alii 
episcopi intersint. (Ibid. cap. 2].) 

3 Deponat ecclesia episcopum suum, quod ad 
earn spectet judicare de voce pastorum. (Ibid. 
cap. 23.) 

4 Alat quaevis ecclesia episcopum suum sicque 
illi administret ut cum sua familia vivere possit. 
(Ibid. cap. 23.) 

5 Fiat conventus fidelium in congruo loco, ad 
quern quotquot ex viris in sanctorum numero ha- 
bentur. . . . Christi ecclesiam nunquam fuisse sine 
excommunicatione. (Ibid. cap. 15.) 

6 Ut semel pro toto Hessia celebretur synodua 
apud Marpurgum tenia dominica post pascha. 
(Ibid. cap. 18.) 

7 Universi episcopi. . . . Quaslibet ecclesia con- 
greffeiur et eiigrat ex se ipsa unum plenum fide et 
SpirituDei. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



437 



tution, might be simple members of the 
church ;) and, as has been remarked, 1 the 
encroachments, whether of these superin- 
tendents or of the state, gradually paralyz- 
ed the activity and independence of the 
churches of Hesse. This constitution fared 
as did ihat of the Abbe Sieyes, in the year 8, 
which, being destined to be republican, 
served through the influence of Napoleon 
Bonaparte to establish the despotism of the 
Empire. 

It was not the less a remarkable work. 
Romish doctors have reproached the Refor- 
mation for making the Church a too interior 
institution. 2 In effect, the Reformation and 
Popery recognise two elements in the 
Church, — the one exterior, the other inte- 
rior; but while Popery gives precedence to 
the former, the Reformation assigns it to the 
latter. If, however, it be a reproach against 
the Reformation for having an inward 
Church only, and for not creating an exter- 
nal one, the remarkable constitution of 
which we have just exhibited a few fea- 
tures, will save us the trouble of reply. The 
exterior ecclesiastical order, which then 
sprung from the very heart of the Reforma- 
tion, is far more perfect than that of Popery. 

One great question presented itself: Will 
these principles be adopted by all the 
Churches of the Reformation? 

Every thing seemed to indicate as much. 
The most pious men thought at that time 
that the ecclesiastical power proceeded from 
the members of the Church. By withdrawing 
from the hierarchical extreme, they flung 
themselves into a democratical one. Luther 
himself had professed this doctrine as early 
as 1523. The Calixtins of Bohemia, on 
seeing the bishops of their country refuse 
them ministers, had gone so far as to take 
the first vagabond priest. " If you have no 
other means of procuring pastors," wrote 
Luther to them, "rather do without them, 
and let each head of a family read the Gos- 
pel in his own house, and baptize his chil- 
dren, sighing after the sacrament of the 
altar as the Jews at Babylon did for Jerusa- 
lem. 3 The consecration of the Pope creates 
priests — not of God, but of the devil, or- 
dained solely to trample Jesus Christ under 
foot, to bring his sacrifice to naught, and to 
sell imaginary holocausts to the world in 
his name. 4 Men become ministers only by 
election and calling, and that ought to be 
effected in the following manner : — 

" First, seek God by prayer f then being 

1 Rettisr, Die Freie Kirche. 

2 This is the opinion set forth in the Syvibolik 
of Dr. Mofcler, the most celebrated defender of 
the Romish doctrine among our contemporaries. 

3 Tutius enim et salubrius esset, quemlibet pa- 
trem-familias suae domui legere Evangelium. (L. 
Opp. lat. ii. p. 363.) 

4 Per ordines papisticos non'sacerdotes Dei sed 
sacerdotes Satanae, tantum ut Christum concul- 
cent. (Ibid. p. 364.) 

fi Orationibus turn privatis turn publicis. (Ibid. 
p 370.5 



assembled together with all those whose 
hearts God has touched, choose in the 
Lord's name him or them w horn you shall 
have acknowledged to be fitted for this min- 
istry. After that, let the chief men among 
you lay their hands on them, and recommend 
them to the people and to the Church.'" 

Luther, in thus calling upon the people 
alone to nominate their pastors, submitted 
to the necessities of the times. It was re- 
quisite to constitute the ministry • but the 
ministry having no existeuce, it could not 
then have the legitimate part that belongs 
to it in the choice of God's ministers. 

But another necessity, proceeding in like 
manner from the state of affairs, was to in- 
cline Luther to deviate from the principles 
he had laid down. 

The German Reformation can hardly be 
said to have begun with the lower classes, 
as in Switzerland and France ; and Luther 
could scarcely find anywhere that Christian 
people, which should have played so great 
a part in his new constitution. Ignorant 
men, conceited townspeople, who would 
not even maintain their ministers — these 
were the members of the Church. Now 
what could be done with such elements? 

But if the people were indifferent, the 
princes were not so. They stood in the fore- 
most rank of the battle, and sat on the first 
bench in the council. The democratic or- 
ganization was therefore compelled to give 
way to an organization conformable to the 
civil government. The Church is compost-d 
of Christians, and they are taken wherever 
they are found — high or low. It was par- 
ticularly in high stations that Luther found 
them. Pie admitted the princes as repre- 
sentatives of the people; and henceforward 
the influence of the stale became one of the 
principal elements in the constitution of the 
evangelical Church. 

In the mind of the Reformer, this guar- 
dianship of the princes was only to be pro- 
visional. The faithful being then in mi- 
nority, they had need of a guardian ; but the 
era of the Church's majority might arrive, 
and with it would come its emancipation. 

We may admit that this recourse to the 
civil power was at that time necessary, but 
we cannot deny that it was also a source of 
difficulties. We will point out only one. 
When Protestantism became an affair of 
governments and nations, it ceased to be 
universal. The new spirit was capable of 
creating a new earth. But instead of open- 
ing new roads, and of purposing the re- 
generation of all Christendom, and tiie con- 
version of the whole world, the Protestants 
sought to settle themselves as comfortably 
as possible in a few German duchies. This 
timidity, which has been called prudence, 
did immense injury to the Reformation. 

1 Eligite quern et quos volueritis. Turn impo- 
sitis super eos manibus, sinl hoc ipso vesiri epis- 
copi, vestri ministri, seu pastores. (L. Opp. lat. 
ii. p. 370.) 



438 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



The organizing power being once disco- 
vered, the Reformers thought of organiza- 
tion, and Luther applied to the task; for al- 
though he was in an especial manner an 
assailant and Calvin an organizer, these two 
qualities, as necessary to the Reformers of 
the Church as to the founders of empires, 
were not wanting in either of these great 
servants of God. 

It was necessary to compose a new minis- 
try, for most of the priests who had quitted 
the Papacy were content to receive the 
watchword of Reform without having per- 
sonally experienced the sanctifying virtue 
of the Truth. There was even one parish 
in which the priest preached the Gospel in 
his principal Church, and sang Mass in its 
succursal. 1 But something more was want- 
ing : a Christian people had to be created. 
"Alas!" said Luther of some of the adhe- 
rents of the Reform, " they have abandoned 
their Romish, doctrines and rites, and they 
scoff at ours." 2 

Luther did not shrink from before this 
double necessity; and he made provision 
for it. Understanding that a general visita- 
tion of the churches was necessary, he ad- 
dressed the Elector on this subject, on the 
22d October 1526. "Your highness, in 
your quality of guardian of youth, and of 
all those who know not how to take care of 
themselves," said he, "should compel the 
inhabitants, who desire neither pastors nor 
schools, to receive these means of grace, as 
they are compelled to work on the roads, on 
bridges, and such like services. 3 The papal 
order being abolished, it is your duty to 
regulate these things; no other person cares 
about them, no other can, and no other ought 
to do so. Commission, therefore, four per- 
sons to visit all the country ; let two of them 
inquire into the tithes and church property; 
and let two take charge of the doctrine, 
schools, churches, and pastors." We natu- 
rally ask, on reading these words, if the 
church which was formed in the first cen- 
tury, without the support of princes, could 
not in the sixteenth be reformed without 
them? 

Luther was not content with soliciting in 
writing the intervention of the prince. He 
was indignant at seeing the courtiers, who 
in the time of the Elector Frederick had 
shown themselves the inveterate enemies of 
the Reformation, rushing now, " sporting, 
laughing, skipping," as he said, on the spoils 
of the Church. Accordingly, at the end of 
this year, the Elector having come to Wit- 
temberg, the Reformer repaired immediately 
to the palace, made his complaint to the 
prince-electoral, whom he met at the gate, 



* In aede parochiali evangelico more docebat, in 
filiali missi fiabat. (Seek. p. 102.) 

2 Sic enim sua papistica neglexerunt, et nostra 
contemnunt. (L. Epp. iii. p. 224.) 

8 Als oberster vormund der Jugend und aller 
die es bedurfen, sail sie mit Gewalt dazu halten. 
(Ibid. p. 136.) 



then without caring about those who stop- 
ped him, made his way by force into his 
father's bedchamber, and addressing this 
prince, who was surprised at so unexpected 
a visit, begged him to remedy the evils of 
the Church. The visitation of the churches 
was resolved upon, and Melancthon was 
commissioned to draw up the necessary in- 
structions. 

In 1526, Luther had published his "Ger- 
man Mass," by which he signified the order 
of church service in general. "The real 
evangelical assemblies," he said, " do not 
take place publicly, pell-mell, admitting 
people of every sort; 1 but they are formed 
of serious Christians, who confess the Gos- 
pel by their words and by their lives. 2 and 
in the midst of whom we may reprove and 
excommunicate, according to the rule of 
Christ Jesus. 3 I cannot institute such as- 
semblies, for I have no one to place in them ;* 
but if the thing becomes possible, I shall not 
be wanting in this duty." 

It was also with a conviction that he must 
give the Church, not the best form of wor- 
ship imaginable, but the best possible, that 
Melancthon laboured at his Instructions. 

The German Reformation at that time 
tacked about, as it were. If Lambert in 
Hesse had gone to the extreme of a demo- 
cratical system, Melancthon in Saxony was 
approximating the contrary extreme of tra- 
ditional principles. A conservative princi- 
ple was substituted for a reforming one. 
Melancthon wrote to one of the inspectors : 5 
" All the old ceremonies that you can pre- 
serve, pray do so. 6 Do not innovate much, 
for every innovation is injurious to the peo- 
ple." 7 

They retained, therefore, the Latin litur- 
gy, a few German hymns being mingled 
with it; 8 the communion in one kind for 
those only who scrupled from habit to take 
it in both ; a confession made to the priest 
without being in any way obligatory ; many 
saints' days, the sacred vestments, 9 and 
other rites, "in which," said Melancthon, 
" there is no harm, whatever Zwingle may 
say." 10 And at the same lime they set forth 

1 Non publice, sive promiscue et admissa oninis 
generis plebe. (De Missa Germ.) 

2 Qui nomina sua in catalogum referrent, adds 
he. (Ibid.) 

3 Excommunicari qui Christiano more se non 
gererent. (Ibid.) 

4 Neque enim habeo qui sint idonei. (Ibid.) 

5 Dr. Dewette thinks this letter is Luther's. (L. 
Epp. iii. p. 352.) It appears clear to me, as also 
to Dr. Bretschneider, that it is Melancthon's. 
Luther never went so far in the way of concession. 

6 Observo quantum ex veteribus caeremoniia 
retineri potest, retineas. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 990.) 

7 Omnis novitas nocet in vulgo. (Ibid.) 

8 Non aboleas earn totam (the Latin mass): 
satis est alicubi miscere Germanicas cantationea. 
(Ibid.) . . „ 

9 Ut retineantur vestes usitatse in saens. (Corp, 
Ref. ad Jonam, 20th December, 1527.) 

10 Vel si Zwinglius ipse praedicaturus sit. (Corp 
Ref. ii. p. 910.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



439 



with reserve the doctrines of the Reforma- 
tion. 

It is but right to confess the dominion of 
facts and circumstances upon these ecclesi- 
astical organizations ; but there is a dominion 
which rises higher still — that of the Word 
of God. 

Perhaps what Melancthon did was all 
that could be effected at that time : but it 
was necessary for the work to be one day 
resumed and re-established on its primitive 
plan, and this was Calvin's glory. 

A cry of astonishment was heard both 
from the camp of Rome and from that of the 
Reformation. " Our cause is betrayed/' 
exclaimed some of the evangelical Chris- 
tians : "■ the liberty is taken away that Jesus 
Christ had given us. 1 

On their part the Ultramontanists triumph- 
ed in Melancthon's moderation : they called 
it a retractation, and took advantage of it to 
insult the Reform. Coehloeus published a 
" horrible" engraving, as he styles it himself, 
in which, from beneath the same hood was 
seen issuing a seven-headed monster repre- 
senting Luther. Each of these heads had 
different features, and all, uttering together 
the most frightful and contradictory words, 
kept disputing, tearing, and devouring each 
other. 2 

The astonished Elector resolved to com- 
municate Melancthon's paper to Luther. 
But never did the Reformer's respect for his 
friend show itself in a more striking manner. 
He only made one or two unimportant ad- 
ditions to this plan, and sent it back accom- 
panied with the highest eulogiums. The 
Romanists said that the tiger caught in a 
net was licking the hands that clipped his 
talons. But it was not so. Luther knew 
that the aim of Melancthon's labours was 
to strenghten the very soul of the Reforma- 
tion in all the churches of Saxony. That 
was sufficient for him. He thought besides, 
that in every thing there must be a transition ; 
and being justly convinced that his friend 
was more than himself a man of transition, 
he frankly accepted his views. 

The general visitation began. Luther in 
Saxony, Spalatin in the districts of Alten- 
burg, and Zwickau, Melanchton in Thu- 
ringia, and Thuring in Franconia, with 
ecclesiastical deputies and several lay col- 
leagues, commenced the work in October 
and November, 1528. 

They purified the clergy by dismissing 
every priest of scandalous life ; 3 they as- 
signed a portion of the church property to 
the maintenance of public worship, and 
they placed the remainder beyond the reach 
of plunder; they continued the suppression 

1 Alii dicerent prodi causam. (Gamer. Vita 
Melancthon, p. 107.) 

2 Monstrosus ille Germaniae partus, Lutherus 
septiceps. (Cochlceus, p. 1G9.) 

3 Viginti fere rudes et inepti, multiqne concu- 
binarii et potatores deprehensi sunt. (Seckend. 
p. 102.) 



of the convents; they established everywhere 
unity of instruction ; and "Luther's greater 
and smaller catechisms," which appeared in 
1529, contributed more perhaps than any 
other writings to propagate throughout the 
new churches the ancient faith of the Apos- 
tles ; they commissioned the pastors of the 
great towns, under the title of superintend- 
ents, to watch over the churches and the 
schools; they maintained the abolition of celi- 
bacy ; and the ministers of the Word, become 
husbands and fathers, formed the germ of 
a third estate, whence in after-years were 
diffused in all ranks of society learning, 
activity, and light. This is one of the truest 
causes of the intellectual and moral superi- 
ority that indisputably distinguishes the 
evangelical nations. 

The organization of the churches in Saxo- 
ny, notwithstanding its imperfections, pro- 
duced for that time at least the most import- 
ant results. This was because the Word 
of God prevailed ; and because, wherever 
this Word exercises its power, secondary 
errors and abuses are paralyzed. The very 
discretion that was employed proceeded in 
reality from a good principle. The reformers, 
unlike the enthusiasts, did not utterly reject 
an institution because it was corrupted. 
They did not say, for example: "The 
sacraments are disfigured, let us do with- 
out them ! the ministry is corrupt, let us 
reject it!" — but they rejected the abuse, and 
restored the use. This prudence is the mark 
of a work of God ; and if Luther sometimes 
permitted the chaff to remain along with 
the wheat, Calvin appeared later, and more 
thoroughly purged the Christian threshing- 
floor. 

The organization which was at that time 
accomplishing in Saxony, exerted a strong 
reaction on all the German empire, and the 
doctrine of the Gospel advanced with gigan- 
tic strides. The design of God in turning 
aside from the reformed states of Germany, 
the thunderbolt that he caused to fall upon 
the seven-hilled city, was clearly manifest. 
Never were years more usefully employed; 
and it was not only to framing a constitution 
that the Reformation devoted itself, it was 
also to extend its doctrine. 

The duchies of Luneburg and Brunswick, 
many of the most important imperial cities, 
as Nuremberg, Augsburg, Ulm, Strasburg, 
Gottingen, Gosslar, Nordhausen, Lubeck, 
Bremen, and Hamburg, removed the tapers 
from the chapels, and substituted in their 
place the brighter torch of the Word of God. 

In vain did the frightened canons allege 
the authority of the Church. " The authority 
of the Church," replied Kempe and Zechen- 
hagen, the reformer of Hamburg, " cannot 
be acknowledged unless the Church herself 
obeys her pastor Jesus Christ.'" Pomeranus 

1 Evangelici auctoritatem Ecclesire non aliter 
agnoscendam esse contendebant quam si voeem 
, pasioris Christi sequeretur. (Seckend. i. o. 245.) 



440 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



visited many places to put a finishing hand 
to the Reform. 

In Franconia, the Margrave George of 
Brandenburg, having reformed Anspach 
and Bayreuth, wrote to his ancient protector, 
Ferdinand of Austria, who had knit his 
brows on hearing of his reforming proceed- 
ings : " I have done this by God's order ; 
for he commands princes to take care not 
only of the bodies of their subjects, but also 
of their souls." 1 

In EastFriesland, on new-year's day, 1527, 
a Dominican, named Resius, having put on 
his hood, 2 ascended the pulpit at Noorden, 
and declared himself ready to maintain 
certain theses according to the tenor of the 
Gospel. Having silenced the Abbey of 
Noorden by the soundness of his arguments, 
Resius took off his cowl, laid it on the pulpit, 
and was received in the nave by the accla- 
mations of the faithful. Ere long the whole 
ofFriesIand laid aside the uniform of Popery, 
as Resius had done. 

At Berlin, Elizabeth, electress of Branden- 
burg, having read Luther's works, felt a 
desire to receive the Lord's supper in con- 
formity with Christ's institution : a minister 
secretly administered it at the festival of 
Easter, 1528; but one of her children in- 
formed the Elector. Joachim was greatly 
exasperated, and ordered his wife to keep 
her room for several days ; 3 it was even said 
that he intended to shut her up. 4 This prin- 
cess, being deprived of all religious support, 
and mistrusting the perfidious manoeuvres 
of the Romish priests, resolved to escape by 
flight ; and she claimed the assistance of her 
brother, Christian II. of Denmark, who was 
then residing at'Torgau. Taking advantage 
of a dark night, she quitted the castle in a 
peasant's dress, and got into a rude countrv- 
"waggon that was waiting for her at the gate 
of the city. Elizabeth urged on the driver, 
when, in a bad road, the wain broke down. 
The electress, hastily unfastening a hand- 
kerchief she wore round her head, flung it 
to the man, who employed it in repairing 
the damage, and ere long Elizabeth arrived 
at Torgau. " If I should expose you to any 
risk," said she to her uncle, the Elector of 
Saxony, " I am ready to go wherever Pro- 
vidence may guide me." But John assigned 
her a residence in the castle of Lichtenberg, 
on the Elbe, near Wittemberg. Without 
taking upon us to approve of Elizabeth's 
flight, let us acknowledge the good that 
God's Providence drew from it. This 
amiable lady, who lived at Lichtenberg, 
in the study of His word, seldom appearing 
at court, frequently going to hear Luther's 

1 Non modo quoad corpus, sed etiam quoad 
animam. (Seckend. ii. p. 121.) 

2 Resius, cucullum ir.dutus, suggestum ascen- 
dit. (Scultet. Ann. p. 93.) 

3 Aliquot diebus a marito in cubiculo detenta 
fuisse. (Seckend. ii. p. 122.) 

4 Marchio statuerat earn immurare. (L. Epp. 
da Lenkium, iii. p. 296.) 



sermons, and exercising a salutary influence 
over her children, who sometimes had per- 
mission to see her, was the first of those 
pious princesses whom the house of Bran- 
denburg has counted, and even still counts, 
among its members. 

At the same time, Holstein, Sleswick, and 
Silesia decided in favour of the Reformation : 
and Hungary, as well as Bohemia, saw the 
number of its adherents increase. 

In every place, instead of a hierarchy 
seeking its righteousness in the works of 
man, its glory in external pomp, its strength 
in a material power, the Church of the 
Apostles reappeared, humble as in primitive 
times, and like the ancient Christians, look- 
ing for its righteousness, its glory, and its 
power solely in the blood of Christ and in 
the Word of God. 1 

IV. All these triumphs of the Gospel 
could not pass un perceived; there was a 
powerful reaction, and until political circum- 
stances should permit a grand attack upon 
the Reformation on the very soil where 
was established, and of persecuting it by 
means of diets, and if necessary by armies, 
they began to persecute in detail in the Ro- 
mish countries with tortures and the scaffold. 

On the 20th August, 1527, King Ferdi- 
nand, by the Edict of Ofen in Hungary, 
published a tariff of crimes and penalties, in 
which he threatened death by the sword, by 
fire, or by water, 2 against whoever should 
say that Mary was a woman like other 
women ; or partake of the sacrament in an 
heretical manner; or consecrate the bread 
and wine, not being a Romish priest; and 
further, in the second case, the house in 
which the sacrament should have been ad- 
ministered was to be confiscated or rased to 
the ground. 

Such was not the legislation of Luther. 
Link having asked him if it were lawful for 
the magistrate to put the false prophets to 
death, meaning the Sacramentarians, whose 
doctrines Luther attacked with so much 
force, 3 the Reformer replied: "I am slow 
whenever life is concerned, even if the of- 
fender is exceedingly guilty. 4 I can by no 
means admit that the false teachers should 
be put to death, 5 it is sufficient to remove 
them." For ages the Romish Church has 
bathed in blood. Luther was the first to 
profess the great principles of humanity 
and religious liberty. 

They sometimes had recourse to mora 
expeditious proceedings than the scaffold 

1 Revelation xii. 11. 

2 Die sollen mit den Feuer Schwerdt oder 
Wasser gestraft werden. (Ferd. Mandat. L. Opp. 
xix. p. 596.) 

3 Contra hostes sacramentarios strenue nobis- 
cum certare. (Epp. to Lenk, July 14, 1528.) 

4 Ego ad judicium sanguinis tardus sum, etiam 
ubi meritum abundat. (Ibid.) 

6 Nullo modo possum admittere falsos doctores 
occidi. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



441 



itself. George Winkler, pastor of Halle, 
having been summoned before Archbishop 
Albert in the spring of 1527, for having ad- 
ministered the sacrament in both kinds, had 
been acquitted. As this minister was re- 
turning home along an unfrequented road 
in the midst of the woods, he was suddenly- 
attacked by a number of horsemen, who 
murdered him, and immediately fled through 
the thickets without taking any thing from 
his person. 1 " The world," exclaimed Lu- 
ther, "is a cavern of assassins under the 
command of the devil; an inn, whose land- 
lord is a brigand, and which bears this sign, 
Lies and Murder; and none are more readily 
murdered therein than those who proclaim 
Jesus Christ." 

At Munich George Carpenter was led to 
the scaffold for having denied that the bap- 
tism of water is able by its own virtue to 
save a man. " When you are thrown into 
the fire," said some of his brethren, "give 
us a sign by which we may know that you 
persevere in the faith." — " As long as I can 
open my mouth, I will confess the name 
of the Lord Jesus." 2 The executioner 
stretched him on a ladder, tied a small bag 
of gunpowder round his neck, and then 
flung him into the flames. Carpenter im- 
mediately cried out, " Jesus! Jesus!" and 
the executioner having turned him again 
and again with his hooks, the martyr seve- 
ral times repeated the word Jesus, and ex- 
pired. 

At Landsberg nine persons were con- 
signed to the flames, and at Munich twenty- 
nine were thrown into the water. At Scherd- 
ing, Leonard Keyser, a friend and disciple 
>f Luther, having been condemned by the 
bishop, had his head shaved, and being 
dressed in a smock frock, was placed on 
norseback. As the executioners were cursing 
and swearing, because they could not dis- 
entangle the ropes with which he was to be 
bound, he said to them mildly: "Dear 
friends, your bonds are not necessary ; my 
Lord Christ has already bound me." When 
he drew near the stake, Keyser looked at the 
crowd and exclaimed : " Behold the harvest ! 
O Master, send forth thy labourers !" He 
then ascended the scaffold and said : " O 
Jesus, save me ! I am thine." These were 
his last words. 3 " Who am I, a wordy 
preacher," exclaimed Luther, when he re- 
ceived the news of his death, "in compari- 
son with this great doer?" 4 

Thus the Reformation manifested by such 
striking works the truth that it had come to 
re-establish; namely, that faith is not, as 



1 Mox enim ut interfecerunt aufugerunt. per 
avia loca, nihil praedae aut pecuniae capientes. 
(Cochl. p. 152.) 

2 Dum os aperire licebit, servatoris nostri no- 
men profited nunquam intermittam. (Scultet. ii. 
p. 110.) 

3 Incenso jam igne, clara voce proclamavit : 
Titus sum Jem ' Salva me! (Seckend. ii. p. 85.) 

4 -Tarn impa; veroosus praedicator, illi tam po- 
'enti verbi operator. (L. Epp. iii. p. 1214. 



Rome maintains, an historical, vain, dead 
knowledge, 1 but a lively faith, the work of 
the Holy Ghost, the channel by which 
Christ fills the heart with new desires and 
with new affections, the true worship of the 
living God. 

These martyrdoms filled Germany with 
horror, and gloomy forebodings descended 
from the thrones among the ranks of the 
people. Around the domestic hearth, in 
the long winter evenings, the conversation 
wholly turned on prisons, tortures, scaffolds, 
and martyrs ; and the slightest noise alarm- 
ed the old men, women, and children. These 
narratives gained strength from mouth to 
mouth; the rumour of a universal conspi- 
racy against the Gospel spread through all 
the empire. Its adversaries, taking advan- 
tage of this terror, announced with a mys- 
terious air that they must look during this 
year (1528) for some decisive measures 
against the Reform. 2 One scoundrel re- 
solved to profit by this state of mind to satisfy 
his avarice. 

No blows are more terrible to a cause than 
those which it inflicts upon itself. The Re- 
formation, seized with a dizziness, was on 
the verge of self-destruction. There is a 
spirit of error that conspires against the 
cause of truth, beguiling by subtlety; 3 the 
Reformation was about to experience its 
attacks, and to stagger under the most formi- 
dable assault, — perturbation of thought, and 
estrangement from the ways of wisdom and 
of truth. 

Otho of Pack, vice-chancellor to Duke 
George of Saxony, was a crafty and dissi- 
pated man, 4 who took advantage of his 
office, and had recourse to all sorts of prac- 
tices to procure money. The Duke having 
on one occasion sent him to the Diet of 
Nuremberg as his representative, the Bishop 
of Merseberg confided to him his contribu- 
tion towards the imperial government. The 
bishop having been afterwards called upon 
for this money, Pack declared that he had 
paid it to a citizen of Nuremberg, whose 
seal and signature he produced. This papei 
was a forgery; Pack himself was the author 
of it. 3 This wretch, however, put an im 
pudent face on the matter, and as he was 
not convicted, he preserved the confidence 
of his master. Ere long an opportunity 
presented itself of exercising his criminal 
talent on a larger scale. 

No one entertained greater suspicions 
with regard to the Papists than the Land- 
grave of Hesse. Young, susceptible, and 



1 Si quis dixerit fidem non esse veram fidem, 
licet non fit viva, aut eum qui fidem sine charitate 
habet, non esse Christianum, anathema sit. (Cone. 
Frid. Sess. 6, p. 28.) 

2 Nescio quid mirari quod hoc anno contra re- 
formationem expectandum sit. (Seckend. ii. p. 
101.) 

3 2 Corinthians xi. 3. 

4 Homo erat versutus, et praeterea prodigus, 
quo vitio ad alia inductus est. (Seckend. ii. p. 94. 

6 It is still to be seen' in the records at Dresden. 



442 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



restless, he was always on the alert. In the 
month of February, 1528, Pack happening 
to be at Cassel to assist Philip in some diffi- 
cult business, the Landgrave imparted to 
him his fears. If any one could have had 
any knowledge of the designs of the Papists, 
it must have been the vice-chancellor, one 
of the greatest enemies to the Reform. The 
crafty Pack heaved a sigh, bent down his 
eyes, and was silent. Philip immediately 
became uneasy, entreated him, and pro- 
mised to do nothing that would injure the 
Duke. Then Pack, as if he had allowed 
an important secret to be torn from him 
with regret, confessed that a league against 
the Lutherans had been concluded at Bres- 
lau on the Wednesday following Jubilate 
Sunday, 12th May, 1527; and engaged to 
procure the original of this act for the Land- 
grave, who offered him for this service a 
remuneration of ten thousand florins. This 
was the greatest transaction that this wretch- 
ed man had ever undertaken ; but it tended 
to nothing less than the utter overthrow of 
the empire. 

The Landgrave was amazed : he restrain- 
ed himself, however, wishing to see the act 
wjth his own eves before informing his 
allies. He therefore repaired to Dresden. 
" I cannot," said Pack, iC furnish you with 
the original: the Duke always carries it 
about his person to read it to other princes 
whom he hopes to gain over. Recently at 
Leipsic, he showed it to Duke Henry of 
Brunswick. But here is a copy made by 
his highness' order. The Landgrave took 
the document, which bore all the marks of 
the most perfect authenticity. It was crossed 
by a cord of black silk, and fastened at both 
ends by the seal of the ducal chancery. 1 
Above was an impression from the ring 
Duke George always wore on his finger, 
with the three quarterings that Philip had 
so often seen ; at the top, the coronet, and 
at the bottom, the two lions. He has no 
more doubts as to its authenticity. But how 
can we describe his indignation as he read 
this guilty document 1 King Ferdinand, the 
Electors of Men tz and of Brandenburg, Duke 
George of Saxony, the Dukes of Bavaria, 
the Bishops of Salzburg, Wurtzburg, and 
Bamberg, have entered into a coalition to 
call upon the Filector of Saxony to deliver 
up the arch-heretic Luther, with all the 
apostate priests, monks, and nuns, and to 
re-establish the ancient worship. If he make 
default, his states are to be invaded, and this 
prince and his descendants are to be for ever 
dispossessed. The same measure was next 
to be applied to the Landgrave, only (" it 
was your father-in-law, Duke George, " said 
Pack to Philip, " who got this clause in- 
serted") his states shall be restored to him 
in consideration of his youth, if he becomes 
fully reconciled to the Holy Church. The 

1 Cui filum sericum circumligatum, er sigillum 
caneellariae impressum erat. (Seek. ii. p. 94.) 



document stated moreover the contingents 
of men and money to be provided by the 
confederates, and the shares they were to 
have in the spoils of these two heretical 
princes. 1 

Many circumstances tended to confirm 
the authenticity of this paper. Ferdinand, 
Joachim of Brandenburg, and George of 
Saxony, had in fact met at Breslau on the 
day indicated, and an evangelical prince, the 
Margrave George, had seen Joachim leave 
Ferdinand's apartments, holding in his hand 
a large parchment to which, several seals 
were attached. The agitated Landgrave 
caused a copy to be taken of this document, 
promised secrecy for a time, paid Pack four 
thousand florins, and engaged to make up 
the sum agreed upon, if he would procure 
him the original. And then, wishing to 
prevent the storm, he hastened to Weimar 
to inform the Elector of this unprecedented 
conspiracy. 

" I have seen," said he to John and his 
son, "nay more — I have had in my hands, 
a duplicate of this horrible treaty. Signa- 
tures, seals — nothing was wanting. 2 Here 
is a copy, and I bind myself to place the 
original before your eyes. The most fright- 
ful danger threatens us — ourselves, our faith- 
ful subjects, and the Word of God." 

The Elector had no reason to doubt the 
account the Landgrave had just given him : 
he was stunned, confounded, and over- 
powered. The promptest measures alone 
could avert such unheard of disasters: 
everything must be risked to extricate them 
from certain destruction. The impetuous 
Philip breathed fire and flames; 3 his plan 
of defence was already prepared. He pre- 
sented it, and in the first moment of con- 
sternation he carried the consent of his ally, 
as it were by assault. On the 9th March 
1528, the two princes agreed to employ all 
their forces to defend themselves, and even 
to take the offensive, and to sacrifice life, 
honour, rank, subjects, and states, to pre- 
serve the Word of God. The Dukes of 
Prussia, Mecklenburg, Luneburg, and Po- 
merania s the Kings of Denmark and Poland, 
and the Margrave of Brandenburg, were to 
be invited to enter into this alliance. Six 
hundred thousand florins were destined for 
the expenses of the war ; and to procure 
them, they would raise loans, pledge their 
cities, and sell the offerings in the churches. 4 
They had already begun to raise a powerful 
army. 5 The Landgrave set out in person 
for Nuremberg and Anspach. The alarm 
was general in those countries ; the comrao- 



1 Hortleber. De Bello Germanico, ii. p. 579. 

2 Nam is affirmabat se archetypon vidisse, com- 
memorabat vtyttytS'us. (Corp. B,ef. i. p. 986.) 

3 Mirabiliter incensus erat. (Ibid.) 

4 Venditisque templorum donariis. (Seek. ii. 
p. 95.) 

5 Magno studio validum comparaverunt amba 
exercitum. (Coch. p. 171.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



443 



tion was felt throughout all Germany, 1 and 
even beyond it. John Zapolya, King of 
Hungary, at that time a refugee at Cracow, 
promised a hundred thousand florins to raise 
an army, and twenty thousand florins a 
month lor its maintenance. Thus a spirit 
of error^was misleading the princes ; if it 
should carry away the Reformers also, the 
destruction of the Reformation was not far 
distant. 

But God was watching over them. Sup- 
ported on the rock of the Word, Melanc- 
thon and Luther replied : " It is written, 
Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." 
As soon as these two men whom the danger 
threatened (for it was they who were to be 
delivered up to the papal power) saw the 
youthful Landgrave drawing the sword, and 
the aged Elector himself putting his hand 
on the hilt, they uttered a cry, and this cry, 
which was heard in heaven, saved the Re- 
form. 

Luther, Pomeranus, and Melancthon im- 
mediately forwarded the following advice 
to the Elector : "Above all things, let not 
the attack proceed from our side, and let no 
blood be shed through our fault. Let us 
wait for the enemy, and seek after peace. — 
Send an ambassador to the Emperor to make 
him acquainted with this hateful plot." 

Thus it was that the faith of the children 
of God, which is so despised by politicians, 
conducted them aright, at the very moment 
when the diplomatists were going astray. 
The Elector and his son declared to the 
Landgrave that they would not assume the 
offensive. Philip was in amazement. "Are 
not the preparations of the Papists worthy 
an attack?" asked he. 2 "What! we will 
threaten war, and yet not make it ! We 
will inflame the hatred of our antagonists, 
and then leave them time to prepare their 
forces ! No, no ; forward ! It is thus we 
shall secure the means of an honourable 

peace." " If the Landgrave desires to 

begin the war," replied the Reformer, " the 
Elector is not obliged to observe the treaty ; 
for we must obey God rather than men. 
God and the right are above every alliance. 
Let us beware of painting the devil on our 
doors, and inviting him as godfather. 3 But 
if the Landgrave is attacked, the Elector 
ought to go to his assistance ; for it is God's 
will that we preserve our faith." This ad- 
vice which the Reformers gave, cost them 
dear. Never did man, condemned to the 
torture, endure a punishment like theirs. 
The fears excited by the Landgrave were 
succeeded by the' terrors inspired by the 
Papist princes. This cruel trial left them in 



1 Non levifer commotos esse nostrorum ani- 
mos. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 986.) 

2 LandgraviusprsBparamentaadversariorum pro 
agressione habebai. (Seek. ii. p. 95.) 

3 Man darf den Teufel nicht iiber die Thiir 
malen, noch ihn zu gevattern bitten. (L. Epo. 
iii. p. 321.) 



great distress. " I am worn away with 
sorrow," cried Melancthon ; " and this an- 
guish puts me to the most horrible torture. 1 
The issue," added he, " will be found on 
our knees before God." 2 

The Elector, drawn in different directions 
by the theologians and the politicians, ai last 
took a middle course : he resolved to assem- 
ble an army, " but only," said he, " to ob- 
tain peace." Philip of Hesse at length gave 
way, and forthwith sent copies of the famous 
treaty to Duke George, to the Dukes of 
Bavaria, and to the Emperor's representa- 
tives, calling upon them to renounce such 
cruel designs. " I would rather have a 
limb cut off," said he to his father-in-law, 
"than know you to be a member of such 
an alliance." 

The surprise of the German courts, when 
they read this document, is beyond descrip- 
tion. Duke George immediately replied to 
the Landgrave that he had allowed himself 
to be deceived by unmeaning absurdities; 
that he who pretended to have seen the ori- 
ginal of this act was an infamous liar, and 
an incorrigible scoundrel ; and that he called 
upon the Landgrave to give up his autho- 
rity, or else it might well be thought that he 
was himself the inventor of this impudent 
fabrication. King Ferdinand, the Elector 
of Brandenburg, and all the pretended con- 
spirators made similar replies. 

Philip of Hesse saw that he had been de- 
ceived ; 3 his confusion was only exceeded 
by his anger. He had therefore himself 
justified the accusations of his adversaries 
who called him a hot-headed young man, 
and had compromised to the highest degree 
the cause of the Reformation and that of his 
people. He said afterwards, " If that had 
not happened, it would no more happen 
now. Nothing that I have done in all my 
life has caused me greater vexation." 

Pack fled in alarm to the Landgrave, who 
caused him to be arrested ; and envoys from 
the several princes whom this scoundrel 
had compromised met at Cassel, and pro- 
ceeded to examine him. He maintained 
that the original act of the alliance had really 
existed in the Dresden archives. In the 
following year the Landgrave banished him 
from Hesse, showing by this action that he 
did not fear him. Pack was afterwards dis- 
covered in Belgium ; and at the demand of 
Duke George, who had never shown any 
pity towards him, he was seized, tortured, 
and finally beheaded. 

The Landgrave was unwilling to have 
taken up arms to no purpose. The arch- 
bishop-elector of Mentz was compelled, on 
the 11th June, 1528, to renounce in the 
camp of Herzkirchen all spiritual jurisdic- 

1 Curoe vehementer cruciarunt. (Corp. Ref. i. 
p. 988.) 

2 Ev yonvatTt Qtoti. (Ibid.) 

3 Wir tiihlten dass wir betrogen waren. (Hort 
leber, iv. p. 567.) 



444 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



tion in Saxony and Hesse. 1 This was no 
small advantage. 

Scarcely had the arms been laid aside, 
before Luther took up his pen, and began a 
war of another kind. " Impious princes 
may deny this alliance as long as they 
please," wrote he to Link; " I am very cer- 
tain that it is not a chimera. These insati- 
able leeches will take no repose until they 
see the whole of Germany flowing with 
blood." 2 This idea of Luther's was the one 
generally entertained. "The document pre- 
sented to the Landgrave may be," it was 
said, " Pack's invention; but all this fabric 
of lies is founded on some truth. If the al- 
liance has not been concluded, it has been 
conceived." 3 

Melancholy were the results of this affair. 
It inspired division in the bosom of the Re- 
formation, and fanned the hatred between 
the two parties. 4 The sparks from the piles of 
Keyser, Winckler, Carpenter, and so many 
other martyrs, added strength to the fire that 
was already threatening to set the empire in 
flames. It was under such critical circum- 
stances, and with such menacing disposi- 
tions, that the famous Diet of Spire was 
opened in March 1529. The Empire and 
the Papacy were in reality preparing to an- 
nihilate the Reformation, although in a man- 
ner different from what Pack had pretended. 
It was still to be learnt whether there would 
be found in the revived Church more vital 
strength than there had been in so many 
Beets that Rome had easily crushed. Hap- 
pily the faith had increased, and the con- 
stitution given to the Church had imparted 
greater power to its adherents. All were re- 
solved on defending a doctrine so pure, and 
a church government so superior to that of 
Popery. During three years of tranquillity, 
the Gospel tree had struck its roots deep ; 
and if the storm should burst, it would now 
be able to brave it. 

V. The sack of Rome, by exasperating 
the ad herents of the Papacy, had given arms 
to all the enemies of Charles V. The French 
army under Lautrec had forced the imperial 
army, enervated by the delights of a new 
Capua, to hide itself within the walls of 
Naples. Doria, at the head of his Genoese 
galleys had destroyed the Spanish fleet, and 
all the imperial power seemed drawing to 
an end in Italy. But Doria suddenly de- 
clared for the Emperor ; pestilence carried off 
Lautrec and half of his troops : and Charles, 
suffering only from alarm, had again grasped 
the power with a firm resolution to unite 
henceforward closely with the Pontiff, whose 



humiliation had nearly cost him so dear. On 
his side Clement VII., hearing the Italians 
reproach him for his illegitimate birth, and 
even refuse him the title of Pope, said aloud, 
that he would rather be the Emperor's groom 
than the sport of his people. On the 29th 
June, 1528, a peace between the heads of the 
Empire and of the Church was concluded at 
Barcelona, based on the destruction of here- 
sy ; and in November a diet was convoked 
to meet at Spire on the 21st February, 15'^9 
Charles was resolved to endeavour at first 
to destroy the Reform by a federal vote; but 
if this vote did not suffice, to employ his 
whole power against it. The road being 
thus traced out, they were about to com- 
mence operations. 

Germany felt the seriousness of the posi- 
tion. Mournful omens filled every mind. 
About the middle of January, a great light 
had suddenly dispersed the darkness of the 
night. 1 " What that forebodes," exclaimed 
Luther, "God only knows!" At the be- 
ginning of April there was a rumour of 
an earthquake that had engulfed castles, 
cities, and whole districts in Carinthia and 
Istria, and split the tower of St. Mark at 
Venice into four parts, "If that is true," 
said the Reformer, " these prodigies are the 
forerunners of the day of Jesus Christ." 2 
The astrologers declared that the aspect of 
the quartiles of Saturn and Jupiter, and the 
general position of the stars was ominous. 3 
The waters of the Elbe rolled thick and 
stormy, and stones fell from the roofs of 
churches. "All these things," exclaimed 
the terrified Melancthon, "excite me deep- 
ly." 4 

The letters of convocation issued by the 
imperial government agreed but too well 
with these prodigies. The Emperor, writing 
from Toledo to the Elector, accused him of 
sedition and revolt. Alarming whispers 
passed from mouth to mouth that were suf- 
ficient to cause the fall of the weak. Duke 
Henry of Mecklenburg and the Elector-pal- 
atine hastily returned to the side of Popery. 

Never had the sacerdotal party appeared 
in the diet in such numbers, or so powerful 
and decided. 5 On the 5th March, Ferdi- 
nand, the president of the diet, after him 
the Dukes of Bavaria, and lastly the ecclesi- 
astical Electors of Mentz and Treves, had 
entered the gales of Spire surrounded by a 
numerous armed escort. 6 On the 13th 
March, the Elector of Saxony arrived, at- 
tended only by Melancthon and Agricola. 



1 Kopp. Hess. Gerichts. (Verf. i. p. 107.) 

2 Sanguisugae insatiabiles quiescere nolunt, nisi 
Germaniam sanguine madere sentiant. 14th June. 
1528. 

3 Non enim prorsus conflctares. (Corp. Ref. i. 
p. 988.) 

4 Haec minae apud inimicos odia auxerint. — 
Clbid. p. 985.) 



1 An aurora borealis. " Magnum chasma, quo 
nox tota illuminabatur." (L. Epp. iii. p. 420.) 

2 Si vera sunt, diem Chrisu praecurrunt haec 
monstra. (Ibid. p. 438.) 

3 Adspectum trrgayitw Saturniet Jovis. (Corp. 
Ref. i. p. 1075.) 

4 Ego non leviter commoveor his rebus. (Ibid.) 
p. 1076.) 

5 Nunquam fuit tanta frequentia ullis conciliis 
o.tX l % im quanta in his est. (Corp. Ref. p. 1039.' 

6 Mogantinum et Trevirensem cum comitati 
armato. (Seckend. ii. p. 129.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



415 



But Philip of Hesse, faithful to his charac- 
ter, entered the city on the 18th March to 
the sound of trumpets, and with two hun- 
dred horsemen. 

The divergence of men's minds soon be- 
came manifest. A Papist did not meet an 
Evangelical in the street without casting 
angry glances upon him and secretly threat- 
ening him with perfidious machinations. ' 
The Elector-palatine passed the Saxons 
without appearing to know them; 2 and al- 
though John of Saxony was the most im- 
portant of the electors, none of the chiefs 
of the opposite party visited him. Grouped 
around their tables, the Roman Catholic prin- 
ces seemed absorbed in games of hazard. 3 

But ere long they gave positive marks of 
their hostile disposition. The Elector and 
the Landgrave were prohibited from having 
the Gospel preached in their mansions. It 
was even asserted at this early period that 
John was about to be turned out of Spire, 
and deprived of his electorate. 4 " We are 
the execration and the sweepings of the 
world," said Melancthon ; " but Christ will 
look down on his poor people, and will pre- 
serve them." 5 In truth God was with the 
witnesses to hisWord. The peopleof Spire 
thirsted for the Gospel, and the Elector 
wrote to his son on Palm Sunday : "About 
eight thousand persons were present to-day 
in my chapel at morning and evening wor- 
ship." 

The Roman party now quickened their 
proceedings : their plan was simple but 
energetic. It was necessary to put down 
the religious liberty that had existed for 
more than three years, and for that purpose 
they must abrogate the decree of 1526, and 
revive that of 1521. 

On the 15th March the imperial com- 
missaries announced to the diet that the 
last resolution of Spire, which left each stale 
free to act in conformity with the inspirations 
of its conscience, having given rise to great 
disorders, the Emperor had annulled it by 
virtue of his supreme power. This arbitra- 
ry act, and which had no precedent in the 
Empire, as well as the despotic tone with 
which it was accompanied, filled the evan- 
gelical Christians with indignation and 
alarm. " Christ," exclaimed Sturm, "has 
again fallen into the hands of Caiaphas and 
Pilate." 6 

A commission was charged to examine 
the imperial proposition. The Archbishop 
of Salsburg, Faber, and Eck, that is to say, 

1 Vultu significant quantum nos oderint, et quid 
machinentur. (Corp. Ref. i. p. 1040.) 

2 Pfalz kennt kein Sachsen mehr. (Epp. Al- 
berti Mansfeld.) 

3 Adversae partes proceres alea tempusperdere. 
(L. Epp. iii. p. 438.) 

4 Alii exclusum Spirae, a'ii adentum electora- 
tum. (Ibid.) 

5 Sed Christus respiciet et salvabit populum 
pauperem. (Corp. Ref. i. p. 1040.) 

6 Christus est denuo in manibus Caiaphi et Pi- 
■nti. (Jung Beytrage, p, 4.) 



the most violent enemies of the Reforma- 
tion, were among its members. '..' The 
Turks are better than the Lutherans," said 
Faber, " for the Turks observe fast-days 
and Lutherans violate them. 1 If we must 
choose between the Holy Scriptures of God 
and the old errors of the Church, we should 
reject the former." 2 "Everyday in full 
assembly Faber casts some new stone against 
the Gospellers," says Melancthon. 3 " Oh, 
what an Iliad I should have to compose," 
added he, " if I were to report all these blas- 
phemies !" 

The priests called for the execution of 
the Edict of Worms, 1521, and the evan- 
gelical members of the commission, among 
whom were the Elector of Saxony and 
Sturm, demanded on the contrary the main- 
tenance of the Edict of Spire, 1526. The 
latter thus remained within the bounds or 
legality, whilst their adversaries were driven 
to coups d'etat. In fact, a new order of 
things having been leg-ally established in the 
Empire, no one could infringe it; and if the 
diet presumed to destroy by force what had 
been constitutionally established three years 
before, the evangelical states had the right 
of opposing it. The majority of the com- 
mission felt that the re-establishment of the 
ancient order of things would be a revolution 
no less complete than the Reformation it- 
self. How could they subject anew to Rome 
and to her clergy those nations in whose 
bosom the Word of God had been so richly 
spread abroad? For this reason, equally 
rejecting the demands of the priests and of 
the Evangelicals, the majority came to a 
resolution on the 24th March, that every 
religious innovation should continue to be 
interdicted in the places where the Edict of 
Worms had been carried out; and that in 
those where the people had deviated from 
it, and where they could not conform to it 
without danger of revolt, they should at 
least effect no new reform, they should touch 
upon no controverted point, they should not 
oppose the celebration of the Mass, they 
should permit no Roman Catholic to em- 
brace Lutheranism, 4 they should not decline 
the Episcopal jurisdiction, and should tole- 
rate no Anabaptists or Sacramentarians. 
The status-quo and no proselytism — such 
were the essentials of this resolution. 

The majority no longer voted as in 1526: 
the wind had turned against the Gospel. 
Accordingly this proposition, after having 
been delayed a few days by the festival of 
Easter, was laid before the diet on the 6th 
April, and passed on the 7th. 5 



1 Vociferatus est Turcos Lutheranis meliores 
esse. (Corp. Ref. p. 1041.) 

2 Malle abjicere script uram quam veteres er 
rores Ecclesiae. (Ibid. p. 1046.) 

3 Faber lapidat nos quoiidie pro condone. — 
(Ibid.) 

4 Nee catholicos a libero religionis excrcitio im- 
pediri debere, neque cuiquam ex his licere \jh- 
theranismum amplecti. (Seckend. ii. p 12" . 

6 Sleidan, i. p. 261. ' 



446 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



If it became a law, the Reformation could 
neither be extended into those places where 
as yet it was unknown, nor be established 
on solid foundations in those where it al- 
ready existed. The re-establishment of the 
Romish hierarchy, stipulated in the propo- 
sition, would infallibly bring back the an- 
cient abuses; and the least deviation from 
so vexatious an ordinance, would easily fur- 
nish the Romanists with a pretext for com- 
pleting the destruction of a work already so 
violently shaken. 

The Elector, the Landgrave, the Mar- 
grave of Brandenburg, the Prince of An- 
halt, and the Chancellor of Luneburg on 
one side, and the deputies for the cities on 
the other, consulted together. An entirely- 
new order of things was to proceed from 
this council. If they had been animated by 
selfishness, they would perhaps have ac- 
cepted this decree. In fact they were left 
free, in appearance at least, to profess their 
faith: ought they to demand more? could 
they do so? Were they bound to constitute 
themselves the champions of liberty of con- 
science in all the world? Never, perhaps, 
had there been a more critical situation ; but 
these noble-minded men came victorious out 
of the trial. What ! should they legalize by 
anticipation the scaffold and the torture ! 
Should they oppose the Holy Ghost in its 
work of converting souls to Christ ! Should 
they forget their Master's command- '* Go 
ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel 
to every creature?" If one of the states of 
the empire desired some day to follow their 
example and be reformed, should they take 
away its power of doing so ? Having them- 
selves entered the kingdom of heaven, 
should they shut the door alter them? No! 
rather endure everything, sacrifice every- 
thing, even their states, their crowns, and 
their lives ! 

" Let us reject this decree," said the 
princes. "In matters of conscience the 
majority has no power." — " It is to the de- 
cree of 1526," added the cities, "that we 
are indebted for the peace that the empire 
enjoys: to abolish it would be to fill Ger- 
many with troubles and divisions. The diet 
is incompetent to do more than preserve 
religious liberty until a council meets." 
Such in fact is the grand attribute of the 
state ; and if in our days the Protestant 
powers should seek to influence the Romish 
governments, they should strive solely to 
obtain for the subjects of the latter that reli- 
gious liberty which the Pope confiscates to 
his own advantage wherever he reigns 
alone, and by which he profits greatly in 
every evangelical state. Some of the depu- 
ties proposed refusing all assistance against 
the Turks, hoping thus to force the Em- 
peror to interfere in this question of religion. 
But Sturm called upon them not to mingle 
political matters with the salvation of souls. 
They resolved therefore to reject the propo- 
sition, but without holding out any threats. 



It was this noble resolution that gained for 
modern times liberty of thought and inde- 
pendence of faith. 

Ferdinand and the priests, who were no 
less resolute, determined however on van- 
quishing what they called a daring obsti- 
nacy; and they commenced with the weaker 
states. They began to frighten and divide 
the cities, which had hitherto pursued a 
common course. On the 12th April they 
were summoned before the diet: in vain 
did they allege the absence of some of their 
number, and ask for delay. It was refused, 
and the call was hurried on. Twenty-one 
free cities accepted the proposition of the 
diet, and fourteen rejected it. It was a bold 
act on the part of the latter, and was ac- 
complished in the midst of the most painful 
sufferings. " This is the first trial," said 
Pfarrer, second deputy of Strasburg; " now 
will come the second : we must either deny 
the Word of God or — be burnt." 1 

A violent proceeding of Ferdinand im- 
mediately commenced the series of humilia- 
tions that were reserved for the evangelical 
cities. A deputy of Strasburg should, in 
conformity with the decree of Worms, have 
been a member of the imperial government 
from the commencement of April. He was 
declared excluded from his rights until the 
Mass should be re-established in Strasburg. 
All the cities united in protesting against 
this arbitrary act. 

At the same time, the Elector-palatine 
and King Ferdinand himself begged the 
princes to accept the decree, assuring them 
that the Emperor would be exceedingly 
pleased with them. " We will obey the 
Emperor," replied they calmly, "in eveiy- 
thing that may contribute to maintain peace 
and the honour of God." 

It was time to put an end to this struggle. 
On the 18th April it was decreed that the 
evangelical states should not be heard again 
and Ferdinand prepared to inflict the deci- 
sive blow on the morrow. 

When the day came, the king appeared 
in the diet, surrounded by the other com- 
missaries of the Empire, and by several 
bishops. He thanked the Roman Catholics 
for their fidelity, and declared that the reso- 
lution having been definitively agreed to, it 
was about to be drawn up in the form of an 
imperial decree. He then announced to the 
Elector and his friends, that nothing more 
remained to them than to submit to the 
majority. 

The evangelical princes, who had not 
expected so positive a declaration, were ex- 
cited at this summons, and passed, accord- 
ing to custom, into an adjoining chamber 
to deliberate. But Ferdinand was not in a 
humour to wait for their answer. He rose, 
and all the imperial commissaries with him. 
Vain were all endeavours to stop him. " I 



1 Das wort Gottes zu wiederrufen oder abei 
brennen. (Jung Beytrage, p. 37.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



447 



nave received an order\from his imperial 
majesty," replied he; "I have executed it. 
Ail is over." 

Thus Charles' brother notifies an order to 
the Christian princes, and then he retires 
without caring even if there was any reply- 
to make. To no purpose they sent a depu- 
tation entreating the King to return. " It is 
a settled affair," repeated Ferdinand; "sub- 
mission is all that remains." 1 This refusal 
completed the schism : it separated Rome 
from the Gospel. Perhaps more justice on 
the part of the Empire and of the Papacy 
might have prevented the rupture that since 
then has divided the Western Church. 

VI. If the imperial party displayed such 
contempt, it was not without a cause. They 
felt that weakness was on the side of the Re- 
formation, and strength on the side of Charles 
and of the Pope. But the weak have also 
their strength ; and this the evangelical 
princes were aware of. As Ferdinand paid 
no attention to their reclamations, it remain- 
ed for them to pay none to his absence, to ap- 
peal from the report of the diet to the Word 
of God, and from the Emperor Charles to 
Jesus Christ, the King of kings and Lord 
of lords. 

They resolved upon this step. A decla- 
ration was drawn up to that effect, and this 
was the famous Protest that henceforward 
gave the name of Protestant to the renovated 
Church. The Elector and his allies having 
returned to the common hall of the diet, 
thus addressed the assembled states : — 2 

"Dear Lords, Cousins, Uncles, and 
Friends! Having repaired to this diet on 
the convocation of his majesty, and for the 
common good of the Empire and of Chris- 
tendom, we have heard and learnt that the 
decisions of the last diet concerning our 
holy Christian Faith are to be repealed, and 
that it is proposed to substitute for them 
restrictive and onerous resolutions. 

"King Ferdinand and the other imperial 
commissaries, by affixing their seals to the 
last Recess of Spire, had promised, how- 
ever, in the name of the Emperor, to carry 
out sincerely and inviolably all that it con- 
tained, and to permit nothing that was con- 
trary jo it. In like manner, also, you and 
we, electors, princes, prelates, lords, and 
deputies of the Empire, bound ourselves to 
maintain always and with all our might all 
the articles of this decree. 

"We cannot therefore consent to its 
repeal. 

" Firstly, because we believe that his im- 

1 Die artikel weren beschlossen. (June Beytr. 
p. 90.) 

2 There are two copies of this act ; one of them 
is brief, and the other, which is longer, was trans- 
muted in writing to the imperial commissaries. 
It is from the latter we extract the passages in 
♦he text. They will both be found in June Bev- 
rrage, p. 91-105. See also Midler's Historie d'er 
Protestation, p. 52 

30 



perial majesty, as well as you and we, are 
called to maintain firmly what has been 
unanimously and solemnly resolved. 

" Secondly, because it concerns the glory 
of God and the salvation of our souls, and 
that in such matters we ought to have re- 
gard, above all, to the commandment of 
God, who is King of kings and Lord of 
lords; each of us rendering him account 
for himself, without caring the least in the 
world about majority or minority. 1 

"We form no judgment on that which 
concerns you, most dear lords; and we are 
content to pray God daily that he will bring 
us all to unity of faith, in truth, charity, 
and holiness through Jesus Christ, our 
Throne of Grace and our only Mediator. 

" But in what concerns us, adhesion to 
your resolution (and let every honest man 
be judge !) would be acting against our con- 
science, condemning a doctrine that we 
maintain to be Christian, and pronouncing 
that, it ought to be abolished in our states, if 
we could do so without trouble. 

"This would be to deny our Lord Jesus 
Christ, to reject his holy Word, and thus 
give him just reason to deny us in turn be- 
fore his Father, as he has threatened. 

"What! we ratify this edict! We as- 
sert that when Almighty God calls a man 
to His knowledge, this man cannot how- 
ever receive the knowledge of God! Oh! 
of what deadly backsliding should we not 
thus become the accomplices, not only 
among our own subjects, but also among 
yours ! 

" For this reason we reject the yoke that 
is imposed on us. And although it is uni- 
versally known that in our states the holy 
sacrament of the body and blood of our 
Lord is becomingly administered, we can- 
not adhere to what the edict proposes against 
the Sacramentarians, seeing that the impe- 
rial edict did not speak of them, that they 
have not been heard, and that we cannot 
resolve upon such important points before 
the next council. 

"Moreover" — and this is the essential 
part of the protest — " the new edict declar- 
ing the ministers shall preach the Gospel, 
explaining it according to the writings ac- 
cepted by the holy Christian Church; we 
think that, for this regulation to have any 
value, we should first agree on what is 
meant by this true and holy Church. Now, 
seeing that there is great diversity of opinion 
in this respect; that there is no sure doc- 
trine but such as is conformable to the Word 
of God ; that the Lord forbids the teaching 
of any other doctrine ; that each text of the 
Holy Scriptures ought to be explained by 
other and clearer texts ; that this holy book 
is, in all things necessary for the Christian, 
easy of understanding, and calculated to 
scatter the darkness : we are resolved, with 



1 Ein jeglicher fur sich selbt vor Gott 6tehen. 
(Jung Beytrage, p. 96.)- 



448 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



the grace of God, to maintain the pure and 
exclusive preaching of his only Word, such 
as it is contained in the biblical books of the 
Old and New Testament, without adding 
anything thereto that may be contrary to it. 1 
This Word is the only truth ; it is the sure 
rule of all doctrine and of all life, and can 
never fail or deceive us. He who builds on 
This foundation shall stand against all the 
powers of hell, whilst all the human vani- 
ties that are set up against it shall fall before 
the face of God. 

" For these reasons, most dear Lords, 
Uncles, Cousins, and Friends, we earnestly 
entreat you to weigh carefully our griev- 
ances and our motives. If you do not yield 
to our request, we Protest by these pre- 
sents, before God, our only Creator, Pre- 
server, Redeemer, and Saviour, and who 
will one day be our Judge, as well as before 
all men and all creatures, that we, for us 
and for our people, neither consent nor ad- 
here in any manner whatsoever to the pro- 
posed decree, in any thing that is contrary 
to God, to his holy Word, to our right con- 
science, to the salvation of our souls, and 
to the last decree of Spire. 

" At the same time we are in expectation 
that his imperial majesty will behave to- 
wards us like a Christian prince who loves 
God above all things; and we declare our- 
selves ready to pay unto him, as well as 
unto you, gracious lords, all the affection 
and obedience that are our just and legiti- 
mate duly." 

Thus, in the presence of the diet, spoke 
those courageous men whom Christendom 
will henceforward denominate The Pro- 
testants. 

They had barely finished when they an- 
nounced- their intention of quitting Spire on 
the morrow. 2 

This protest and declaration produced a 
deep impression. The diet was rudely in- 
terrupted and broken into two hostile par- 
ties, — thus preluding war. The majority 
became the prey of the liveliest fears. As 
for the Protestants relying, jure humano, 
upon the Edict of Spire, and jure divino, 
upon the Bible, they were full of courage 
and firmness. 

The principles contained in this celebrated 
protest of the 19th April 1529, constitute 
the very essence of Protestantism. Now 
this protest opposes two abuses of man in 
matters of faith: the first is the intrusion of 
the civil magistrate, and the second is the 
arbitrary authority of the Church. Instead 
of these two abuses, Protestantism sets up 
above the magistrate the power of con- 
science; and above the visible Church the 
authority of the Word of God. It declines, 
in the first place, the civil power in divine 
things, and says with the Prophets and 



1 Allein Gottes wort, lauter und rein, und 
nichts das dawieder ist. (Jung Beytrage, p. 101.) 

2 Also zu verritten urlaub genommen. (Ibid. 
D. 52.) 



Apostles : We must obey God rather than man. 

In presence of the crown of Charles the 
Fifth, it uplifts the crown of Jesus Christ. 
But it goes further: it lays down the princi- 
ple, that all human teaching should be sub- 
ordinate to the oracles of God. Even the 
primitive Church, by recognising the wri- 
tings of the Apostles, had performed an act 
of submission to this supreme authority, 
and not an act of authority, as Rome mam- 
tains; and the establishment of a tribunal 
charged with the interpretation of the Bible, 
had terminated only in slavishly subjecting 
man to man in that which should be the 
most unfettered — conscience and faith. In 
this celebrated act of Spire no doctor ap- 
pears, and the Word of God reigns alone. 
Never has man exalted himself like the 
Pope ; never have men kept in the back- 
ground like the Reformers. 

A Romish historian maintains that the 
word Protestant signifies enemy of tlie Em- 
peror and of the Pope. 1 If by this it is 
meant that Protestantism, in matters of 
faith, rejects the intervention both of the 
Empire and of the Papacy, it is well. Even 
this explanation, however, does not ex- 
haust the meaning of the word, for Pro- 
testantism rejected the authority of man 
solely to place Jesus Christ on the throne 
of the Church, and his Word in the pulpit. 

There has never been anything more 
positive, and at the same time more aggres- 
sive, than the position of the Protestants at 
Spire. By maintaining that their faith is 
alone capable of saving the world, they de- 
fended with intrepid courage the rights of 
Christian Proselytism. We cannot aban- 
don this Proselytism without deserting the 
Protestant principle. 

The Protestants of Spire were not content 
to exalt the truth ; they defended charity. 
Faber and the other Papal partisans had 
endeavoured to separate the princes, who in 
general walked with Luther, from the cities 
that ranged themselves rather on the side of 
Zwingle. (Ecolampadius had immediately 
written to Melancthon, and enlightened him 
on the doctrines of the Zurich Reformer. He 
had indignantly rejected the idea that Christ 
was banished into a corner of heaven, and 
had energetically declared that, according to 
the Swiss Christians, Christ was in every 
place upholding all things by the Word of" 
his power. 2 "With the visible symbols, " 
he added, "we give and we receive the in- 
visible grace, like all the faithful." 3 

These declarations were not useless. 
There were at Spire two men who from 
different motives opposed the efforts of 
Faber, and seconded those of (Ecolampa- 
dius. The Landgrave, ever revolving pro- 



1 Perduelles in Pontificem ac C&ssarem. (Pal- 
lavicini, C. T. I. p. 217.) 

2 Ubique ut et portet omnia verbo vertutis suae. 
(Hospin. Hist. Sacr. ii. p. 112.) 

3 Xdpiv \af rm aipxrov [Atra. tJIv <rv{A@iKm? Lfdraf*. 
(Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



449 



jects of alliance in his mind, felt clearly 
that if the Christians of Saxony and of Hesse 
allowed the condemnation of the Churches 
of Switzerland and of Upper Germany, they 
would by that very means deprive them- 
selves of powerful auxiliaries. 1 Melanc- 
thon, who was far from desiring, as the 
Landgrave, a diplomatic alliance, for fear 
that it. would hasten on a war, defended the 
great principles of justice, and exclaimed : 
" To what just reproaches should we not be 
exposed, were we to recognise in our ad- 
versaries the right of condemning a doctrine 
without having heard those who defend it!" 
The union of all evangelical Christians is 
therefore a principle of primitive Protest- 
antism. 

As Ferdinand had not heard the protest 
of the 19th April, a deputation of the evan- 
gelical states went the next day to present 
it to him. The brother of Charles the Fifth 
received it at first, but immediately after 
desired to return it. Then was witnessed 
a strange scene — the king refusing to keep 
the protest, and the deputies to take it back. 
At last the latter, from respect, received it 
from Ferdinand's hands; but they laid it 
boldly upon a table, and directly quitted the 
hall. 

The king and the imperial commissaries 
remained in presence of this formidable 
writing. It was there — before their eyes — 
a significant monument of the courage and 
faith of the Protestants. Irritated against 
this silent but mighty witness, which ac- 
cused his tyranny, and left him the respon- 
sibility of all the evils that were about to 
burst upon the Empire, the brother of 
Charles the Fifth called some of his coun- 
cillors, and ordered them instantly to carry- 
back this important document to the Pro- 
testants. 

All this was unavailing; the protest had 
been enregistered in the annals of the world, 
and nothing could erase it. Liberty of 
thought and of conscience had been con- 
quered for ages to come. Thus all evan- 
gelical Germany, foreseeing these things, 
was moved at this courageous act, and 
adopted it as the expression of its will and 
of its faith. Men in every quarter beheld 
in it not a political event, but a Christian 
action, and the youthful electoral prince, 
John Frederick, in this respect the organ 
of his age, cried to the Protestants of Spire: 
"May the Almighty, who has given you 
grace to confess energetically, freely, and 
fearlessly, preserve you in that Christian 
firmness until the day of eternity !" 2 

While the Christians were filled with joy, 
their enemies were frightened at their own 
work. The very day on which Ferdinand 

1 Omni studio laborabat lit illos uniret. (Seek, 
ii. p. 127.) 

2 In eo mansuros esse, nee passuros ut ulla 
hominum machinatione ab ea sententia divelleren- 
tur- (Seckend. ii. p. 121.; 



had declined to receive the protest, Tuesday, 
20th April, at one in the afternoon, Henry 
of Brunswick and Philip of Baden pre- 
sented themselves as mediators, announcing, 
however, that they were acting solely of 
their own authority. They proposed that 
there should be no more mention of the 
decree of Worms, and that the first decree 
of Spire should be maintained, but with a 
few modifications; that the two parties, 
while remaining free until the next council, 
should oppose every new sect, and tolerate 
no doctrine contrary to the sacrament of the 
Lord's body. 1 

On Wednesday, 21st April, the evangeli- 
cal states did not appear adverse to these 
propositions ; and even those who had em- 
braced the doctrine of Zw ingle declared 
boldly that such a proposal would not com- 
promise their existence. " Only let us call 
to mind," said they, " that in such difficult 
matters we must act, not with the sword, 
but with the sure Word of God. 2 For, as 
Saint Paul says: What is not of faith is sin. 
If therefore we constrain Christians to do 
what they believe unjust, instead of leading 
them by God's Word to acknowledge what 
is good, we force them to sin, and we incur 
a terrible responsibility." 

The fanatics of the Roman party trembled 
as they saw the victory nearly escaping 
from them ; for they rejected all compro- 
mise, and desired purely and simply the re- 
establishment of the Papacy. Their zeal 
overcame everything, and the negotiations 
were broken off. 

On Thursday, 22d April, the diet assem- 
bled at seven in the morning, and the Recess 
was read precisely as it had been drawn up 
before, without even mentioning the attempt 
at conciliation which had just failed. 

Faber triumphed. Proud of having the 
ear of kings, he tossed himself furiously 
about, and one would have said, to see him, 
relates an eye-witness, that he was a Cy- 
clops forging in his cavern the monstrous 
chains with which he was about to bind the 
Reform and the Reformers. 3 The Papist 
princes, carried away by the tumult, gave 
the spur, says Melancthon, and flung them- 
selves headlong into a path filled with dan- 
gers. 4 Nothing was left for the evangelical 
Christians but to fall on their knees and cry 
to the Lord. "All that remains for us to 
do," repeated Melancthon, " is to call upon 
the Son of God." 5 

The last sitting of the diet took place on 



1 Vergleich artikel. (Jung Beytrage, p. 55.) 

2 In deisen Schweren Sachen, nichts mit Ge- 
walt nc-ch Schwerdt, sondern mit Gottes gewis- 
sem wort. (Ibid. p. 59.) This document is from 
the pen of Sturm. 

3 Cyclops ille nunc ferocem se facit. (Corp. 
Ref. i. p. 1062.) 

4 Ut ingrediantur lubricumisti iter, impingendo 
stimulis calces. (Ibid.) 

5 De quo reliquum est ut invocemus Filium 
Dei. (Ibid.) 



4C0 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the 24th April. The princes renewed their 
protest, in which fourteen free and imperial 
cities joined: and they next thought of 
giving their appeal a legal form. 

On Sunday, 25th April, two notaries, 
Leonard Stetner of Freysingen and Pan- 
grace Saltzmann of Bamberg, were seated 
before a small table in a narrow chamber 
on the ground-floor of a house situated in 
St. John's Lane, near the church of the 
same name in Spire, and around them were 
the chancellors of the princes and of the 
evangelical cities, assisted by several wit- 
nesses. 1 

This little house belonged to an humble 
pastor, Peter Muterstatt, deacon of St. 
John's, who, taking the place of the Elector 
or of the Landgrave, had offered a domicile 
for the important act that was preparing. 
His name shall in consequence be trans- 
mitted to posterity. The document having 
been definitively drawn up, one of the nota- 
ries began reading it. " Since there is a 
natural communion between all men," said 
the Protestants, " and since even persons 
condemned to death are permitted to unite 
and appeal against their condemnation : 
how much more are we, who are members 
of the same spiritual body, the Church of 
the Son of God, children of the same heav- 
enly Father, and consequently brothers in 
the Spirit, 2 authorized to unite when our 
salvation and eternal condemnation are 
concerned." 

After reviewing all that had passed in the 
diet, and after intercalating in their appeal 
the principal documents that had reference 
to it, the Protestants ended by saying: " We 
therefore appeal for ourselves, for our sub- 
jects, and for all who receive or who shall 
hereafter receive the Word of God, from all 
past, present, or future vexatious measures, 
to his Imperial Majesty, and to a free and 
universal assembly of holy Christendom." 
This document filled twelve sheets of parch- 
ment ; the signatures and seals were affixed 
to the thirteenth. 

Thus in the obscure dwelling of the chap- 
lain of St. John's was made the first confes- 
sion of the true Christian union. In pre- 
sence of the holy mechanical unity of the 
Pope, these confessors of Jesus raised the 
banner of the living unity of Christ; and, 
as in the days of our Saviour, if there were 
many synagogues in Israel, there was at 
least but one single temple. The Chris- 
tians of Electoral Saxony, of Luneburg, of 
Anhalt, of Hesse and the Margravate, of 
Strasburg, Nuremberg, Ulm, Constance, 
Lindau, Memmingen, Kempten, Nordlin- 
gen, Heilbron, Reutlingen, Isny, Saint Gall, 
Weissenburg, and Windshiem, clasped each 
other's hands on the 25th April, near the 



' Unfen in einem Kleinen Stublein. (Jung 
Beytraee, p. 78. Instrumentum Appellationis.) 

2 Membra unius corporis spirituals Jesu Christi 
e* filii unins patris coslestis. ideoque fratres spiri- 
t^iales. fSeckend. ii. p. 130.) 



church of St. John, in the face of threaten 
ing persecutions. Among them might be 
found those who, like Zwingle, acknow- 
ledged in the Lord's Supper the entirely 
spiritual presence of Jesus Christ, as well 
as those who, like Luther, admitted his cor- 
poreal presence. There existed not at that 
time in the evangelical body any sects, 
hatred, or schism; Christian unity was a 
reality. That upper chamber in which, 
during the early days of Christianity, the 
apostles with the women and the brethren 
"continued with one accord in prayer and 
supplication,"' and that lower chamber 
where, in the first days of the Reformation, 
the renewed disciples of Jesus Christ pre- 
sented themselves to the Pope and the Em- 
peror, to the world and to the scaffold, as 
forming but one body, are the two cradles 
of the Church; and it is in this its hour of 
weakness and humiliation that it shines 
forth with the brightest glory. 

After this appeal each one returned silent- 
ly to his dwelling. Several tokens excited 
alarm for the safety of the Protestants. A 
short time previously Melancthon hastily 
conducted through the streets of Spire to- 
wards the Rhine his friend Simon Grynaeus, 
pressing him to cross the river. The latter 
was astonished at such precipitation. 2 "An 
old man of grave and solemn appearance, 
but who is unknown to me," said Melanc- 
thon, " appeared before me and said : " In 
a minute officers of justice will be sent by 
Ferdinand to arrest Grynseus." As he was 
intimate with Faber, and had been scandaliz- 
ed at one of his sermons, Grynseus had gone 
to him, and begged him no longer to make 
war against the truth. Faber had dissem- 
bled his anger, but immediately after repair- 
ed to the kin^, from whom he had obtained 
an order against the importunate professor 
of Heidelberg. 3 Melancthon doubted not 
that God had saved his friend by sending 
one of His holy angels to forewarn him. 
Motionless on the banks of the Rhine he 
waited until the waters of that stream had 
rescued Grynoeus from his persecutors. 
"At last," cried Melancthon, as he saw 
him on the opposite side, " he is torn from 
the cruel teeth of those who drink innocent 
blood." 4 When he returned to his house, 
Melancthon was informed that the officers 
in search of Gryneeus had ransacked it from 
top to bottom. 5 

Nothing could detain the Protestants longer 
in Spire. Accordingly, on the morning after 
their appeal, (Monday, 26th April,) the 

1 Acts i. 14. 

a Miranti quae esset tantae festinationis causa. 
(Camerarius Vita Mel. p. 113.) 

3 Faber qui valde offenderetur orationi tali, dis- 
simulare tamen omnia. (Ibid.) 

4 Ereptus quasi e faucibus eorum qui sitiunt 
sansuinem innocentium. (Mel. ad Camer. 23d 
April, Corp. Ref. i. p. 1062.) 

5 Affluit armata quaedam manus ad comprehen 
dum Grynaeum missa. (Camer. Vit. Mel. p. 
113.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



431 



Elector, the Landgrave, and the Dukes of 
Luneburg, quilted the city, reached Worms, 
and then returned by Hesse into their own 
states. The appeal of Spire was published 
by the Landgrave on the 5th, and by the 
Elector on the 13th May. 

Melancthon had returned to Wittemberg 
on the 6th May, persuaded that the two 
parties were about to draw the sword. His 
friends were alarmed at seeing him agitated, 
exhausted, and like one dead. 1 " It is a 
great event that has just taken place at 
Spire," said he. " It is big with dangers, 
not only to the Empire, but also to Religion 
itself. 2 All the pains of hell oppress me." 3 

It was Melancthon's greatest affliction that 
all these evils were attributed to him, as in- 
deed he ascribed them himself. " One single 
thing has injured us," said he; "our not 
having approved, as was required of us, the 
[ edict against the Zwinglians." Luther did 
not take this gloomy view of affairs ; but he 
was -far from comprehending the force of 
the protest. " The diet," said he, " has 
come to an end almost without results, ex- 
cept that those who scourge Jesus Christ 
have not been able to satisfy their fury." 4 

Posterity has not ratified this decision, 
and, on the contrary, dating from this epoch 
the definitive formation of Protestantism, it 
has hailed in the Protest of Spire one of the 
greatest movements recorded in history. 

Let us see to whom the chief glory of this 
act belongs. The part taken by th^ princes, 
and especially by the Elector of Saxony, in 
the German Reformation, must strike every 
impartial observer. These are the true Re- 
formers — the true Martyrs. The Holy 
Ghost, that bloweth where it listeth, had 
inspired them with the courage of the an- 
cient confessors of the Church; and the 
God of Election was glorified in them. A 
little later perhaps this great part plaved by 
the princes might have produced deplorable 
consequences : there is no grace of God 
that man may not pervert. But nothing 
should prevent us from rendering honour 
to whom honour is due, and from adoring 
the work of the eternal Spirit in these emi- 
nent men who, under God, were in the 
sixteenth century the saviours of Christen- 
dom. 

The Reformation had taken a bodily form. 
It was Luther alone who had said No at 
the Diet of Worms : but Churches and min- 
isters, princes and people, said No at the 
Diet of Spire. 

In no country had superstition, scholasti- 
cism, hierarchy, and popery, been so pow- 

1 Ita fuit perturbarus ut primis diebus pene ex- 
tinctus sit. (Corp. Ret', i. p. 1067.) 

2 Non enim tantum imperium, sed religio etiam 
periclitantur. (Ibid.) 

3 Omnes dolores inferni oppresserant me. (Ibid. 
and p. 1069.) 

4 Christo mastiges et Psycho-tyranni suum fu- 
rore nr non potuerunt explere. (L. Epp. Linco, 
6th May, 1529.) 



erfulas among the Germanic nations. These 
simple and candid people had humbly' bent 
their neck to the yoke that came from the 
banks of the Tiber. But there was in them 
a depth, a life, a need of interior liberty, 
which, sanctified by the Word of God, might 
render them the most energetic organs of 
Christian truth. It was from them that was 
destined to emanate the reaction against 
that material, external, and legal system, 
which had taken the place of Christianity ; 
it was they who were called to shatter in 
pieces the skeleton which had been substi- 
tuted for the spirit and the life, and resto:= 
to the heart of Christendom, ossified by the 
hierarchy, the generous beatings of which 
it had been deprived for so many ages. The 
Universal Church will never forget the debt 
it owes to the Princes of Spire and to Lu- 
ther. 

VII. The protest of Spire had still further 
increased the indignation of the Papal adhe- 
rents ; and Charles the Fifth, according to 
the oath he had made at Barcelona, set about 
preparing "a suitable antidote for the pesti- 
lential disease with which, the Germans were 
attacked, and to avenge in a striking man- 
ner the insult offered to Jesus Christ." 1 The 
Pope, on his part, endeavoured to combine 
all the other princes of Christendom in this 
crusade ; and the peace of Cambray, con- 
cluded on the 5th August, tended to the ac- 
complishment of his cruel designs. It left 
the Emperor's hands free against the here- 
tics. After having entered their protest at 
Spire, it was necessary for the Evangelicals 
to think of maintaining it. 

The Protestant states that had already laid 
the foundations of an evangelical alliance at 
Spire, had agreed to send deputies to Ro- 
thach; but the Elector, staggered by the re- 
presentations of Luther, who was continu- 
ally saying to him, " It is by keeping your- 
selves tranquil and in quietness that you 
will be saved," 2 ordered his deputies to lis- 
ten to the propositions of his allies, but to 
decide upon nothing. They adjourned to a 
new conference, which never took place. 
Luther triumphed ; for human alliances fail- 
ed. "Christ the Lord will know how to 
deliver us without the Landgrave, and even 
against .the Landgrave," said he to his 
friends. 3 

Philip of Hesse, who was vexed at Lu- 
ther's obstinacy, was convinced that it arose 
from a dispute about words. "They will 
hear no mention of alliances because of the 
Zwinglians," said he ; " well then, let us 
put an end to the contradictions that separate 
them from Luther." 

1 Illatamque Christo injuriam pro viribus ul- 
ciscentur. (Dumont, Corp. Univ. Diplomatique, 
iv. p. 1, 5.) 

2 Isaiah xxx. 15. L. Epp. iii. p. 454. 

3 Unser Her. Chrisms, &c (Ibid.) This con- 
fidence of Luther shocks a Lutheran historian — 
(Plank, ii. p. 454.) 



452 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The union of all the disciples of the Word 
of God seemed in fact a necessary condition 
to the success of the Reform. How could 
the Protestants resist the power of Rome 
and of the Empire, if they were divided? 
The Landgrave no doubt wished to unite 
their minds, that he might afterwards be 
able to unite their arms ; but the cause of 
Christ was not to triumph by the sword. If 
they should succeed in uniting their hearts 
and prayers, the Reform would then find 
euch strength in the faith of its children, 
that Philip's spearmen would no longer be 
necessary. 

Unfortunately this union of minds, that 
was now to be sought after above all things, 
was a very difficult task. Luther in 1519 
had at first appeared not only to reform, but 
entirely renovate the doctrine of the Lord's 
Supper, as the Swiss did somewhat later. 
" I go to the sacrament of the Lord's Sup- 
per," he had said, " and I there receive a 
sign from God that Christ's righteousness 
and passion justify me; such is the use of 
the Sacrament." 1 This discourse, which 
had gone through several impressions in the 
cities of Upper Germany, had prepared 
men's minds for the doctrine of Zwingle. 
Accordingly Luther, astonished at the repu- 
tation he had gained, published this solemn 
declaration in 1527 : " I protest before God 
and before the whole world that I have never 
walked with the Sacramentarians." 

Luther in fact was never Zwinglian as 
regards the Communion. Far from that, 
in 1519, he still believed in Transubstantia- 
tion. Why then should he speak of a sign? 
It was for this reason. While, according to 
Zwingle, the bread and wine are signs of 
the body and blood of Christ, according to 
Luther, the very body and blood of Jesus 
Christ are signs of Goc^s grace. These 
opinions are widely different from one 
another. 

Ere long this disagreement declared itself. 
In 1527 Zwingle in his Friendly Exposition 2 
repeated Luther's opinion with mildness 
and respect. Unfortunately the pamphlet 
of the Saxon Reformer " against the enthu- 
siasts" was then issuing from the press, and 
in it Luther expressed hi*3 indignation that 
his adversaries should dare to speak of 
Christian unity and peine. "Well!" ex- 
claimed he, " sk.ee f .hev thus insult all rea- 
son, I will give them a Lutheran warning. 3 
Cursed be this concord ! cursed be this 
charity ! down, down with it, to the bottom- 
less pit of hell! If I should murder your 
father, your mother, your wife, your child, 
and then, wishing to murder you, I should 
say to you, Let us be at peace, my dear 
friend ! what answer would you make ? — 

1 In the writing entitled, Dass diese Worte 
nochfeste Stehen. (L. Opp. xix.) 

2 Arnica exegesis, id est, Expositio Eucharistae 
negotii ad M. Lutherum. (Zw. Opp.) 

3 Eine Lutherische Warnung. (L. Opp. xix. 
p. 391. Wider die Schwarmgeister.) 



It is thus that the enthusiasts who murdei 
Jesus Christ my Lord, God the Father, and 
Christendom my mother, wish to murdec 
me also ; and then they say, Let us be 
friends!" 

Zwingle wrote two replies lf to the ex- 
cellent Martin Luther," in a cold tone and 
with a haughty calmness more difficult to 
pardon than the invectives of the Saxon 
doctor. "We ought to esteem you a vessel 
of honour, and we do so with joy," said he, 
" notwithstanding your faults." Pamphlet 
followed pamphlet, Luther always writing 
with the same impetuosity, and Zwingle 
with the same coolness and irony. 

Such were the doctors whom the Land- 
grave undertook to reconcile. Already, dur- 
ing the sitting of the Diet of Spire, Philip 
of Hesse, who was afflicted at hearing the 
Papists continually repeating, " You boast 
of your attachment to the pure Word of God, 
and yet you are nevertheless disunited,"' 
had made overtures to Zwingle in writing. 
He now went farther, and invited the theo- 
logians of the different parties to meet at 
Marburg. These invitations met with va- 
rious receptions. Zwingle, whose heart was 
large and fraternal, answered the Land- 
grave's call ; but Luther, who discovered 
leagues and battles behind this pretended 
concord, rejected it. 

It seemed, however, that great difficulties 
would detain Zwingle. To travel from Zu- 
rich to Marburg, it was necessary to pass 
through the territories of the Emperor and 
of other enemies to the Reformation ; the 
Landgrave himself did not conceal the dan- 
gers of the journey f but in order to obviate 
these difficulties, he promised an escort from 
Strasburg to Hesse, and for the rest "the 
protection of God." 3 These precautions were 
not of a nature to reassure the Zurichers. 

Reasons of another kind detained Luther 
and Melancthon. " It is not right," said 
they, "that the Landgrave has so much to 
do with the Zwinglians. Their error is of 
such a nature that people of acute minds 
are easily tainted by it. Reason loves what 
it understands, particularly when learned 
men clothe their ideas in a scriptural dress." 

Melancthon did not stop here, but put 
forth the very extraordinary notion of se- 
lecting Papists as judges of the discussion. 
"If there were no impartial judges," said 
he, " the Zwinglians would have a good 
chance of boasting of victory." 4 Thus, ac- 
cording to Melancthon, Papists would be im- 
partial judges when the real presence was the 
subject of discussion ! He went still farther. 
"Let the Elector," he wrote on the 14th 
Mav to the Prince Electoral, "refuse to 



1 Inter nos ipsos dereligionis doctrina non con- 
sentire. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 28" x 

2 Viam Francofurdi capias, ]uara autem ha« 
periculosiorem esse putamus. (Ibid. p. 312.) 

3 Juvante Deo tuti. (Ibid. p. 329.) 

4 Papistische als unparteische. (Corp. Ref. i 
p. 1066.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



453 



permit our journey to Marburg, so that we 
may allege this excuse. " The Elector would 
not lend himself to so disgraceful a proceed- 
ing; and the Reformers of Wittemberg 
found themselves compelled to accede to the 
request of Philip of Hesse. But they did so 
with these words: '-If the Swiss do not 
yield to us, all your trouble will be lost;" 
and they wrote to the theologians among 
their friends who were convoked by the 
Prince : " Stay away if you can ; your ab- 
sence will be very useful to us." 

Zwingle, on the contrary, who would 
have gone to the end of the world, made 
every exertion to obtain from the magistrates 
of Zurich permission to visit Marburg. " I 
am convinced," said he to the secret council, 
(C that if we doctors meet face to face, the 
splendour of truth will illuminate our 
eyes." 2 But the council that had only just 
signed the first religious peace, 3 and who 
feared to see war burst out afresh, positively 
refused to allow the departure of the Re- 
former. 

Upon this Zwingle decided for himself. 
He felt that his presence was necessary for 
the maintenance of peace in Zurich; but it 
was the welfare of all Christendom that 
summoned him to Marburg. Accordingly, 
raising his eyes to heaven, he resolved to 
depart, exclaiming, "O God! Thou hast 
never abandoned us ; Thou wilt perform thy 
will for thine own glory." 4 During the 
night of the 31st August, Zwingle, who was 
unwilling to wait for the Landgrave's safe- 
conduct, prepared for his journey. R-odolph 
Collin, the Greek professor, was alone to 
accompany him. The Reformer wrote to 
the Smaller and to the Great Council : "If 
I leave without informing you, it is not be- 
cause I despise your authority, most wise 
lords : but because, knowing the love you 
bear towards me, I foresee that your anxiety 
will oppose my going." 

As he was writing these words, a fourth 
message arrived from the Landgrave, more 
pressjng still than the preceding ones. The 
Reformer sent the prince's letter to the bur- 
gomaster with his own; he then quitted his 
house privily by night, 5 concealing his de- 
parture both from his friends, whose impor- 
tunity he feared, and from his enemies, 
whose snares he had good cause to dread. 
He did not even tell his wife where he was 
going lest it should distress her. He and 
Collin then mounted two horses that had 
been hired for the purpose, 6 and rode off ra- 
pidly in the direction of Basle. 

During the day the rumour of Zwingle's 

1 Si poles, noli adesse. (L. Epp.iii. p. 501.) 

2 Ut veritatis splendor oculos nostros feriat. 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 321.) 

3 See below, Book xvi chap.'ii. anno 1529. 

4 Dei nunquam fallentis, qui nos nunquam de- 
eeruit, gratiam reputavi. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 356.) 

5 Sabbati die, mane ante lucem, 1 Septembris. 
Ibid\) 

6 Equis conductoriis. (Ibid. p. 361.) 



absence spread through Zurich, and his 
enemies were elated. " He has fled the 
country," said they; " he has run away 
with a pack of scoundrels!" " As he was 
crossing the river at Bruck," said others, 
"the boat upset and he was drowned." 
" The devil," affirmed many with a mali- 
cious smile, " appeared to him bodily and 
carried him off." 1 — " There was no end to 
their stories," says Bullinger. But the coun- 
cil immediately resolved on acceding to the 
wish of the Reformer. On the very day of 
his departure they appointed one of the 
councillors, Ulric Funck, to accompany him 
to Marburg, who forthwith set out with a 
domestic and one arquebusier. Strasburg 
and Basle in like manner sent statesmen in 
company with their theologians, under the 
idea that this conference would doubtless 
have also a political object. 

Zwingle arrived safe and sound at Basle, 2 
and embarked on the river on the 6th Sep- 
tember with QEcolampadius and several 
merchants. 3 In thirteen hours they reached 
Strasburg, where the two Reformers lodged 
in the house of Matthew Zell, the cathedral 
preacher. Catherine, the pastor's wife, 
prepared the dishes in the kitchen, waited 
at table, according to the ancient German 
manners, 4 and then sitting down near 
Zwingle, listened attentively, and spoke 
with so much piety and knowledge, that 
the latter soon ranked her above many 
doctors. 

Zwingle, after discussing with the Stras- 
burg magistrates the means of resisting the 
Romish league, and the organization to be 
given to the Christian confederacy, 5 quitted 
Strasburg; and he and his friends, conducted 
along by-roads, through forests, over moun- 
tains and valleys, by secret but sure paths, 
at last arrived at Marburg, escorted by for- 
ty Hessian cavaliers. 6 

Luther, on his side, accompanied by Me- 
lancthon, Cruciger, and Jonas, had stopped 
on the Hessian frontier, declaring that no- 
thing should induce him to cross it until he 
had a safe conduct from the Landgrave. This 
document being obtained, Luther arrived at 
Alsfeld, where the scholars, kneeling under 
the Reformer's windows, chanted their pi- 
ous hymns. He entered Marburg on the 30th 
September, a day after the arrival of the 
Swiss. Both parties went to inns; but they 



1 Der Tufel vere by imm gesin. (Bulling ii. 
p. 224.) 

2 Integer et sanus Basiliam pervenit. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 361.) 

3 Aliquos mercatorum fide dignos, comites. — 
(Ibid.) 

4 Ich bin 14 Tag magd und Kochin gewesen. 
(Fussl. Beytr. v. p. 313.) See her remarkable 
correspondence with the superintendent Rabus. 
(Ibid. p. 191-354.) 

6 De jure praesidendi conciliis civitatum Christia- 
naum. (Ibid. v. p. 364.) See book xvi. of this 
History. 

6 Per devia et sylvas l montes et valles, tutissi- 
mos, et occultos. (Ibid. p. 368.) 



454 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



had scarcely alighted, before the Landgrave 
invited them to come and lodge in the castle, 
thinking by this means to bring the opposing 
parties closer together. Philip entertained 
them in a mannertruly royal. 1 "Ah !" said 
the pious Jonas, as he wandered through the 
halls of the palace, "it is not in honour of 
the Muses, but in honour of God and of his 
Christ, that we are so munificently treated 
in these forests of Hesse!" After dinner, 
on the first day, GEcolampadius, Hedio, and 
Bucer, desirous of entering into the prince's 
views, went and saluted Luther. The latter 
conversed affectionately with (Ecolampadius 
in the castle-court; but Bucer, with whom 
he had once been very intimate, and who 
was now on Zwingle's side, having ap- 
proached him, Luther said to him, smiling, 
and making a sign with his hand : " As for 
you, you are a good-for-nothing fellow and 
a knave!" 2 

The unhappy Carlstadt, who had begun 
all this dispute, was at that time in Fries- 
land, preaching the spiritual presence of 
Christ, and living in such destitution that he 
had been forced to sell his Hebrew Bible to 
procure bread. The trial had crushed his 
pride, and he wrote to the Landgrave : 
" We are but one body, one house, one 
people, one sacerdotal race ; we live and die 
by one and the same Saviour. 3 For this 
reason, T, poor and in exile, humbly pray 
your highness, by the blood of Jesus Christ, 
to allow me to be present at this disputa- 
tion." 

But how bring Luther and Carlstadt face 
to face? and yet how repel the unhappy 
man ? The Landgrave, to extricate himself 
from this difficulty, referred him to the 
Saxon Reformer. Carlstadt did not appear. 

Philip of Hesse desired that, previously 
to the public conference, the theologians 
should have a private interview. It was 
however considered dangerous, says a con- 
temporary, for Zwingle and Luther, who 
were both naturally violent, to contend with 
one another at the very beginning; and as 
(Ecolampadius and Melancthon were the 
mildest, thev were apportioned to the rough- 
est. 4 On Friday the 1st October, after di- 
vine service, Luther and (Ecolampadius 
were conducted into one chamber, and 
Zwingle and Melancthon into another. The 
combatants were then left to struggle two 
and two. 

The principal contest took place in the 
room 1 of Zwingle and Melancthon. "It is 
affirmed, " said Melancthon to Zwingle, 
" that some among you speak of God after 
the manner of the Jews, as if Christ was 
not essentially God." U I think on the Holy 
Trinity," replied Zwingle, " with the Coun- 

1 Excepit in arce hospitio et mensa regali. — 
(Corp. Ref.i.p. 1096.) 

2 Subridens aliquantulum respo^dif . tu es ne- 
qvnm et nehulo. (Sculteti Annal. ad. 1529.) 

3 State papers of Cassel. 

4 A.bgetheilt zu den riihren. (Bull. ii. p. 225.) 



cil of Nice and the Anathasian creed." 
"Councils ! creeds ! What does that mean ?" 
asked Melancthon. " Have you not con- 
tinually repeated that you recognise no other 
authority than that of Scripture?" "We 
have never rejected the councils," replied 
the Swiss Reformer, " when they are based 
on the authority of the Word of God. 1 The 
four first councils are truly sacred as regards 
doctrine, and none of the faithful have'ever 
rejected them." This important declaration, 
handed down to us by (Ecolampadius, 
characterizes the Reformed theology. 2 

"But you teach," resumed Melancthon, 
" like Thomas Munster, that the Holy Ghost 
acts quite alone, independently of the sacra- 
ments and of the Word of God." " The 
Holy Ghost," replied Zwingle, " works in 
us justification by the Word, but by the 
Word preached and understood, by the 
soul and the marrow of the Word, by the 
mind and will of God clothed in human 
language." 3 

"At least," continued Melancthon," you 
deny original sin, and make sin to consist 
only in actual and external works, like the 
Pelagians, the philosophers and the Pa- 
pists." 

This was the principal difficulty. " Since 
man naturally loves himself," replied 
Zwingle, "instead of loving God ; in that 
there is a crime, a sin that condemns him." 4 
He had more than once before expressed 
the same opinion ; 5 and yet Melancthon 
exulted on hearing him: "Our adversaries," 
said he afterwards, " have given way on all 
these points !" 

Luther had pursued the same method 
with (Ecolampadius as Melancthon with 
Zwingle. The discussion had in particular 
turned on baptism. Luther complained that 
they would not acknowledge that bv this 
simple sign a man became a member of the 
Church. " It is true," said (Ecolampadius, 
" that we require faith — either an actual or 
a future faith. Why should we deny it? 
Who is a Christian, if it be not he who be 
lieves in Christ? However, I should be 
unwilling to deny that the water of baptism 
is in a certain sense a water of regeneration ; 
for by it he whom the Church knew not 
becomes its child." 6 

These four theologians were in the very 
heat of their discussions, when domestics 



1 Ubi unquam concilia rejicimus, verbi divini 
auctoritati suffuita? (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 191.) 

2 The word Reformed is used to distinguish the 
doctrine and the church of Zwingle and Calvin 
from those of Luther. 

3 Mens et medulla verbi, mens et voluntas Dei 
amicta tamen humanis verbis. (Zw. Epp. iv, 
p. 173.) 

4 Malum, peccatum. (Ibid. p. 172.) 

5 De peccato originali ad Urb. Rhegium. — 
(Ibid iii. p. 632.) 

6 Atque adeo ipse non negarim, aquam baptismi 
esse aquam regenerantem : fit enim puer ecclesias, 
qui dudum ab ecclesia non agnoscebatur. (Zw, 
Opp. iv. p. 193.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



455 



came to inform them that the prince's din- 
ner was on the table. They immediately 
rose, and Zwingle and Melancthon meeting 
Luther and CEcolampadius, who were also 
quitting their chamber, the latter approached 
Zwingle, and whispered mournfully in his 
ear: " I have fallen a 'second time into the 
hands of Dr. Eck." 1 In the language of 
the Reformers nothing stronger could be 
said. 

It does not appear that the conference 
betweeen Luther and CEcolampadius was 
resumed after dinner. Luther's manner 
held out little hope; but Melancthon and 
Zwingle returned to the discussion, and the 
Zurich doctor finding the Wittemberg pro- 
fessor escape him like an eel, as he said, 
and take "like Proteus a thousand different 
forms," seized a pen in order to fix his an- 
tagonist. Zwingle committed to writing- 
whatever Melancthon dictated, and then 
wrote his reply, giving it to the other to 
read. 2 In this manner they spent six hours, 
three in the morning and three in the after- 
noon. 3 They prepared for the general con- 
ference. 

Zwingle requested that it should be an 
open one ; Luther opposed this. It was re- 
solved that the princes, nobles, deputies, and 
theologians should be admitted; but a great 
crowd of citizens, and even many scholars 
and gentlemen, who had come from Frank- 
fort, from the Rhine districts, from Stras- 
burg, from Basle and other Swiss towns, 
were excluded. Brenz speaks of fifty or 
sixty hearers; Zwingle of twenty-four only. 4 

On a gentle elevation, watered by the 
Lahn, is situated an old castle, overlooking 
the city of Marburg; in the distance is seen 
the beautiful valley of the Lahn, and beyond, 
the mountain-tops rising one above another, 
until they are lost in the horizon. It was 
beneath the vaults and Gothic arches of an 
ancient hall in this castle, called the Knights' 
Hall, that the conference was to take place. 

On Saturday morning (2d October) the 
Landgrave took his seat in the hall, sur- 
rounded by his court, but so plainly dressed 
that no one would have taken him for a 
prince. He wished to avoid the appearance 
of playing the part of a Constantine in the 
affairs of the Church. Before him was a 
table which Luther, Zwingle, Melancthon, 
and CEcolampadius approached. Luther, 
taking a piece of chalk, bent over the velvet 

1 Lutherum CEcolampadem ita excepit, ut ad 
me veniens clam queratur, se denuo in Eccium 
incidisse. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 369.) 

2 At Melancthon, cum nimis lubricus esset et 
Protei in morem se in omnia transformaret, me 
compulit, ut sumpto calamo manu armarem. — 
(Ibid.) 

3 Istud colloquium sex in horas traximus. (Ibid. 
370.) 

4 Quinquaginta aut sexaginta colloq jio pras- 
eentes. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 201.) Pauei arbitrii ad 
summum quatuor et viginti. (Epp. ii. p. 370.) 



cloth which covered it, and steadily wrote 
four words in large characters. All- eyes 
followed the movement of his hand, and 
soon they read Hoc est Corpus Meum. 1 
Luther wished to have this declaration con- 
tinually before him, that it might strengthen 
his faith, and be a sign to his adversaries. 

Behind these four theologians were seat- 
ed their friends, — Hedio, Sturm, Funck, 
Frey, Eberard, Than, Jonas, Cruciger, and 
others besides. Jonas cast an inquiring 
glance upon the Swiss : " Zwingle," said 
he, " has a certain rusticity and arrogance ; 2 
if he is well versed in letters, it is in spile 
of Minerva and of the Muses. In CEcolam- 
padius there is a natural goodness and ad- 
mirable meekness. Hedio seems to have as 
much liberality as kindness; but I find in 
Bucer the cunning of a fox, that knows how 
to give himself an air of sense and pru- 
dence." Men of moderate sentiments often 
meet with worse treatment than those of the 
extreme parties. 

Other sentiments animated those who 
contemplated this assembly from a distance. 
The great men who had led the people in 
their footsteps on the plains of Saxony, on 
the banks of the Rhine, and in the lofty 
valleys of Switzerland, were there met face 
to face : the Chiefs of Christendom, sepa- 
rated from Rome, were come together to see 
if they could remain one. Accordingly, 
from all parts of Germany, prayers and 
anxious looks were directed towards Mar- 
burg. * Illustrious princes of the Word," 3 
cried the evangelical Church through the 
mouth of the poet Cordus, " penetrating 
Luther, mild CEcolampadius, magnanimous 
Zwingle, pious Snepf, eloquent Melancthon, 
courageous Bucer, candid Hedio, excellent 
Osiander, valiant Brenz, amiable Jonas, 
fiery Craton, Msenus, whose soul is stronger 
than his body, great Dionysius, and you 
Myconius — all you whom Prince Philip, 
that illustrious hero, has summoned, minis- 
ters and bishops, whom the Christian cities 
have sent to terminate the schism, and to 
show us the way of truth; the suppliant 
Church falls weeping at your feet, and begs 
you by the bowels of Jesus Christ to bring 
this matter to a happy issue, so that the 
world may acknowledge in your resolution 
the work of the Holy Ghost himself." 4 

The Landgrave's chancellor, John Feige, 
having reminded them in the prince's name 
that the object of this colloquy was the re- 
establishment of union, "I protest," said 
Luther, " that I differ from my adversaries 
with regard to the doctrine of the Lord's 
Supper, and that I shall always differ from 
them. Christ has said. This is my body 



1 This is my body. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 175.) 

2 In Zwinglio agreste quiddam est et arrogan 
tulum. (Corp. Ref. i. p. 1097.) 

3 Insignes verbi proceres. (Bull. ii. p. 236.) 

4 Et cupido supplex vobis Ecclesia voto 
Vestros cadit flens ad pedes. (Bull. ii. p. 230,^ 



456 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Let them show me that a body is not a body. 
I reject reason, common sense, carnal argu- 
ments, and mathematical proofs. God is 
above mathematics. 1 We have the Word 
of God; we must adore it and perform 
it!" 

"It cannot be denied," said (Ecolampa- 
dius, "That there are figures of speech in 
the Word of God ; as John is Elias, the rock 
was Christ, I am the vine. The expression 
This is my body, is a figure of the same 
kind." Luther granted that there were 
figures in the Bible, but he denied that this 
last expression was figurative. 

All the various parties, however, of which 
the Christian Church is composed see a 
figure in these words. In fact, the Roman- 
ists declare that This is my body signifies 
not only " my body," but also " my blood," 
"my soul," and even "my Divinity," and 
" Christ wholly." 2 These words, there- 
fore, according to Rome, are a synecdoche, 
a figure by which a part is taken for the 
whole. And, as regards the Lutherans, the 
figure is still more evident. 3 Whether it be 
synecdoche, metaphor, or metonymy, there 
is still a figure. 

In order to prove it, (Ecolampadius em- 
ployed this syllogism : — 

" What Christ rejected in the sixth chap- 
ter of St. John, he could not admit in the 
words of the Eucharist. 

"Now Christ, who said to the people of 
Capernaum, The Jiesh prqfiteth nothing, re- 
jected by those very words the oral'mandu- 
cation of his body. 

" Therefore he did not establish it at the 
institution of his Supper." 

Luther. — " I deny the minor (the second 
of these propositions;) Christ has not re- 
jected all oral manducation, but only a ma- 
terial manducation, like that of the flesh of 
oxen or of swine." 4 

(Ecolampadius. — "There is danger in 
attributing too much to mere matter." 

Luther. — "Every thing that God com- 
mands becomes spirit and life. If it is by 
the Lord's order that we lift up a straw, in 
that very action we perform a spiritual 
work. We must pay attention to him who 
speaks, and not to what he says. God 
speaks : Men, worms, listen ! — God com- 
mands : let the world obey ! and let us all 
together fall down and numbly kiss the 
Word." 5 



1 Deum esse supra mathematicam. (Zvv. Opp. 
ir. p. 175.) 

2 If any one denies that the body and blood of 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, with his soul and his 
divinity, and consequently the whole Jesus Christ 
(toium Christum), is contained in the sacrament 
of the Eucharist, let him be anathema. (Council 
of Trent, Sess. 13.) 

8 Tota Christi persona. (Form, concord, viii.) 
4 Qualis est carnis bovillae aut suillae. (Scult. 

p. 217.) 

6 Quum praecipit quid, pareat mundus; et om- 

nes osculemur verbum. (Zvv. Opp. iv. p. 176.) 



(Ecolampadius. — " But since we have 
the spiritual eating, what need of the bodily 
one?" 

Luther. — " I do not ask what need we 
have of it; but I see it written, Eat, this is 
my body. We must therefore believe and 
do. We must do — we must do! 1 — If God 
should order me to eat dung, I would do it, 
with the assurance that it would be sa- 
lutary." 2 

At this point Zvvingle interferred in the 
discussion. " We must explain Scripture 
by Scripture," said he. "We cannot admit 
two kinds of corporeal manducation, as if 
Jesus had spoken of eating, and the Caper- 
naites of tearing in pieces, for the same 
word is employed in both cases. Jesus says 
that to eat his flesh corporeally prohteth 
nothing (John vi. 63;) whence it would re- 
sult that he had given us in the Supper a 
thing that would be useless to us. — Besides 
there are certain words that seem to me 
rather childish, — the dung, for instance. 
The oracles of the demons were obscure, not 
so are those of Jesus Christ." 

Luther. — "When Christ says the flesh 
pr'ofiteth nothing, he speaks not of his own 
flesh, but of ours." 

# # * # * 

Zwingle. — " The soul is fed with the 
Spirit and not with the flesh." 

Luther. — "It is with the mouth that we 
eat the body ; the soul does not eat it." 3 

Zwingle. — " Christ's body is therefore a 
corporeal nourishment, and not a spiritual." 

Luther. — "You are captious." 

Zwingle. — "Not so; but you utter con- 
tradictory things." 

Luther. — " If God should present me 
wild apples, I should eat them spiritually. 
In the Eucharist, the mouth receives the 
body of Christ, and the soul believes in his 
words." 

Zwingle then quoted a great number of 
passages from the Holy Scripture, in which 
the sign is described by the very thing sig- 
nified ; and thence concluded that, consi- 
dering our Lord's declaration in St. John, 
The flesh prqfiteth nothing, we must explain 
the words of the Eucharist in a similar 
manner. 

Many hearers were struck by these argu- 
ments. Among the Marburg professors sat 
the Frenchman Lambert; his tall and spare 
frame was violently agitated. He had been 
at first of Luther's opinion, 4 and was then 
hesitating between the two Reformers. As 
he went to the conference, he said : " I de- 
sire to be a sheet of blank paper, on which 
the finger of God may write his truth." — 

1 Man mus es thun saepe inculcabat. (Zw. Opp. 
iv. p. 176.) 

2 Si juberet fimum comedere, facerem. (Ibid.) 

3 Anima non edit ipsum (corpus) corporalker. 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 370.) 

4 See his Commentary on St. Luke (xxii. 19 
20.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



457 



Ere long he exclaimed, after hearing Zwingle 
and -CEcolampadius : "Yes! the Spirit, 
that is what vivifies!" 1 When this con- 
version was known, the Wittembergers, 
shrugging their shoulders, said, "Gallic 
fickleness!" "What!" replied Lambert, 
" was St. Paul fickle because he was con- 
verted from Pharisaism? And have we 
ourselves been fickle in abandoning the lost 
sects of Popery ?" 

Luther was, however, by no means sha- 
ken. " This is my body," repeated he, 
pointing with his finger to the words written 
before him. " This is my body. The devil 
himself shall not drive me from that. To 
seek to understand it, is to fall away from 
the faith." 2 

" But doctor," said Zwingle, " St. John 
explains how Christ's body is eaten, and 
you will be obliged at last to leave off sing- 
ing always the same song." 

"You make use of unmannerly expres- 
sions," replied Luther. 3 The Wittember- 
gers themselves called Zwingle's argument 
"his old song." 4 Zwingle continued with- 
out being disconcerted : " I ask you, doctor, 
whether Christ in the sixth chapter of St. 
John did not wish to reply to the question 
that had been put to him ?" 

Luther. — " Mr. Zwingle, you wish to 
stop my mouth by the arrogancy of your 
language. That passage has nothing to do 
here." 

Zwingle, hastily. — " Pardon me, doctor, 
that passage breaks your neck." 

Luther. — " Do not boast so much ! You 
are in Hesse, and not in Switzerland. In 
this country we do not break people's 
necks." 

Then turning towards his friends, Luther 
complained bitterly of Zwingle ; as if the 
latter had really wished to break his neck. 
" He makes use of soldier-like and blood- 
stained words," said he. 5 Luther forgot 
that he had employed a similar expression 
in speaking of Carlstadt. 6 

Zwingle resumed : "In Switzerland also 
there is strict justice, and we break no man's 
neck without trial. That expression signi- 
fies merely that your cause is lost and hope- 
less." 

Great agitation prevailed in the Knights' 
Hall. The roughness of the Swiss and the 
obstinacy of the Saxon had come into col- 
lision. The Landgrave, fearing to behold 
the failure of his project of conciliation, 



1 He added, that the body of Christ was in the 
Eucharist neither marhematically or commensu- 
rably, nor really (neque mathematice seu com- 
mensurative, neque re ipsa.) (Epist. Lamb, de 
Marb. col.) 

2 Si interrogo, excido a fide. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 
177.; 

3 Invidiose loqueris. (Bull, ii.'p. 228.) 

4 Veterem suam cantilenam. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 
221.") 

6 Verbum istud, tanquam castrense et cruen- 
tum.- (Hospin. p. 131.) 
6 Book ix. 



nodded assent to Zwingle's explanation. — 
" Doctor," said he to Luther, " you should 
not be offended at such common expres- 
sions." It was in vain : the agitated sea 
could not again be calmed. The prince 
therefore arose, and they all repaired to the 
banqueting hall. After dinner they resumed 
their tasks. 

" I believe," said Luther, "that Christ's 
body is in heaven, but I also believe that 
it is in the sacrament. It concerns me little 
whether that be against nature, provided 
that it is not against faith. 1 Christ is sub- 
stantially in the sacrament, such as he was 
born of the Virgin." 

CEcolampadius, quoting a passage from 
St. Paul : " We know not Jesus Christ after 
the flesh."2 

Luther. — "After the flesh means, in 
this passage, after our carnal affections. " 3 

CEcolampadius. — "You will not allow 
that there is a metaphor in these words. 
This is my body, and yet you admit a sy- 
necdoche." 

Luther. — "Metaphor permits the exist- 
ence of a sign only ; but it is not so with 
synecdoche. If a man says he wishes to 
drink a bottle, we understand that he means 
the beer in the bottle. Christ's body is in 
the bread, as a sword in the scabbard, 4 or 
as the Holy Ghost in the dove." 

The discussion was proceeding in this 
manner, when Osiander, pastor of Nurem- 
berg, Stephen Agricola, pastor of Augsburg, 
and Brenz, pastor of Halle in Swabia, author 
of the famous Syngramma, entered the hall. 
These also had been invited by the Land- 
grave. But Brenz, to whom Luther had 
written that he should take care not to ap- 
pear, had no doubt by his indecision retarded 
his own departure as well as that of his 
friends. Places were assigned them near 
Luther and Melancthon . "Listen, and speak 
if necessary," they were told. They took 
but little advantage of this permission. "All 
of us, except Luther," said Melancthon, 
"were silent personages." 5 

The struggle continued. 

When Zwingle saw that exegesis was not 
sufficient for Luther, he added dogmatical 
theology to it, and, subsidiarily, natural phi- 
losophy. 

" I oppose you," said he, "with this ar- 
ticle of our faith : Jlscendit in ccelum — he 
ascended into heaven. If Christ is in heaven 
as regards his body, how can he be in the 
bread ? The Word of God teaches us that 
he was like his brethren in all things, (He b. 
ii. 17.) He therefore cannot be in seveial 
places at once." 



1 Non euro quod sit contra naturam, modo non 
contra fidem. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 178.) 

2 2 Cor. v. 16. 

3 Pro carnalibus affectibus. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 
202.) 

4 Corpus est in pane sicut gladius in vagina. 
(Ibid.) 

5 Fuimus M.uj<pst 7rpo<r»n-A. (Corp. Ref. i. p. 109S.J 



458 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Luther. — " Were I desirous of reason- 
ing thus, I would undertake to prove that 
Jesus Christ had a wife ; that he had black 
eyes, 1 and lived in our good country of Ger- 
many. 2 I care little about mathematics." 

"There is no question of mathematics 
here," said Zwingle, "but of St. Paul, 
who writes to the Philippians, (w^v 8ov%ov 
Kafav." 3 

Luther, interrupting him. — " Read it to 
us in Latin or in German, not in Greek." 

Zwingle (in Latin.) — " Pardon me : for 
twelve years past I have made use of the 
Greek Testament only." Then continuing 
to read the passage, he concluded from it 
that Christ's humanity is of a finite nature 
like our own. 

Luther, pointing to the words written 
before him. — "Most dear sirs, since my 
Lord Jesus Christ says, Hoc est corpus meum, 
I believe that his body is really there." 

Here the scene grew animated. Zwingle 
started from his chair, sprung towards Lu- 
ther, and striking the table before him, said 
to him : 4 

"You maintain then, doctor, that Christ's 
body is locally in the Eucharist ; for you say 
Christ's body is really there — there — there," 
repeated Zwingle. u There is an adverb of 
place. 5 Christ's body is then of such a na- 
ture as to exist in a place. If it is in a place, 
it is in heaven, whence it follows that it is 
not in the bread." 

Luther. — "I repeat that I have nothing 
to do with mathematical proofs. As soon as 
the words of consecration are pronounced 
over the bread, the body is there, however 
wicked be the priest who pronounces them." 

Zwingle. — " You are thus re-establish- 
ing Popery." 6 

Luther. — " This is not done through the 
priest's merits, but because of Christ's or- 
dinance. I will not, when Christ's body is 
in question, hear speak of a particular place. 
I absolutely will not." 

Zwingle. — "Must every thing, then, 
exist precisely as you will it?" 

The Landgrave perceived that the discus- 
sion was growing hot ; and as the repast was 
waiting, he broke off the contest. 7 

The next day was Sunday, the 3d Octo- 
ber. The conference was continued, per- 
haps because of an epidemic (the Sweat- 
ing Sickness) that had just broken out at 
Marburg, and did not allow of the confer- 

1 Quod uxorem et nigros oculos habuisset. 
(Scultet. p. 225.) 

2 In Germania diuturnum contubernium egisse. 
(Zw. Opp. iv. p. 202.) 

3 Having taken the form of a servant. (Phil. 
ii. 7.) 

4 lbi Zwinglius illico prosiliens. (Scultet. p. 
225. 

5 Da, da, da. Ibi est adverbium loci. (Ibid.) 

6 Damit richtend ir das papstum uf. (Zw. Opp. 
hi. p. 57.) 

7 Coena instabat et diremit certamen. (Ibid. iv. 
p. 179.) 



ence being prolonged. Luther, returning 
to the discussion of the previous evening, 
said : 

"Christ's body is in the sacrament, but 
it is not there as in a place." 

Zwingle. — "Then it is not there at all." 

Luther. — " Sophists say that a body 
may very well be in several places at once. 
The universe is a body, and yet we cannot 
assert that it is in a particular place." 

Zwingle. — " Ah ! you speak of sophists, 
doctor: really you are, after all, obliged to 
return to the onions and flesh-pots of Egypt. 1 
As for what you say, that the universe is in 
no particular place, I beg all intelligent men 
to weigh this proof." Then Zwingle, who, 
whatever Luther said, had more than one 
arrow in his quiver, after having established 
his proposition by exegesis and philosophy, 
resolved on confirming it by the testimony 
of the Fathers of the Church. 

" Listen," said he, " to what Fulgentius, 
bishop of Ruspa, in Numidia, said, in the 
fifth century, to Trasamond, king of the 
Vandals : ' Tae Son of God took the attri- 
butes of true humanity, and did not lose 
those of true Divinity. Born in time, ac- 
cording to his mother, he lives in eternity 
according to the Divinity that he holds from 
the Father : coming from man, he is man, 
and consequently in a place; proceeding 
from the Father, he is God, and consequent- 
ly present in every place. According to his 
human nature, he was absent from heaven 
while he was upon earth, and he quitted the 
earth when he ascended into heaven ; but, 
according to his Divine nature, he remained 
in heaven when he came down thence, and 
he did not abandon the earth when he re- 
turned thither.' " 2 

But Luther still replied : " It is written, 
This is my body." Zwingle, becoming im- 
patient, said, " All that is idle wrangling. 
An obstinate disputant might also maintain 
this expression of our Saviour to his mother, 
Behold thy son, pointing to St. John. Vain 
would be aH explanation ; he would not 
cease to cry, No, no ! He said, Ecce filuis 
tuns, Behold thy son, behold thy son ! Lis- 
ten to a new testimony ; it is from the great 
Augustin : 'Let us not think,' says he, ' that 
Christ, according to his human form, is 
present in every place ; let us beware, in 
our endeavour to establish his Divinity, of 
taking away his truth from his body. Christ 
is now every where present like God ; and 
yet, in consequence of his real body, he is 
in a definitive part of heaven.' " 3 

"St. Augustin," replied Luther, " is not 

1 Ad caepas et ollas ^Egyptiacas. (Zw. Opp. ii. 
part 3, p. 57.) 

2 Secundum humanam substantiam, absens 
ccbIo, cum esset in terra, et derelinquens terram 
cum ascendisset in ccelum. (Fulgentius to King 
Trasamond, lib. ii.) 

3 In loco aliquo creli propter veri corporis mo- 
dum. (Aug. Ep. p. 57.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



459 



nere speaking of the Eucharist. Christ's 
Dody is not in the Eucharist as in a place." 

(Ecolampadius saw that he might take 
advantage of this assertion of Luther's. 
"The body of Christ," said he, "is not lo- 
cally in the Eucharist, therefore no real bo- 
dy is there ; for every one knows that the 
essence of a body is its existence in a place." 

Here finished the morning's discussion. 

(Ecolampadius, upon reflection, felt con- 
vinced that Luther's assertion might be 
looked upon as an approximation. " I re- 
member," said he after dinner, "that the 
doctor conceded this morning that Christ's 
body was not in the sacrament as in a place. 
Let us therefore inquire amicably what is 
the nature of Christ's bodily presence." 

" You will not make me take a step fur- 
ther," exclaimed Luther, who saw where 
they wished to drag him ; {t you have Ful- 
gentius and Augustin on your side, but all 
the other Fathers are on ours." 

(Ecolampadius, who seemed to the Wit- 
tembergers to be vexatiously precise, 1 then 
said, " Name these doctors. We will take 
upon ourselves to prove that they are of 
our opinion." 

"We will not name them to you," 2 said 
Luther. "It was in his youth," added he, 
" that Augustin wrote what you have quo- 
ted ; and, besides, he is an obscure author." 
Then, retreating to the ground which he had 
resolved never to quit, he was no longer 
content to point his finger at the inscrip- 
tion, Hoc est corpus meum, but seized the 
velvet cover on which the words were writ- 
ten, pulled it off the table, held it up in front 
of Zwingle and (Ecolampadius, and placing 
it before their eyes, 3 " See !" said he, " see! 
This is our text; you have not yet driven 
us from it, as you had boasted, and we care 
for no other proofs." 

"If this be the case," said (Ecolampa- 
dius, " we had better leave off the discus- 
sion. But I will first declare, that, if we 
quote the Fathers, it is only to free our doc- 
trine from the reproach of novelty, and not 
to support our cause by their authority." 
No better definition can be given of the le- 
gitimate use of the Doctors of the Church. 

There was no reason, in fact, for prolong- 
ing the conference. " As Luther was of 
an intractable and imperious disposition," 
says even his great apologist Seckendorf, 
" he did not cease from calling upon the 
Swiss to submit simply to his opinion." 4 

The Chancellor, alarmed at this termina- 



1 Quern omnes sperassemus mitiorem, inter- 
dum videbatur paulo morosior, sed citra contume- 
liam. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 201.) 

8 Nnn nominabimus illos. (Scultet. p. 228.) 

3 Da hub Luther die Sammaten deck auf, und 
Zeigt ihm den Spruch, den er mit kreyden heft 
fur sich geschrieben. (Osiander ; Niederer's 
Nachrichten, ii. p. 114.) 

4 Lutherus vero ut erat fero et imperibso inge- 
pio. .(Seek. p. 136.) 



tion of the colloquy, exhorted the theolo- 
gians to come to an understanding.- "I 
know but one means for that," said Luther ; 
"and this it is: Let our adversaries believe 
as we do." "We cannot," replied the 
Swiss. " Well then," replied Luther, " I 
abandon you to God's judgment, and pray 
that he will enlighten you." " We will do 
the same," added (Ecolampadius. 

While these words were passing, Zwin- 
gle was silent, motionless, and deeply mov- 
ed ; and the liveliness of his affections, of 
which he had given more than one proof 
during the conference, was then manifested 
in a very different manner. He burst into 
tears in the presence of all. 

The conference was ended. It had been 
in reality more tranquil than the documents 
seem to show, or perhaps the chroniclers 
appreciated such matters differently from 
ourselves. "With the exception of a few 
sallies, all had passed off quietly, in a cour- 
teous manner, and with very great gentle- 
ness," says an eye-witness. 1 " During the 
colloquy no other words than these were 
heard : ' Sir, and very dear friend, your cha- 
rity,' or other similar expressions. Not a 
word of schism or of heresy. It might have 
been said that Luther and Zwingle were 
brothers, and not adversaries." 2 This is the 
testimony of Brenz. But these flowers con- 
cealed an abyss, and Jonas, also an eye- 
witness, styles the conference " a very sharp 
contest." 3 

The contagion that had suddenly broken 
out in Marburg was creating frightful rava- 
ges, and filled every body with alarms- 
Each one was anxious to leave the city. 
"Sirs," remarked the Landgrave "you 
cannot separate thus." And desirous -of 
giving the doctors an opportunity of meeting 
one another with minds unoccupied by theo- 
logical debates, he invited them all to his 
table. This was Sunday night. 

Philip of Hesse had all along shown the 
most constant attention, and each one ima- 
gined him to be on his side. " I would ra- 
ther place my trust in the simple words of 
Christ, than in the subtle thoughts of man," 
was a remark he made, according to Jonas ; 3 
but Zwingle affirmed that this prince thought 
now as he did, although with regard to cer- 
tain persons he dissembled his opinions. — 
Luther, sensible of the weakness of his de- 
fence as to the declarations of the Fathers, 
transmitted a note to Philip, in which seve- 
ral passages were pointed out from Hilary, 



1 Omnia humanissime et summa cum mansue- 
tudine transigebantur. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 201.) 

2 Amicissime Domine, Vestra eharitas, et id 

genus Dixisses Lutherum et Zwinglium 

non adversarios. (Ibid.) 

3 Acerrimo certamine. (Corp. Ref. i. p. 1096. 

4 Nisi Szidor Anglicus subito Marburgum inva- 
sisset et terrore omnium animos percutisset.— 
(Hospin. p. 131.) 

5 Dicitur palam proclamasse. (Corp. Ref. p 
1097.) 



4G0 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Chrysostom, Cyprian, Irenseus, and Am- 
brose, which he thought were in his fa- 
vour. 

The time of departure drew near, and 
nothing had been done. The Landgrave 
toiled earnestly at the union, as Luther wrote 
lo his wife. 1 He invited the theologians one 
after another into his closet; 2 he pressed, 
entreated, warned, exhorted, and conjured 
them. " Think," said he, "of the salva- 
tion of the Christian republic, and remove 
all discord from its bosom. 3 Never had gene- 
ral at the head of an army taken such pains 
to win a battle. 

A final general meeting took place, and 
undoubtedly the Church has seldom wit- 
nessed one of greater solemnity. Luther 
and Zwingle, Saxony and Switzerland, met 
for the last time. The Sweating Sickness 
was carrying off men around them by thou- 
sands; 4 Charles the Fifth and the Pope 
were uniting in Italy; Ferdinand and the 
Roman Catholic princes were preparing to 
tear in pieces the Protest of Spire : the thun- 
der-cloud became more threatening every 
day; union alone seemed capable of saving 
the Protestants, and the hour of departure 
was about to strike — an hour that would 
separate them perhaps for ever. 

" Let us confess our union in all things 
in which we agree," said Zwingle; "and 
as for the rest, let us remember that we are 
brothers. There will never be peace be- 
tween the Churches if, while we maintain 
the grand doctrine of salvation by faith, we 
cannot differ on secondary points. 5 Such is, 
in fact, the true principle of Christian union. 
The sixteenth century was still too deeply 
sunk in scholasticism to understand this: 
let us hope that the nineteenth century will 
comprehend it better. 

" Yes, yes!" exclaimed the Landgrave; 
" you agree ! Give then a testimony of your 
unity, and recognise one another as bro- 
thers." — "There is no one upon earth with 
whom I more desire to be united, than with 
you," said Zwingle, approaching the Wit- 
temberg doctors. 6 (Ecolampadius, Bucer, 
and Hedio said the same. 

" Acknowledge them ! acknowledge them 
as brothers !" continued the Landgrave. 7 
Their hearts were moved ; they were on the 
eve of unity : Zwingle, bursting into tears, 
in the presence of the Prince, the courtiers, 



1 Da arbeit der Landgraf heftig. (L. Epp. iii. 
p. 512.) 

2 Unjimquemque nostrum seorsim absque arbi- 
tris. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 203.) 

3 Compellans, rogans, monens, exhortans, pos- 
tulans ut Reipublicae Christiana? rationem habe- 
remus, et discordiam e medio tolleremus. (Ibid.) 

4 Multa perierunt millia. (Hospin. p. 121.) 

5 Quod nulla unquam Ecclesiarum pax consti- 
tuta sit, si non in multis aliis dissentiendi a se 
facultatem faciant. (Scultet. p. 207.) 

6 Es werendt keine liith uff Erden. (Bull. ii. 
p. 225.) 

7 Idque Princeps valde urgebat. (L. Epp. iii. 
p. 5*3. 



and divines, (it is Luther himself who re- 
cords this, 1 ) approaches Luther, and holds 
out his hand. The two families of the Re- 
formation were about to be united : long 
quarrels were about to be stifled in their 
cradle; but Luther rejects the hand that is 
offered him : " You have a different spirit 
from ours," said he. These words com- 
municate to the Swiss, as it were, an elec- 
trical shock. Their hearts sunk each time 
Luther repeated them, and he did so fre- 
quently. It is he himself who is our in- 
formant. 

A brief consultation took place among the 
Wittemberg doctors. Luther, Melancthon, 
Agricola, Brenz, Jonas, and Osiander, con- 
ferred together. Convinced that their pecu- 
liar doctrine on the Eucharist was essential 
to salvation, they considered all those who 
rejected it as without the pale of the faith. 
"What folly!" 2 said Melancthon, who 
afterwards almost coincided with Zwingle's 
sentiments : " they condemn us, and yet 
they desire we should consider them as 
our brothers!" " What versatility !" added 
Brenz: " they accused us but lately of wor- 
shipping a bread-god, and they now ask for 
communion with us!" 3 Then, turning to- 
wards Zwingle and his friends, the Wittem- 
bergers said: "You do not belong to the 
communion of the Christian Church : we 
cannot acknowledge you as brethren!" 4 

The Swiss were far from partaking of 
this sectarian spirit. " We think," said 
Bucer, " that your doctrine strikes at the 
glory of Jesus Christ, who now reigns at 
the right hand of the Father. But seeing 
that in all things you acknowledge your 
dependence on the Lord, we look at your 
conscience, which compels you to receive 
the doctrine you profess, and we do not 
doubt that you belong to Christ." 

"And we," said Luther — "we declare 
to you once more that our conscience op- 
poses our receiving you as brethren." — "If 
such is the case," replied Bucer, " it would 
be folly to ask it." 

" I am exceedingly astonished that you 
wish to consider me as your brother," pur- 
sued Luther. "It shows clearly that you 
do not attach much importance to your own 
doctrine." 

" Take your choice," said Bucer, pro- 
posing a dilemma to the Reformer : " either 
you should not acknowledge as brethren 
those who differ from you in any point — 
and if so, you will not find a single brother 
in your own ranks 5 — or else you will re- 



1 Zwinglius palam lacrymans corem Langravio 
et omnibus. (Hospin. p. 136.) 

2 Vide eorum stultitiam ! (Corp. Ref. i. p. 
1108.) 

3 Nos tanquam adoratores panifici Dei traduxe- 
rant. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 203.) 

4 Eos a communione Ecclesiae Christianae alie- 
nos esse. (Ibid.) 

5 Nemo alteri vel inter ipsos- frater eric. (Zw 
Opp. iv. p. 194.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



461 



ceive some of those who differ from you, 
and then you ought to receive us." 

The Swiss had exhausted their solicita- 
tions. " We are conscious," said they, " of 
having acted as if in the presence of God. 
Posterity will be our witness." ' They were 
on the point of retiring: Luther remained 
like a rock, to the Landgrave's great indig- 
nation. 2 The Hessian divines, Kraft, Lam- 
bert, Snepf, Lonicer, and Melander, united 
their exertions to those of the Prince. 

Luther was staggered, and conferred anew 
with his colleagues. " Let us beware," said 
he to his friends, "of wiping our noses too 
roughly, lest blood should come." 3 

Then turning to Zwingle and (Ecolam- 
padius, they said : " We acknowledge you 
as friends ; we do not consider you as bro- 
thers and members of Christ's Church. 4 But 
we do not exclude you from that univer- 
sal charity which we owe even to our 
enemies." 5 

The hearts of Zwingle, (Ecolampadius, 
and Bucer, were ready to burst, 6 for this 
concession was almost a new insult. Never- 
theless, they resolved to accept what was 
offered them. " Let us carefully avoid all 
harsh and violent words and writings," 
said they ; " and let each one defend him- 
self without railing." 7 

Luther then advanced towards the Swiss, 
and said : "We consent, and I offer you 
the hand of peace and charity." The Swiss 
rushed in great emotion towards the Wit- 
tembergers, and all shook hands. 8 Luther 
himself was softened : Christian charity re- 
sumed her rights in his heart. "Assured- 
ly," said he, " a great portion of the scandal 
is taken away by the suppression of our 
fierce debates ; we could not have hoped for 
bo much. May Christ's hand remove the 
last obstacle that separates us. 9 There is 
now a friendly concord between us, and if 
we persevere in prayer, brotherhood will 
come." 

It was desirable to confirm this import- 
ant result by a report. " We must let the 
Christian world know," said the Land- 
grave, "that, except the manner of the 
presence of the body and blood in the 
Eucharist, you are agreed in all the articles 



1 Id testabitur posteritas. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 194.) 

2 Principi illud durum videbatur. (Ibid. p. 203.) 

3 Ne nimis mungendo, sanguinem eliceremus. 
(L. Epp. in his letter written to Gerbellius on the 
same day — Monday.) 

4 Agnoscere quidem velimus tanquam amicos, 
sed non tanquam fratres. (Zw. Opp. iv. p. 203.) 

5 Charitate quae etiam hosti debetur. (Ibid, 
p. 190.) 

6 Indignissime affecti sunt. (Ibid.) 

7 Quisque suam sententiam doceat absque in- 
vectivis. (L. Epp. iii. p. 514.) 

8 Dedimus tamen manus pacis et caritatis. — 
(Ibid. p. 513.) 

9 Utinam et ille reliquus scrupulus per Chris- 
tum tandem tollatur, — in his letter written to Ger- 
bellius after leaving this meeting. 



of faith." l This was resolved on ; but who 
should be charged with drawing up the 
paper? All eyes were turned upon Luther. 
The Swiss themselves appealed to his im- 
partiality. 

Luther retired to his closet, lost in thought, 
uneasy, and finding the task very difficult. 
" On the one hand," said he, " I should 
like to spare their weakness ; 2 but, on the 
other, I would not in the least degree strike 
at the holy doctrine of Christ." He did not 
know how to set about it, and his anguish 
increased. He got free at last. " I will 
draw up the articles," said he, "in the 
most accurate manner. Do I not know that 
whatever I write, they will never sign 
them?" 3 Ere long fifteen articles were 
committed to paper, and Luther, holding 
them in his hand, repaired to the theologians 
of the two parties. 

These articles are of importance. The 
two doctrines that were evolved in Switzer- 
land and in Saxony, independently of each 
other, were brought together and compared. 
If they were of man, there would be found 
in them a servile uniformity, or a remarkable 
opposition. This was not the case. A 
great unity was found between the German 
and Swiss Reformations, for they both pro- 
ceeded from the same Divine teaching; and 
a diversity on secondary points, for it was 
by man's instrumentality that God had ef- 
fected them. 

Luther took his paper, and reading the 
first article, said : 

" First, we believe that there is one sole, 
true, and natural God, Creator of heaven 
and earth and of all creatures ; and that 
this same God, one in essence and in na- 
ture, is threefold in person, that is to say, 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, as w T as de- 
clared in the Nicene Council, and as all the 
Christian Church professes." 

To this the Swiss gave their assent. 

They were agreed also on the divinity and 
humanity of Jesus Christ; on his death and 
resurrection, on original sin, justification by 
faith, the operation of the Holy Ghost and 
of the Word of God, baptism, good works, 
confession, civil order, and tradition. 

Thus far all were united. The Wittem- 
bergers could not recover from their aston- 
ishment. 4 The two parties had rejected, on 
the one hand, the errors of the Papists, who 
make religion little more than an outward 
form; and, on the other, those of the En- 
thusiasts, who speak exclusively of internal 
feelings; and they were found drawn up 

1 Ut orbi Christiano notum fieret eos in omnU 
bus fidei capitibus consentire. (Hospin. p. 127.) 

2 Het gem ihrer Schwachheit verschont. (Nie- 
derer Nachr. ii. p. 120.) 

3 Doch zuletz sprach er Ich will die artikel auf 
aller pesste stellen, sy werdens doch nicht anne 
men. (Ibid.) 

4 Quod mirari non satis polaimus. (Brentius 
Zw. Opp. iv. p. 203.) 



4G2 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



under the same banners between these two 
camps. But the moment was come that 
would separate them. Luther had kept till 
the last the article on the Eucharist. 

The Reformer resumed : 

"We all believe with regard to the Lord's 
Supper, that it ought to be celebrated in both 
kinds, according to the primitive institution ; 
that the Mass is not a work by which a. 
Christian obtains pardon for another man, 
whether dead or alive; that the sacrament 
of the altar is the sacrament of the very 
body and very blood of Jesus Christ; and 
that the spiritual manducation of this body 
and blood is specially necessary to every 
true Christian." 1 

It was now the turn of the Swiss to be 
astonished. Luther continued : 

" In like manner, as to the use of the sa- 
crament, we are agreed that, like the Word, 
it was ordained of Almighty God, in order 
that weak consciences might be excited by 
the Holy Ghost to faith and charity." 

The joy of the Swiss was redoubled. Lu- 
ther continued : " And although at present 
we are not agreed on the question whether 
the real body and blood of Christ are cor- 
poreally present in the bread and wine, yet 
both the interested parties shall cherish more 
and more a truly Christian charity for one 
another, so far as conscience permits; and 
we will all earnestly implore the Lord to 
condescend by his Spirit to confirm us in the 
sound doctrine." 2 

The Swiss obtained what they had asked : 
unity in diversity. It was immediately re- 
solved to hold a solemn meeting for the sig- 
nature of the articles. 

They were read over again. GEcolampa- 
dius, Zwingle, Bucer, and Hedio, signed 
them first on one copy; while Luther, Me- 
iancthon, Jonas, Osiander, Brentz, and Agri- 
cola, wrote their names on the other ; both 
parties then signed the copy of their adver- 
saries, and this important document was 
sent to the press. 3 

Thus the Reformation had made a sensi- 
ble step at Marburg. The opinion of Zwin- 
gle on the spiritual presence, and of Luther 
on the bodily presence, are both found in 
Christain antiquity; but both the extreme 
doctrines have been always rejected : that 
of the Rationalists, on the one hand, who 
behold in the Eucharist nothing but a sim- 
ple commemoration ; and of the Papists, on 
the other, who adore in it a transubstantia- 

1 Quod spiruualis manducatio hujus corporis et 
sanguinis unicnique Chris tiano praecipue neces- 
saria sit. (Scultet. p. 232.) 

2 Osiander (a Lutheran) employs the accusa- 
tive, "in den rechten Verstand," which would 
indicate a movement towards an object that we 
do not possess : Bullinger and Scultet (both Re- 
formed divines) have the dative. 

3 Bullinger and others indicate the 3d October 
as the day on which the articles were signed; 
Osiander, an eye-witness, and whose narrative is 
very exact, says it was the 4th, which agrees with 
ill the other data. 



tion. These are both errors ; while the doc- 
trines of Luther and Zwingle, and the me- 
dium taken by Calvin, already maintained 
by some of the Fathers, were considered in 
ancient times as different views of the same 
truth. If Luther had yielded, it might 
have been feared that the Church would 
fall into the extreme of Rationalism ; if 
Zwingle, that it would rush into the ex- 
treme of Popery. It is a salutary thing for 
the Church that these dffferent views should 
be entertained; but it is a pernicious thing 
for individuals to attach themselves to one 
of them, in such a manner as to anathema- 
tize the others. "There is only this little 
stumbling-block," wrote Melancthon, " that 
embarrasses the Church of our Lord." 1 
All, — Romanists and Evangelicals, Saxons 
and Swiss, admitted the presence, and even 
the real presence of Christ; but here was 
the essential point of separation : is this 
presence effected by the faith of the com- 
municant, or by the opus operatum of the 
priest? The germs of Popery, Sacerdotal- 
ism, Puseyism, are inevitably contained in 
this latter thesis. If it is maintained that 
a wicked priest (as has been said) operates 
this real presence of Christ by three words, 
we enter the Church of the Pope. Luther 
appeared sometimes to admit this doctrine, 
but he has often spoken in a more spiritual 
manner; and taking this great man in his 
best moments, we behold no more than 
an essential unity and a secondary diversity 
in the two parties of the Reformation. Un- 
doubtedly the Lord has left his Church 
outward seals of his grace ; but he has 
not attached salvation to these signs. The 
essential point is the connection of the 
faithful with the Word, with the Holy 
Ghost, with the Head of the Church. This 
is the great truth which the Reform pro- 
claims, and which Lutheranism itself re- 
cognises. After the Marburg conference, 
the controversy became more moderate. 

There was another advantage. The 
evangelical divines at Marburg marked with 
one accord their separation from the Papacy. 
Zwingle was not without fear (unfounded, 
no doubt) with regard to Luther : these 
fears were dispersed. " Now that we are 
agreed," said he, "the Papists will no 
longer hope that Luther will ever be one of 
them/' 2 The Marburg articles are the first 
bulwark erected in common by the Refor- 
mers against Rome. 

It was not, then, in vain that, after the 
protest of Spire, Philip of Hesse endeav- 
oured, at Marburg, to bring together the 
friends of the Gospel. But, if the religious 
object was partially attained, the political 
object almost entirely failed. They could 
not arrive at a confederation of Switzerland 
and Germany. Nevertheless, Philip of 



1 Hie unus in Ecclesia heeret scrupulus. (Corp. 
Ref. i. p. 1106.) 

2 Pontirici non ultra possunt sperare Lutherurn 
suum fore. (Zw. Opp. ii. p. 370.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



463 



Hesse and Zwingle, with a view to this, 
had numerous secret conversations, which 
made the Saxons uneasy, as they were not 
less opposed to Zwingle's politics than to 
his theology^ " When you have reformed 
the peasant's cap," said Jonas to him, " you 
will also claim to reform the sable hat of 
princes." 

The Landgrave, having collected all the 
doctors at his table on the last day, they 
shook hands in a friendly manner, ' and each 
one thought of leaving the town. 

On Tuesday the 5th October, the Land- 
grave quitted Marburg early, and in the 
afternoon of the same day Luther departed, 
accompanied by his colleagues; but he did 
not go forth as a conqueror. A spirit of 
dejection and alarm had taken possession of 
his mind. 2 He writhed in the dust, like a 
worm, according to his own expression. 
He fancied he should never see his wife 
and children again, and cried out that he, 
" the consoler of so many tortured souls, 
was now without any consolation!" 3 

This state might partly arise from Lu- 
ther's want of brotherly feeling; but it had 
other causes also. Soliman had come to 
fiulfil a promise made to King Ferdinand. 
The latter having demanded, in 1528, the 
surrender of Belgrade, the Sultan had haugh- 
tily replied, that he would bring the keys 
himself io Vienna. In fact, the Grand 
Turk, crossing the frontiers of Germany, 
had invaded countries " on which the hoofs 
of the Mussulman war-horses had never 
trod," and eight days before the conference 
at Marburg, he had covered with his innu- 
merable tents the plain and the fertile hilis 
in the midst of which rise the walls of Vi- 
enna. The struggle had begun underground, 
the two parties having dug deep galleries 
beneath the ramparts. Three different times 
the Turkish mines were sprung; the walls 
were thrown down ; 4 "the balls flew through 
the air like a flight of small birds," says a 
Turkish historian ; " and there was a horri- 
ble banquet, at which the genii of death joy- 
ously drained their glasses." 5 

Luther did not keep in the background. 
He had already written against the Turks, 
and now he published a Battle Sermon. 
"Mahomet," said he, "exalts Christ as 
neing without sin; but he denies lhat he 
was the true God ; therefore he is his ene- 
my. Alas ! to this hour the world is such 
that it seems everywhere to rain disciples 
of Mahomet. Two men ought to oppose 
the Turks : the first is Christian, that* is to 

1 Die Hand einander friintlich gebotien. (Bull. 
ii. p. 236.) 

2 Ego vix et segre domum reversus sum. (L. 
Epp. in. p. 520.) 

^ 3 Sic me vexante Angelo Satanae, ut despera- 
rim me vivum et salvum visurum meos. (Ibid.) 
4 Ipsam urbem in tribus loeis,. suffoso solo et 
pulvere supposito disjicit et patefecit. (Ibid. p. 
518.) 
* Ds.helal?ade, quoted by Ranke. 
31 



say, Prayer; the second is Charles, that is 
to say, The sword." And in another place, 
" I know my dear Germans well, fat and 
well-fed swine ; as soon as the danger is 
removed, they think only of eating and 
sleeping. Wretched man! if thou dost not 
take up arms the Turk will come; he will 
carry thee away into his Turkey; he will 
there sell thee like a dog; and thou shalt 
serve him night and day, under the rod and 
the cudgel, for a glass of water and a morsel 
of bread. Think on this ; be converted, and 
implore the Lord not to give thee the Turk 
for thy schoolmaster." 1 

The two arms pointed out by Luther 
were, in reality, vigorously employed ; and 
Soliman, perceiving at last that he was not 
the " soul of the universe," as his poets had 
styled him, but that there was a strength in 
the world superior to his own, raised the 
siege of Vienna on the 16th October; and 
" the shadow of God over the two worlds," 
as he called himself, " disappeared and van- 
ished in the Bosphorus." 

But Luther imagined that, when retiring 
from before the walls of Vienna, " the 
Turk, or at least his god, who is the devil," 
had rushed upon him; and that it was this 
enemy of Christ and of Christ's servants 
that he was destined to combat and van- 
quish in his ■ frightful agony. 2 There is an 
immediate reaction of the violated law upon 
him who violates it. Now Luther had 
transgressed the royal law, which is charity, 
and he suffered the penalty. At last he re- 
entered Wittemberg, and flung himself into 
the arms of his friends, " tormented by the 
angel of death." 3 

Without, however, overlooking the essen- 
tial qualities of a Reformer that Luther 
manifested at Marburg, there are in God's 
work, as in a drama, different parts. What 
various characters we see among the Apos- 
tles and among the Reformers ! It has been 
said that the same characters and the same 
parts were assigned to St. Peter and to Lu- 
ther, at the time of the Formation and of 
the Reformation of the Church. 4 They 
were both in fact men of the initiative, who 
start forward quite alone, but around whom 
an army soon collects at the sight of the 
standard which they wave. 

But there was perhaps in the Reformer 
a characteristic that was not found to the 
same degree in the Apostle ; this is firm- 
ness. 

As for Zwingle, he quitted Marburg ill 
alarm at Luther's intolerance. " Lutheran- 
ism," wrote he to the Landgrave, " will lie as 



1 Heer predigt wider die Tiirken. (L. Opp, 
(W.)xx. p. 2691.) 

2 Forte ipsum Turcam partim in isto agone co- 
gor lerre et vincere, saltern ejus Deum, diabo- 
lum. (L. Epp. iii. p. 520.) 

3 Angelus Satanae, vel quisquis est diabolua 
mortis ita me fatigat. (Ibid. p. 515.) 

4 Dr. Vinet. 



461 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



heavy upon us as Popery." 1 He reached 
Zurich on the 19th October. " The truth," 
said he to his friends, " has prevailed so 
manifestly, that if ever any one has been 
defeated before all the world, it is Luther, al- 
though he constantly exclaimed that he was 
invincible." 2 On his side, Luther spoke 
in a similar strain. " It is through fear of 
their fellow-citizens," added he, " that the 
Swiss, although vanquished, are unwilling 
to retract." 3 

If it should be asked on which side the 
victory really was, perhaps we ought to say 
that Luther assumed the air of a conqueror, 
hut Zwingle was so in reality. The con- 
ference propagated through all Germany 
the doctrine of the Swiss, which had been 
little known there till that time, and it was 
adopted by an immense number of persons. 
Among these were Laffards, first rector of 
St. Martin's School at Brunswick, Diony- 
sius Melander, Justus Lening, Hartmann, 
lbach, and many more. The Landgrave 
himself, a short time before his death, de- 
clared that this conference had induced 
him to renounce the oral manducation of 
Christ. 4 

Still the dominant principle at this cele- 
brated epoch was unity. The adversaries 
are the best judges. The Roman Catholics 
were exasperated that the Lutherans and 
Zwinglians had agreed on all the essential 

1 Das Lutherthum werde so schwer, als das 
Papsihum. (Zw. Epp. p. 374.) 

2 Lutherus impudens et contumax aperte est 
virtus. (Ibid. p. 370.) 

s Metuebant plebem suam ad quam non licuis- 
pei reverti. (Zw. Opp. ii. p. 19.) 

4 Rommels Anmerkungen, p. 227 — 229. 



points of faith. "They have a fellow-feel- 
ing against the Catholic Church," said they, 
" as Herod and Pilate against Jesus Christ." 
The enthusiastic sects said the same, 1 and^ 
the extreme hierarchial as well as the ex=l* 
treme radical party deprecated equally the 
unity of Marburg. 

Ere long a greater agitation eclipsed all 
these rumours, and events which threatened 
the whole evangelical body, proclaimed its 
great and intimate union with new force. 
The Emperor, it was everywhere said, ex- 
asperated by the Protest of Spire, has land- 
ed at Genoa with the pomp of a conqueror. 
After having sworn at Barcelona to reduce 
the heretics under the power of the Pope, 
he is going to visit this pontiff, humbly to 
bend the knee before him ; and he will rise 
up only to cross the Alps and accomplish his 
terrible designs. "The Emperor Charles," 
said Luther, a few days after the landing of 
this prince, " has determined to show him- 
self more cruel against us than the Turk 
himself, and he has already uttered the most 
horrible threats. Behold the hour of Christ's 
agony and weakness. Let us pray for all 
those who will soon have to endure cap- 
tivity and death." 2 

Such was the news thaft then agitated 
all Germany. The grand question was, 
whether the Protest of Spire could be main- 
tained against the power of the Emperor 
and of the Pope. This was seen in the 
year 1530. 

1 Pontificiis et catabaptistis mulium displicuit 
consensus Marpurgi. (Seullet. p. 208.) 

2 Carolus Caesar multo atrocius minatur et 
sasvire statuit in nos, quam Turca. (L. Epp. iii. 
p. 3244 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 463 



BOOK XIV. 

THE AUGSBURG COxVFESSION. 

1530. 

Two Striking Lessons — Charles V. — The German Envoys — Boldness ot the Envoys — The Land- 
grave's Present — The Envoys under Arrest — Their Release and Departure — Meeting of Charles 
and Clement — Gattinara's Proposition — Clement's Objection — War Imminent — Luther's Objec- 
tions—The Saviour is Coming — Charles' Conciliatory Language — The Emperor's Motives — The 
Coronation — Alarm of the Protestants — Luther advocates Passive Resistance — Briich's Noble 
Advice — Spiritual Armour — Luther remains at Coburg — Charles at Innspruck — Two Paraes at 
Court — Sentiments of Gattinara — The King of Denmark — Piety of the Elector — Wiles of the Ro- 
manists — Augsburg — The Gospel Preached — The Emperor's Message — The Sermons Prohibited 
— Firmness of the Elector — The Elector's Reply — Preparation of the Confession — The Church, 
the Judge — The Landgrave's Catholic Spirit — Augsburg — Violence of the Imperialists — Charles 
at Munich — Charles and the Princes — The Procession — Enters Augsburg — The Benediction — 
Charles and the Landgrave — The Margrave of Brandenburg — The Emperor's Silence — Failure 
of the Interview— Agitation of Charles — Refusal of the Princes — Procession of Corpus Christi — 
Exasperation of Charles — The Sermons prohibited — A Compromise proposed — A Compromise — 
Curiosity of the Citizens — The New Preachers — The Medley of Popery — Luther Encourages the 
Princes — Veni Spiritus — Mass of the Holy Ghost — The Sermon — Opening the Diet — The Elector's 
Prayer — Insidious Plan of the Romanists — Valdez and Melancthon — Evangelical Firmness Pre- 
vails — Zeal of the Elector — The Signing of the Confession — Luther's Anxiety — Luther's Texts — 
Luther to Merancthon — The Palatine Chapel — Recollections and Contrast — The Confession — 
Prologue — The Confession — Justification — Free Will and Works — Faith — Luther on the Con- 
fession — Abuses — Church and State — Duty of the Bishops — Epilogue — Remarks on the Con- 
fession — Church and State Distinct — Remarks — Moderate Tone of the Confession — Defects — A 
New Baptism — Effect on the Romanists — Luther demands Religious Liberty — Luther's Dominant 
Idea — Song of Triumph — An Ingenuous Confession — Hopes of the Protestants — Failure of the 
Popish Intrigues — The Emperor's Council — Luther opposes Concession — Infatuation of the Pa- 
pists — Scheme of the Romish Doctors — Melancthon's Explanation — Refusion — Charles' Dis- 
satisfaciion — Interview with the Princes — The Swiss at Augsburg — Zwingle's Confession — 
Afflicting Divisions — The Elector's Faith — The Lion's Skin — The Refutation — Imperial Com- 
mands — Melancthon's Prescience — Policy of Charles — Stormy Meeting — Resolutions of the 
Consistory — The Prayers of the Saints— Two Miracles — The Emperor's Menace — The Mask — 
Omens — Tumult in Augsburg — Philip of Hesse — Temptation — Union Resisted — The Landgrave — 
Protesiant Firmness — Philip of Hesse — Flight from Augsburg — Alarm in Augsburg — Metamor- 
phoses — Unusual Moderation — Peace, Peace — The Mixed Commission — The Three Points — 
Romish Dissimulation — The Main Question — Church Government — Danger of Concession — 
Pretended Concord Luther's Letters — The Word above the Church — Melancthon's Blindness — 
Papist Infatuation — A New Commission — The Landgrave's Firmness — The Two Phantoms — 
Concessions — Rome and Christianity — Irritation — The Gordian Knot — The Council Granted — 
Alarm in Rome — Menaces — Altercations — Fresh Negotiations — Protestantism Resists — Luther's 
Exhonation — The Elector of Saxony — The Recess ot Augsburg — Irritating Language — Apology 
of the Confession — Imimidation — Final Interview — Messages of Peace — Exasperation of the Pa- 
pists — Restoration of Popery — Tumult in the Church — Union of the Churches — The Pope and 
the Emperor — Close of the Diet — Attack of Geneva — Joy of the Evangelicals — Establishment of 
Protestantism. 



I. The Reformation was accomplished in 
the name of a spiritual principle. It had pro- 
claimed for its teacher the Word of God ; for 
salvation, Faith ; for kino-, Jesus Christ; for 



had soon come together again; the Church 
had fallen into the arms of the world ; and 
this criminal union had reduced it to the de- 
plorable condition in which it was found at 



arms, the Holy Ghost ; and had by these very the era of the Reformation, 
means rejected all worldly elements. Rome Thus one of the greatest tasks of the six- 
had been established by the law of a carnal teenth century was to restore Ihe spiritual 



commandment ,• the Reformation, by the power 
of an endless life. l 

If there is any doctrine that distinguishes 
Christianity from every other religion, it is 
its spirituality. A heavenly life brought down 



element to its rights. The Gospel of the 
Reformers had nothing to do with the world 
and with politics. While the Roman hie- 
rarchy had become a matter of diplomacy and 
a court intrisfue, the Reformation was destined 



to man — such is its work ; thus the opposi- i to exercise no other influence over princes and 
tion of the spirit of the Gospel to the spirit , people than that which proceeds from the 



of the world was the great fact which signal- 
ized the entrance of Christianity among the 
cations. But what its Founder had separated, 

1 Hebrews vii. 6. 



Gospel of peace. 

If the Reformation, having attained a certain 
point, became untrue to its nature, began to 
parley and temporize with the world, and 
ceased thus to follow up the spiritual princi- 



436 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pie that it had so loudly proclaimed, it was 
faithless to God and to itself. 

Henceforward its decline was at hand. 

It is impossible for a society to prosper if 
•t be unfaithful to the principles it lays down. 
Having abandoned what constituted its life, 
it can find naught but death. 

It was God's will that this great truth 
should be inscribed on ihe very threshold of 
the temple. He was then raising in the world; 
and a striking contrast was to make this truth 
stand gloriously forth. 

One portion of the Reform was to seek the 
alliance of the world, and in this alliance find 
a destruction full of desolation. 

Another portion, looking up to God, was 
haughtily to reject the arm of the flesh, and by 
this very act of faith secure a noble victory. 

If three centuries have gone astray, it is 
because they were unable to comprehend so 
holy and solemn a lesson. 

It was in the beginning of September 1529 
that Charles V., the victor by battles or by 
treaties over the Pope and the King of France, 
had landed at Genoa. The shouts of the 
Spaniards had saluted him as he quitted the 
Iberian peninsula; but the dejected eyes, the 
bended heads, the silent lips of the Italians 
given over to his hands, alone welcomed him 
to the foot of the Apennines. Everything led 
to the belief that Charles would indemnify 
himself on them for the apparent generosity 
with Avhich he had treated the Pope. 

They were deceived. Instead of those bar- 
barous chiefs of the Goths and Huns, or of 
those proud and fierce emperors, who more 
than once had crossed the Alps and rushed 
upon Italy, sword in hand and with cries of 
vengeance, the Italians saw among them a 
young and graceful prince, with pale features, 
a delicate frame, and w r eak voice, of winning 
manners, having more the air of a courtier 
than a warrior, scrupulously performing all 
the duties of the Romish religion, and leading 
in his train no terrible cohorts of German 
barbarians, but a brilliant retinue of Spanish 
grandees, who complacently paraded the pride 
of their race and the splendour of their nation. 
This prince, the victor of Europe, spoke only 
of peace and amnesty ; and even the Duke 
of Ferrara, who of all the Italian princes had 
most cause of fear, having at Modena placed 
the keys of the city in his hands, heard from 
his friendly lips the most unexpected encour- 
agements. 

Whence did this strange conduct proceed 1 
Charles had shown plainly enough, at the 
time" of the captivity of Francis I., that gene- 
rosity towards his enemies was not his domi- 
nant virtue. It was not long before this mys- 
tery was explained. 

Almost at the same time with Charles there 
arrived in Italy, by way of Lyons and Genoa, 
three German burgesses, whose whole equi- 
page consisted of six horses. 1 These were 

1 Le^atis attribuerunt equos sex. (Seckend. 
ii. p. 134.; 



John Ehinger, burgomaster of Memmingen, 
who carried his head high, scattered money 
around him, and did not pride himself on 
great sobriety ; Michael Caden, syndic of 
Nuremberg, a worthy, pious, and brave man, 
but detested by the Count of Nassau, the 
most influential of Charles' ministers; and, 
lastly, Alexis Frauentraut, secretary to the 
Margrave of Brandenburg, who, having mar- 
ried a nun, was in very bad esteem among the 
Roman Catholics. Such were the three men 
whom the Protestant princes, assembled at 
Nuremberg, commissioned to bear to the 
Emperor the famous Protest of Spire. They 
had purposely chosen these deputies from a 
middle station, under the impression that they 
would incur less danger. 1 To carry such a 
message to Charles V. was, to say the truth, 
a mission which few persons cared to execute. 
Accordingly a pension had been secured to 
the widows of these envoys in case of mis- 
fortune. 

Charles was on his way from Genoa to 
Bologna, and staying at Piacenza, when the 
three Protestant deputies overtook him. — 
These plain Germans presented a singular 
contrast in the. midst of that Spanish pomp 
and Romish fervour by which the young 
prince was surrounded. Cardinal Gattinara, 
the Emperor's chancellor, who sincerely de- 
sired a reform of the Church, procured them 
an audience of Charles V. for the 22d of 
September; but they were recommended to 
be sparing in their words, for there was no- 
thing the Emperor so much disliked as a Pro 
testant sermon. 

The deputies were not checked by these 
insinuations ; and after having handed the 
protest to Charles, Frauentraut began to 
speak : " It is to the Supreme Judge that 
each one of us must render an account," said 
he, " and not to creatures who turn at every 
wind. It is better to fall into the most cruel 
necessity, than to incur the anger of God. 
Our nation w T ill obey no decrees that are based 
on any other foundation than the Holy Scrip- 
tures." 2 

Such was the proud tone held by these 

German citizens to the Emperor of the West. 

j Charles said not a word — it would have been 

I paying them too much honour ; but he charged 

one of his secrataries to announce an answer 

at some future time. 

There was no hurry to send back these 
' petty ambassadors. In vain did they renew 
; their solicitations daily. Gattinara treated 
them with kindness, but Nassau sent them 
J away with bitter words. A workman, the 
| armourer to the court, having to visit Augs- 
burg to purchase arms, begged the Count of 
Nassau to despatch the Protestant deputies 
| "You may tell them," replied the minister 
| of Charles V., "that we will terminate their 
-business in order that you may have travel- 

1 Ut essent tutiores. (Seckend. ii. p. 133."> 

2 Neque suarum esse virium aut officii, ut »-ca 
; ad impossibilia et noxia adigant. — (Seckend. h. p. 
1 134.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



4C7 



.ing companions." But the armourer having 
found other company, they were compelled to 
wait. 1 

These envoys endeavoured at least to make 
a good use of their time. " Take this book," 
said the Landgrave to Caden at the very mo- 
ment of departure, giving him a French work 
bound in velvet, and richly ornamented, " and 
deliver it to the Emperor." 2 It was a sum- 
mary of the Christian Faith which the Land- 
grave had received from Francis Lambert, 
and which had probably been written by that 
doctor. Caden sought an opportunity of 
presenting this treatise; and did so one day, 
therefore, as Charles was going publicly to 
Mass. The Emperor took the book, and 
passed it immediately to a Spanish bishop. 
The Spaniard began to read it, 3 and lighted 
upon that passage of Scripture in which Christ 
enjoins his apostles not to execute lordship.* 
The author took advantage of it to maintain 
that the minister, charged with spiritual mat- 
ters, should not interfere with those which 
are temporal. The Papist prelate bit his lips, 
and Charles, who perceived it, having asked, 
"Well, what is the matter]" the bishop in 
confusion had recourse to a falsehood. 5 " This 
treatise," replied he, " takes the sword from 
the Christian magistrate, and grants it only to 
nations that are strangers to the faith." 
Immediately there was a great uproar: the 
Spaniards above all were beside themselves. 

" The wretches that have endeavoured to 
mislead so young a prince," said they, " de- 
serve to be hung on the first tree by the 
wayside!" Charles swore, in fact, that 
the bearer should suffer the penalty of his 
audacity. 

At length, on the 12th October, Alexander 
Schweiss, imperial secretary, transmitted the 
Emperor's reply to the deputies. It said that 
the minority ought to submit to the decrees 
passed in diet, and that if the Duke of Saxony 
and his allies refused, means would not be 
wanting to compel them. 6 

Ehinger and Caden thereupon read aloud 
the appeal to the Emperor drawn up at Spire, 
whilst Krauentraut, who had renounced his 
quality of deputy and assumed that of a no- 
tary, 7 took notes of what was passing. When 
the reading was finished, the deputies ad- 
vanced towards Schweiss and presented the 
appeal. The imperial secretary rejected the 
document with amazement ; the deputies in- 
sisted ; Schweiss continued firm. They then 
laid the appeal on the table. Schweiss was 
staggered ; he took the paper, and carried it 
to the Emperor. 

After dinner, just as one of the deputies 



1 Hortleben, von dem TJrsachen des deutschen 
Kriegs, p. 50. 

2 Libellum elegantur ornatum. (Scultet. p. 
253.) 

3 Cum obiter legisset. (Ibid.) 

4 Luke xxii. 26. 

5 Falso et maligne relatum esset. — (Seckend. 
li. p. 133.) 

6 Sibi non defore media quibusad id compeller- 
enrur. - (Ibid.) 

7 Tabellionis sive notarii officium. (Ibid.) 



(Caden) had gone out, a tumult in the hote] 
announced some catastrophe. It was the hn 
perial secretary who returned duly accompa- 
nied. " The Emperor is exceedingly irrita- 
ted against you on account of this appeal," 
said he to the Protestants ; " and he forbids 
you, under pain of confiscation and death, to 
leave your hotel, to write to Germany, or 
to send any message whatsoever." 1 Thus 
Charles put ambassadors under arrest, as he 
would the officers of his guard, desirous in 
this manner of publishing his contempt, and 
of frightening the princes. 

Caden's servant slipped in alarm out of the 
hotel, and ran to his master. The latter, still 
considering himself free, wrote a hasty ac- 
count of the whole business to the senate of 
Nuremberg, sent off his letters by express, 
and returned to share in the arrest of his col- 
leagues. 2 

On the 22d of October, the Emperor left 
Piacenza, carrying the three Germans with 
him. But on the 30th he released Ehinger 
and Frauentraut, who, mounting their horses 
in the middle of the night, rushed at full speed 
along a route thronged with soldiers and rob- 
bers. " As for you," said Granvelle to Ca- 
den, " you will stay under pain of death. The 
Emperor expects that the book you presented 
to him will be given up to the Pope. 3 Per- 
haps Charles thought it pleasant to show the 
Roman Pontiff this prohibition issued against 
the ministers of God to mingle in the govern- 
ment of nations. But Caden, profiting by 
the confusion of the court, secretly procured a 
horse, and fled to Ferrara, thence to Venice, 
from which place he returned to Nuremberg." 4 
The more Charles appeared irritated against 
Germany, the greater moderation he showed 
towards the Italians : heavy pecuniary contri- 
butions were all that he required. It was be- 
yond the Alps, in the centre of Christendom, 
by means of these very religious controver- 
sies, that he desired to establish his power. 
He pressed on, and required only two things: 
behind him, — peace; with him, — money. 

On the 5th of November he entered Bolog- 
na. Everything was striking about him : the 
crowd of nobles, the splendour of the equipa- 
ges, the haughtiness of the Spanish troops, the 
four thousand ducats that were scattered by 
handfuls among the people; 5 but above all, 
the majesty and magnificence of the young 
Emperor. The two chiefs of Romish Chris- 
tendom were about to meet. The Pope quit- 
ted his palace with all his court; and Charles, 
at the head of an army which would have con- 
quered the whole of Italy in a few days, af- 
fecting the humility of a child, fell on his 
knees, and kissed the Pontiff's feet. 



1 Sub capitis poena, ne pedem a diversario mo- 
veant. (Seckend. ii. p. 133.) 

2 A famulo certior factus, rem omnem senatui 
aperiut. (Ibid.) 

3 Ut idem scriptum exhibeat quoque PontificL 
(Scultet. p. 254,) 

4 Silentio conscendit equum. (Ibid.) 

5 In vulgus sparsum aurum quatuor millia du- 
catorum. (L. Epp. hi. p. 565 ) 



463 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIO N 



The Emperor and the Pope resided at Bo- 
logna in two adjoining palaces, separated by ! 
a single wall, through which a doorway had 
been made, of which each had a key ; and 
the young and politic Emperor was often j 
seen tc visit the old and crafty Pontiff, carry- 
ing papers in his hand. 

Clement obtained Sforza's pardon, who 
appeared before the Emperor sick and leaning 
on a staff. Venice also was forgiven : a mil- j 
lion of crowns arranged these two matters. 
But Charles could not obtain from the Pope 
the pardon of Florence. This illustrious city 
was sacrificed to the Medici, " considering," 
it was said, "that it is impossible for; 
Christ's vicar to demand anything that is j 
unjust." 

The most important affair was the Refor- \ 
rnation. Some represented to the Emperor 
that, victor over all his enemies, he should 
carry matters with a high hand, and constrain 
the Protestants by force of arms. 1 Charles 
was more moderate ; he preferred weakening 
the Protestants by the Papists, and then the 
Papists by the Protestants, and by this means 
raising his power above them both. 

A wiser course was nevertheless proposed 
in a solemn conference. " The Church is 
torn in pieees," said Chancellor Gattinara. 
"You (Charles) are the head of the empire : 
you (the Pope) are the head of the Church. 
It is your duty to provide by common accord 
against unprecedented wants. Assemble the 
pious men of all nations, and let a free 
council deduce from the Word of God a 
scheme of doctrine such as may be received 
by every people." 2 

A thunderbolt would not have so greatly 
startled Clement VII. The offspring of an 
illegitimate union, and having obtained the 
Papacy by means far from honourable, and 
squandered the treasures of the Church in an 
unjust war, this Pontiff had a thousand per- 
sonal motives for dreading an assembly of 
Christendom. "Large congregations," re- 
plied he, " serve only to introduce popular 
opinions. It is not with the deciees of coun- 
cils, but with the edge of the sword, that we 
should decide controversies." 3 

As Gattinara still persisted : " What !" 
said the Pope, angrily interrupting him, " you 
dare to contradict me, and to excite your 
master against me !" Charles rose up ; all the 
assembly preserved the profoundest silence, 
and the prince having resumed his seat, sec- 
onded his chancellor's request. Clement was 
satisfied with saying that he would reflect 

1 A-rmis cogandos. (Seckend. ii. p. 112; Maim- 
bourg, ii. p. 194.) 

- Oratio de Congressu Bononiensi, in Melanc- 
thonis Orationum, iv. p. 87, and Caalestinus Hist. 
Concil. 1830, Augustas, i. p. 10. Respectable au- 
thors, Walsh, Muller, and Beausobre. incorrectly 
quote at full length the speeches delivered at this 
conference. They are amplifications ; but to de- 
ny that they have some historical foundation 
would be flying to the opposite extreme. 

3 Non concilii decretis, sed arrnis controversias 
dirimendas. (Scultet. p. 248 ; Maimbourg the 
Jesuit, ii. p. 177.) 



upon it. He then began to work upon the 
young Emperor in their private conferences, 
and Charles promised at last to constrain the 
heretics by violence, while the Pope should 
summon all other princes to his aid. 1 " To 
overcome Germany by force, and then erase 
it from the surface of the earth, is the sole 
object of the Italians," they wrote from Venice 
to the Elector. 2 

Such was the sinister news which, by spread- 
ing alarm among the Protestants, should also 
have united them. Unfortunately a contrary 
movement was then taking place. Luther 
and some of his friends had revised the Mar- 
burg articles in a sense exclusively Lutheran, 
and the ministers of the Elector of Saxony had 
presented them to the conference at Schwa- 
bach. The Reformed deputies from Ulm and 
Strasburg had immediately withdrawn, and 
the conference was broken up. 

But new conferences had ere long become 
necessary. The express that Caden had for- 
warded from Piacenza had reached Nurem- 
berg. Every one in Germany understood that 
the arrest of the princes' deputies was a de- 
claration of war. The Elector was staggered, 
and ordered his chancellor to consult the theo- 
logians of Wittemberg. 

" We cannot on our conscience," replied 
Luther, on the 18th November, '* approve of 
the proposed alliance. We would rather die 
ten times than see our Gospel cause one drop 
of blood to be shed. 3 Our part is to be like 
lambs of the slaughter. The cross of Christ 
must be borne. Let your highness be with- 
out fear. We shall do more by our prayers 
than all our enemies by their boastings. Only 
let not your hands be stained with the blood 
of your brethren ! If the Emperor requires 
us to be given up to his tribunals, we are 
ready to appear. You cannot defend our 
faith : each one should believe at his own 
risk and peril. 4 

On the 29th November an evangelical con- 
gress was opened at Smalkald, and an un- 
expected event rendered this meeting still 
more important. Ehinger, Caden, and Frau- 
entraut, who had escaped from the grasp of 
Charles V., appeared before them. 5 The 
Landgrave had no further doubts of the suc- 
cess of his plan. 

He v/as deceived. No agreement between 
contrary doctrines, no alliance between poli- 
tics and religion — were Luther's two princi- 
ples, and they still prevailed. It was agreed 
that those who felt disposed to sign the ar- 
ticles of Schwabach, and those only, should 
meet at Nuremberg on the 6th of Januar) 7 . 

The horizon became hourly more threaten- 
ing. The Papists of Germany wrote one to 
another these few but significant words : 



1 Pontifex. ut caateri Christian! principes, ipsos 
pro viribus juvent. (Guicciardini, xix. p. 908.) 

2 U* Germania vi et armis opprimatur, funditus 
deleatur et eradicetur. (Cselestin. i. p. 42.) 

3 Liebcr zehn mal todt seyn. (Epp. iii. p. 526. 

4 Auf sein eigen Fahr glauben. (Ibid. p. 527.) 

5 Advenerant et gesta referebant. (Seckend ii 
p. 140 ; Sleidan. i. p. 235.) 



entitry. 
Possession*? of the 
HOUSE OF HABSBUKG 

(AUSTRIA.) 
.Haskfrt/xji anxl engraved to Mu strate. 



GERMANY #^ OF *Kp f^MU^ R ^ 

ITS POLITICAL DIVISIONS i l^^^^^r^SfP i 

la theWI^Cmtmy. \ %Xw/S'~ i M U O^l a-KgeSS^ I 



D'AUBlGNE'S HISTORY? 7T o0 B . T»i 

OFTHE REFORMATION! AfrF> , Hl V St 

O 1- \?C\) 



Hoi! 




HISTORY OF THE REF RM ATIO N. 



469 



'The Saviour is coming." 1 "Alas!" ex- 
claimed Luther, " what a pitiless saviour ! 
He will devour them all, as well as us." In 
effect, two Italian bishops, authorized by 
Charles V., demanded in the Pope's name 
ail the gold and silver from the churches, and 
a third part of the ecclesiastical revenues : a 
proceeding which caused an immense sensa- 
tion. " Let the Pope go to the devil," re- 
plied a canon of Paderborn, a little too freely. 2 
" Yes, yes !" archly replied Luther, " this is 
your saviour that is coming !" The people 
already began to talk of frightful omens. It 
was not only the living who were agitated : a 
child still in its mother's womb had uttered 
horrible shrieks. 3 " All is accomplished," 
said Luther ; " the Turk has reached the 
highest degree of his power, the glory of the 
Papacy is declining, and the world is splitting 
on every side." 4 The Reformer, dreading 
lest the end of the world should arrive before 
he had translated all the Bible, published the 
prophecies of Daniel separately, — " a work," 
said^he, " for these latter times." " Histori- 
ans relate," added he, " that Alexander the 
Great always placed Homer under his pillow : 
the prophet Daniel is worthy not only that 
kings and princes should wear him under 
their heads, but in their hearts ; for he will 
teach them that the government of nations 
proceeds from the power of God. We are 
balanced in the hand of the Lord, as a ship 
upon the sea, or a cloud in the sky. 5 

Yet the frightful phantom that Philip of 
Hesse had not ceased to point out to his 
allies, and whose threatening jaws seemed 
already opening, suddenly vanished, and they 
discovered in its place the graceful image of 
the most amiable of princes. 

On the 21st January, Charles had sum- 
moned all the states of the empire to Augs- 
burg, and had endeavoured to employ the 
most conciliatory language. " Let us put an 
end to all discord," he said ; " let us renounce 
our antipathies, let us offer to our Saviour the 
sacrifice of all our errors, let us make it our 
business to comprehend and weigh with 
meekness the opinions of others. Let us an- 
nihilate all that has been said or done on both 
sides contrary to right, and let us seek after 
Christian truth. Let us all fight under one 
and the same leader, Jesus Christ, and let us 
strive thus to meet in one communion, one 
church, and one unity." 6 

What language ! How was it that this 
prince, who had hitherto spoken only of the 
sword, should now speak only of peace ? It 

! Tnvicem scriptillant, dicentes : Salvator venit. 
(L. Epp. iii. p. 540) . 

2 Daf de Duwel dem Bawst int Liefffare. (Id.) 

3 Infans in utero, audiente tota familia, bis vo- 
ciferates est. (Ibid.) 

4 Dedication of Daniel to John Frederick. (L. 
Epp. iii. p. 555 ) 

5 Schwebt in seiner Macht, wie ein Schiff auf 
dem Meer. ja wie eine Wolke unter dem Him- 
mel. (Ibid.) 

6 Wie wir alle unter einem Christo seyn und 
6treiten. (Fnrsienmanns, Urkundenbuch, i. p. 1.) 



will be said that the wise Gattinara had had 
a share in it ; that the act of convocation was 
drawn up under the impression of the terror 
caused by the Turkish invasion ; that the 
Emperor already saw with how little eager- 
ness the Roman Catholics of Germany sec- 
onded his views ; that he wished to intimi- 
date the Pope ; that this language, so full of 
graciousness, was but a mask which Charles 
employed to deceive his enemies; that he 
wished to manage religion in true imperial 
fashion, like Theodosius and Constantine, and 
seek first to unite both parties by the influ- 
ence of his wisdom and of his favours, re- 
serving to himself, if kindness should fail, to 
employ force afterwards. It is possible that 
each of these motives may have exercised a 
certain influence on Charles, but the latter 
appears to us nearer the truth, and more con- 
formable to the character of this prince. 

If Charles, however, gave way to inclina- 
tions of mildness, the fanatical Ferdinand 
was at hand to bring him back. " I will con- 
tinue negotiating without coming to any con- 
clusion," wrote he to his brother; "and 
should I even be reduced to that, do not fear ; 
pretexts will not be wanting to chastise these 
rebels, and you will find men enough, who 
will be happy to aid you in your revenge." 1 

II. Charles, like Charlemagne in former 
times and Napoleon in latter days, desired to 
be crowned by the Pope, and had at first 
thought of visiting Rome for that purpose ; 
but Ferdinand's pressing letters compelled 
him to choose Bologna. 2 He appointed the 
22d February for receiving the iron crown as 
King of Lombardy, and resolved to assume 
the golden crown as Emperor of the Romans 
on the 24th of the same month — his birthday 
and the anniversary of the battle of Pavia, 
and which he thought was always fortunate 
to him. 5 

The offices of honour that belonged to the 
Electors of the Empire were given to stran- 
gers : in the coronation of the Emperor of 
Germany all was Spanish or Italian. The 
sceptre was carried by the Marquis of Mont- 
ferrat, the sword by the Duke of Urbino, and 
the golden crown by the Duke of Savoy. 
One single German prince, of little import- 
ance, the Count-palatine Philip, was present : 
he carried the orb. After these lords came 
the Emperor himself between two cardinals ; 
then the members of his council. All this 
proeession defiled across a magnificent tem- 
porary bridge erected between the palace and 
the chureh. At the very moment the Em- 
peror drew near the church of San Petronio, 
where the coronation was to take place, the 
scaffolding cracked behind him and gave 
way, so that many of his train were wounded, 



1 Bucholz Geschichte Ferdinands, iii. p. 432. 

2 Sopravennero lettere di Germania che lo sol* 
licittavano a transferirsi in quella provincia. (Guic- 
ciardini, L. xx.) 

3 Natali suo quern semper felicem habuit.— 
(Seckend. ii. p. 150.1 



470 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and the multitude fled in alarm. Charles 
calmly turned back and smiled, not doubting 
that his lucky star had saved him. 

At length Charles V. arrived in front of 
the throne on which Clement VII. was seated. 
Bui before being made Emperor, it was ne- 
cessary that he should be promoted to the 
sacred orders. The Pope presented to him 
the surplice and the amice to make him a 
canon of St. Peter's and of St. John Latera- 
nus, and immediately the canons of these two 
churches stripped him of his royal ornaments, 
and robed him with these sacred garments. 
The Pope went to the altar and began Mass ; 
and the new canon drew near to wait upon 
him. After the offertory, the imperial deacon 
presented the water to the pontiff. He then 
knelt down between two cardinals, and com- 
municated from the Pope's hand. The Em- 
peror now returned near his throne, where 
the princes robed him with the imperial man- 
tle brought from Constantinople, all spark- 
ling with diamonds, and Charles humbly 
bent the knee before Clement VII. 

The Pontiff, having anointed him with oil 
and given him the sceptre, presented him with 
a naked sword, saying : " Make use of it in 
defence of the Church against the enemies of 
the faith !" Next taking the golden orb, 
studded with jewels, which the Count-pala- 
tine held, he said : " Govern the world with 
piety and firmness !" Last came the Duke 
of Savoy, who carried the golden crown en- 
riched with diamonds. The Prince bent down, 
and Clement put the diadem on his head, 
saying: "Charles, Emperor invincible, re- 
ceive this crown which we place on your 
head, as a sign to all the earth of the autho- 
rity that is conferred upon you." 

The Emperor then kissed the white cross 
embroidered on the Pope's red slipper and 
exclaimed : "I swear ever to employ all my 
strength to defend the Pontifical dignity, and 
the Church of Rome." 1 

The two princes now took their seats under 
the same canopy, but on thrones of unequal 
height, the Emperor's being half a foot lower 
than the Pontiff's, and the cardinal deacon 
proclaimed to the people " The invincible 
Emperor, Defender of the Faith." For the 
next half-hour nothing was heard but the j 
noise of musketry, trumpets, drums, and i 
fifes, all the bells of the city, and the shouts ! 
of the multitude. Thus was proclaimed 
anew the close union of politics with reli- 
gion. The mighty Emperor, transformed to | 
a Roman deacon, and humbly serving Mass, 
like, a canon of St. Peter's, had typified and 
declared the indissoluble union of the Romish 
Church with the State. This is one of the 
essential doctrines of Popery, and one of the 
most striking characteristics that distinguish 



it from the Evangelical and Christian Church. 



1 Omnibus viribus, ineenio. et facultatibus suis 
Pontificiae dignitatis et Romans Ecclesiae perpe- 
tuum fore defensorem. (Ccelestin. Hist Comit. 
Aug. 16.) 



Nevertheless, during all this ceremony, the 
Pope seemed ill at ease, and sighed as soon 
as men's eyes ceased to be turned on him. 
Accordingly, the French ambassador wrote 
to his court, that these four months which the 
Emperor and Pope had spent together at Bo- 
logna, would bear fruit, of which the King of 
France would assuredly have no cause to 
complain. 1 

Scarcely had Charles V. risen from before 
the altar of San Petronio, than he turned his 
face towards Germany, and appeared on the 
Alps as the anointed of the Papacy. The 
letter of convocation, so indulgent and be- 
nign, seemed forgotten : all things were made 
new since the Pope's blessings : there was 
but one thought in the imperial caravan, the 
necessity of rigorous measures ; and the le- 
gate Campeggio ceased not to insinuate irri- 
tating words into Charles' ear. " At the first 
rumour of the storm that threatens them," 
said Granvelle, " we shall see the Protestants 
flying on every side, like timid doves upon 
which the Alpine eagle pounces." 2 

Great, indeed, was the alarm throughout 
the Empire ; already, even the affrighted peo- 
ple, apprehensive of the greatest disasters, 
repeated everywhere that Luther and Melanc- 
tho-n were dead. "Alas," said Melancthon, 
consumed by sorrow, when he heard these re- 
ports, " the rumour is but too true, for I die 
daily," 3 But Luther, on Ihe contrary, boldly 
raising the eye of faith towards heaven, ex- 
claimed : " Our enemies triumph, but ere 
long to perish." In truth, the councils of the 
Elector displayed an unheard-of boldness. 
" Let us coJect our troops," said they ; " let 
us march on the Tyrol, and close the passage 
of the Alps against the Emperor." 4 Philip 
of Hesse uttered a cry of joy when he heard 
of this. The sword of Charles has aroused 
his indolent allies at last. Immediately fresh 
courtiers from Ferdinand were sent to hasten 
the arrival of Charles, and all Germany was 
in expectation. 

Before carrying out this gigantic design, 
the Elector desired to consult Luther once 
more. The Emperor in the midst of the 
Electors was only the first among his equals ; 
and independent princes were allowed to re- 
sist another prince, even if he were of higher 
rank than themselves. But Luther, dreading 
above all things the intervention of the secu- 
lar arm in church affairs, was led to reply on 
the 6th March, in this extraordinary manner: 
" Our princes' subjects are also the Emperor's 
subjects, and even more so than princes are. 
To protect by arms the Emperor's subjects 



1 Letter to M. L'Admiral, 25th February. (Le- 
grand, Histoire du Divorce, iii. p. 386.) 

2 Tanquam columbae, adveniente aquila, dis- 
persrentur. (Rommel Anmerkungen, p. 236.) 

3 Egn famam de qua scribis intelligo nimis ve- 
ram esse, morior enim quotidie. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 122.) 

4 Cum copiis quas habitant per Tyrolensem di- 
tionem incedenti occurrere et Alpium transitum 
impedire. (Seckend. ii. p. 150.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



471' 



against the Emperor, would be as if the Bur- 
gomaster of Torgau wished to protect by force 
his citizens against the Elector." 

" What must be done then ] — Attend," re- 
plied Luther. " If the Emperor desires to 
march against us, let no prince undertake our 
defence. God is faithful : he will not aban- 
don us." All preparations for war were im- 
mediately suspended, the Landgrave received 
a polite refusal, and the confederation was 
dissolved. It was the will of God, that his 
cause should appear before the Emperor with- 
out league and without soldiers, having faith 
alone for its shield. 

Never, perhaps, has such boldness been 
witnessed in feeble and unarmed men; but 
never, although under an appearance of blind- 
ness, was there so much wisdom and under- 
standing. 

The question next discussed in the Elector's 
council was, whether he should go to the 
Diet. The majority of the councillors oppos- 
ed it. " Is it not risking everything," said 
they, " to go and shut oneself up within the 
walls of a city with a powerful enemy ?" 
Bruck and the Prince-electoral were of a dif- 
ferent opinion. Duty, in their eyes, was a 
better councillor than fear. "What!" said 
they, " would the Emperor insist so much on 
the presence of the princes at Augsburg, only 
to draw them into a snare] We cannot im- 
pute such perfidy to him." The Landgrave, 
on the contrary, seconded the opinion of the 
majority. " Remember Piacenza," said he. 
" Some unforeseen circumstance may lead the 
Emperor to take all his enemies in one cast 
of the net." 

The Chancellor stood firm. "Let the 
princes only comport themselves with cour- 
age," said he, "and God's cause is saved." 
The decision was in favour of the nobler 
plan. 

This Diet was to be a lay council, or at the 
very least a national convention. 1 The Pro- 
testants foresaw that a few unimportant con- 
cessions would be made to them at first, and 
then that they would be required to sacrifice 
their faith. It was, therefore, necessary to 
settle what were the essential articles of 
Christian truth, in order to know whether, by 
what means, and how far, they might come 
to an understanding with their adversaries. 
The Elector accordingly had letters sent, on 
the 14th March, to the four principal theolo- 
gians of Wittemberg, setting them this task, 
all other business being laid aside. 2 Thus, 
instead of collecting soldiers, this prince drew 
up articles : they were the best armament. 

Luther, Jonas, and Melancthon (Pomeranus 
remaining at Wittemberg), arrived at Torgau 
in Easter week, asking leave to deliver their 
articles in person to Charles the Fifth. 3 " God 



1 Cum haec comitia pro concilio auf conventu 
nationnli haberi videantur. (Seckend. ii. p. 17. — 
Letter to the Elector, Corp. Ref. ii. p. 26.) 

2 Omnibus sepositis aliis rebus. (L. Epp. iii. p. 
564.) 

3 Different projects will be found in Forsten- 



forbid !" replied the Elector, " I also desire tc 
confess my Lord." 

John, having then confided to Melancthon 
the definitive drawing up of the confession, 
and ordered general prayers to be offered up, 
| began his journey on the 3d April, with one 
| hundred and sixty horsemen, clad in rich 
i scarlet cloaks, embroidered with gold. 
I Every man was aware of the dangers that 
j threatened the Elector, and hence many in 
his escort marched with downcast eyes and 
; sinking hearts. But Luther, full of faith, re- 
vived the courage of his friends, by compos- 
ing and singing with his fine voice that beau- 
tiful hymn, since become so famous : "Bine 
vaste Burg ist unser Gott. Our God is a 
strong tower. 1 Never did soul that knew its 
own weakness, but which, looking to God, 
despises every fear, find such noble accents. 

With our own strength we nought can do, 

Destruction yawns on every side : 
He fights for us, our champion true, 

Elect of God to be our guide. 
What is his name ? The Anointed One, 

The God of armies he ; 
Of earth and heaven the Lord alone — 
With him, on field of battle won, 
Abideth victory. 

This hymn was sung during the Diet, not 
only at Augsburg, but in all the churches of 
Saxony, and its energetic strains w r ere often 
seen to revive and inspirit the most dejected 
minds. 2 

On Easter-eve the troop reached Cobu^g, 
and on the 23d April the Elector resumed his 
journey; but, at the very moment of depart- 
ure, Luther received an order to remain, 
" Some one has said, Hold your tongue, you 
have a harsh voice," wrote he to one of his 
friends. 3 He submitted, however, without 
hesitation, setting an example of that passive 
obedience which he advocated so boldly. The 
Elector feared that Luther's presence would 
still further exasperate his adversaries, and 
drive Charles to extreme measures : the city 
of Augsburg had also written to him to that 
effect. But, at the same time, John was 
anxious to keep the Reformer within reach, 
that he might be able to consult him. He 
was, therefore, left at Coburg, in the castle 
overlooking the town and the river Itz, in the 
upper story, on the south side. It was from 
this place he wrote those numerous let- 
ters, dated from the region of birds ,• and it 
was there that, for many months, he had to 

manns Urkundenbuch, i. p. 63 — 108, and in the 
Corp. Ref. iv. p. 973, sqq. Those that were pre- 
sented were doubtless the Articulinon coneedendi, 
Articles not to be conceded. They treat of the 
communion in both kinds, of celibacy, the mass, 
orders, the pope, convents, confession, distinction 
of meats, and of the sacraments. (Corp. Ref. iv. 
p. 981.) 

1 We have attempted a very feeble translation 
of the second stanza. 

2 Qui tristem etiam et abjectum animum eri- 
gere et e,xhilarare, et velut tvBci/iri^tiv possent. — 
vScult. p. 270.) 

3 Sed erat qui diceret : Tace tu, habes malam 
vocem. (L. Epp. iv. p. 2.) 



473 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



maintain with his old enemy of the Wartburg, 
Satan, a struggle full of darkness and of an- 
guish. 

On the 2d May the Elector reached Augs- 
burg; it had been expected that he would 
stay away, and to the great astonishment of. 
all, he was the first at the rendezvous. 1 He 
immediately sent Dolzig, marshal of the 
court, to meet the Emperor and to compliment 
him. On the 12th May, Philip of Hesse, 
who had at last resolved on not separating 
himself from his ally, arrived with an escort 
of one hundred and ninety horsemen ; and 
•almost at the same time the Emperor entered 
Innspruck, in the Tyrol, accompanied by his 
brother, th- queens of Hungary and Bohemia, 
the ambassadors of France, England, and 
Portugal, Campeggio the Papal legate, and 
other cardinals, with many princes and no- 
bles of Germany, Spain, and Italy. 

How bring back the heretics to obedience 
to the Church 1 Such was the great topic of 
conversation in this brilliant court among 
nobles and priests, ladies and soldiers, coun- 
cillors and ambassadors. They, or Charles 
at least, were not for making them ascend the 
scaffold, but they wished to act in such a 
manner that, untrue to their faith, they should 
bend the knee to the Pope. Charles stopped 
at Innspruck to study the situation of Ger- 
many, and insure the success of his schemes. 

Scarcely was his arrival known when a 
crowd of people, high and low, flocked round 
him on every side, and more than 270,000 
crowns, previously raised in Italy, served to 
make the Germans understand the justice of 
Rome's cause. " All these heretics," was 
the cry, " will fall to the ground and crawl 
to the feet, of the Pope." 2 

Charles did not think so. He was, on the 
contrary, astonished to see what power the 
Reformation had gained. He momentarily 
even entertained the idea of leaving Augs- 
burg alone, and of going straight to Cologne, 
and there proclaiming his brother King of the 
Romans. 3 Thus, religions interests would 
have given way to dynastic interests, at least 
so ran the report. But Charles the Fifth did 
not stop at this idea. The question of the 
Reformation was there before him, increas- 
ing hourly in strength, and it could not be 
eluded. 

Two parties divided the imperial court. 
The one, numerous and active, called upon 
the Emperor to revive simply the edict of 
Worms, and, without hearing the Protestants, 
condemn their cause. 4 The legate was at the 
bead of this party. " Do not hesitate," said 
he to Charles; "confiscate their property, 
establish the inquisition, and punish these 

1 Mirantibus hominibus. (Seek. ii. p. 153.) 

2 Zum kreutz kriechen werden. (Mathesius 
Pred. p. 91.) The allusion is to the cross em- 
broidered on the Pope's slipper. 

3 Iter Coloniam versus decrevisse. (Epp. Zw. 
May 13.) 

4 Alii censent Caesarem debere, edicto proposito, 
sine ulla cogitatione damnare causam nostram. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 57.) 



obstinate heretics with fire and sword." 1 The 
Spaniards, who strongly seconded these ex- 
hortations, gave way to their accustomed de- 
bauchery, so that many of them were arrested 
for seduction. 2 This was a sad specimen of 
the faith that they wished to impose on Ger- 
many. Rome has always thought lightly 
of morality. 

Gattinara, although sick, had painfully fol- 
lowed in Charles' train to neutralize the in- 
fluence of the legate. A determined adver- 
sary of the Roman policy, he thought that 
the Protestants might render important ser- 
vices to Christendom. " There is nothing I 
desire so much," said he, " as to see the 
I Elector of Saxony an*d his allies persevere 
courageously in the profession of the Gospel 
and call for a free religious council. If they 
allow themselves to be checked by promises 
; or threats, I hesitate myself, I stagger, and 1 
| doubt of the means of salvation." 3 The en- 
lightened and honest members of the Papal 
I Church (and of whom there is always a small 
1 number) necessarily sympathize with the 
Reformation. 

Charles V., exposed to these contrary in- 
fluenceSj desired to restore Germany to reli- 
gious unity by his personal intervention : for 
a moment he thought himself on the eve of 
success. 

Among the persons who crowded to Inn- 
l spruck was the unfortunate Christian, king 
| of Denmark, Charles' brother-in-law. In 
vain had he proposed to his subjects under- 
I taking a pilgrimage to Rome in expiation of 
! the cruelties of which he was accused : his 
! people had expelled him. Having repaired 
j to Saxony, to his uncle the Elector, he had 
| there heard Luther, and had embraced the 
j evangelical doctrines, as far at least as exter- 
' rml profession goes. This poor dethroned 
I king could not resist the eloquence of the 
j powerful ruler of two worlds, and Christian, 
won over by Charles the Fifth, publicly 
placed himself again under the sceptre of the 
S Roman hierarchy. All the Papal party utter- 
I ed a shout of triumph. Nothing equals their 
; credulity, and the importance they attach to 
I such valueless accessions. " I cannot de- 
! scribe the emotion with which this news has 
j filled me," wrote Clement VII. to Charles, 
j his hand trembling with joy; "the bright- 
ness of your Majesty's virtues begins at last 
to scatter the darkness ; this example will 
j lead to numberless conversions" 
I Tilings were in this state, when Duke 
George of Saxony, Duke William of Bava- 
ria, and the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg, 
| the three German princes who were the great- 
1 est enemies of the Reformation, hastily ar- 
rived at Innspruck. 

The tranquillity of the Elector, whom tney 

1 Instruct™ data Casari dal Reverendissimo 
Campeggio. (Ranke, iii. p. 288.) 

2 Sich die Spanier zu Tnspruek unflathig ge- 
halten. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 56.) 

3 Semper vacillaturum de vera et certa salutia 
adipiscendae ratione. (Seek. ii. p. 57.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



473 



had seen at Augsburg, had alarmed them, for ! 
they knew not the source whence John de- 
rived his courage ; they imagined that he was i 
revolving in his mind some perfidious design. I 
" It is not without reason," said they to > 
Charles, " that the Elector John has repaired | 
the first to Augsburg, and that he appeared j 
there with a considerable train : he wishes to j 
seize your person. Act then with energy, j 
and allow us to offer your Majesty a guard j 
oi' six thousand horse." 1 Conference upon j 
conference immediately took place. The 
Protestants were affrighted. " They are hold- 
ing a diet at Innspruck," said Melancthon, 
" on the best means of having our heads." 2 
But Gattinara prevailed on Charles to pre- 
serve his neutrality. 

While all was thus agitated in the Tyrol, 
the Evangelical Christians, instead of mus- 
tering in arms, as they were accused, sent up 
their prayers to Heaven, and the Protestant 
princes were preparing to render an account 
of their faith. 

The Elector of Saxony held the first rank 
among them. Sincere, upright, and pure from 
his youth, early disgusted with the brilliant 
tourneys in which he had at first taken part, 
John of Saxony had joyfully hailed the day 
of the Reformation, and the Gospel light had 
gradually penetrated his serious and reflec- 
tive mind. His great pleasure was to have 
the Holy Scriptures read to him during the 
latter hours of the day. It is true that, having 
arrived at an advanced age, the pious Elector 
sometimes fell asleep, but he soon awoke 
with a start, and repeated the last passage 
aloud. Although moderate and a friend of 
peace, he yet possessed an energy that was 
powerfully aroused by the great interests of 
the faith. There is no prince in the sixteenth 
century, and none perhaps since the primi- 
tive times of the Church, who has done so 
much as John of Saxony for the cause of the 
Gospel. Accordingly it was against him that 
the first efforts of the Papists were directed'. 

In order to gain him over, they wished to 
put in operation very different tactics from 
those which had been previously employed. 
At Spire the Evangelicals had met with 
angry looks in every quarter; at Augsburg, 
on the contrary, the Papists gave them a 
hearty welcome ; they represented as very 
trifling the distance that separated the two 
parties, and in their private conversations 
uttered the mildest language, " seeking thus 
to make the credulous Protestants take the 
bait," says an historian. 3 The latter yielded 
with simplicity to these skilful manoeuvres. 

Charles the Fifth was convinced that the 
simple Germans would not be able to resist 
his star. " The King of Denmark has been 
converted," said his courtiers to him, " why 
should not the Elector follow his example 1 

1 Ut macule ageret, sex mille equitum, prae- 
iidium ei ofFerentes. (Seek. ii. p. 156.) 

2 Ibi hahentur de nostris cervicibus comitia. 
Corp. Ref. ii. p. 45.) 

■ .Seckendorf. 



Let us draw him into the imperial atmos- 
phere." John was immediately invited to 
come and converse familiarly with the Em- 
peror at Innspruck, with an assurance that he 
might reckon on Charles' particular favour. 

The Prince-electoral, John Frederick, who 
on seeing the advances of the Papists had at 
first exclaimed: "We conduct our affairs 
with such awkwardness, that it is quite pitia- 
ble !" allowed himself to be caught by this 
stratagem. "The Papist princes," said he 
to his father, " exert every means of blacken- 
ing our characters. Go to Innspruck in order 
to put a stop to these underhand practices ; or 
if you are unwilling, send me in your place." 

This time the prudent Elector moderated 
his son's precipitancy, and replied to Charles' 
ministers, that it was not proper to treat of 
the affairs of the diet in any other place than 
that which the Emperor had himself appoint- 
ed, and he begged, in consequence, that his 
majesty would hasten his arrival. This was 
the first check that Charles met with. 

III. Meantime Augsburg was filling more 
and more every day. Princes, bishops, depu- 
ties, gentlemen, cavaliers, soldiers in rich 
uniforms, entered by every gate, and thronged 
the streets, the public places, inns, churches, 
and palaces. All that was most magnificent 
in Germany was there about to be collected. 
The critical circumstances in which the em- 
pire and Christendom were placed, the pre- 
sence of Charles V. and his kindly manners, 
the love of novelty, of grand shows, and of 
lively emotions, tore the Germans from theij* 
homes. All those who had great interests to 
discuss, without reckoning a crowd of idlers, 
flocked from the various provinces of the em- 
pire, and hastily made their way towards this 
illustrious city. 1 

In the midst of this crowd the Elector and 
the Landgrave were resolved to confess Jesus 
Christ, and to take advantage of this convo- 
cation in order to convert the empire. Scarcely 
had John arrived, when h'e ordered one of his 
theologians- to preach daily with open doors in 
the church of the Dominicans. 2 On Sunday, the 
8th May, the same was done in the church 
of St. Catherine ; on the 13th, Philip of Hesse 
opened the gates of the cathedral, and his 
chaplain Snepff there preached the Word of 
Salvation; and, on the following Sunday, 
(May 15,) this prince ordered Cellarius, min- 
ister of Augsburg, and a follower of Zwingle, 
to preach in the same temple. Somewhat 
later the Landgrave firmly settled himself in 
the church of St. Ulric, and the Elector in 
that of St. Catherine. These were the two 
j positions taken up by these illustrious princes. 
Every day the Gospel was preached in these 
places before an immense and attentive crowd.' 

The partisans of Rome were amazed. They 

1 Omnes alliciebat. (Cochloeus, p. 191.) 

2 Roganfibus Augustanis publice in templum 
Dominicorum. (Seek. Lat. p. 193.) 

3 Taglisrin den kitchen, unversrort : dazu komml 
sehr viel Volks. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 53.) 



474 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



expected to see criminals endeavouring- to 
dissemble their faults, and they met with con- 
fessors of Christ with uplifted heads and 
words of power. Desirous of counterbalanc- 
ing these preachings, the bishop of Augsburg 
ordered his suffragan and his chaplain to as- 
cend the pulpit. JBut the Romish priests un- 
derstood better how to say Mass than to 
preach the Gospel. " They shout, they bawl," 
said some. " They are stupid fellows," ad- 
ded all their hearers, shrugging their shoul- I 
ders. 1 

The Romanists, ashamed of their own ! 
priests, began to grow angry ; 2 and, unable to 
hold their ground by preaching, they had re- 
course to the secular arm. " The priests are 
setting wondrous machines at work to gain 
Caesar's mind," said Melancthon. 3 They 
succeeded, and Charles made known his dis- 
pleasure at the hardihood of the princes. The 
friends of the Pope then drew near the Pro- 
testants, and whispered into their ears, " that 
the Emperor, victor over the King of France 
and the Roman Pontiff, w T ould appear in Ger- 
many to crush all the Gospellers."* The 
anxious Elector demanded the advice of his 
theologians. 

Before the answer was ready, Charles' 
orders arrived, carried by two of his most in- 
fluential ministers, the Counts of Nassau and 
Nuenar. A more skilful choice could not 
have been made. These two nobles, although 
devoted to Charles, were favourable to the 
Gospel, which they professed not long after. 
The Elector was, therefore, fully disposed to 
listen to their counsel. 

On the 24th May, the two Counts delivered 
their letters to John of Saxony, and declared 
to him that the Emperor was exceedingly 
grieved that religious controversies should 
disturb the good understanding that had for 
so many years united the houses of Saxony 
and Austria ; 5 that he was astonished at see- 
ing the Elector oppose an edict, (that of 
Worms,) which had been unanimously passed 
by all the states of the empire ; that the 
alliances he had made tended to tear asunder 
the unity of Germany, and might inundate it 
w r ith blood. They required at last that the 
Elector w T ould immediately put a stop to the 
evangelical preachings, and added, in a con- 
fidential tone, that they trembled at the 
thought of the immediate and deplorable con- 
sequences that would certainly follow the i 
Elector's refusal. "This," said they, " is 
only the expression of our own personal sen- 
timents." It was a diplomatic manoeuvre, 
the Emperor having enjoined them to give 



1 Clamant et vociferantur. Audires homines 
stupidissimos atqne etiam sensu communi caren- 
tes. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 86.) 

2 Urebat hoc pontifices. (Scultet. p. 271.) 

3 'Oi aoyiifik, miris machinis oppugnant. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 70.) 

4 Evangelicos omnes obtriturum. (Scultet. p. 
269.) 

5 These instructions may be found in Ccelestin, 
•• p 50, and Forstemann Urk, i. p. 220 



utterance to a few threats, but that solely on 
their own account. 1 

The Elector was greatly agitated. " If 
his majesty forbids the preaching of the Gos- 
pel," exclaimed he, " I shall immediately re- 
turn home." 2 He waited, however, for the 
advice of his theologians. 

Luther's answer was ready lirst. "The 
Emperor is our master," said he ; " the town 
and all that is in it belong to him. If your 
Highness should give orders at Torgau for 
this to be done, and for that to be left undone, 
the people ought not to resist. I should pre- 
fer endeavouring to change his majesty's de- 
cision by humble and respectful solicitations ; 
but, if he persists, might makes right; we 
have but done our duty." 3 Thus spoke the 
man who has so often been represented as a 
rebel. 

Melancthon and the others were nearly of 
the same opinion ; only they insisted more 
on the necessity of representing to the Empe- 
ror " That they did not speak of controversy 
in their sermons, but were content simply to 
teach the doctrine of Christ the Saviour. 4 
Let us beware, above all," continued they, 
" of abandoning the place. Let your High- 
ness with an intrepid heart confess in the 
presence of his majesty, by what wonderful 
ways you have attained to a right understand- 
ing of the truth, 5 and do not allow yourself to 
be alarmed at these thunder-claps that fall 
from the lips of our enemies." To confess 
the truth, such was the object to which, ac- 
cording to the Reformers, everything else 
should be subordinate. 

Will the Elector yield to this first demand 
of Charles, and thus begin, even before the 
Emperor's arrival, that list of sacrifices, the 
end of which cannot be foreseen 1 

No one in Augsburg was firmer than John. 
In vain did the Reformers represent that they 
were in the Emperor's city, and only stran- 
gers : 6 the Elector shook his head. Melanc- 
thon in despair wrote to Luther : " Alas ! 
how untractable is our old man !" 7 Never- 
theless he again returned to the charge. 
Fortunately there w T as an intrepid man at the 
Elector's right hand, the chancellor Bruck, 
who, feeling convinced that policy, honour, 
and, above all, duty, bound the friends of the 
Reformation to resist the menaces of Charles, 
said to the Elector : " The Emperor's demand 
is but a worthy beginning to bring about the 
definitive abolition of the Gospel. 8 If we 



1 Quidquid duri Electori denuntiabant suo velutt 
nomine et injussi dicebant. (Seek. ii. p. 156.) 

2 Den nachsten heim zu reiten. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 88.) 

3 L. Epp. iv. p. 18. 

4 Nullas materias disputabiles a nobis doceri. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 72.) 

5 Quo modo plane inenarrabili atque mirifico. 
(Ibid. p. 74.) 

6 In cujus urbe jam sumus hospites. (Ibid, 
p. 46.) 

7 Sed noster senex difficilis est. (Ibid.) 

8 Ein fiigsamer Anfang der Niderbrengung des 
Evangeiii. (Ibid. p. 163 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



475 



yield at present, they will crush us by and 
by. Let us, therefore, humbly beg- his ma- 
jesty to permit the continuance of the ser- 
mons." Thus, at that time, a statesman 
stood in the foremost rank of the confessors 
of Jesus Christ. This is one of the charac- 
teristic features of this great age, and it must 
not be forgotten, if we would understand its 
nistory anght. 

On the 31st May, the Elector sent his an- 
swer in writing to Charles' ministers. " It is 
not true," it bore, "that the Edict of Worms was 
approved of by the six Electors. How could 
the Elector, my brother, and myself, by approv- 
ing it, have opposed the everlasting Word of 
Almighty God 1 Accordingly, succeeding 
Diets have declared this edict impossible to 
be executed. As for the relations of friend- 
ship that I have formed, their only aim is to 
protect me against acts of violence. Let my 
accusers lay before the eyes of his majesty 
the alliances they have made ; I am ready to 
produce mine, and the Emperor shall decide 
between us. — Finally, As to the demand to 
suspend our preachings, nothing is proclaimed 
in them but the glorious truth of God, and 
never was it so necessary to us. We cannot, 
therefore, do without it!" 1 

This reply must necessarily hasten the ar- 
rival of Charles ; and it was urgent they 
should be prepared to receive him. To ex- 
plain what they believe, and then be silent, 
was the whole plan of the Protestant cam- 
paign. A confession was therefore necessary. 
One man, of small statute, frail, timid, and 
in great alarm, was commissioned to prepare 
this instrument of war. Philip Melancthon 
worked at it night and day : he weighed 
every expression, softened it down, changed 
it, and then frequently returned to his first 
idea. He was wasting away his strength ; 
his friends trembled lest he should die over 
his task; and Luther enjoined him, as early 
as the 12th of May, under pain of anathema, 
to take measures for the preservation of " his 
little body," and not " to commit suicide for 
the love of God." 2 " God is as usefully served 
by repose," added he; "and indeed man 
never serves him better than by keeping him- 
self tranquil. It is for this reason God willed 
that the Sabbath should be so strictly ob- 
served." 3 

Notwithstanding these solicitations, Me- 
lancthon's application augmented, and he set 
about an exposition of the Christian faith, at 
once mild, moderate, and as little removed 
as possible from the doctrine of the Latin 
Church. At Coburg he had already put his 
hand to the task, and traced out in the first 
part the doctrh es of the faith, according to 
the articles of Scnwaback ; and in the second, 
the abuses of the Church, according to the 



1 Quo carerenon possit. (Seek. p. 156; Muller, 
Hist. Prot. p. 506.) 

2 Ut snb anathemate cosram te in regula9 ser- 
vanda corpusculi tui. (L. Epp. iv. p. 16.) 

3 Ideo enim Sabbatum voluit tarn rigide prae 
cseteris servari. (Ibid.) 



articles of Torgau, making altogether quite a 
new work. At Augsburg he gave a, more 
correct and elegant form to this confession. 1 

The Apology, as it was then called, was 
completed on the 11th May ; and the Elector 
sent it to Luther, begging him to mark what 
ought to be changed. "I have said what I 
thought most useful," added Melancthon, 
who feared that his friend would find the 
confession too weak ; "for Eck ceases not to 
circulate against us the most diabolical ca- 
lumnies, and I have endeavoured to oppose 
an antidote to his poisons." 2 

Luther replied to the Elector on the 15th 
May: "I have read Magister Philip's Apo- 
logy ; I like it well enough, I have no cor- 
rections to make. Besides, that would hardly 
suit me, for I cannot walk so meekly and so 
silently. May Christ our Lord grant that this 
work may produce much and great fruit." 

Each day, however, the Elector's council- 
lors and theologians, in concert with Melanc- 
thon, improved the confession, and endea- 
voured to render it such that the charmed diet 
should, in its own despite, hear it to the very 
end. 3 

W^hile the struggle was thus preparing at 
Augsburg, Luther at Coburj, on the summit 
of the hill, " on his Sinai," as he called it, 
Taised his hands like Moses towards heaven. 4 
He was the real general of the spiritual war 
that w r as then waging ; his letters ceased not 
to bear to the combatants the directions 
which they needed, and numerous pamphlets 
issuing from his stronghold, like discharges 
of musketry spread confusion in the enemy's 
camp. 

The place where he had been left was, by 
its solitude, favourable to study and to medi 
tation. 5 "I shall make a Zion of this Sinai," 
said he on the 22d April, " and I shall build 
here three tabernacles ; one to the Psalms, 

one to the Prophets, and one to Esop !" 

This last word is a startling one. The asso- 
ciation belongs neither to the language noi 
the spirit of the apostles. It is true that Esop 
was not to be his principal study : the fables 
were soon laid aside, and truth alone engaged 
Luther. V I shall weep, I shall pray, 1 shall 
never be silent," wrote he, " until I know that 
my cry has been heard in heaven." 6 

Besides, by way of relaxation, he had 
something better than Esop; he had those 
domestic joys whose precious treasures the 
Reformation had opened to the ministers of 
the Word. It was at this time he wrote that 
charming letter to his infant son, in which he 

1 More rhetorically. Feci aliquando pxTcoutl- 
Tipov quam Coburgae scripseram. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 40.) 

2 Quia Eckius addidit 3i*.(&c\autrrci,'r!Ls efi*£:\as 
contra nos. (Ibid. p. 45.) 

3 In Apologia quotidie multa mutamus. Ibid, 
p. 60.) 

4 Mathesius Predigten, p. 92. 

5 Longe amaenissimus et studiis commodissi 
mus. (L. Epp. iv. p. 2.) 

6 Orabo igitur et plorabo, non quieturus donee 
&e. <L. Epp. iv. p. 2.) 



476 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



describes a delightful garden where children 
dressed in gold are sporting aboul, picking 
up apples, pears, cherries, and plums; they 
sing, dance, and enjoy themselves, and ride 
pretty littie horses, with golden bridles and 
silver saddles. 1 

But the Reformer was soon drawn away 
from these pleasing images. About this time 
he learnt that his father had gently fallen 
asleep in the faith which is in Jesus Christ. 
" Alas !" exclaimed he, shedding tears of 
filial love, " it it by the sweat of his brow 
that he made me what I am." 2 Other trials 
assailed him ; and to bodily pains were 
added the phantoms of his imagination. One 
night in particular, he saw three torches pass 
rapidly before his eyes, and at the same mo- 
ment he heard claps of thunder in his head, 
which he ascribed to the devil. His servant 
ran in at the moment he fainted, and after 
having restored him to animation, read to 
him the Epistle to the Galatians. Luther, 
who had fallen asleep, said as he awoke: 
" Come, and despite of the devil let us sing 
the Psalm, Out of the depths have I cried unto 
thee, Lord." They both sang the hymn. 
While Luther was thus tormented by these 
internal noises, he translated the prophet 
Jeremiah, and yet he often deplored his idle- 
ness. 

He soon devoted himself to other studies, 
and poured out the floods of his irony on the 
mundane practices of courts. He saw Venice, 
the Pope, and the King of France, giving 
their hands to Charles V. to crush the Gos- 
pel. Then, alone in his chamber in the old 
castle, he burst into irresistible laughter. 
" Mr. Par-ma-foy, (it was thus he designated 
Francis I.,) ln-nomine-Domini, (the Pope,) 
and the Republic of Venice, pledge their 

goods and their bodies to the Emperor 

Sanctissimum foedus. A most holy alliance 
truly ! This league between these four pow- 
ers belongs to the chapter Non-credimus. 
Venice, the Pope, and France become im- 
perialists! But these are three persons 

in one substance, filled with unspeakable 
hatred against the Emperor. Mr. Par-ma- 
foy cannot forget his defeat at Pavia ; Mr. 
In-nomine-Domini is, 1st, an Italian, which is 
already too much; 2d, a Florentine, which is 
worse; 3d, a bastard — that is to say, a child 
of the devil; 4th, he will never forget the 
disgrace of the sack of Rome. As for the 
Venetians, they are Venetians: that is quite 
enough ; and they have good reason to avenge 
themselves on the posterity of Maximilian. 
All this belongs to the chapter Firmiter-crc- 
dimus. But God will help the pious Charles, 
who is a sheep among wolves. Amen." 3 
The former monk of Erfurth had a surer 



1 This letter, which is a masterpiece of its kind, 
may be found in Luther's Epp. iv. p. 41, and also 
in Riddle's "Luther and his Times," p. 268. 

2 Per ejus sudores aluit et finxit qualis sum. 
(Epp. iv. p. 33.) 

3 To Gasp, of Teutleben, 19th June. (L. E> p. 
;> p. 37.) 



political foresight than many diplomatists of 
his age. 

Impatient at seeing the diet put off from 
day to day, Luther formed his resolution, and 
ended by convoking it even at Coburg. 
" We are already in full assembly," wrote 
he on the 28th April and the 9th May. " You 
might here see kings, dukes, and other gran- 
dees, deliberating on the affairs of their king- 
dom, and with indefatigable voice publishing 
their dogmas and decrees in the air. They 
dwell not in those caverns which you deco- 
rate with the name of palaces; the heavens 
are their canopy ; the leafy trees form a floor 
of a thousand colours, and their walls are the 
ends of the earth. They have a horror of all 
the unmeaning luxury of silk and gold ; they 
ask neither coursers nor armour, and have all 
the same clothing and the same colour. I 
have neither seen nor heard their emperor; 
but if I can understand them, they have de- 
termined this year to make a pitiless war 

upon the most excellent fruits of the 

earth. — Ah ! my dear friends," said he to his 
messmates, 1 to whom he was writing, "these 
are the sophists, the Papists, who are assem- 
bled before me in a heap, to make me hear their 
sermons and their cries." These two letters, 
dated from the " empire of ravens ana, crows" 
finish in the following mournful strain, which 
shows us the Reformer descending into 
himself after this play of his imagination : 
"Enough of jesting! — jesting which is, how- 
ever, sometimes necessary to dispel the gloomy 
thoughts that prey upon me." 2 

Luther soon returned to real life, and 
thrilled with joy at beholding the fruits that 
the Reformation was already bearing, and 
which were for him a more powerful " apo- 
logy" than even the confession of Melancthon. 
" Is there in the whole world a single country 
to be compared to your highness's states," 
wrote he to the Elector, " and which possesses 
preachers of so pure a doctrine, or pastors so 
fitted to bring about the reign of peace % 
Where do we see, as in Saxony, boys and 
girls well instructed in the Holy Scriptures 
and in the catechism, increasing in wisdom 
and in stature, praying, believing, talking of 
God and of Christ better than has been done 
hitherto by all the universities, convents, and 
chapters of Christendom V 3 " My dear Duke 
John, says the Lord to you, I commend this 
paradise to thee, the most beautiful that exists 
in the world, that thou mayst be its gardener." 
And then he addeed : " Alas ! the madness 
of the Papist princes changes this paradise 
of God into a dirty slough, and corrupting the 
youth, peoples every day with real devils 
their states, their tables, and their palaces." 

Luther, not content with encouraging his 
prince, desired also to frighten his adversaries. 
It was with this intent that he wrote at that 



1 An seine Tischgesellen. (L. Epp. iv. p. 7.) - 

2 Sed serio et necessario joco qui mihi irruentes 
cogitationes repelleret. (Ibid, p. 14.) 

3 Eswachst jetz daher die zart Jugend von 
Knablin un Maidlin. (Ibid. p. 21.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



477 



time an address to the members of the clergy 
assembled at Augsburg. A crowd of thoughts, 
like lansquenets armed cap-a-pie, " rushed in 
to fatigue and bewilder him ;" l and, in fact, 
there is no want of barbed words in the dis- 
course he addresses to the bishops. " In 
short," said he to them in conclusion, "we 
Know and you know, tnat we have the Word 
of God, and that you have it not. O Pope ! 
if I live, I shall be a pestilence to thee ; and 
if I die, I shall be thy death !" 2 

Thus was Luther present at Augsburg, al- 
though invisible ; and he effected, more by his 
words and by his prayers, than Agricola, 
Brenz, or Melancthon. These were the days 
of travail for the Gospel truth. It was about 
to appear in the world with a might that was 
destined to eclipse all that had been done 
since the time of St. Paul; but Luther only 
announced and manifested the things that God 
was effecting: he did not execute them him- 
self. He was, as regards the events of the 
Church, what Socrates was to philosophy : 
" I imitate my mother, (she was a midwife,)" 
this philosopher was in the habit of saying; 
44 she does not travail herself, but she aids 
others." Luther — and he never ceased re- 
peating it — has created nothing ; but he has : 
brought to light the precious seed, hidden for 
ages in the bosom of the Church. The man 
of God is not he who seeks to form his age 
according to his own peculiar ideas ; but he 
who, distinctly perceiving God's truth, such 
as it is found in his Word, and as it is hidden 
in his Church, brings it to his contemporaries 
with courage and decision. 

Never had these qualities been more neces- 
sary, for matters were taking an alarming- 
aspect. On the 4th June died Chancellor 
Gattinara, who was to Charles the Fifth 
" what Ulpian was to Alexander Severus," 
says Melancthon, and with him all the human 
hopes of the Protestants vanished. "It is 
God," Luther had said, " who has raised up 
for us a Naaman in the court of the King of 
Syria." In truth, Gattinara alone resisted the 
Pope. When Charles brought to him the 
objections of Rome : " Remember," said the 
Chancellor, " that you are master !" Hence- 
forward everything seemed to take a new di- 
rection. The Pope required that Charles 
should be satisfied with being his " lictor," 
as Luther says, to carry out his judgments 
against the heretics. 5 Eck, whose name, (ac- 
cording to Melancthon,) was nobad imitation 
of the cry of Luther's crows, heaped one upon 
another 4 a multitude of pretended heretical 
propositions, extracted from the Reformer's 
writings. There were four hundred and four, 
and yet he made excuse that, being taken 

1 Ut plurimos Lansknecktos, prorsus vi repel- 
lere cogar. qui insalutati non cessant obstrepere. 
vL. Epp. iv. p. 10.) 

2 Pestis eram vivus, moriens ero mors tua, Papa. 
(L. Opp. xx. p. 164.) 

3 Tantum lictorem suum in haereticos. (Epp. 
iv. p. 10. 

4 Magnum aoervum conclusionum congessit. 
'Corn. Ref. p. 39.) 



unawares, he was forced to restrict himself 
to so small a number, and he called loudly 
for a disputation with the Lutherans. They 
retorted on these propositions by a number of 
ironical and biting theses on " wine, Venus 
and baths, against John Eck ;" and the poo 
Doctor became the laughing-stock of every 
body. 

But others went to work more skilfully 
than he. Cochlceus, who became chaplain 
to Duke George of Saxony in 1527, begged 
an interview with Melancthon, " for," added 
he, " I cannot converse with your married 
ministers." 1 Melancthon, who was looked 
upon with an evil eye at Augsburg, and who 
had complained of being more solitary there 
than Luther in his castle, 2 was touched by 
this courtesy, and was still more fully pene- 
trated with the idea that things should be or- 
dered in the mildest manner possible. 

The Romish priests and laymen made a 
great uproar, because on fast days meat was 
usually eaten at the Elector's' court. Me- 
lancthon advised his prince to restrain the 
liberty of his attendants in this respect. 
" This disorder," said he, " far from leading 
the simple-minded to the Gospel, scandalizes 
them." He added, in his ill humour : ' ; A fine 
holiness truly, to make it a matter of conscience 
to fast, and yet to be night and day given up to 
wine and folly !" 3 The Elector did not yield 
to Melancthon's advice : it would have been 
a mark of weakness of which his adversa- 
ries would have known how to take advan- 
tage. 

On the 31st May, the Saxon confession 
was at length communicated to the other Pro- 
testant states, who required that it should be 
presented in common in the name of them all. 4 
1 But, at the same time, they desired to make 
their reservations with regard to the influence 
' of the state. " It is to a council that we 
appeal," said Melancthon; we will not re- 
ceive the Emperor as our judge; the ecclesi- 
I astical constitutions themselves forbid him to 
! pronounce in spiritual matters. 5 Moses de- 
clares, that it is not the civil magistrate who 
decides, but the sons of Levi. St. Paul also 
says (1 Cor. xiv.) ' lei the others judge,' 
j which cannot be understood except of an 
entire Christian assembly ; and the Saviour 
| himself gives us this commandment: ' Tell it 
unto the Church.' We pledge, therefore, our 
! obedience to the Emperor in all civil matters ; 
but, as for the Word of God, it is liberty that 
we demand.." 

All were agreed on this point; but thedis- 
\ sent came from another quarter. The Luther- 



1 Cum uxoratispresbyteris tuis privatim colloqui" 
non intendimus. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 82.) 

2 Nos non minus sumus monachi quam vos in 
ilia arce vestra. (Ibid. p. 46.) 

3 Und dennoch Tag und Nacht voll und tol". 
seyn. (Ibid. p. 79.) 

4 In gemein in aller Fiirsten und Stadte Namen. 
(Ibid. p. 88.) 

5 Die constitutiones canonica den Kaysern ver- 
bieten zu richten und sprechen in geistlicvccn sa- 
chen. (Ibid. p. 66.) 



478 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



ans feared to compromise their cause, if they ' 
went hand in hand with the Zwinglians. 
:t This is Lutheran madness," replied Bucer : 
"it will perish of its own weight." 1 But, 
far from allowing this madness "to perish," 
the Reformed augmented the disunion by ex- 
aggerated complaints. " In Saxony they are 
beginning to sing Latin hymns again," said ; 
they ; " the sacred vestments are resumed, 
and oblations are called for anew. 2 We 
would rather be led to slaughter than be 
Christians after that fashion." 

The afflicted Landgrave, says Bucer, was 
" between the hammer and the anvil ;" and 
his allies caused him more uneasiness than 
his enemies. 3 He applied to Rhegius, to 
Brenz, to Melancthon, declaring that it was 
his most earnest wish to see concord prevail 
among all the Evangelical Doctors. " If 
these fatal doctrines are not opposed," replied 
Melancthon, " there will be rents in the 
Church that will last to the end of the world. 
Do not the Zwinglians boast of their full cof- i 
fers, of having soldiers prepared, and of foreign 
nations disposed to aid them 1 Do they not 
talk of sharing among them the rights and 
the property of the bishops, and of proclaim- 
ing liberty Good God ! shall we 

not think of posterity, which, if we do not J 
repress these guilty seditions, will be at once 
without throne and without altar V' 4 — " No, ; 
no ! we are one," replied this generous prince, 
who was so much in advance of his age;' 
" we all confess the same Christ, we all pro- j 
fess that we must eat Jesus Christ, by faith, i 
in the Eucharist. Let us unite." All was 
unavailing. The time in which true catho- 
licity was to replace this sectarian spirit, of 
which Rome is the most perfect expression, 
had not yet arrived. 

IV. Tn proportion as the Emperor drew I 
near Augsburg, the anxieties of the Protest- ■ 
ants continued increasing. The burghers of 
this imperial city expected to see it become , 
the theatre of strange events. Accordingly 
they said that if the Elector, the Landgrave, 
and other friends of ihe Reformation were | 
not in. the midst of them, they would all 
desert it. 5 " A great destruction threatens ' 
us," was repeated on every side. 6 A haughty j 
expression of Charles above all disquieted 
the Protestants. " What do these Electors 
want with me ?" he had said impatiently : 
" I shall do what I please !" 7 Thus arbitrary j 



1 De Lutheranis furoribus sua ipsi mole 

ruent: (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 432.) 

2 Hine Latinae resnmumur cantiones, repetun- 
tur sanctae ve?fes. (Ibid. p. 457.) 

3 Cattus inter sacrum et saxum stat. et de sociis 
magis quam hostibus solicit us est. (Ibid.) 

4 Keine Kirche und kein Regiment. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 95.) 

5 Wo Sachsen, Hessen, und andere Lutheris- 
che nit hie waren. (Ibid. p. 89.) 

6 Minatur nobis Satan grande exitium. (Ibid, 
p. 92.) 

7 Er wolte es machen, wie es Ihm eben ware. 
'Ibid. p. 88.) 



rule was the imperial law destined to prevail 
in the diet. 

To this agitation of men's minds was add^cl 
the agitation of the streets, or rather one ; ed 
to the other. Masons and locksmiths were 
at work in all the public places and crossings, 
laboriously fastening barriers and chains to 
the walls, that might be closed or stretched 
at the first cry of alarm. 1 At the same time 
about eight hundred foot and horse soldiers 
were seen patrolling the streets, dressed in 
velvet and silk, 2 whom the magistrates had 
enrolled in order to receive the Emperor with 
magnificence. 

Matters were in this state, and it was 
about the middle of May, when a number of 
Spanish quartermasters arrived, full of arro- 
gance, and who looked with contemptuous 
eyes on these wretched burghers, entered 
their houses, conducted themselves with vio- 
lence, and even rudely tore down the arms 
of some of the princes. 3 The magistrates 
having delegated councillors to treat with 
them, the Spaniards made an insolent reply. 
" Alas !" said the citizens, " if the servants 
are so, what will their master be]" The 
ministers of Charles were grieved at their 
impertinence, and sent a German quarter- 
master who employed the forms of German 
politeness to make them forget this Spanish 
haughtiness. 

That did not last long, and they soon felt 
more serious alarm. The Council of Augs- 
burg were asked what was the meaning of 
these chains and soldiers, and the} - were or- 
dered, in the Emperor's name, to take down 
the one and disband the other. The magis- 
trates of the city answered, in alarm, "For 
more than ten years past we have intended 
putting up these chains ; 4 and as for the sol- 
diers, our object is simply to pay due honour 
to his majesty." After many parleys it was 
agreed to dismiss the troops, and that the im- 
perial commanders should select afresh a 
thousand men, who should make oath to the 
Emperor, but be paid by the city of Augs- 
burg. 

The imperial quartermasters then resumed 
all their impertinence ; and no longer giving 
themselves the trouble of entering the house9 
and the shops, they tore down the signboards 
of the Augsburg citizens, and wrote in theii 
place how r many men and horses they would 
be required to lodge. 5 

Such were the preludes to the work of con- 
ciliation that Charles V. had announced, and 
that he was so slow in beoinning. Accord- 
ingly his delay, attributed by some to the 
crowds of people who surrounded him with 
their acclamations ; by others, to the solici- 

1 Neu aufgerichte Ketten und Stock. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 66.) 

2 Mit sammet und seide auf s kostlichst ausges- 
trichen. (Ibid.) 

3 Den jungen Fiirsten zu neubourg ihre wappen 
abgerissen. (Ibid. p. 55.) 

4 Vor zehn Jahren in Sinn gehalt. (Ibid, p 66. 

5 Gehen nicht mehr in die Haiiser und schrie- 
ben an die Thur. (Ibid. p. 89.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



479 



tations of the priests, who opposed his entry 
into Augsburg- until he had imposed silence 
on the ministers ; and by others, finally, to 
the lessons the Pope had given him in the 
arts of policy and stratagem, 1 still more 
estranged the Elector and his allies. 

At last Charles, having quitted Innspruck 
two days after Gattinara's death, arrived at 
Munich on the 10th June. His reception 
was magnificent. At the distance of two 
miles from the town a temporary fortress, 
soldiers' huts, cannon, horsemen, an assault, 
repeated explosions, flames, shouts, whirl- 
winds of smoke, and a terrible clashing of 
arms, all of which was very agreeable to the 
Emperor ; 2 in the city, theatres raised in the 
open air, the Jewess Esther, the Persian Cam- 
by ses, and other pieces not less famous, the 
whole combined with splendid fireworks, 
formed the reception given by the adherents 
of the Pope to him whom they styled their 
Saviour. 

Charles was not far distant from Augsburg. 
As early as the 11th June, every day and 
every hour, members of the imperial house- 
hold, carriages, waggons, and baggage en- 
tered this city, to the sound of the clacking 
whip and of the horn ; 3 and the burghers in 
amazement gazed with dejected eyes on all 
this insolent train, that fell upon their city 
like a flight of locusts. 4 

At five o'clock in the morning of the 15th 
June, 5 the Elector, the princes, and their coun- 
cillors, assembled at the town-hall, and ere 
long arrived the imperial commissaries, hav- 
ing an order for them to go out and meet 
C harles. At three in the afternoon, the princes 
and deputies quitted the city, and, having 
reached a little bridge across the river Leech, 
they there halted and waited for the Emperor. 
The eyes of every member of the brilliant 
assemblage, thus stopping on the smiling 
banks of an alpine torrent, were directed along 
the road to Munich. At length, after waiting 
two or three hours, clouds of dust and a loud 
noise announced the Emperor. Two thousand 
of the imperial guard marched first; then 
Charles having come to within fifty paces of 
the river, the Electors and princes alighted. 
Their sons, who had advanced beyond the 
bridge, perceiving the Emperor preparing to 
do the same, ran to him and begged him to 
remain on horseback; 6 but Charles dismount- 
ed without hesitating, 7 and approaching the 
princes with an amiable smile, shook hands 
with them cordially. Albert of Mentz, in 

1 Cassarem instrucrum arte pontificum quaerere 
causas morae. (L. Epp. iv. p. 31.) 

2 Das hat Kais. Maj. wohl geiallen. (Forste- 
mann, Urkunden. i. p. 246.) 

3 AUe stund die Wagen, der Tross und viel 
gesinds nact einander harein. (Corp. Ref. ii p. 
90.) 

4 Finden aber wenig Frenden feuer. (Thid.) 

5 Zu morgens, um fiinf Uhr. (F. Urkunden. 
l. p. 263.) 

6 Ab Electorum filiis qui procurrerant rogatus. 
(Seek. ii. p. 101.) 

7 Mox ab equis descenderunt. (Cochloeus.) 

32 



his quality of arch-chancellor of the empire, 
now welcomed the Emperor, and the Count- 
palatine Frederick replied in behalf of Charles. 
While this was passing, three individuals 
remained apart on a little elevation; 1 these 
were the Roman Legate, proudly seated on a 
mule, glittering with purple, and accom- 
panied by two other cardinals, the Arch- 
bishop of Salzburg and the Bishop of Trent. 
The Nuncio, beholding all these great per- 
sonages on the road, raised his hands, and 
gave them his blessing. Immediately the 
Emperor, the King, and the princes who sub- 
mitted to the Pope, fell on their knees ; the 
Spaniards, Italians, Netherlanders, and Ger- 
mans in their train, imitated their movements, 
casting however a side glance on the Protest- 
ants, who, in the midst of this humbly 
prostrate crowd, alone remained standing. 2 
Charles did not appear to notice this, but he 
doubtless understood what it meant. The 
Elector of Brandenburg then delivered a 
Latin speech to the legate. He had been se- 
lected because he spoke this language better 
than the princes of the Church ; and accord- 
ingly, Charles, when praising his eloquence, 
slily put in a word about the negligence of 
the prelates. 3 The Emperor now prepared to 
remount his horse, when the prince-electoral 
of Saxony, and the young princes of Lune- 
burg, Mecklenburg, Brandenburg, and Anhalt 
rushed towards him to aid him in getting into 
his saddle : one held the bridle, another thfe 
stirrup, and all were charmed at the magnifi- 
cent appearance of their powerful sovereign. 4 
The procession began to move on. 

First came two companies of lansquenets, 
commanded by Simon Seitz, a citizen of 
Augsburg, who had made the campaign of 
Italy, and was returning home laden with 
gold. 5 Next advanced the households of the 
six electors, composed of princes, counts, 
councillors, gentlemen, and soldiers ; the 
household of the Dukes of Bavaria had slip- 
ped into their ranks, and the four hundred and 
fifty horsemen that composed it marched five 
abreast, covered with bright cuirasses, wear- 
( ing red doublets, while over their heads floated 
handsome many-coloured plumes. Bavaria 
was already in this age the main support of 
Rome in Germany. 

Immediately after came the households of 
the Emperor and of his brother, in striking 
contrast with this warlike show. They were 
composed of Turkish, Polish, Arabian, and 
other led horses; then followed a multitude 
I of young pages, clad in yellow or red velvet, 
with Spanish, Bohemian, and Austrian no- 
bles in robs of silk and velvet ; 6 among these 

1 Auf ein ort geruckt. (F. Urkunden, i. p. 256.) 

2 Primum eonstantiae specimen. (Seek. ii. p. 
101.) 

3 Prelatorum autem neglieentiam accusaret. 
(Ibid.) 

4 Conscendentem juniores prineipes adjuverunt 
(Ibid, and F. Urkunden. i. p. 258.) 

5 Bekleit von gold. (F. Urkunden, i. p. 258.) 

6 Viel sammete unde seiden Rbcke (L. Opp 
xx. p. 201.) 



480 



hISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fhe Bohemians had the most martial air, and 
skilfully rode their superb and prancing cour- 
sers. Last the trumpeters, drummers, heralds, 
grooms, footmen, and the legate's cross-bear- 
ers, announced the approach of the princes. 

In fact these powerful lords, whose con- 
tentions had so often filled Germany with 
confusion and war, now advanced riding 
peacefully side by side. After the princes 
appeared the electors ; and the Elector of 
Saxony, according to custom, carried the 
naked and glittering imperial sword imme- 
diately before the Emperor. 1 

Last came the Prince, on whom all eyes 
were fixed. 2 Thirty years of age, of distin- 
guished port and pleasing features, robed in 
golden garments that glittered all over with 
precious stones, 3 wearing a small Spanish hat 
on the crown of his head, 4 mounted on a beau- 
tiful Polish hackney of the most brilliant 
whiteness, riding beneath a rich canopy of 
red, white, and green damask borne by six 
senators of Augsburg, and casting around 
him looks in which gentleness was mingled 
with gravity, Charles excited the liveliest 
enthusiasm, and every one exclaimed that he 
w r as the handsomest man in the empire, as 
well as the mightiest prince in the world. 

He had at first desired to place his brother 
and the legate at his side ; but the Elector 
of Mentz, followed by two hundred guards 
arrayed in silk, had claimed the Emperor's 
right hand ; and the Elector of Cologne, with 
a hundred well-armed followers, had taken 
his station on the left. King Ferdinand and 
the legate were compelled to take their places 
behind them, followed by the cardinals, am- 
bassadors, and prelates, among whom was 
remarked the haughty Bishop of Osma, the 
Emperor's confessor. The imperial cavalry 
and the troops of Augsburg closed the pro- 
cession. 

Never, according to the historians, had 
anything so magnificent been seen in the em- 
pire ; 5 but they advanced slowly, and it was 
between eight and nine o'clock in the even- 
ing before they reached the gates of Augs- 
burg. 6 Here they met the burgomaster and 
councillors, who prostrated themselves before 
Charles, and at the same time the cannon 
from the ramparts, the bells from all the 
steeples in full peal, the noise of trumpets 
and kettle-drums, and the joyful acclamations 
of the people re-echoed with loud din. Sta- 
dion, bishop of Augsburg, and his clergy 
robed in white, struck up the Advenisti desi- 
rabilis ,• and six canons, advancing with a 
magnificent canopy, prepared to conduct the 

1 Noster princeps de more prastulit ensem. 
(Corp. Ref ii. p. 118.) 

2 Omnium oculos in se convertit (Seek. ii. 
p. 160.) 

3 Totus gemmis coruscabat. (Ibid.) 

4 Ein kilen Spanisch Hutlein. (F. Urkunden, 
I p. 260. 

5 Arttea in imperio non erat visa. (Seek ii. 
o. 160.) 

6 Ingressus est in urbem intra octavam et no- 
nam. (Ibid. p. 114.) 



Emperor to the cathedral, when Charles* 
horse, startled at this unusual sight, suddenly 
reared, 1 so that the Emperor with* difficulty 
mastered him. At length Charles entered 
the basilick, which was ornamented with gar- 
lands and flowers, and suddenly illuminated 
by a thousand torches. 

The Emperor went up to the altar, and fall- 
ing on his knees, raised his hands towards 
Heaven. 2 During the Te Deum, the Protes- 
tants observed with anxiety that Charles kept 
conversing in a low tone with the Archbishop 
of Mentz ; that he bent his ear to the legate 
who approached to speak to him, and nodded 
in a friendly manner to Duke George. All 
this appeared to them of evil omen ; but at 
the moment when the priests sang the Te ergo 
quxsimus, Charles, breaking off his conver- 
| sations, suddenly rose, and one of the aco- 
j lytes running to him with a gold-embroidered 
| cushion, the Emperor put it aside, and knelt 
! on the bare stones of the church. All the 
1 assembly knelt with him ; the Elector and the 
Landgrave alone remained standing. Duke 
George, astonished at such boldness, threw a 
threatening glance at his cousin. The Mar- 
grave of Brandenburg, carried away by the 
crowd, had fallen on his knees ; but having 
seen his two- allies standing, he hastily rose 
up again. 

The Cardinal-archbishop of Salzburg then 
proceeded to pronounce the benediction ; bu* 
Campeggio, impatient at having as yet taken 
no part in the ceremony, hastened to the altar, 
and rudely thrusting the archbishop aside, 
said sharply to him : 3 " this office belongs 
to me, and not to you." The other gave way, 
the Emperor bent down, and the Landgrave, 
with difficulty concealing a smile, hid him- 
self behind a candelabrum. The bells now 
rang out anew, the procession recommenced 
its march, and the princes conducted the Em- 
peror to the Palatinate, (the name given to the 
bishop's palace,) which had been prepared for 
him. The crowd now dispersed : it was after 
ten at night. 

The hour was come in which the partisans 
of the Papacy flattered themselves with the 
prospect of rendering the Protestants untrue 
to their faith. The arrival of the Emperor, 
the procession of the holy sacrament that was 
preparing, the late hour, — all had been calcu- 
lated beforehand ; " the nocturns of treason 
were about to begin," said Spalatin. 

A few minutes of general conversation took 
place in the Emperor's apartments ; the princes 
of the Romish party were then allowed to re- 
tire; but Charles had given a sign to the 
Elector of Saxony, to the Landgrave of Hesse, 
to George of Brandenburg, to the Prince of 
Anhalt, and to the Duke of Luneburg, to fol- 
low him into his private chamber. 4 His 

1 Da enstetzt sich K. M. Hengst fur solchem 
Himel. (F. Urkunden, i. p. 261.) 

2 Ihr hand aufgehebt. (Ibid.) 

3 Cardinalem legatus castigatum abegif. (Seek. 
ii. p. 161. 

4 Ad conclave suum. (Corp. Ref. p. 106 and 
114.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



481 



brother Ferdinand, who was to serve as inter- 
preter, alone went in with them. Charles 
thought that so long as the Protestant princes 
were observed, they would not yield ; but that 
in a private and friendly interview, he might 
obtain all he desired of them. 

" His majesty requests you to discontinue 
the preachings," said Ferdinand. On hear- 
ing these words the two old princes (the 
Elector and the Margrave) turned pale and 
did not speak ;' there was a long silence. 

At last the Landgrave said : " We entreat 
your majesty to withdraw your request, for 
our ministers preach only the pure Word of 
God, as did the ancient doctors of the Church, 
St. Augustin, St. Hilary, and so many others. 
It will be easy for your majesty to convince 
yourself of it. We cannot deprive ourselves 
of the food of the Word of God, and deny his 
Gospel." 2 

Ferdinand, resuming the conversation in 
French, 3 (for it was in this language that he 
conversed with his brother,) informed the 
Emperor of the Landgrave's answer. No- 
thing was more displeasing to Charles than 
these citations of Hilary and Augustin; the 
colour mounted to his cheeks, and he was 
nearly getting angry. 4 " His Majesty," said 
Ferdinand in a more positive tone, " cannot de- 
sist from his demand." — " Your conscience," 
quickly replied the Landgrave, "has no right 
to command ours. 5 As Ferdinand still per- 
sisted, the Margrave, who had been silent 
until then, could contain himself no longer ; 
and without caring for interpreters, stretched 
out his neck towards Charles, exclaiming in 
deep emotion : " Rather than allow the Word 
of the Lord to be taken from me, rather than 
deny my God, I would kneel before your 
Majesty and have my head cut off!" As he 
uttered these simple and magnanimous words, 
says a contemporary, 6 the prince accompanied 
them with a significant gesture, and let his 
hands fall on his neck like the headsman's 
axe. The excitement of the princes was at 
its height : had it been necessary, they would 
all four have instantly walked to the scaffold. 
Charles was moved by it : surprised and agi- 
tated, he hastily cried out in his bad German, 
making a show of checking' the Landgrave : 
w Dear prince, not the head ! not the head !" 
But he had scarcely uttered these few words, 
when he checked himself. 

These were the only words that Charles 
pronounced before the princes during all the 
diet. His ignorance of the German language, 
and sometimes also the etiquette of the Escu- 
rial, compelled him to speak only by the mouth 

1 Die beede aire Fiirsten zum hochsten entsetz. 
(Corp. Ref. p. 106 and 114.) 

2 Se non posse cibo verbi Dei carere, nee sana 
conscientia Evangelium negare. (fbid. p. 115.) 

3 [n Franzosischer Sprache. (Thid. p. 107.) 

4 Sich darob etwas angerot und erhitzt. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 115.) 

5 K. M. gewissen sey aber kein Her rund mey- 
ster uber ihr gewissen. (Ibid. p. 115.) 

6 Ut simfliciter, ita magnanimiter, says Brentz. 
'Ibid.) 



of his brother or of the Count-palatine. As 
he was in the habit of consecrating four hours 
daily to divine worship, the people said : 
" He talks more with God than with men." 
This habitual silence was not favourable to 
his plans. They required activity and elo- 
quence; but instead of that the Germans saw 
in the dumb countenance of their youthful 
Emperor, a mere puppet, nodding his head 
and winking his eyes. Charles sometimes 
felt very keenly the faults of this position : 
" To be able to speak German," said he, " I 
would willingly sacrifice any other language, 
even were it Spanish or French, and more 
than that, one of my states." * 

Ferdinand saw that it was useless to insist 
on the cessation of these meetings ; but he 
had another arrow in his quiver. The next 
day was the festival of Corpus Christi, and 
by a custom that had never as yet been in- 
fringed, all the princes and deputies present 
at the diet were expected to take part in the 
procession. What ! would the Protestants re- 
fuse this act of courtesy at the very opening 
of a diet to which each one came in a con- 
ciliatory spirit 1 Have they not declared that 
the body and blood of Christ are really in the 
Host 1 Do they not boast of their opposition 
to Zwingle, and can they stand aloof, without 
being tainted with heresy 1 Now, if they 
share in the pomp that surrounds *« the Lord's 
body ;" if they mingle with that crowd of 
clergy, glittering in luxury and swelling with 
pride, who carry about the G"d whom they 
have created ; if they are present when the 
people bow down ; will they not irrevocably 
compromise their faith 1 The machine is well 
prepared ; its movements cannot fail ; there is 
no more doubt! The craft of the Italians is 
about to triumph over the simplicity of these 
German boors ! 

Ferdinand therefore resumes, and making 
a weapon of the very refusal that he had just 
met with: "Since the Emperor," said he, 
"cannot obtain from you the suspension of 
your assemblies, he begs at least that you 
will accompany him to-morrow, according to 
custom, in the procession of the Holy Sacra- 
ment. Do so, if not from regard to him, at 
least, for the honour of Almighty God." 2 

The princes were still more irritated and 
alarmed. "Christ," said they, "did not 
institute his sacrament to be worshipped." 
Charles perseveres in his demand, and the 
Protestants in their refusal. 3 Upon this the 
Emperor declares that he cannot accept their 
excuse, that he will give them time for reflec- 
tion, and that they must be prepared to reply 
early on the morrow. 

They separated in the greatest agitation. 
The Prince-electoral, who had waited for his 
father in the first hall along with other lords, 



1 Es ware Spanisch oder Franzosish und dazu 
eines Landes minder. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 114.) 

2 Et saltern in honorern Dei illud lacerenL 
(Ibid. p. 116.) 

3 Persistit Caesar in postulatione, persisterum 
illi in recusatione. (Ibid. 115.) 



432 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



sought, at the moment the princes issued from 
the Emperor's chamber, to read on their 
countenance what had taken place. Judging 
from the emotion depicted on their features 
that tlie struggle had been severe, he thought 
that his father was incurring the greatest 
dangers, and accordingly, grasping him by 
the hand, he dragged him to the staircase 
of the palace, exclaiming in affright, as if 
Charles' satellites were already at his heels, 
" Come, come quickly !" 

Charles, who had expected no such re- 
sistance, was in truth confounded, and the 
legate endeavoured to exasperate him still 
more. 1 Agitated, filled with anger and vexa- 
tion, and uttering the most terrible threats, 2 
the young Emperor paced hastily to and fro 
the halls of his palace ; and unable to wait 
till the morrow for the answer, he sent in the 
middle of the night to demand the Elector's 
final decision. " At present we require 
sleep," replied the latter; "to-morrow we 
will let you know our determination." 3 As 
for the Landgrave, he could not rest any more 
than Charles. Scarcely had he returned 
home, when he sent his chancellor to the 
Nuremberg deputies, and had them awoke to 
make them acquainted with what had taken 
place. 4 

At the same time Charles' demand was 
laid before the theologians, and Spalatin, 
taking the pen, drew up their opinion during 
the night. " The sacrament," it bore, " was 
not instituted to be worshipped, as the Jews 
worshipped the brazen image. 5 We are here 
to confess the truth, and not for the confirma- 
tion of abuses. Let us therefore stay away !" 
This opinion strengthened the Evangelical 
princes in their determination; and the day 
of the 16th June began. 

The Elector of Saxony feeling indisposed 
during the night, commissioned his son to 
represent him ; and at seven o'clock the 
princes and councillors repaired on horseback 
to the Emperor's palace. 6 

The Margrave of Brandenburg was their 
spokesman. " You know," said he to Charles, 
" how, at the risk of our lives, my ancestors 
and myself have supported your august house. 
But, in the things of God, the commands of 
God himself oblige me to put aside all com- 
mandment of man. We are told that death 
awaits those who shall persevere in the sound 
doctrine: I am ready to suffer it." He then 
presented the declaration of the Evangelical 
..princes to the Emperor. "We will not 
countenance by our presence," said they, 

1 A ssevitia Legati Romanensium captivi. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 116.) 

2 Hinc secutae sunt gravissimae minae, jactatae 
88evissimae Caesaris indignationes. (Ibid. 1 ) 

3 Quiete sibi opus esse dicens, responsum in 
diem altenim distulit. (Seek. ii. p. 162.) 

4 Flat nachten uns aufwecken lassen. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 106.) 

5 Wie die Juden die Schlange haben angebe- 
thef. (Ibid. p. 11.) 

6 Heute zu sieben Uhren sind gemeldete Furs- 
ten. (Ibid. iii. p. 107.) 



|" these impious human traditions, which are 
opposed to the Word of God. We declare, 
| on the contrary, without hesitation, and with 
I one accord, that we must expel them from the 
j Church, lest those of its members that are 
I still sound should be infected by this deadly 
j poison." 1 "If you will not accompany his 
majesty for the love of God," said Ferdi- 
nand, " do so at least for love of the Empe- 
ror, and as vassals of the Empire. 2 His 
majesty commands you." " An act of wor- 
ship is in question," replied the princes, "our 
conscience forbids it." Then Ferdinand and 
Charles having conversed together in a low 
tone : " His majesty desires to see," said the 
king, " whether you will obey him or not." 3 
At the same time the Emperor and his brother 
quitted the room ; but the princes, instead of 
following him, as Charles had hoped, returned 
full of joy to their palaces. 

The procession did not begin till noon.— 
Immediately behind the canopy under which 
the Elector of Mentz carried the Host, came 
the Emperor alone, with a devout air, bearing 
a taper in his hand, his head bare and shorn 
like a priest's, although the noon-day sun 
darted on him its most ardent rays. 4 By 
exposing himself to these fatigues, Charles 
desired to profess aloud his faith in what 
constitutes the essence of Roman Catholicism. 
In proportion as the spirit and the life had 
escaped from the primitive Churches, they 
had striven to replace them by forms, shows, 
and ceremonies. The essential cause of the 
Romish worship is found in that decline of 
charity and faith which Catholic Christians 
of the first ages have often deplored ; and the 
history of Rome is summed up in this expres- 
sion of St. Paul, Having a form of godli- 
ness, but denying the power thereof. 5 But as 
the power was then beginning to revive in 
the Church, the form began also to decline. 
Barely a hundred citizens of Augrsburgh had 
joined in the procession of the 16th June. It 
was no longer the pomp of former times: 
the Christian people had learned anew to love 
and to believe. 

Charles, however, under an air of devotion, 
concealed a wounded heart. The legate was 
less able to command himself, and said aloud 
that this obstinacy of the princes would be the 
cause of great mischief to the Pope. 6 When 
the procession was over, (it had lasted an 
hour,) Charles could no longer master his 
extreme irritation ; and he had scarcely re- 
turned to his palace, when he declared that 
he would give the Protestant princes a safe- 
conduct, and that on the very next day these 
obstinate and rebellious men should quit 

1 Caelestin. i. p. 82: 

2 Ut vassalli et principes imperii. (Cochloeus, 
p. 192.) 

3 Sie wolle sehen, ob sie I. M. geborchsam lei 
sten oder nicht. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 108.) 

4 Clericaliter, detonso capillo. (Zw. Epp. ii. p 
471.) Nudo capite sub meridiani solis ardoribus 
(Pallavicini, i. p. 228.) 

5 2 Timothy iii. 5. 

6 Sarpi, Council of Trent, i. p. 99. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



483 



A.ugsburg;' the diet would then take such 
resolutions as were required for the safety of 
the Church and of the Empire. It was, no 
doubt, the legate who had given Charles this 
idea, whose execution would infallibly have 
led to a religious war. But some of the 
princes of the Roman party, desirous of pre- 
serving peace, succeeded, though not without 
difficulty, in getting the Emperor to withdraw 
his threatening order. 2 

V. Charles, being defeated on the subject 
of the procession, resolved to take his revenge 
on the assemblies, for nothing galled him like 
these sermons. The crowd ceased not to fill 
the vast church of the Franciscans, where a 
Zwinglian minister, of lively and penetrating 
eloquence, was preaching on the book of 
Joshua. 3 He placed the kings of Canaan and 
the children of Israel before them : his con- 
gregation heard them speak and saw them 
act, and every one recognised in Canaan the 
Emperor and the Ultra-montane princes, and 
in the people of God the adherents of the Re- 
formation. In consequence, the faithful quit- 
ted the church enthusiastic in their faith, and 
filled with the desire of seeing the abomina- 
tions of the idolaters fall to the ground. On 
the 16th June, the Protestants deliberated on 
Charles' demand, and it was rejected by the 
majority. " It is only a scarecrow," said 
they ; " the Papists only desire to see if the 
nail shakes in the wall, and if they can start 
the hare from the thicket." 

The next morning (17th June) before 
breakfast, the princes replied to the Emperor. 
"To forbid .our ministers to preach purely the 
Holy Gospel would be rebellion against God, 
who wills that his Word be not bound. Poor 
sinners that we are, we have need of this Di- 
vine Word to surmount our troubles. 4 More- 
over, his majesty has declared, that in this 
diet each doctrine should be examined with 
impartiality. Now, to order us henceforward 
to suspend the sermons, would be to condemn 
ours beforehand." 

Charles immediately convoked the other 
temporal and spiritual princes, who arrived at 
mid-day at the Palatine palace, and remained 
sitting until the evening; 5 the discussion was 
exceedingly animated. " This very morn- 
ing," said some of the speakers, " the Pro- 
testant princes, as they quitted the Emperor, 
had sermons delivered in public." 6 Exaspe- 
rated at this new affront, Charles with diffi 
culty contained himself. Some of the princes 



1 Ut mox altera die, cum salvo-conductu; Lu- 
therani abirent domurn,. (Cochl. p. 193.) 

2 Pacis et concordiae avidi, supplicarunt ejus 
maje.stati ut sedata ira. (Ibid.) 

3 Maximus populi concursus amplissima aede. 
vlbid.) 

4 Nee se illo animae nutrimento carere. (Coe- 
lestinus Hist. Comit. i. p. 88; Forst. Urkunden. i. 
p. 283.) 

5 Caesar a meridie. (Seek. p. 165.) Den gan- 
gen Tag. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 113.) 

6 Eo ipso die conciones continuatae. (Seckend. 
». 165.) 



however, having entreated him to accept their 
mediation, he consented to it; but the Protest- 
ants were immovable. Did these heretics, 
whom they imagined to reduce so easily, ap- 
pear in Augsburg only to humiliate Charles 1 
The honour of the chief of the Empire must 
be saved at any cost. "Let us ourselves 
renounce our preachers," said the princes; 
" the Protestants will not then persist in keep- 
ing theirs !" 

The commission proposed, accordingly, 
that the Emperor should set aside both Papist 
and Lutheran preachers, and should nominate 
a few chaplains with authority to announce 
the pure Word of God, without attacking 
either of the two parties. 1 "They shall be 
neutral men," said they to the Protestants ; 
" neither Faber nor his partisans shall be ad- 
mitted." — " But they will condemn our doc- 
trine." — "Ry no means. The preacher shall 
do nothing but read the text of the Gospels, 
Epistles, and a general confession of sins." 2 
The evangelical states required time to reflect 
upon it. 

" We must accept it," said Melancthon : 
" for if our obstinacy should lead the Empe- 
ror to refuse hearing our confession, the evil 
would be greater still." 

" We are called to Augsburg," said Agri- 
cola, " to give an account of our doctrine, and 
not to preach." 3 

" There is no little disorder in the city," 
remarked Spalatin, " The Sacramentarians 
and Enthusiasts preach here as well as we : 
we must get out of this confusion." 

" W^hat do the Papists propose?" said 
other theologians ; " to read the Gospels and 
Epistles without explanation. But is not that 
a victory 1 W T hat ! we protest against the 
interpretations of the Church; and lo ! priests 
who are to read the Word of God without 
their notes and commentaries, that is to say, 
transforming themselves into Protestant min- 
isters !." " ! admirable wisdom of the 
courtiers !" exclaimed Melancthon, smiling. 4 

To these motives were added the opinions 
of the lawyers. As the Emperor ought to be 
considered the rightful magistrate of an impe- 
rial city, so long as he made it his residence, 
all jurisdiction in Augsburg really belonged 
to him. 

" Well, then," said the Protestant princes, 
" we agree to silence our preachers, in the 
hope that we shall hear nothing offensive to 
our consciences. If it were otherwise, we 
should feel ourselves constrained to repel so 
serious an insult. 5 Besides," added the 
Elector, as he withdrew, " we hope that if at 
any time we desire to hear one of our chap- 



1 Caesare omnes tam papistarum quam evan 
gelieerum conciones. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 116.) 

2 Qui tantum reciteni Evangelium et epistolam 
y^fj.fxxTixZjc. (Ibid. p. 119.) 

3 Non simius parochi Augustanorum, added he 
(Ibid) 

4 Vide miram sapientiam Aulicorum. (Ibid., 

5 Ut de remediis propulsandas injuria? eogitent 
'Seek, ii. p. 105.) 



484 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



lains in our own palace, we shall be free to 
do so." 1 

They hastened to the Emperor, who desired 
nothing better than to come to an understand- 
ing with the Protestants on this subject, and 
who ratified everything. 

This was Saturday. An imperial herald 
was immediately sent out, who, parading the 
streets of the city at seven in the evening, to 
the sound of trumpets, 2 cried with all his 
might : " yes, O yes ! 3 Thus ordains his 
imperial majesty, our most gracious lord : no 
preacher whatever shall preach in Augsburg 
except such as his majesty shall have nomi- 
nated ; and that under penalty of incurring 
the displeasure and punishment of his ma- 
jesty." 

A thousand different remarks were ex- 
changed in the houses of the citizens of Augs- 
burg. " We are very impatient," said they, 
" to see the preachers appointed by the Em- 
peror, and who will preach (0 ! unpreceden- 
ted wonder !) neither against the evangelical 
doctrine, nor against the doctrine of the 
Pope." 4 " We must expect," added another, 
" to behold some Tragelaph or some chimera 
with the head of a lion, a goat's body, and a 
dragon's tail." 5 The Spaniards appeared well 
satisfied with this agreement, for many of 
them had never heard a single sermon in their 
lives ; it was not the custom in Spain ; but 
Zwingle's friends were filled with indignation 
and alarm. 6 

At length Sunday, the 19th June, begran ; 
every one hastened to the churches, and the 
faithful who filled them, with eyes fixed on 
the priest, and with attentive ears, 7 prepared 
to listen to what these new and strange 
preachers would say. 8 It was generally be- 
lieved that their task would be to make an 
evangelico-papistical discourse, and they were 
very impatient to hear this marvel. But 

" The mountain in labour gave birth to a mouse!" 
The preacher first read the common prayer ; 
he then added the Gospel of the day, finished 
with a general confession of sins, and dis- 
missed his congregation. People looked at 
one another in surprise : " Verily," said they, 
" here is a preacher that is neither Gospeller 
nor Papist, but strictly textual." 9 At last 
all burst into laughter ; " and truly," adds 



1 Ob je einer einen Prediger in seiner Herberg 
fur sich predion liess. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 113.) 

2 Per tubicines et heraldum. (Sturmius, Zw. 
Epp. p. 466.) ' 

3 Hort, Hort. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 124.) 

4 Omnes hunc avidissime expectant. (Ibid. p. 
116.) . 

5 Chimasram aut Tragelaphum aliquem expec- 
tamus. (Ibid.) The Tragelaph is a fabulous ani- 
mal partaking of the nature of a goat and a stag. 
Representations of it were common on drinking- 
bowls and goblets among the ancient Greeks. 

6 Multos deterreat. (Sturm to Zwingle, Epp. 
p. 466.) 

7 Arrectis auribus. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 116.) 

8 Quid novi novus concionator allaturus sit. 
(Ibid. p. 117.) 

9 Sic habes concionatorem neque evangelicum 
neque papisticum, sed nudum textualem. (Ibid.) 



Brenz, "there was reason enough." 1 In 
some churches, however, the chaplains, after 
reading the Gospel, added a few puerile 
words, void of Christianity and of consolation, 
and in no way founded on the Holy Scrip- 
tures. 2 

After the so-called sermon, they proceeded 
to the Mass. That in the Cathedral was par- 
ticularly noisy. The Emperor was not pre- 
sent, for he was accustomed to sleep until nine 
or ten o'clock, 3 and a late Mass was perform- 
ed for him ; but Ferdinand and many of the 
princes were present. The pealing notes of 
the organ, the resounding voices of the choir 
— all were set to work, and a numerous and 
motley crowd, rushing in at all the doors, 
filled the aisles of the temple. One might 
have said that every nation in the world had 
agreed to meet in the cathedral of Augsburg. 
Here were Frenchmen, there Spaniards, Moors 
in one place, Moriscos in another, on one side 
Italians, on the other Turks, and even, says 
Brenz, those who are called Stratiots. 4 This 
crowd was no bad representation of the med- 
ley of Popery. 

One priest alone, a fervent Romanist, dared 
to offer an apology for the Mass in the Church 
of the Holy Cross. Charles, wishing to main- 
tain his authority, had him thrown into the 
Grey Friars' prison, whence they contrived 
to let him escape. As for the Evangelical 
pastors of Augsburg, almost all left the city 
to bear the Gospel elsewhere. The Protes- 
tant princes were anxious to secure for their 
churches the assistance of such distinguished 
men. Discouragement and alarm followed 
close upon this step, and even the firmest 
were moved. The Elector was inconsolable 
at the privation imposed upon him by the 
Emperor. " Our Lord God," said he, heav- 
ing a deep sigh, " has received an order to be 
silent at the Diet of Augsburg." 5 From that 
time forward Luther lost the good opinion he 
had previously entertained of Charles, and 
foreboded the stormiest future. " See what 
will be the end of all this," said he. "The 
Emperor, who has ordered the Elector to re- 
nounce the assemblies, will afterwards com- 
mand him to renounce the doctrine; the diet 
will enter upon its paroxysm, and nothing 
will remain for us but to rely upon the arm 
of the Lord." Then giving way to all his 
indignation, he added : " The Papists, aban- 
doned to devils, are transported with rage; 
and to live, they must drink blood. 6 They 
wish to give themselves an air of justice, by 

1 Rident omnes, et certe res valde ridicula est. 
(Ibid.) 

2 Paucula quaedam, eaque puerilia et inepta, 
nee Christiane, absque fundamento verbi Divini 
et consolatione. (Seek. ii. p. 165.) 

3 Dormire solet usque ad nonam aut decimam. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 117.) 

4 Ibi videas hie Gallos, hie Hispanos, hie Ethi- 
opes, illic etiam Efhiopissas, hie Italos. illic etiam 
Turcas, aut quos vocant Stratiotas. (Ibid.) 

5 Hac ratiOne, Deo ejusque verbo silentium est 
impositum. (Seek. ii. p. 165.) 

6 Ut nisi sanguinem biberint, vivere non pos 
sint. (Ibid.'' 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



485 



giving us one of obstinacy. It is not with 
men that you have to deal at Augsburg, but 
with the very gates of hell." Melancthon 
himself saw all his hopes vanish. " All, ex- 
cept the Emperor," said he, " hate us with 
the most violent hatred. The danger is great, 

very great 1 Pray to Christ that he 

•nay save us !" But Luther, however full 
of sorrow he might be, far from being cast 
down, raised his head and endeavoured to 
reanimate the courage of his brethren. " Be 
assured and doubt not," wrote he to them, 
" that you are the confessors of Jesus Christ, 
and the ambassadors of the Great King." 2 

They had need of these thoughts, for their 
adversaries, elated by this first success, neg- 
lected nothing that might destroy the Protes- 
tants, and taking another step lor ward, pro- 
posed forcing them to be present at the Ro- 
mish ceremonies. 3 " The Elector of Saxony," 
said the legate to Charles, " ought in virtue 
of his office of Grand-marshal of the Empire 
to carry the sword before you in all the cere- 
monies of the diet. Order him therefore to 
perform his duty at the Mass of the Holy 
Ghost, which is to open the sittings." The 
Emperor did so immediately, and the Elec- 
tor, uneasy at this message, called together 
his theologians. If he refused, his dignity 
would be taken away ; and if he obeyed, he 
would trample his faith under foot, thought 
he, and would do dishonour to the Gospel. 

But the Lutheran Divines removed the 
scruples of their prince. " It is for a cere- 
mony of the Empire," said they, " as Grand- 
marshal, and not as a Christian, that you are 
summoned ; the Word of God itself, in the 
history of Naaman, authorizes you to comply 
with this invitation." 4 The friends of Zwin- 
gle did not think so; their walk was more 
decided than that of Wittemberg. " The 
martyrs allowed themselves to be put to 
death," said they, "rather than burn a grain 
of incense before the idols." Even some of 
the Protestants hearing that the Vtni Spirit us 
was to be sung, said, wagging their heads: 
" We are very much afraid that the chariot 
of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, 
having been taken away by the Papists, the 
Holy Ghost, despite their Mass, will never 
reach Augsburg." 5 Neither these fears nor 
these objections were listened to. 

On Monday, the 20th June, the Emperor 
and his brother, with the electors and princes 
of the Empire, having entered the cathedral, 
took their seats on the right side of the choir; 
on the left were placed the legate, the arch- 
bishops, and bishops : in the middle were the 

1 Magnum omnino periculum est. (Corp. Ref. 
ii. p. 118.) 

2 Ea fides vivificabit et consolabitur vos, .quia 
Magni Regjs estis Iegati. (L. Epp. iv. p. 59.) 

3 Sarpi, Hist. Council of Trent, book i. p. 99. 

4 2 Kings v. 18. Exemplo Naamanis. (Seek. 
ii. p. 167 ; Sarpi, p. 99.) 

5 Ne ablato Spiritus vehiculo, quod est verbum 
Dei, Spiritus Sanctus ad Augu9tam prae pedum 
imbecillitate pervenire non possit. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 1-16.) 



ambassadors. Without the choir, in a gal- 
lery that overlooked it, were ranged the Land- 
grave and other Protestants, who preferred 
being at a distance from the Host. 1 The 
Elector, bearing the sword, remained upright 
near the altar at the moment of the adoration. 
The acolytes, having closed the gates of 
the choir immediately after. 2 Vincent Pom- 
pinello, archbishop of Salerno, preached the 
sermon. He commenced with the Turks and 
their ravages, and then, by an unexpected 
turn, began suddenly to exalt the Turks even 
above the Germans. " The Turks," said he, 
" have but one prince whom they obey ; but 
the Germans have many who obey no one. 
: The Turks live under one sole law, one only 
■ custom, one only religion; but among the 
i Germans, there are some who are always 
i wishing for new laws, new customs, new reli- 
gions. They tear the seamless coat of Christ ; 
I they abolish by devilish inspirations the sacred 
doctrines established by unanimous consent, 
J and substitute for them, alas ! buffoonery and 
obscenity. 3 Magnanimous Emperor, power- 
' ful King ! said he, turning towards Charles 
', and his brother, " sharpen your swords, wield 
I them against these perfidious disturbers of re- 
ligion, and thus bring them back into the fold 
: of the Church. 4 There is no peace for Ger- 
| many so long as the sword shall not have 
: entirely eradicated this heresy. 5 O St. Peter 
i and St. Paul ! I call upon you ; upon you, St. 
Peter, in order that you may open the stony 
j hearts of these princes with your keys ; and 
! upon you, St. Paul, that if they show them- 
I selves too rebellious, you may come with 
| your sword, and cut in pieces this unexam- 
| pled hardness !" 

This discourse, intermingled with panegy- 
, rics of Aristides, Themistocles, Scipio, Cato, 
! the Curtii and Scaevola, being concluded, the 
| Emperor and princes arose to make their 
j offerings. Pappenheim returned the sword 
j to the Elector, who had intrusted it to him ; 
j and the Grand-marshal, as well as the Mar- 
| grave, went to the offertory, but with a smile, 
| as it is reported. 6 This fact is but little in 
harmony with the character of these princes. 
At length they quitted the cathedral. No 
| one, except the friends of the nuncio, was 
pleased with the sermon. Even the Arch- 
j bishop of Mentz was offended at it. " What 
! does he mean," exclaimed he, " by calling on 
| St. Paul to cut the Germans with his sword ?" 
i Nothing but a few inarticulate sounds had 



1 Abstinendo ab adoratione hostice. (Seek. ii. 
p. 119.) 

2 Erant enim chori fores clausae, nee quisquam 
oratioiri intermit. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 120.) 

3 Diabetica persuasione eliminant, et ad scur- 
rilia ac impudica quaeque deducunt. (Pallavicini, 
Hist. Trid. C. i. p. 23.) 

4 Exacuant glndios quos in perversos illos per- 
turhatores. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 120.) 

5 Nisi eradicata funditus per gladium haeresi 
ilia. (Ibid.) 

| 6 Protestantes etiam ad offerendum munuscula 
j in altari. ut moris erat, accessisse. sed cum nsu. 
I (Spalat. Seek. ii. p. 167.) 



4S6 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



been heard in the nave ; the Protestants eager- 
ly questioned those of their party who had , 
been present in the choir. " The more these 
priests inflame people's minds, and the more ! 
they urge their princes to bloody wars," said 
Brenz at that time, " the more we must hin- j 
der ours from giving way to violence. ,,1 Thus i 
spoke a minister of the Gospel of peace after i 
the sermon of the priest of Rome. 

After the Mass of the Holy Ghost, the Em- 
peror entered his carriage, 2 and having reached 
the town-hall, where the sittings of the diet 
were to take place, he took his seat on a | 
throne covered with cloth of gold, while his ! 
brother placed himself on a bench in front of j 
him ; then all around them were ranged the 
Electors, forty-two sovereign princes, the 
deputies from the cities, the bishops, and | 
ambassadors, forming, indeed, that illustrious 
assembly which Luther, six weeks before, 
had imagined he saw sitting in the air. 3 

The Count-palatine read the imperial pro- 
position. It referred to two points ; the war 
against the Turks, and the religious contro- 
versy. " Sacrificing my private injuries and 
interests to the common good," said the Em- 
peror, " I have quitted rny hereditary king- 
doms to pass, not without great danger, into 
Italy, and from thence to Germany. I have 
heard with sorrow of the divisions that have 
broken out here, and which, striking not only | 
at the imperial majesty, but still more, at 
the commandments of Almighty God, must j 
engender pillage, conflagration, war, and 
death." 4 At one o'clock the Emperor, ac- 
companied by all the princes, returned to his 
palace. 

On the same day the Elector gathered j 
around him all his co-religionists, whom the 
Emperor's speech had greatly excited, and 
exhorted them not to be turned aside by any 
threats from a cause which was that of God 
himself. 5 All seemed penetrated with this l 



expression of Scripture 



" wSpeak the word, 
and it shall not stand ; for God is with us." 6 
The Elector had a heavy burden to bear. 
Not only had he to walk at the head of the 
princes, but he had further to defend himself 
against the enervating influence of Melanc- 
thon. It is not an abstraction of the state 
which this prince presents to our notice 
throughout the whole of this affair : it is the 
most noble individuality. Early on Tuesday 
morning, feeling the necessity of that invisi- 
ble strength which, according to a beautiful I 
figure in the Holy Scriptures, causes us to j 
ride upon the high places of the earth ; and [ 
seeing, as was usual, his domestics, his coun- 

1 Ut nostros principes ab importuna violentia 
retineamus. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 120.) 

2 Imperaror cum omnibus in curiam vectus est. 
(Sturm to Zw. Epp. u. p. 430.) 

3 Ex volucrum monedularumque regno. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 13.) 

4 Nicht anders dann zu Raub, Brandt, und 
Krieg. (F. Urkunden. i. p. 307.) 

5 Cohortatus est ad intrepidam causae Dei as- 
sentionem. (Seek. ii. p. 108.) 

• Isaiah viii. 10. 



cillors, and his son assembled around him, 
John begged thern affectionately to withdraw. 1 
He knew that it was only by kneeling hum- 
bly before God that he could stand with 
courage before Charles. Alone in his cham- 
ber, he opened and read the Psalms, then 
falling on his knees, he offered up the most 
fervent prayer to God ; 2 next, wishing to con- 
firm himself in the immovable fidelity that 
he had just vowed to the Lord, he went to 
his desk, and there committed his resolutions 
to writing. Dolzig and Melancthon after- 
wards saw these lines, and were filled with 
admiration as they read them. 3 

Being thus tempered anew in heavenly 
thoughts, John took up the imperial proposi- 
tion, and meditated over it; then, having 
called in his son and the chancellor Bruck, 
and Melancthon shortly after, they all agreed 
that the deliberations of the diet ought to 
commence with the affairs of religion; and 
his allies, who were consulted, concurred in 
this advice. 

The legate had conceived a plan diametri- 
cally opposed to this. He desired to stifle 
the religious question, and for this end re- 
quired that the. princes should examine it in 
a secret committee. 4 The Evangelical Chris- 
tians entertained no doubt that if the truth 
was proclaimed in the great council of the 
nation, it would gain the victory ; but the 
more they desired a public confession, the 
more it was dreaded by the Pope's friends. 
The latter wished to take their adversaries 
by silence, without confession, without dis- 
cussion, as a city is taken by famine without 
fighting and without a storm': to gag the Re- 
formation, and thus reduce it to powerless- 
ness and death, were their tactics. To have 
silenced the preachers was not enough : the 
princes must be silenced also. They wished 
to shut up the Reformation as in a dungeon, 
and there leave it to die, thinking they would 
thus get rid of it more surely than by leading 
it to the scaffold. 

This plan was well conceived : it now re- 
mained to be put in execution, and for that 
purpose it was necessary to persuade the 
Protestants that such a method would be the 
surest for them. The person selected for this 
intrigue was Alphonso Valdez, secretary to 
Charles V., a Spanish gentleman, a worthy 
individual, and who afterwards showed a 
leaning towards the Reformation. Policy 
often makes use of good men for the most 
perfidious designs. It was decided that Val- 
dez should address the most timid df the 
Protestants — Melancthon. 

On the 16th or 17th of June, immediately 
after the arrival of Charles, Valdez begged 
Melancthon to call on him. " The Span- 



1 Mane remotis omnibus consiliariis et ministris. 
(Seek. ii. p. 169.) 

2 Precibus ardentissimis a Deo successum ne- 
gotii petiisset. (Ibid.) 

3 Quae cum admiratione legisse dicuntur. (Ibid.) 

4 Si acturi sunt secreto et inter sese, nulla pub 
lica disputatione vel audientia. (L. Epp. iv. p. 43.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



487 



iards," said he, " imagine that the Lutherans 
teach impious doctrines on the Holy Trinity, 
on Jesus Christ, on the blessed Mother of 
God. 1 Accordingly, they think they do a 
more n) eritorious work in killing a Lutheran 
than in slaying- a Turk." 

" I know it," replied Melancthon, " and I 
have not yet been able to succeed in making 
your fellow-countrymen abandon that idea." 

" But what, pray, do the Lutherans desire]" 

"The Lutheran question is not so compli- 
cated and so unseemly as his majesty fancies. 
We do not attack the Catholic Church, as 
is commonly believed ; 2 and the whole con- 
troversy is reducible to these three points. 
The two kinds in the sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper, the marriage of pastors, and the abo- 
lition of private masses. If we could agree 
on these articles, it would be easy to come to 
an understanding on the others." 

" Well, I will report this to his majesty." 

Charles V. was charmed at this communi- 
cation. " Go," said he to Valdez, " and im- 
part these things to the legate, and ask Mas- 
ter Philip to transmit to you in writing a 
short exposition of what they believe and 
what they deny." 

Valdez hastened to Campeggio. " What 
you relate pleases me tolerably," said the 
latter. "As for the two kinds in the sacra- 
ment, and the marriage of priests, there will 
be means of accommodation ; 3 but we cannot 
consent to the abolition of private masses." 
This would have been in fact cutting off one 
of the greatest revenues of the Church. 

On Saturday, June 18, Valdez saw Me- 
lancthon again. "The Emperor begs of you 
a moderate and concise exposition," said he, 
" and he is persuaded that it will be more 
advantageous to treat of this matter briefly 
and privately, 4 avoiding all public hearing 
and all prolix discussion, which would only 
engender anger and division." — " Well," said 
Melancthon, " I will reflect upon it." 

Melancthon was almost won over: a secret 
conference agreed better with his disposition. 
Had he not often repeated that peace should 
be sought after above all things ] Thus every- 
thing induced the legate to hope that a public 
struggle would be avoided, and that he might 
be content, as it were, to send mutes against 
the Reform, and strangle it in a dungeon. 5 

Fortunately the Chancellor and the Elector 
Frederick did not think fit to entertain the 
propositions with which Charles had com- 
missioned the worthy Valdez. The resolu- 
tion of these lay members of the Church 



1 Hispanis persuasum esse Lutheranos impie 
de Sanctissima Trinitate. (Ex relatione Spalati 
in Seek. ii. 165.) 

2 Non adeo per eos Ecclesiam Catholicam op- 
pugnari, quam vulso putaretur. (Ibid. 100.) 

3 Mit beider Gestalt sacraments oder des Plaf- 
fen und Monch Ehe. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 123.) 

4 Die Sache in einer Enge und Stille vorzu neh- 
men. (Ibid.) 

5 Coelestin, Hist. Comit. August, p. 193. Tn- 
telligo hoc towc a-p^iioi*; moliri, ut omnino nihil 
agatur de negotiis ecclesiasticis. (Ibid. p. 57.) 



saved it from the false step its doctors were 
about to take ; and the wiles of the Italians 
failed against Evangelical firmness. Me- 
lancthon was only permitted to lay the Con- 
fession before the Spaniard, that he might 
look into it, and in despite of the moderation 
employed in it, Valdez exclaimed : " These 
words are too bitter, and your adversaries 
will never put up with them !' n Thus fin- 
ished the legate's manoeuvre. 

VI. Charles, compelled to resign himself 
to a public sitting, ordered on Wednesday, 
22d June, that the Elector and his allies 
should have their Confession ready for the 
ensuing Friday. The Roman party were 
also invited to present a confession of faith ; 
but they excused themselves, saying that they 
were satisfied with the Edict of Worms. 

The Emperor's order took the Protestants 
by surprise, for the negotiations between 
Valdez and Melancthon had prevented the 
latter from putting the finishing stroke to the 
Confession. It was not copied out fair; and 
the conclusions, as well as the exordium, 
were not definitively drawn up. In conse- 
quence of this, the Protestants begged the 
Archbishop of Mentz to obtain for them the 
delay of a day; but their petition was re- 
fused. 2 They therefore laboured incessantly, 
even during the night, to correct and trans- 
cribe the Confession. 

On Thursday, 23d June, all the Protestant 
princes, deputies, councillors, and theologians 
met early at the Elector's. The Confession 
was read in German, and all gave their ad- 
hesion to it, except the Landgrave and the 
Strasburgers, who required a change in the 
article on the sacrament. 3 The princes rt? 
jected their demand. 

The Elector of Saxony was already pre- 
paring to sign, when Melancthon stopped 
him : he feared giving too political a colour- 
ing to this religious business. In his idea it 
was the Church that should appear, and not 
the State. " It is for the theologians and 
ministers to propose these things," said he ; 4 
" let us reserve for other matters the authority 
of the mighty ones of the earth.'" — " God 
forbid that you should exclude me," replied 
the Elector; "lam resolved to do what is 
ri^ht without troubling myself about my 
crown. I desire to confess the Lord. My 
electoral hat and my ermine are not so pre 
cious to me as the cross of Jesus Christ. I 
shall leave on earth these marks of my great- 
ness; but my Master's cross will accompany 
me to heaven." 

How resist such Christian language ! Me* 
lancthon gave way. 

1 Ac plane putarit mxpiripov esse quam ut ferre 
possent adversarii. (Ibid. p. 140.) 

2 Dasselbige abgeschlagen. (Corp. Ref. ii. p 
127.) 

3 Argentinenses ambierunt aliquid ut excepio 
articulo sacramenti susciperentur. (Ibid. p. 155.) 

4 Non principum nomine edi sed decentiura 
qui theologi vocantur. (Camer. p. 120.) 



488 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



The Elector then approached, signed, and 
handed the pen to the Landgrave, who at first 
made some objections ; however the enemy 
was at the door; was this the time for dis- 
union 1 At last he signed, but with a decla- 
ration that the doctrines of the Eucharist, did 
not please him. 1 

The Margrave and Luneburg having joy- 
fully subscribed their names, Anhalt took the 
pen in his turn, and said, fi I have tilted more 
than once to please others; now, if the honour 
of my Lord Jesus Christ requires it, I am 
ready to saddle my horse, to leave my goods 
and my life behind, and to rush into eternity, 
towards an everlasting crowm." Then, hav- 
ing signed, this youthful prince said, turning 
to the theologians : " Rather renounce my 
subjects and my states, rathet quit the country 
of my fathers, staff in hand, rather gain my 
bread by cleaning the shoes of the foreigner, 
than receive any other doctrine than that 
which is contained in this Confession." — 
Nuremberg and Reutlingen alone of the 
cities subscribed their signatures ; 2 and all 
resolved on demanding of the Emperor that 
the Confession should be read publicly. 3 

The courage of the princes surprised every 
one. Rome had crushed the members of the 
Church, and had reduced them to a herd of 
slaves, whom she dragged silent and humili- 
ated behind her : the Reformation enfran- 
chised them, and with their rights it restored 
to them their duties. The priest no longer 
enjoyed the monopoly of religion ; each head 
of a family again became priest in his own 
house, and all the members of the Church 
of God were thenceforward called to the rank 
of confessors. The laymen are nothing, or 
almost nothing, in the sect of Rome, but they 
are the essential portion of the Church of 
Jesus Christ. Wherever the priestly spirit 
is established, the Church dies ; wherever 
laymen, as these Augsburg princes, under- 
stand their duty and their immediate depend- 
ence on Christ, the Church lives. 

Th'e Evangelical theologians were moved 
by the devoted ness of the princes. " When 
I consider their firmness in the confession of 
the Gospel," said Brenz, " the colour mounts 
to my cheeks. What a disgrace that we, 
who are only beggars beside them, are so 
afraid of confessing Christ!" 4 Brenz was 
then thinking of certain towns, particularly 
of Halle, of which he was pastor, but no 
doubt also of the theologians. 

The latter, in truth, without being deficient 
in deyotedness, were sometimes wanting in 
courage. Melancthon was in constant agita- 
tion; he ran to and fro, slipping in everywhere, 
(says Cochlceus in his Philippics,) penetra- 

1 Landgravius subscribit nobiscum, sed tamen 
dicit sibi, de sacramento, a nostris non satisfied. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 155.) 

2 Confessioni lantum subscripserunt Nurem- 
berg^ et Reutlingen. (Ibid.) 

3 Decretum est ut publicae recitandae concessio 
ab Imperatore peteretur. (Seek. ii. p. 169.) 

4 Rubore suffundor non mediocri, quod nos, prae 
vl.lis mendici, &c. (Corn. Ref. ii. p. 125.) 



ting not only the houses and mansions of pri- 
vate persons, but also insinuating himself into 
the palaces of cardinals and princes, nay, even 
into the court of the Emperor; and, whether 
at table or in conversation, he spared no means 
of persuading every person, that nothing was 
more easy than to restore peace between the 
two parties. 1 

One day he was with the Archbishop of 

Salzburg, who in a long discourse gave an 

eloquent description of the troubles produced, 

as he said, by the Reformation, and ended 

j with a peroration " written in blood," says 

I Melancthon. 2 Philip in agony had ventured 

, during the conversation to slip in the word 

Conscience. "Conscience!" hastily inter- 

i rupted the archbishop, " Conscience! — What 

: does that mean? I tell you plainly that the 

Emperor will not allow confusion to be thus 

! brought upon the Empire." — " Had I been in 

Melancthon's place," said Luther, "I should 

, have immediately replied to the archbishop : 

j And our Emperor, ours, will not tolerate such 

i blasphemy." — "Alas!" said Melancthon, 

" they are all as full of assurance as if there 

was no God." 3 

Another day Melancthon was with Cam- 
peggio, and conjured him to persevere in the 
moderate sentiments he appeared to entertain. 
I And at another time, as it would seem, he 
J was with the Emperor himself. 4 " Alas !" 
said the alarmed Zwinglians, " after having 
qualified one half of the Gospel, Melancthon 
is sacrificing the other." 5 

The wiles of the Ultramontanists were 
added to Philip's dejection, in order to arrest 
I the courageous proceedings of the princes. 
Friday, 24th June, was the day fixed for read- 
: ing the Confession, but measures were taken 
to prevent it. The sitting of the diet did not 
I begin till three in the afternoon ; the legate 
was then announced; Charles went to meet 
him as far as the top of the grand staircase, 
I and Campeggio, taking his seat in front of 
the Emperor, in King Ferdinand's place, 
delivered a harangue in Ciceronian style. 
" Never," said he, " has St. Peter's bark been 
so violently tossed by so many waves, whirl- 
winds, and abysses. 6 The Holy Father has 
learnt these things with pain, and desires to 
drag the Church from these frightful gulfs. 
For the love of Jesus Christ, for the safety 
of your country and for your own, O mighty 
Prince ! get rid of these errors, deliver Ger- 
many, and save Christendom!" 

After a temperate reply from Albert of 
Mentz, the legate quitted the town-hall, and 



1 Cursitabat hinc inde, perreptans ac penetrans. 
(Cochl. Phil. 4, in Apol.) 

2 Addebat Epilosrum plane sanguine scriptum. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) 

3 Securi sunt quasi nullus sit Deus. (Ibid. p. 
156.) 

4 Melancthon a Caesare. Salisburgensi et Cam- 
pesio vocatus est. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 473.) 

5 Ut cum mitigarit tam multa. cedat et reliqua. 
(Ibid.) 

6 Ne que unquam tam variis sectarum turbini- 
bus navicula Petri fiuctuaverit. (Seek. ii. p. 169. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



489 



the Evangelical princes stood up ; but a fresh 
obstacle had been provided. Deputies from 
Austria, Carintha, and Carniola, first received 
a hearing-. 1 

Much time had thus elapsed. The Evan- 
gelical princes, however, rose up again, and 
the Chancellor Bruck said : " It is pretended 
that new doctrines not based on Scripture, 
that heresies and schisms are spread among 
the people by us. Considering that such ac- 
cusations compromise not only our own good 
name, but also the safety of our souls, 2 we 
beg his majesty would have the goodness to 
hear what are the doctrines we profess." 

The Emperor, no doubt by arrangement 
with the legate, made reply that it was too 
late ; besides, that this reading would be use- 
less ; and that the princes should be satisfied 
with putting in their confession in writing. 
Thus the mine, so skilfully prepared, worked 
admirably ; the confession, once handed to 
the Emperor, would be thrown aside, and 
the Reformation would be forced to retire, 
without the Papists having even condescend- 
ed to hear it, without defence, and over- 
whelmed with contumely. 

The Protestant princes, uneasy, and agitat- 
ed, insisted. "Our honour is at stake," said 
they ; our souls are endangered. 3 We are 
accused publicly ; publicly we ought to an- 
swer." Charles was shaken; Ferdinand 
leant towards him, and whispered a few 
words in his ear : 4 the Emperor refused a se- 
cond time. 

Upon this, the Elector and princes, in still 
greater ^larm, said for the third time with 
emotion and earnestness : 3 " For the love of 
God, let us read our Confession ! No person 
is insulted in it." Thus were seen, on the 
one hand, a few faithful men, desiring with 
loud cries to confess their faith ; and on the 
other, the great Emperor of the West, sur- 
rounded by a crowd of cardinals, prelates, 
and princes, endeavouring to stifle the mani- 
festation of the truth. 6 It was a serious, vio- 
lent, and decisive struggle, in which the 
holiest interests were discussed ! 

At last Charles appeared to yield : "His 
majesty grants your request," was the reply 
to the princes ; but, as it is now too late, he 
begs you to transmit him your written Con- 
fession, and to-morrow, at two o'clock, the 
diet will be prepared to hear it read at the 
Palatine Palace." 

The princes were struck with these 
words, which, seeming to grant them every 
thing, in reality granted nothing. In the first 

1 Oratio valde lugubris et miserabilis contra 
Turcas. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 154.) 

2 Verum etiam ad animae dispendium aut salu- 
tem aeternam. (Seek. ii. p. 189.) 

3 Ihre Seele, Ehre und Glimpt belanget. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 128.) 

4 Viderant enim eum subinde aliquid illi in au- 
rem insusurrare. (Seek. ii. p. 169.) 

5 Zum dritten mal heftig angehalten. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 128.) 

6 Circumsistebant Caesarem magno numero car- 
dinaies et praelati ecclesiastici. (Seek. ii. p. 169.) 



place, it was not in a public sitting. at the 
town-hall, but privately in his own palace, 
that the Emperor was willing to hear them ;' 
then they had no doubt, that if the Confession 
left their hands, it was all over with the pub- 
lic reading. They, therefore, remained firm. 
" The work has been done in great haste," 
said they, and it was the truth ; " pray leave 
it with us to-night, that we may revise it." 
The Emperor was obliged to yield, and the 
Protestants returned to their hotels full of joy ; 
while the legate and his friends, perceiving 
that the Confession was inevitable, saw the 
morrow approach with anxiety continuaDy 
increasing. 

Among those who prepared to confess the 
Evangelical truth, was one, however, whose 
heart was filled with sadness: — it was Me- 
lancthon. Placed between two fires, he saw 
the Reformed, and many even of his own 
friends, reproach his weakness ; while the 
opposite party detested what they called his 
hypocrisy. His friend Camerarius, who 
visited Augsburg about this time, often found 
him plunged in thought, uttering deep sighs, 
and shedding bitter tears. 2 Brenz, moved 
with compassion, coming to the unhappy 
Philip, would sit down by his side and weep 
with him ; 3 and Jonas, endeavouring to con- 
sole him in another manner, exhorted him to 
take the Book of Psalms, and cry to God 
with all his heart, making use of David's 
words rather than of his own. 

One day intelligence arrived which formed 
a general topic of conversation in Augsburg, 
and which, spreading terror among the parti- 
sans of the Pope, gave a momentary relief to 
Melancthon. It was said, that a mule in 
Rome had given birth to a colt with a crane's 
feet. " This prodigy," said Melancthon 
thoughtfully, " announces that Rome is near 
its end ;" 4 perhaps because the crane is a bird 
of passage, and that the Pope's mule thus 
gave signs of departure. Melancthon had 
immediately written to Luther, who replied 
that he was exceedingly rejoiced that God 
had given the Pope so striking a sign of his 
approaching fall. 5 It is good to call to me- 
mory these puerilities of the age of the Re- 
formers, that we may better understand the 
high range of these men of God in matters of 
fafth. 

These idle Roman stories did not long con- 
sole Melancthon. On the eve of the 25th 
June, he was present in imagination at the 
reading of that Confession which he had 
drawn up, which was about to be proclaimed 
before the world, and in which one word too 

1 IS on quidem publice in preetorio, sed privatim 
in palatio sao. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 124.) 

2 Non modo suspirantem sed profundentem 
lacrymas conspexi. (Camer. p. 121.) 

3 Brentius assidebat haec scribenti, una lacry- 
mans. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) 

4 Romae quaedam mula peperit, et partus habuit 
pedes gruis. Vides signifieari exitium Romae per 
schismata. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) 

5 Gaudeo Papas signum datum in mula puer- 
pera, ut citius pereat. (L. Epp. rv. p. 4. , » 



490 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



many or too few, might decide on the appro- 
bation or the hatred of the princes, on the 
safety or ruin of the Reformation, and of the 
Empire. He could bear up no longer, and the 
feeble Atlas, crushed under the burden of the 
world upon his shoulders, gave utterance to a 
cry of anguish. " All my time here is spent 
in tears and mourning," wrote he to Vitus 
Diedrich, Luther's secretary in the castle of 
Coburg ; J and on the morrow he wrote to Lu- 
ther himself: "My dwelling is in perpetual 
tears. 2 My consternation is indescribable. 3 
O my father ! I do not wish my words to 
exaggerate my sorrows ; but, without your 
consolations, it is impossible for me to enjoy 
here the least peace." 

Nothing, in fact, presented so strong a con- 
trast to the distrust and desolations of Me- 
lancthon, as the faith, calmness, and exulta- 
tion of Luther. It was of advantage to him 
that he was not then in the midst of the Augs- 
burg vortex, and to be able from his strong- 
hold to set his foot with tranquillity upon the 
rock of God's promises. He \\ as sensible 
himself of the value of this peaceful hermit- 
age, as he called it. 4 " I cannot sufficiently 
admire," said Vitus Diedrich, " the firmness, 
cheerfulness, and faith of this man, so aston- 
ishing in such cruel times." 

Luther, besides his constant reading of the 
Word of God, 5 did not pass a day without de- 
voting three hours, at least, to prayer, and 
they were hours selected from those the most 
favourable to study. 6 One day, as Diedrich 
approached the Reformer's chamber, he heard 
his voice, 7 and remained motionless, holding 
his breath, a few steps from the door. Lu- 
ther was praying, and his prayer (said the 
secretary) was full of adoration, fear, and 
hope, as when one speaks to a friend or to a 
father. 8 " I know that thou art our Father and 
our God," said the Reformer, alone in his 
chamber, "and that thou wilt scatter the per- 
secutors of thy children, for thou art thyself 
endangered with us. All this matter is thine, 
and it is only by thy constraint that we have 
put our hands to it. Defend us, then, O Fa- 
ther !" The secretary, motionless as a statue, 
in the long gallery of the castle, lost not one 
of the words that the clear and resounding 
voice of Luther bore to his ears. 9 The Re- 
former was earnest with God, and called upon 
him with so much unction to accomplish his 



1 Hie consumifur omne mihi tempus in lacry- 
mis et luctu. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 126.) 

2 Versamur hie in miserrimis curis et plane per- 
petuis lacrymis. (Ibid. p. 140.) 

3 Miraconsternatioanimorum nosirorum. (Ibid.) 

4 Ex eremo tacita. (L. Epp. iv. p. 51.) It is thus 
he dates his letter. 

5 Assidue autem ilia diligentiore verbi Dei trae- 
tatione alit. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 159.) 

6 Nullus abit dies, quin ut minimum tres horas 
easque studiis optimasinorationibus ponat. (Ibid.) 

7 Semel mihi contigit ut orantem eum audirem. 
Ibid.) 

8 Tanta spe et fide ut cum patre et amico collo- 
qiu sentiat. (Ibid.) 

9 Turn orantem clara voce, procul stans, audivi. 
(Ibid.) 



promises, that Diedrich felt his heart glow 
within him. 1 " Oh !" exclaimed he, as he 
retired, " How could not these prayers but 
prevail in the desperate struggle at Augs- 
burg!" 

Luther might also have allowed himself to 
be overcome with fear, for he was left in com- 
plete ignorance of what was taking place in 
the diet. A Wittemberg messenger, who 
should have brought him forests of letters, 
(according to his own expression,) having 
presented himself: "Do you bring any let- 
ters?" asked Luther. "No!" "How are 
those gentlemen?" "Well!" Luther, griev- 
ed at such silence, returned and shut himself 
up in his chamber. 

Ere long there appeared a courier orl horse- 
back carrying despatches from the Elector to 
Torgau. "Do you bring me any letters !" 
asked Luther. " No !" " How are those gen- 
tlemen ?'■' continued he, fearfully. "Well !" 
"This is strange," thought the Reformer. 
A waggon having left Coburg laden with 
flour, (for they were almost in want of pro- 
visions at Augsburg,) Luther impatiently 
awaited the return of the waggoner ; but he 
returned empty. Luther then began to re- 
volve the gloomiest thoughts in his mind, not 
doubting that they were concealing some mis- 
fortune from him. 2 At last another individual, 
Jobst N) T mptzen, having arrived from Augs- 
burg, Luther rushed anew towards him, with 
his usual question. " Do you bring me any 
letters ?" He waited trembling for the reply. 
" No !" " And how then are those gentle- 
men?" "Well!" The Reformer withdrew, 
a prey to anger and to fear. 

Then Luther opened his Bible, and to con- 
sole himself for the silence of men, he con- 
versed with God. There were some passages 
of Scripture in particular that he read con- 
tinually. We point them out below. 3 He 
did more ; he wrote with his own hand many 
declarations of Scripture over the doors and 
windows, and on the walls of the castle. In 
one place were these words from the 118th 
Psalm : 1 shall not die, but live, and dec/are the 
vjorks of the Lord. In another, those of the 
12th chapter of Proverbs : The way of the 
wicked seduceth them ,■ and over his bed, these 
words from the 4th Psalm : / will both lay 
me down in peace and sleep : for thou, Lord, 
only makest me dwell in safety. Never per- 
haps did man so environ himself with the 
promises of the Lord, or so dwell in the at- 



1 Ardebat mihi quoque animus singulari quo- 
dam impetu. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 159.) 

2 Hie ccepi cogitare tristia. suspirans, vos aliquid 
maii me celare velle. (L. Epp. iv p. 60.) 

3 2 Tim. iii. 12 ; Philip, ii. 12. 13 ; John x. 17, 
18; Matth. xvi. 18; Psalm x!vi J, 2; 1 John iv. 
4 ; Psalm lv. 23 ; xxvii. 14 ; John xvi. 33 ; Luke 
xvii. 5; Psalm xxxii. 11; cxlv. 18. 19; xci. 14, 
15 ; Sirach. ii. 11 ; 1 Maccab.ii. 61 ; Matth. vi. 31 ; 

1 Peter v. 6. 7; Matth. x. 28; Rom. iv and vi. ; 
Heb. v. and xi. ; 1 Sam. iv. 18 ; xxxi. 4-8 ; ii. 30 ; 

2 Tim. ii. 17, 18, 19; i. 12; Eph. iii. 20. 21. 
Among these passages will be observed two verses 
taken from the Apocrypha, but whose equivalents 
might easily be found in the Word of God. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



491 



mosphere of his Word and live by his breath, 
as Luther at Coburg. 

At length letters came. " If the times in 
which we live were not opposed to it, I should 
have imagined some revenge,' 1 wrote Luther 
to Jonas ; " but prayer checked my anger, 
and anger checked my prayer. 1 I am delighted 
at that tranquil mind which God gives our 
prince. As for Melancthon, it is his philo- 
sophy that tortures him, and nothing else. 
For our cause is in the very hands of Him 
who can say with unutterable pride : No one 
shall pluck il out of my hands. I would not 
have it in our hands, and it would not be de- 
sirable that it were so. 2 I have had many 
things in my hands, and I have lost them all : 
but whatever I have been able to place in 
God's, I still possess." 

On learning that Melancthon's anguish 
still continued, Luther wrote to him: and 
these are words that should be preserved. 

" Grace and peace in Christ! in Christ, I 
say, and not in the world, Amen. I hate with 
exceeding hatred those extreme cares which 
consume you. If the cause is unjust, aban- 
don it ; if the cause is just, why should we 
belie the promises of Him who commands us 
to sleep without fear ? Can the devil do more 
than kill us 1 Christ will not be wanting to 
the work of justice and of truth. He lives ; j 
he reigns ; what fear, then, can we have ] 
God is powerful to upraise his cause if it is ' 
overthrown, to make it proceed if it remains 
motionless, and if we are not worthy of it, he 
will do it by others. 

"I have received your Apology, 3 and I can- 
not understand what you mean, when you 
ask what we must concede to the Papists. 
We have already conceded too much. Night 
and day I meditate on this afTair, turning it 
over and over, perusing all Scripture, and the 
certainty of the truth of our doctrine continu- 
ally increases in my mind. With the help 
of God, I will not permit a single letter of all 
that we have said to be torn from us. 

" The issue of this affair torments you, be- 
cause you cannot understand it. But if you 
could, I would not have the least share in it. 
God has put it in a ' common place,' that you 
will not find either in your rhetoric or in your 
philosophy : that place is called Faith. 4 It is 
that in which subsist all things that we can 
neither understand nor see. Whoever wishes 
to touch them, as you do, will have tears for 
his sole reward. 

" If Christ is not with us, where is he in 
the whole universe 1 If we are not the 
Church, where, I pray, is the Church 1 Is it 
the Dukes of Bavaria, is it Ferdinand, is it 
the Pope, is it the Turk, who is the Church 1 



1 Sed orandi tempns non sinebat irasci, et ira 
non sinebat orare. (L. Epp. iv..p. 46.) 

2 Nee vellem, nee consultum esset, in nostra 
manu esse. (Ibid.) 

3 The Confession revised and corrected. 

4 Deus posuit earn in locvm quendam commu- 
nem, quern in lua rhetorica non habes nee in phi- 
losophia tua ; is vocatur/rfes. (L. Epp. iv. p. 53.) 



If we have not the Word, who is it that pos 
sesses it ? 

" Only we must have faith, lest the cause 
of faith should be found to be without faith. 1 

" If we fall, Christ falls with us, that is to 
say, the Master of the world. I would rather 
fall with Christ, than remain standing with 
Cffisar." 

Thus wrote Luther. The faith which ani- 
mated him flowed from him like torrents of 
living water. He was indefatigable ; in a 
single day he wrote to Melancthon, Spalatin, 
Brenz, Agricola, and John Frederick, and 
they were letters full of life. Ht was not 
alone in praying, speaking, and believing. 
At the same moment, the Evangelical Chris- 
tians exhorted one another every where to 
prayer. 2 Such was the arsenal in which the 
weapons were forged that the confessors of 
Christ wielded before the Diet of Augsburg. 

VII. At length the 25th June arrived. This 
was destined to be the greatest day of the 
Reformation, and one of the most glorions in 
the history of Christianity and of mankind. 

As the chapel of the Palatine Palace, 
where the Emperor had resolved to hear the 
Confession, could contain only about two 
hundred persons, 3 before three o'clock a great 
crowd was to be seen surrounding the build- 
ing and thronging the court, hoping by this 
means to catch a few words ; and many having 
gained entrance to the chapel, all were turned 
out except those who were not, at the least, 
councillors to the princes. 

Charles took his seat on the throne. The 
Electors or their representatives were on his 
right and left hand ; after them the other 
princes and states of the Empire. The legate 
had refused to appear in this solemnity, lest 
he should seem by his presence to authorize 
the reading of the Confession. 4 

Then stood up John Elector of Saxony, 
with his son John Frederick, Philip Land- 
grave of Hesse, the Margrave George of 
Brandenburg, Wolfgang Prince of Anhalt, 
Ernest Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg, and 
his brother Francis, and last of all the depu- 
ties of Nuremberg and Reutlingen. Their 
air was animated and their features radiant 
with joy. 5 The apologies of the early Chris- 
tians, of Tertullian and Justin Martyr, hardly 
reached in writing the sovereigns to whom 
they were addressed. But now, to hear the 
new apology of resuscitated Christianity, be- 
hold that puissant Emperor, whose sceptre, 
stretching far beyond the columns of Hercu- 
les, reaches the utmost limits of the world, 
his brother the King of the Romans, with 



1 Tantum est opus fide, ne causa fidei sit sine 
fide. (Ibid. p. 61.) 

2 Wittembergae scribunt, tarn diligenter ibi Ec 
clesiam orare. (Ibid. p. 69.) 

3 Capiebat forsan ducentos. (Jonas, Corp. Ref. 
ii.p. 157.) 

4 Sarpi, Hist. Council Trent, i. p. 101. 

6 Laeto et alacri animo et vultu. (Scultet. i. o. 
273.) 



492 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



electors, princes, prelates, deputies, ambas- 
sadors, all of whom desire to destroy the 
Gospel, but who are constrained by an invis- j 
ible power to listen, and, by that very list- ' 
ening, to honour the Confession ! 

One thought was involuntarily present in 
the minds of the spectators, — the recollection 
of the Diet of Worms. 1 Only nine years be- 
fore, a poor monk stood alone for this same 
cause in a hall of the town-house at Worms, 
in presence of the Empire. And now in his 
stead, behold the foremost of the Electors, 
behold princes and cities! What a victory 
is declared by this simple fact ! No doubt 
Charles himself cannot escape from this re- 
collection. 

The Emperor, seeing the Protestants stand | 
up, motioned them to sit down ; and then the 
two chancellors of the Elector, Bruck and 
Bayer, advanced to the middle of the chapel, j 
and stood before the throne, holding in their 
hands, the former the Latin, and the other the j 
German copy of the Confession. The Em- 
peror required the Latin copy to be read. 8 
" We are Germans," said the Elector of 
Saxony, " and on German soil ; I hope there- 
fore your majesty will allow us to speak Ger- 
man." If the Confession had been read in ! 
Latin, a language unknown to most of the 
princes, the general effect would have been 
lost. This was another means of shutting 
the mouth of the Gospel. The Emperor 
complied with the Elector's demand. 

Bayer then began to read the Evangelical 
Confession, slowly, seriously, distinctly, with 
a clear, strong, and sonorous voice, which 
re-echoed under the arched roof of the chapel, 
and carried even to the outside this great tes- 
timony paid to the truth. 3 

" Most serene, most mighty, and invincible 
Emperor and most gracious Lord," said he, 
" we who appear in your presence, declare 
ourselves ready to confer amicably with you 
on the fittest means of restoring one sole, 
true, and same faith, since it is for one sole 
and same Christ that we fight. 4 And in case 
that these religious dissensions cannot be 
settled amicably, we then offer to your ma- 
jesty to explain our cause in a general, free, 
and Christian council." 5 

This prologue beinj ended, Bayer con- 
fessed the Holy Trinity, conformably with 
the Nicene Council, 6 original and hereditary 
sin, " which bringeth eternal death to all 
who are not regenerated," 7 and the incarna- 

1 Ante decennium in conventu Wormatensi. 
jCorp. Ref. ii. p. 153.) 

2 Cassar Latinum prelegivolebat. (Seck.ii. p. 170.) 
8 Qui clare, distincte, tarde et voce adeo grandi 

et sonora earn pronunciavit. (Scultet. p. 276.) 

4 Ad unam veram concordem religionem, sicut 
omnes sub uno Christo sumus et militamus. (Con- 
fessio. Praefatio. Urkunden. i. p. 474.) 

5 Causam dicturos in tali generali, libero, et 
Chnstiano concilio. (Ibid. p. 479.) 

6 Ei tamen tres sunt personae ejusdem essentiae. 
(Ibid, p 682.) 

7 Viti im originis, afterens aeternam mortem his 
qui non renascuntur. (Confessio, Praefatio. Ur- 
kunden, i. p. 483.) 



tion of the Son, " very God and very 
man." 1 

" We teach moreover," continued he, "that 
we cannot be justified before God by our own 
strength, our merits, and our works ; but that 
we are justified by Christ through grace, 
through the means of faith, 2 when we believe 
that our sins are forgiven in virtue of Christ, 
who by his death has made satisfaction for 
our sins : this faith is the righteousness that 
God imputes to the sinner. 

" But we teach, at the same time, that this 
faith ought to bear good fruits, and that we 
must do all the good works commanded by 
God, for the love of God, and not by their 
means to gain the grace of God." 

The Protestants next declared their faith in 
the Christian Church, "which is," said they, 
" the assembly of all true believers and all 
the saints," 3 in the midst of whom there are, 
nevertheless, in this life, many false Chris- 
tians, hypocrites even, and manifest sinners; 
and they added, " that it was sufficient for 
the real unity of the Church that they were 
agreed on the doctrine of the Gospel and the 
administration of the sacraments, without the 
rites and ceremonies instituted by men being 
everywhere the same." 4 They proclaimed 
the necessity of baptism, and declared " that 
the body and blood of Christ are really pre- 
sent and administered in the Lord's Supper 
to those who partake of it." 5 

The Chancellor then successively confessed 
the faith of the Evangelical Christians, touch- 
ing confession, penance, the nature of the 
sacraments, the government of the Church, 
ecclesiastical ordinances, political govern- 
ment, and the last judgment. " As regards 
Free-will," continued he, " we confess that 
man's will has a certain liberty of accom- 
plishing civil justice, and of loving the things 
that reason comprehends ; that man can do 
the good that is within the sphere of nature 
— plough his fields, eat, drink, have a friend, 
put on a coat, build a house, take a wife, feed 
cattle, exercise a calling; as also he can, of 
his own movement, do evil, kneel before an 
idol, and commit murder. But we maintain 
that without the Holy Ghost he cannot do 
what is righteous in the sight of God." 

Then, returning to the grand doctrine of 
the Reformation, and recalling to mind that 
the doctors of the Pope " have never ceased 
impelling the faithful to puerile and useless 
works, as the custom of chaplets, invoca- 
tions of saints, monastic vows, processions, 

•Onus Christus, vere Deus, et vere homo. 
(Ibid.) 

2 Quod homines non possint jnstificari coram 
Deo, propriis viribus, meritis, aut operibus, sed 
gratis, propter Christum, per fidem. (Ibid. p. 
484.) 

3 Congregatio sanctorum et vere credentium. 
(Ibid. p. 487.) 

4 Ad veram unitatem Ecclesiae, satis est consen 
tire de doctrina Evangelii et administratione sacra- 
mentorum, nee necesse est, &c. (Ibid. p. 486.) 

6 Quod corpus et sanguis Christi, vere adsint 
et distribuantur vescentibus in cosna Domini. (F. 
Urkund. i. p. 488.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



403 



fasts, feast-days, brotherhoods," the Pro- 
testants added, that as for themselves, while 
urging the practice of truly Christian works, 
of which little had been said before their 
time, 1 " <hey taught that man is justified by 
faith alone ; not oy that faith which is a sim- 
ple knowledge of the history, and which 
wicked men, and even devils possess, but by 
a faith which believes not only the history, 
but also the effect of the history; 2 which 
believes that through Christ we obtain grace ; 
which sees that in Christ we have a merciful 
Father; which knows this God ; which calls 
upon him ; in a word, which is not without 
God as the heathen are." 

"Such," said Bayer, "is a summary of 
the doctrine professed in our Churches, by 
■which it may be seen that this doctrine is by 
no means opposed to Scripture, to the univer- 
sal Church, nor even to the Romish Church, 
such as the doctors describe it to us ; 3 and 
since it is so, to reject us as heretics is an 
offence against unity and charity." 

Here terminated the first part of the Con- 
fession, the aim of which was to explain the 
Evangelical doctrine. The Chanceller read 
with so distinct a voice, that the crowd which 
was unable to enter the hall, and which filled 
the court and all the approaches of the epis- 
copal palace, did not lose a word. 4 This 
reading produced the most marvellous effect 
on the princes who thronged the chapel. 
Jonas watched every change in their counte- 
nances, 5 and there beheld interest, astonish- 
ment, and even approbation depicted by turns. 
" The adversaries imagine they have done a 
wonderful thing, by forbidding the preaching 
of the Gospel," wrote Luther to the Elector ; 
" and they do not see, poor creatures ! that 
by the reading of the Confession in the pre- 
sence of the diet, there has been more preach- 
ing than in the sermons of ten preachers. 
Exquisite subtlety! admirable expedient! 
Master Agricola and the other ministers are 
reduced to silence ; but in their place appear 
the Elector of Saxony, and the other princes 
and lords, who preach before his imperial 
majesty, and the members of the whole Em- 
pire, freely, to their beard, and before their 
noses. Yes, Christ is in the diet, and he 
does not keep silence : the word of God cannot 
he bound. They forbid it in the pulpit, and 
are forced to hear it in the palace ; poor minis- 
ters cannot announce it, and great princes 
proclaim it ; the servants are forbidden to 



1 De quibus rebus olim parum docebant con- 
cionatores ; tantum .puerilla et non necessaiia 
opera urgebant. (F. Urkund. i. p. 495.) 

2 Non tantum historiae notitiam, sed fidem quae 
credit non tantum historiam, sed etiam effectum 
historiae. (Ibid. p. 498.) 

3 Nihil inesse quod discrepaf a Scripturis vel ab 
Ecclesia Catholica, vel ab Eccle-sia Romana, qua- 
tenus ex Scriptoribus nota est. (Ibid. p. 501.) 

4 Verum etiam in area inferiori et vicinis locis 
exaudiri potuerit. (Scultet. p. 274.) 

5 Jonas scribit vidisse se vultus omnium de quo 
mini spondet narrationem coram. (L. Epp. iv. p. 

7n 



listen to it, and their masters are compelled 
to hear it ; they will have nothing to do with 
it during the whole course of the diet, and 
they are forced to submit to hear more in one 
day than is heard ordinarily in a whole year. 

When all else is silent, the very 

stones cry out, as says our Lord Jesus 
Christ." 1 

That part of the Confession destined to 
point out errors and abuses still remained. 
Bayer continued: he explained and demon- 
strated the doctrine of the two kinds ; he 
attacked the compulsory celibacy of priests, 
maintained that the Lord's Supper had been 
changed into a regular fair, in which it was 
merely a question of buying and selling, and 
that it had been re-established in its primitive 
purity by the Reformation, and was cele- 
brated in the Evangelical churches with en- 
tirely new devotion and gravity. He de- 
clared that the Sacrament was administered 
to no one who had not first made confession 
of his faults, and he quoted this expression 
of Chrysostom : Confess thyself to God the 
Lord, thy real Judge ; tell thy sin, not with 
the tongue, but in thy conscience and in thy 
heart." 

Bayer next came to the precepts on the 
distinction of meats and other Roman usa- 
ges. " Celebrate such a festival," said he ; 
" repeat such a prayer, or keep such a fast ; 
be dressed in such a manner, and so many 
other ordinances of men — this is what is now 
styled a spiritual and Christian life ; while 
the good works prescribed by God, as those 
of a father of a family who toils to support 
his wife, his sons, and his daughters — of a 
mother who brings children into the world, 
and takes care of them — of a prince or of a 
magistrate who governs his subjects, are 
looked upon as secular things, and of an im- 
perfect nature." As for monastic vows in 
particular, he represented that, as the Pope 
could give a dispensation from them, those 
vows ought therefore to be abolished. 

The last article of the Confession treated 
of the authority of the bishops : powerful 
princes crowned with the episcopal mitre 
were there ; the Archbishops of Mentz, Co- 
logne, Salzburgh, and Bremen ; the Bishops 
of Bamberg, Wurzburg, Eichstadt, Worms, 
Spire, Strasburg, Augsburg, Constance, Coire, 
Passau, Liege, Trent, Brixen, and of Lebus 
and Ratzburg, fixed their eyes on the humble 
confessor. He fearlessly continued, and ener- 
getically protesting against that confusion 
of Church and State w r hich had characterized 
the Middle Ages, h,e called for the distinction 
and independence of the two societies. 

" Many," said he, " have unskilfully con* 
founded the episcopal and the temporal power; 
and from this confusion have resulted grea 
wars, revolts, and seditions. 2 It is for this 



1 L. Epp. iv. p. 82. 

2 Nonnulli incommode commiscuerunt potesta- 
tem ecclesiasticum et potestatem gladdii ; et ex 
hac confusione, &c. — (Urkunden. Confes. Augs. 
i. p. 539 ) 



494 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



reason, and to reassure men's consciences, 
that we find ourselves constrained to es- 
tablish the difference which exists between 
the power of the Church and the power of 
the sword.' 

" We therefore teach that the power of the 
keys or of the bishops is, conformably with 
the Word of the Lord, a commandment 
emanating from God, to preach the Gospel, 
to remit or retain sins, and to administer the 
Sacraments. This power has reference only 
to eternal goods, is exercised only by the 
minister of the Word, and does not trouble 
itself with political administration. The po- 
litical administration, on the other hand, is 
busied with everything else but the Gospel. 
The magistrate protects, not souls, but bodies 
and temporal possessions. He defends them 
against all attacks from without, and, by 
making use of the sword and of punishment, I 
compels men to observe civil justice and 
peace. 2 

" For this reason we must take particular 
care not to mingle the power of the Church 
with the power of the State. 3 The power of 
the Church ought never to invade an office 
that is foreign to it ; for Christ himself said : 
My kingdom is not of this world. And again : 
Who made me a judge over you ? St. Paul 
said to the Philippians: Our citizenship is 
in heaven. 4 - And to the Corinthians : The 
weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but 
mighty through God. 

"It is thus that we distinguish the two 
governments and the two powers, and that 
we honour both as the most excellent gifts 
that God has given here on earth. 

"The duty of the bishops is therefore to 
preach the Gospel, to forgive sins, to exclude 
from the Christian Church all who rebel 
against the Lord, but without human power, 
and solely by the Word of God. 5 If the 
bishops act thus, the churches ought to be 
obedient to them according to this declara- 
tion of Christ : Whoever heareth you, heareth 
me. 

" But if the bishops teach anything that is 
contrary to the Gospel, then the churches 
have an order from God which forbids them 
to obey (Matt. vii. 15 ; Galatians i. 8 ; 2 Cor. 
xiii. 8, 10.) And St. Augustin himself, in 
his letter against Pertilian, writes : ' We 
must not obey the catholic bishops, if they 
go astray, and teach anything contrary to the 
canoncial Scriptures of God.' " 6 

1 Coacti sunt ostendere discrimen ecclesiasticee 
potestads et potestatis gladii. (Urkunden. Confes. 
Augs. i. p 539.) 

2 Politica administratio versatur enim circa alias 
res quam Evangelium ; magistratus defendit non 

mentes sed corpora et coercet homines gladio. 

(Ibid. p. 541.) 

3 Non igitur commiscendae sunt potestates ec- 
clesiastics et civilis. (Ibid.) 

4 Greek, 7rchjnu/AA. (Philip, iii. 20. Scott and 
Henry Comment.) 

5 Excludere a communione Ecclesiae, sine vi 
humana sed verbo. (Urkund. Confess. Augs. i. 
p 544.) 

6 Nee catholicis episcopis consentiendum est, 



After some remarks on the ordinances and 
traditions of the Church, Bayer came to the 
epilogue of the Confession. 

" It is not from hatred that we have 
spoken," added he, " nor to insult any one ; 
but we have explained the doctrines that we 
maintain to be essential, in order that it may 
be understood that we admit of neither dogma 
nor ceremony which is contrary to the Holy 
Scriptures, and to the usage of the universal 
Church." 

Bayer then ceased to read. He had spoken 
for two hours : the silence and serious atten- 
tion of the assembly were not once disturbed. 1 

This Confession of Augsburg will ever re- 
main one of the masterpieces of the human 
mind enlightened by the Spirit of God. 

The language that had been adopted, while 
it was perfectly natural, was the result of a 
profound study of character. These princes, 
these warriors, these politicians who were 
sitting in the Palatine Palace, entirely igno- 
rant as they were of divinity^, easily under- 
stood the Protestant doctrine; for it was not 
explained to them in the style of the schools, 
but in that of every-day life, and with a sim- 
plicity and clearness that rendered all mis- 
understanding impossible. 

At the same time the power of argumenta- 
tion was so much the more remarkable, as it 
was the more concealed. At one time Me- 
lancthon (for it was really he who spoke 
through the mouth of Bayer) was content to 
quote a single passage of Scripture or of the 
Fathers in favour of the doctrine he main- 
tained ; and at another he proved his thesis 
so much the more strongly, that he appeared 
only to be declaring it. With a single stroke 
he pointed out the sad consequences that 
would follow the rejection of the faith he pro- 
fessed, or with one word showed its impor- 
tance for the prosperity of the Church; so 
that while listening to him, the most violent 
enemies were obliged to acknowledge to them- 
selves that there was really something to say 
in favour of the new sect. 

To this force of reasoning the Apology 
added a prudence no less remarkable. Me- 
lancthon, while declining with firmness the 
errors attributed to his party, did not even 
appear to feel the injustice of these erroneous 
imputations; and while pointing out those 
of Popery, he did not say expressly they 
were those of his adversaries; thus carefully 
avoiding every thing that might irritate their 
minds. In this he showed himself wise as a 
serpent and harmless as a dove. 

But the most admirable thing of all is the 
fidelity with which the Confession explains the 
doctrines most essential to salvation. Rome 
is accustomed to represent the Reformers as 
the creators of the Protestant doctrines ; but 
it is not in the sixteenth century that we 
must look for the days of that creation. A. 



sicuti forte falluntur, aut contra canonicas Dei 
scripturas aliquid sentiunt. (Ibid.) 

1 Mit grosser Stille und Ernst. (Bnich's Apo 
logie, p. 59.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



495 



bright track of light, of which Wickliffe and 
Augustin mark the most salient points, carries 
us back to the Apostolic age : it was then that 
shone in all their brilliancy the creative days 
of Evangelical truth. Yet it is true (and if 
this is what Rome means, we fully concur in 
the idea) never since the time of St. Paul had 
the Christian doctrine appeared with so much 
beauty, depth, and life, as in the days of the 
Reformation. 

Among all these doctrines, that of .the 
Church, which had been so long disfigured, 
appeared at this time in all its native purity. 
With what wisdom, in particular, the confes- 
sors of Augsburg protest against that, confu- 
sion of religion and politics which since the 
deplorable epoch of Constantine, had changed 
the kingdom of God into an earthly and carnal 
institution! Undoubtedly what the Confes- 
fession stigmatizes with the greatest energy 
is the intrusion of the Church into the affairs 
of the State, but can it be thought that it was 
to approve the intrusion of the State in Church 
affairs'? The evil of the Middle Ages was 
the having enslaved the State to the Church, 
and the confessors of Augsburg rose like one 
man, to combat it. The evil of the three 
centuries which have passed away since then, 
is to have subjected the .Church to the State; 
and we may believe that Luther and Melanc- 
thon would have found against this disorder 
thunders no less powerful. What they 
attack in a general sense, is the confusion 
of the two societies; what they demand, is 
their independence, I do not say their sepa- 
ration. If the Augsburg confessors were 
unwilling that things from above should mo- 
nopolize those of the earth, they would have 
been still less willing for things of earth to 
oppress those from heaven. 

There is a particular application of this 
principle, which the Confession points out. 
It wills the bishops should .reprimand those 
who obey wickedness, " but without human 
power, and solely by the W^ord of God." It, 
therefore, rejects the use of the sword in the 
chastisement of heretics. This, we see, is a 
primitive principle, fundamental and essential 
to the Reformation, as the contrary doctrine is 
a primitive principle, fundamental and essen- 
tial to the Papacy. If, among Protestants, we 
find some writing, or even some example op- 
posed to this, it is but an isolated fact, which 
cannot invalidate the official principles of the 
Reform— it is one of those exceptions which 
always serve to confirm the rule. 

Finally, the Augsburg Confession does not 
usurp the rights of the Word of God ; it de- 
sires to be its handmaid and not its rival ; it 
does not found, it does not regulate the faith,, 
but simply professes it. "Our churches teach," 
it says; and it will be remembered, that Lu*- 
ther considered it only as a sermon preached 
by princes and kings. Had it desired more, 
it has since been maintained, by that very 
circumstance it would have been nullified. 

Was, however, the Confession able to fol- 
low, in all things, the exact path of truth? 
We may be permitted to doubt it. 
33 



1 It professes not to separate from the teach- 
ing of the Catholic Church, and even from that 
of the Romisii Church — by which is no doubt 
signified the ancient Roman Church — and re- 
jects the popish particularism which, forabout 
eight centuries, imprisoned men's consciences. 
The Confession, however, seems overlaid 
with superstitious fears when there is any 
question of deviating from the views enter- 
tained by some of the Fathers of the Church, 
of breaking the toils of the hierarchy, and of 
acting, as regards Rome, without blamable 
forbearance. This, at least, is what its author, 
Melancthon, professes. " We do not put for- 

j ward any dogma," said he, " which is not 
founded on the Gospel, or on the teachings 
of the Catholic Church; we are prepared to 
concede everything that is necessary for the 
episcopal dignity; 1 and, provided that the bi- 
shops do not condemn the Gospel, we pre- 
serve all the rites that appear indifferent to 
us. In a word, there is no burden that we 
reject, if we can bear it without guilt." 2 
Many will think, no doubt, that a little 

[ more independence would have been proper 
in this matter, and that it would have been 
better to have passed over the ages that have 
followed the times of the apostles, and have 

j frankly put in practice the grand principle 

I which the Reformation had proclaimed: 
"There is for articles of faith no other foun- 
dation than the Word of God." 3 

Melancthon's moderation has been admired ; 
and, in truth, while pointing out the abuses 

j of Rome, he was silent on what is most re- 
volting in them, on their disgraceful origin, 
their scandalous consequences, and is con- 
tent to show that they are in contradiction to 
the Scripture. But he does more; he is silent 
on the divine right of the Pope, on the num 
ber of the sacraments, and on other points be- 
sides. His great business is to justify the 
renovated, and not to attack the deformed, 
Church. "Peace, peace!" was his cry. 
But if, instead of all this circumspection, the 
Reformation had advanced with courage, had 
wholly unveiled the Word of God, and had 
made an energetic appeal to the sympathies 
of reform then spread in men's hearts, would 
it not. have taken a stronger and more honour- 
able position, and would it not have secured 
more extensive conquests 1 

The interest that Charles the Fifth showed 
in listening to the Confession seems doubt- 
ful. According to some, he endeavoured to 
understand that foreign language ; 4 according 
to others, he fell asleep. 5 It is easy to recon- 
cile these contradictory testimonies. 

When the reading was finished, Chancellor 



1 Concessuros omnia quae ad dignitatem Epis- 
coporum stabiliendam pertinent. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 431.) 

2 Nullum defractavimus onus, quod sine sce- 
ler* suspici po«set. (Ibid.) 

3 Solum verbum Dei condit articulos fidei. 

4 Satis attentus erat Caesar. (Jonas in Corp. 
Ref. ii p. 184.) 

5 Cum nostra confessio legeretur, obdormivit. 
i (Brentius in Corp. Ref. ii. p. 245 ) 



496 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Bruck, with the two copies in his hand, ad- 
vanced towards the Emperor's secretary, and 
presented them to him. Charles the Fifth, 
who was wide awake at this moment, him- 
self took the two Confessions, handed the 
German copy, considered as official, to the 
Elector of Mentz, and kept the Latin one for 
himself. 1 He then made reply to the Elector 
of Saxony and to his allies, that he had 
graciously heard their confession ; 2 but, as 
this affair was one of extreme importance, he 
required time to deliberate upon it. 

The joy with which the Protestants were 
filled shone in their eyes. 3 God had been 
with them ; and they saw that the striking 
act which had so recently been accomplished, 
imposed on them the obligation of confessing 
the truth with immovable perseverance. " I 
thrill with joy," wrote Luther, " that my life 
was castin an epoch in which Christ is public- 
ly exalted by such illustrious confessors, and in 
so glorious an assembly." 4 The whole Evan- 
gelical Church, excited and renovated by this 
public confession of its representatives, was 
then more intimately united to its Divine 
Chief, and baptized with a new baptism. 
*.* Since the apostolic age," said they, (these 
are the words of a contemporary,) " there has 
never been a greater work or a more magnifi- 
cent confession." 5 

The Emperor, having descended from the 
throne, approached the Protestant princes, 
and begged them in a low tone not to publish 
the Confession ; 6 they acceded to his request, 
and every one withdrew. 

VIII. The Romanists had expected nothing 
like this, [nstead of a hateful controversy, 
they had heard a striking confession of Jesus 
Christ; the most hostile minds were, conse- 
quently, disarmed. " We would not for a 
great deal," was the remark on every side, 
" have missed being present at this read- 
ing." 7 The effect was so prompt, that for an 
instant the cause was thought to be defini- 
tively gained. The bishops themselves im- 
posed silence on the sophisms and clamours 
of the Fabers and the Ecks. 8 " All that the 
Lutherans have said is true," exclaimed the 
bishop of Augsburg; " we cannot deny it." 9 
t — . 

1 The Latin copy, deposited in the archives of 
the imperial house, should be found at Brussels ; 
and the German copy, sent afterwards to the 
Council of Trent, ought to be in the Vatican. 

2 Gnedichlich vernohmen. (F. Urkunden, ii. 
p. 3) 

3 Cum incredibili protestantium gaudio. (Seek. 
ii. p. 170.) 

4 Mihi vehementer placet vixisse in hanc horam. 
(L. Epp. iv. p. 71.) 

5 Grosser und hoher Werk. (Mathesius, Hist, 
p. 93-98.) 

6 In still angeredet und gebethen. (Corp. Ref. 
ii. p. 143.) 

7 Briicks Geschichte der Handl. in den Sachen 
des Glauhens zu Augsbourg. (Forstemann Ar- 
chiv. p. 50.) 

8 Multi episcopi ad pacem sunt inclinati. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 70.) 

9 Ilia quae recitata sunt, vera sunt, sunt pura 



— " Well, doctor," said the Duke of Bavaria 
to Eck, in a reproachful tone, " you had given 
me a very different idea of this doctrine and 
of this affair." 1 This was the general cry ; 
accordingly, the sophists, as they called them, 
were embarrassed. " But, after all," said the 
Duke of Bavaria to them, " can you refute, 
by sound reasons, the Confession made by 
the Elector and his allies V — " With the 
writings of the Apostles and Prophets — no !" 
replied Eck ; " but with those of the Fathers 
and of the councils — yes !" 2 " I understand," 
quickly replied the Duke; "I understand. 
The Lutherans, according to you, are in 
Scripture ; and we are outside." 

The Archbishop Hermann, Elector of Co- 
logne, the Count-palatine Frederick, Duke 
Erick of Brunswick-Luneburg, Duke Henry 
of Mecklenburg, and the Dukes of Pornerania, 
were gained over to the truth ; and Hermann 
sought ere long to establish it in his elector- 
ate. 

The impression produced in other coun- 
tries by the Confession was perhaps still 
greater. Charles sent copies to all the courts; 
it was translated into French, Italian, 8 and 
even into Spanish and Portuguese ; it cir- 
culated through all Europe, and thus ac- 
complished what Luther had said: "Our 
Confession will penetrate into every court, 
and the sound thereof will go through the 
whole earth." 4 It destroyed the prejudices 
that had been entertained, gave Europe a 
sounder idea of the Reformation, and pre- 
pared the most distant countries to receive 
the seeds of the Gospel. 

Then Luther's voice began to be heard 
again. He saw that it was a decisive mo- 
ment, and that he ought now to give the 
impulse that would gain religious liberty. 
He boldly demanded this liberty of the Ro- 
man Catholic princes of the diet;* and at 
the same time endeavoured to make his 
friends quit Augsburg. Jesus Christ had 
been boldly confessed. Instead of that long 
series of quarrels and discussions which 
was about to become connected with this 
courageous act, Luther would have wished 
for a striking rupture, even should he seal 
with his blood the testimony rendered to the 
Gospel. The stake, in his idea, would have 
been the real catastrophe of this tragedy. 
" I absolve you from this diet, in the name 
of the Lord," 6 wrote he to, his friends. 



Veritas ; non possumus inficiari. (CorD. Ref. ii. p. 
154.) 

1 So hab man Im vor nicht gesagt. (Mathes. 
Hist. p. 99.) 

2 Mit Propheten und Aposteln schriften— — 
nicht. (Ibid.) 

3 Csesar sibi fecit nostram confessionem reddi 
Italica et Gallica lingua. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 155.) 
The French translation will be found in Forste- 
mann s Urkunden, i. p. 357. — Articles principaux 
de lafoy. 

4 Perrumpet in omnes aulas Principum et Re- 
gum. (L. Epp. iv. p. 96.) 

5 Epistle to the Elector of Mentz. (Ibid, p 74.) 

6 Igitur absolvo vos in nomine Domini ab isto 
conventu. (L. Epp. iv. p. 96.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



407 



*•' Now home^ return home, again I say 
nome ! Would to God that I were the sa- 
crifice offered to this new council, as John 
Huss at Constance!'" 

But Luther did not expect so glorious a 
conclusion : he compared the diet to a 
drama. First, there had been the exposition, 
then the prologue, afterwards the action, 
and now he waited for the tragic catastrophe, 
accoiding to some, but which, in his opi- 
nion, would be merely comic. 2 Every- 
thing, he thought, would be sacrificed to 
political peace, and dogmas would be set 
aside. This proceeding, which, even in our 
own days, would be in the eyes of the world 
the height of wisdom, was in Luther's eyes 
the height of folly. 

It was the intervention of Charles which 
especially alarmed him. To withdraw the 
Church from all secular influence, and the 
governments from all clerical influence, was 
then one of the dominant ideas of the great 
Reformer. " You see," wrote he to Me- 
lancthon, "that they oppose to our cause 
the same argument as at Worms, to wit, 
still and for ever the judgment of the Em- 
peror. Thus Satan is always harping on 
the same string, and that emaciated strength 3 
of the civil power is the only one which this 
myriad-wiled spirit is able to find against 
Jesus Christ." But Luther took courage, 
and boldly raised his head. " Christ is 
coming," continued he; "he is coming, 

sitting at the right hand Of whom ? 

not of the Emperor, or we should long ago 
have been lost, but of God himself: let us 
fear nothing. Christ is the King of kings 
and the Lord of lords. If he loses this title 
at Augsburg, he must also lose it in all the 
earth, and in all the heavens." 

Thus a song of triumph was, on the part 
of the Confessors of Augsburg, the first 
movement that followed this courageous 
act, unique doubtless in the annals of the 
Church. Some of their adversaries at first 
shared in their triumph, and the others were 
silent; but a powerful reaction took place 
ere long. 

On the following morning, Charles having 
risen in ill-humour and tired for want of 
sleep, the first of his ministers who appeared 
in the imperial apartments was the Count- 
palatine, as wearied and embarrassed as his 
master. " We must yield something," said 
he to Charles; " and I would remind your 
majesty that the Emperor Maximilian was 
willing to grant the two kinds in the Eu- 
charist, the marriage of priests, and liberty 
with respect to the fasts." Charles the 
Fifth eagerly seized at this proposition as a 

1 Vellem ego sacrificium esse hujus novissimi 
coneilii, sicut Johannes Huss Constantiae. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 110.) 

2 Sed catastrophen illi tragicam, nos comicam 
expectamus. (Ibid. p. 85.) 

s Sic .Satan chorda semper oberrat eadem, et 
mille-artifex ille non habet contra Christum, nisi 
unum illud elumbe robur. (Ibid. p. 100.) 



means of safely. But Granvelle and Cam 
peggio soon arrived, who induced him to 
withdraw it. 

Rome, bewildered for a moment by the 
blow that had struck her, rose up again with, 
energy. " [ stay with the mother," ex- 
claimed the Bishop of Wartzburg, meaning 
by it the Church of Rome; "the mother, 
the mother!" " My lord.," wittily replied 
Btenz, " pray, do not, for the mother, forget 
either the Father or the Son !" — " Weil ! I 
grant it," replied the Archbishop of Salz- 
burg to one of his friends, "I also should 
desire the communion in both kinds, the 
marriage of priests, the reformation of the" 
Mass, liberty as regards food and other tra- 
ditions But that it should be a monk, 

a poor monk, who presumes to reform us 
all, is what we cannot tolerate." 1 — "I should 
have no objection," said another bishop, 
"for the Divine worship to be celebrated 
every where as it is at Wittemberg ; but we 
can never consent that this new doctrine 
should issue from such a corner." 2 And 
Melancthon insisting with the Archbishop 
of Salzburg on the necessity of a reform of 
the clergy : " Well! and how can you wish 
to reform us 1" said the latter abruptly : " we 
priests have always been good for nothing." 
This is one of the most ingenuous confes- 
sions that the Reformation has torn from 
the priests. Every day fanatical monks and 
doctors, brimful of sophisms, were seen ar- 
riving at Augsburg, who endeavoured to 
inflame the hatred of the Emperor and of 
the princes. 3 " If we formerly had friends," 
said Melancthon on the morrow of the Con- 
fession, "now we possess them no longer. 
We are here alone, abandoned by all, and 
contending against measureless dangers." 4 

Charles, impelled by these contrary par- 
ties, affected a great indifference. But with- 
out permitting it to be seen, he endeavoured, 
meanwhile, to examine this affair tho- 
roughly. " Let there not be a word want- 
ing," he had said to his secretary, when re- 
quiring from him a French translation of 
the Confession. "He does not allow any- 
thing to be observed," whispered the Pro- 
testants one to another, convinced that 
Charles was gained; " for if it were known, 
he would lose his Spanish states : let us 
maintain the most profound secresy." But 
the Emperor's courtiers, who perceived these 
strange hopes, smiled and shook their heads 
" If you have money," said Schepper, one 
of the secretaries of state, to Jonas and Me- 
lancthon, " it Will be easy for you to buy 
from the Italians whatever religion you 
please; 5 but if your purse is empty, your 



1 Sed quod unus monachusdebeatnosreformare 
omnes. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 155.) 

2 Aus dem Loch und Winckel. (L. Opp. xx 
p. 307.) 

3 Quotide confluunt hue sophistae ac monachL 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 141.) 

4 Nos hie soli ac deserti. (Ibid.) 

5 Nos, si pecuniam haberemus, facile 



498 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cause is lost." Then assuming a more 
serious tone: "It is impossible," said he, 
'•' for the Emperor, surrounded as he is by 
bishops and cardinals, to approve of any 
other religion than that of the Pope." 

This was soon evident. On the day after 
the Confession, (Sunday, 26th June,) before 
the breakfast hour, 1 all the deputations from 
the imperial cities were collected in the em- 
peror's antechamber. Charles, desirous of 
bringing back the states of the empire to 
unity, began with the weakest. "Some of 
the cities," said the count-palatine, "have 
not adhered to the last Diet of Spire : the 
Emperor calls upon them to submit to it." 

Strasburg, Nuremberg, Constance, Ulm, 
Reutlingen, Heilbrunn, Memmingen, Lin- 
dau, Kempten, Windsheim, Isny , and Weis- 
semburg, which were thus summoned to 
renounce the famous protest, found the mo- 
ment curiously chosen. They asked for 
time. 

The position was complicated ; discord 
had been thrown in the midst of the cities, 
and intrigue was labouring daily to increase 
it. 2 It was not only between the Popish 
and the Evangelical cities that disagreement 
existed ; but also between the Zwinglian and 
the Lutheran cities, and even among the 
latter, those which had not adhered to the 
Confession of Augsburg manifested great 
11-humour towards the deputies of Reut- 
jsngen and Nuremberg. This proceeding 
of Charles the Fifth was therefore skilfully 
calculated ; for it was based on the old 
axiom, Divide et impera. 

But the enthusiasm of faith overcame all 
these stratagems, and on the next day, (27th 
June,) the deputies from the cities transmit- 
ted a reply to the Emperor, in which they 
declared that they could not adhere to the 
Recess of Spire "without disobeying God, 
and without compromising the salvation of 
their souls." 3 

Charles, who desired to observe a just 
medium, more from policy than from equity, 
wavered between so many contrary convic- 
tions. Desirous nevertheless of essaying his 
mediating influence, he convoked the states 
faithful to Rome on Sunday, 26th June, 
shortly after his conference with the cities. 

All the princes were present : even the 
Pope's legate and the most influential Roman 
divines appeared at this council, to the great 
scandal of the Protestants. "What reply 
should be made to the Confession?" was 
the question set by Charles the Fifth to the 
senate that surrounded him. 4 

Three different opinions were proposed. 



onem quam vellemus emturos ab Italis. (Corp. 
Ret. li. p. 156.) 

1 Heute vor dem morgenessen. (Ibid. p. 143.) 

2 Es sind unter uns Stadten, viel practica und 
Selt Sames wesens. (Ibid. p. 151.) 

3 Ohne Verletzung der gewissen gegen Gott. 
(F. Urkunden. ii. p. 6.) 

4 Adversarii nostri jam deliberant quid velint 
respondere. (Corp. Ref. ii. 26th June.) 



" Let us beware," said the men of the Pa 
pucy, "of discussing our adversaries' rea- 
sons, and let us be content with executing 
the Edict of Worms against the Lutherans, 
and with constraining them by arms." 1 — 
" Let us submit the Confession to the exa- 
mination of impartial judges," said the men 
of the Empire, "and refer the final decision 
to the Emperor. Is not even the reading 
of the Confession an appeal of the Protest- 
ants to the imperial power?" Others, in 
the last place, (and these were the men of 
tradition and of ecclesiastical doctrine,) 
were desirous of commissioning certain 
doctors to compose a refutation, which 
should be read to the Protestants and ratified 
by Charles. 

The debate was very animated : the mild 
and the violent, the politic and the fanatical, 
took a decided course in the assembly. 
George of Saxony and Joachim of Branden- 
burg showed themselves the most inveterate, 
and surpassed in this respect even the ec- 
clesiastical princes. 2 " A certain clown 
whom you know well, is pushing them all 
from behind," 3 wrote Melancthon to Luther; 
" and certain hypocritical theologians hold 
the torch and lead the whole band." This 
clown was doubtless Duke George. Even 
the Princess of Bavaria, whom the Conies 
sion had staggered at first, immediately ral 
lied around the chiefs of the Roman party. 
The Elector of Mentz, the Bishop of Augs- 
burg, the Duke of Brunswick, showed 
themselves the least unfavourable to the 
Evangelical cause. " I can by no means 
advise his majesty to employ force," said 
Albert. " If his majesty should constrain 
their consciences, and should afterwards 
quit the Empire, the first victims sacrificed 
would be the priests; and who knows whe- 
ther, in the midst of these discords, the Turks 
would not suddenly fall upon us ?" But this 
somewhat interested wisdom of the arch- 
bishop did not find many supporters, and 
the men of war immediately plunged into 
the discussion with their harsh voices. " If 
their is any fighting against the Lutherans," 
said Count Felix of Werdenburg, "I gra- 
tuitously offer my sword, and I swear never 
to return it to its scabbard until it has over- 
thrown the stronghold of Luther." This 
nobleman died suddenly a few days after, 
from the consequences of his intemperance. 
Then the moderate men again interfered : 
" The Lutherans attack no one article of 
the faith," said the Bishop of Augsburg; 
" let us come to an arrangement with them ; 
and to obtain peace, let us concede to 
them the sacrament in both kinds and the 
marriage of priests. I would even yield 
more, if it were necessary." Upon this 



1 Rem agendam esse vi, non audiendam cau- 
sam. (Ibid. p. 154.) 

2 Hi sunt duces, et quidem acerrimi altering 
partis. (Ibid.) 

3 Omnes unus gubernat rusticus. (Ibid. p. 
176.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



499 



great cries arose: "He is a Lutheran/' 
they exclaimed, " and you will see that he 
is fully prepared to sacrifice even the pri- 
vate masses!" — "The masses, we must 
not even think of it," remarked some with 
an ironical smile; "Rome will never give 
them up, for it is they which maintain her 
cardinals and her courtiers, with their lux- 
ury and their kitchens." ] The Archbishop 
of Salzburg and the Elector of Brandenburg 
replied with great violence to the motion of 
the Bishop of Augsburg. " The Luther- 
ans," said they abruptly, " have laid be- 
fore us a Confession written with black ink 
on white paper. Well ! If I were Empe- 
ror, I would answer them with red ink." 2 — 
" Sirs," quickly replied the Bishop of Augs- 
burg, " take care then that the red letters 
do not fly in your faces !" The Elector of 
Mentz was compelled to interfere and calm 
the speakers. 

The Emperor, desirous of playing the 
character of an umpire, would have wished 
the Roman party at least to have placed in 
his hands an accusation against the Reform ; 
but all was now altered ; the majority, be- 
coming daily more compact since the Diet 
of Spire, no longer sided with Charles. Full 
of the sentiment of its own strength, it re- 
fused to assume the title of a party, and to 
take the Emperor as a judge. " What are 
you saying," cried they, " of diversity be- 
tween the members of the Empire? There 
is but one legitimate party. It is not a 
question of deciding between two opinions 
whose rights are equal, but of crushing re- 
bels, and of aiding those who have remained 
faithful to the constitution of the Empire." 
This haughty language enlightened 
Charles : he found they had outstripped 
him, and that, abandoning his lofty position 
of arbiter, he must submit merely to be the 
executor of the orders of the majority. It 
was this majority which henceforward 
commanded in Augsburg. They excluded 
the imperial councillors who advocated more 
equitable views, and the Archbishop of 
Mentz himself ceased for a time to appear 
in the diet. 3 

The majority ordered that a refutation of 
the Evangelical doctrine should be immedi- 
ately drawn up by Romish theologians. If 
they had selected for this purpose moderate 
men like the Bishop of Augsburg, the Re- 
formation would still had have some chance 
of success with the great principles of Chris- 
tianity ; but it was to the enemies of the 
Reform, to the old champions of Rome and 
of Aristotle, exasperated by so many defeats, 
that they resolved to intrust this task. 

They were numerous at Augsburg, and 
were not held in great esteem. " The prin- 



1 Cardinel, Churstusanen, PracM uud Kiichen. 
(Briiek Apol. p. 63.; 

a Wjr wokten antvorten mit einer Schrift mit 
Rubricken geschrieben. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 147.) 

* Non vonit in senatum. (Ibid. p. 175.) 



ces," said Jonas, " have brought their 
learned men with them, and some even 
their unlearned and their fools. "' Provost 
Paber and Dr. Eck led the troop ; behind 
them was drawn up a cohort of monks, 
and above all of Dominicans, tools of the 
Inquisition, and impatient to recompense 
themselves for the opprobrium they had so 
long endured. There was the provincial 
of the Dominicans, Paul Hugo, their vicar, 
John Bourkard, one of their priors, Conrad 
Koslein, who had written against Luther's 
marriage ; with a large body of Carthusians, 
Augustines, Franciscans, and vicars of 
several bishops. Such were the men who, 
to the number of twenty, were commis- 
sioned to refute Melancthon. 

One might beforehand have augured of 
the work by the workmen. Each one 
understood that it was a question, not of 
refuting the Confession, but of branding it. 
Campeggio, who doubtless suggested this 
ill-omened list to Charles, was well aware 
that these doctors were incapable of mea- 
suring themselves with Melancthon ; but 
their names formed the most decided stand- 
ard of Popery, and announced to the world 
clearly and immediately what the diet pro- 
posed to do. This was the essential point. 
Rome would not leave Christendom even 
hope. 

It was, however, requisite to know, whe- 
ther the diet, and the Emperor who was its 
organ, had the right of pronouncing in this 
purely religious matter. Charles put the 
question both to the Evangelicals and to the 
Romanists. 2 

" Your highness," said Luther, who was 
consulted by the Elector, "may reply with 
all assurance : Yes, if the Emperor wish 
it, let him be judge! I will bear everything 
on his part; but let him decide nothing 
contrary to the Word of God. Your high- 
ness cannot put the Emperor above God 
himself. 3 Does not the first commandment 
say, Thou sJuclt have no other Gods before 
me ! " 

The reply of the Papal adherents was 
quite as positive in a contrary sense. " We 
think," .said they, " that his majesty, in ac- 
cord with the electors, princes, and states 
of the Empire, has the right to proceed in 
this affair, as Roman Emperor, guardian, 
advocate, and sovereign protector of the 
Church and of our most holy faith." 4 Thus, 
in the first days of the Reformation, the 
Evangelical Church frankly ranged itself 
under the thrOne of Jesus Christ, and the 
Roman Church under the sceptre of kings. 
Enlightened men, even among Protestants, 



1 Quidam etiam suos ineruditos et ineptos. 

2 See the document extracted from the archives 
of Bavaria in F. Urkunden, ii. p. 9. 

3 Konnen den Kaiser nicht uber Gott setzen. 
(L. Epp. iv. p. 83.) 

4 Romischen Kaiser, Vogt, Advooaten una 
Obristen Beschinner der kirken. (F. Urkunden, 
ii. p. 10.) 



mo 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



have misunderstood this double nature of 
Protestantism and Popery. 

The philosophy of Aristotle and the hier- 
archy of Rome, thanks to his alliance with 
the civil power, were at length about to see 
the day of their long-expected triumph ar- 
rive. So long as the schoolmen had been 
left to the force of their syllogisms and of 
their abuse, they had been defeated ; but now 
Charles the Fifth and the diet held out their 
hands to them ; the reasonings of Faber, 
Eck, and Wimpina were about to be coun- 
tersigned by the German chancellor, and 
confirmed by the great seals of the Empire. 
Who could resist them? The Romish error 
has never had any strength except by its 
union with the secular arm ; and its victo- 
ries in the Old and in the New World are 
owing, even in our days, to state patronage. 1 

These thing3 did not escape the piercing 
eye of Luther. He saw at once the weak- 
ness of the argument of the Papist doctors 
and the power of Charles' arm. " You are 
waiting for your adversaries' answer," wrote 
he to his friends in Augsburg ; " it is al- 
ready written, and here it is : The Fathers, 
the Fathers, the Fathers ; the Church, the 
Church, the Church; usage, custom ; but 

of the' Scriptures nothing ! " 2 — " Then 

the Emperor, supported by the testimony of 
these arbiters, will pronounce against you ; 3 
and then will you hearboastings from all sides 
that will ascend up to heaven, and threats 
tnat will descend even to hell." 

Thus changed the situation of the Reform. 
Charles was obliged to acknowledge his 
weakness; and, to save the appearance of 
his power, he took a decisive part with the 
enemies of Luther. The Emperor's impar- 
tiality disappeared : the state turned against 
the Gospel, and there remained for it no 
other saviour than God. 

At first many gave way to extreme de- 
jection : above all, Melancthon, who had a 
nearer view of the cabals of the adversaries, 
exhausted moreover by long vigils, fell al- 
most into despair. 4 "In the presence of 
these formidable evils," cried he, " I see no 
more hope." 5 And then, however, he added, 
— " Except the help of God." 

The legate immediately set all his batteries 
to work. Already had Charles several times 
sent for the Elector and the Landgrave, and 
had used every exertion to detach them from 
the Evangelical Confession. 6 Melancthon, 
uneasy at these secret conferences, reduced 
the Confession to its minimum, and entreated 
the Elpctor to demand only the two kinds in 



1 Tahiti for instance. 

2 Patres, Patres, Patres; Ecclesia, Ecclesia ; 
usus, consuetude, prseterea e Scriptura nihil. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 96*) 

3 Pronuntiabit Caesar contra vos. (Tbid.) 

4 Quadam tristitia et quasi desesperatione vexa- 
tur. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 163.) 

5 Quid nobis sit sperandum in tantis odiis ini- 
micorum. (Ibid. p. 146.) 

6 Legati Norinberg ad Senatum. (Ibid. p. 

161.! 



the Eucharist and the marriage of priests 
" To interdict the former of these points,''' 
said he, "would be to alienate a great num- 
ber of Christians from the cummunion ; and 
to interdict the second would be depriving 
the Church of all the pastors capable of edi- 
fying it. Will they destroy religion and kindle 
civil war, rather than apply to these pure- 
ly ecclesiastical constitutions a mitigation 
that is neither contrary to sound morals noi 
to faith V' 1 The Protestant princes begged 
Melancthon to go himself and make these 
proposals to the legate. 2 

Melancthon agreed: he began to flatter 
himself with success ; and, in truth, there 
were, even among the Papists, individuals 
who were favourable to the Reformation. 
There had recently arrived at Augsburg, 
from beyond the Alps, certain propositions 
tolerably Lutheran ; 3 and one of the Empe- 
ror's confessors boldly professed the doctrine 
of justification by faith, cuising " those asses 
of Germans, who cease not," said he "'from 
braying against this truth." 4 One of Charles' 
chaplains approved even the whole of the 
Confession. There was something farther 
still; Charles the Fifth having consulted the 
grandees of Spain, who were famous for 
their orthodoxy :." If the opinions of the 
Protestants are contrary to the articles of the 
faith," they had replied, " let your majesty 
employ all his power to destroy this faction; 
but if it is a question merely of certain 
changes in human ordinances and external 
usages, let all violence be avoided." 5 " Ad- 
mirable reply ! " exclaimed Melancthon, who 
persuaded himself that the Romish doctrine 
was at the bottom in accordance with the 
Gospel. 

The Reformation found defenders in even 
still higher stations. Mary, sister of Charles 
the Fifth, and widow of King Louis of 
Hungary, arriving at Augsburg three days 
after the reading of the Confession, with her 
sister-in-law the Q,ueen of Bohemia, Ferdi- 
nand's wife, assiduously studied the Holy 
Scriptures ; she carried them with her in 
the hunting parties, in which she found lit- 
tle pleasure, and had discovered therein the 
jewel of the Reform, — the doctrine of gra- 
tuitous salvation. This pious princess made 
her chaplain read evangelical sermons to 
her, and often endeavoured, although with 
prudence, to appease her brother Charles 
with regard to the Protestants. 6 

Melancthon, encouraged by these demon- 
strations, and at the same time alarmed by 

1 Melancthon ad Due. Sax. Elect. (Ibid. p. 
162.) 

2 Principes nostri miserunt nos ad R. D. V 
(Ibid. p. 171.) 

3 Pervenerunt ad nos propositiones quaedam 
Italicae satis Lutheranae. (Ibid. p. 163.) 

4 Istis Gtrmanis asinis, nobis in hac parte od- 
gannientibus. (Ibid.) 

5 Hispanici proceres praeclare et sapienter re • 
sponderunt Coesari. (Ibid. p. 179.) 

6 ,V H i.h\$* ^vrcKpATcpos studet nobis placare fra- 
trem. (Ibid. p. 175.,/ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORxMATION 



501 



the threats of war that the adversaries did 
not cease from uttering, thought it his duty 
to purchase peace at any cost, and resolved 
in consequence to descend in his proposi- 
tions as low as possible. He therefore de- 
manded an interview with the legale in a 
ielter whose authenticity has been unreason- 
ably doubted. 1 At the decisive moment the 
heart of the Reform champion fails — his 
head turns — he staggers — he falls; and in 
his fall he runs the risk of dragging with 
him the cause which martyrs have already 
watered with their blood. 

Thus speaks the representative of the 
Reformation to the representative of the Pa- 
pacy : — 

" There is no doctrine in which we differ 
from the Roman Church ; 2 we venerate the 
universal authority of the Roman pontiff, 
and we are ready to obey him, provided he 
does not reject us, and that of his clemency, 
which he is accustomed to show towards 
all nations, he will kindly pardon or approve 
certain little things that it is no longer pos- 
sible for us to change Now then, will 

you reject those who appear as suppliants 
before you % Will you pursue them with fire 

and sword? Alas! nothing draws 

upon us in Germany so much hatred, as the 
unshaken firmness with which we maintain 
the doctrines of the Roman Church. 3 But 
with the aid of God, we will remain faithful, 
even unto death, to Christ and to the Roman 
Church, although you should reject us. m 

Thus did Melancthon humble himself. 
God permitted this fall, that future ages 
might clearly see how low the Reform was 
willing to descend in order to maintain unity, 
and that no one might doubt that the schism 
had come from Rome; but also assuredly 
that they might learn how great in every 
important work is the weakness of the no- 
blest instruments. 

Fortunately there was then another man 
who upheld the honour of the Reformation. 
At this very time Luther wrote to Melanc- 
thon : " There can be no concord between 
Christ and Belial. As far as regards me, I 
will not yield a hair's breadth. 5 Sooner than 
yield, I should prefer suffering everything, 
even the most terrible evils. Concede so 
much the less, as your adversaries require 
the more. God will not aid us until we are 
abandoned by all." 6 And fearing some 
weakness on the part of his friends, Luther 
added : " If it were not tempting God, you 
would long ago have seen me at your side!" 7 

1 See the Corp. Ref. *ii. p. 168. 

2 Dogma nullum habemus diversum ab Eccle- 
sia Romana. (Ibid. p. 170.) 

3 Quam quia Ecclesiae Romanae dogmata sum- 
ma constamia defendimus. (Ibid.) 

4 Vel si recusabitis nos in gratiam recipere. (Ibid.) 

5 At certe pro mea persona, ne pilum quidem 
eedam. (L. Epp. iv. p. 88.) 

6 Neque enim juvabimur ni deserti prius simus. 
(Ibid. .p. 91 

7 Certe laindudum coram vidissetis me. (Ibid. 
p. 98.) 



Never, in fact, had Luther's presence 
been so necessary, for the legate had con- 
sented to an interview, and Melancthon was 
about to pay court to Campeggio. 1 

The 8th July was the day appointed by 
the legate. His letter inspired Philip with 
the most sanguine hopes. "The cardinal 
assures me that he will accede the usage of 
the two kinds, and the marriage of priests," 
said he; "I am eager to visit him!" 8 

This visit might decide the destiny of the 
Church. If the legate accepted Philip's 
ultimatum, the evangelical countries would 
be replaced under the power of the Romish 
bishops, and all would have been over with 
the Reformation ; but it was saved through 
the pride and blindness of Rome. The 
Papists, believing it on the brink of the 
abyss, thought that a last blow would settle 
it, and resolved, like Luther, to concede 
nothing, "not even a hair's breadth." The 
legate, however, even while refusing, as- 
sumed an air of kindness, and of yielding 
to foreign influence. "■ I might have the 
power of making certain concessions, but it 
would not be prudent to use it without the 
consent of the German princes ; 3 their will 
must be done; one of them in particular 
conjures the Emperor to prevent us from 
yielding the least thing. I can grant no- 
thing." The Roman prince, with the most 
amiable smile, then did all he could to gain 
the chief of the Protestant teachers. Me- 
lancthon retired filled with shame at the 
advances he had made, but still deceived by 
Campeggio. "No doubt," said he, " Eck 
and Cochlceus have been beforehand with 
me at the legate's. 3 Luther entertained a 
different opinion. "I do not trust to any 
of these Italians," said he; "they are 
scoundrels. When an Italian is good, he 
is very good ; but then he is a black swan." 

It was truly the Italians who were con- 
cerned. Shortly after the 12th of July 
arrived the Pope's instructions. He had 
received the confession by express, 5 and six- 
teen days had sufficed for the transmission, 
the deliberation, and the return. Clement 
would hear no mention either of discussions 
or of council. Charles was to march straight 
to the mark, to send an army into Germany, 
and stifle the Reformation by force. At 
Augsburg, however, it was thought best 
not to go so quickly to work, and recourse 
was had to other means. 

"Be quiet; we have them," said the 
Romish doctors. Sensible of the reproach 
that had been made against them, of having 
misrepresented the Reformation, they ac- 



1 Ego multos prehensare soleo et Campegium 
etiam. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 193.) 

2 Propero enim ad Campegium. (Ibid. p. 174.) 

3 Se nihil posse decernere, nisi de voluntate 
principum Germaniae. (Ibid.) 

4 Forte ad legatum veniebant Eccius et Coch- 
lceus. (Ibid. p. 175.) 

5 Nostra Confessio ad' Romam per veredarioa 
missa est. (Ibid. pp. 186, 219. x 



503 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



c ised the Protestants themselves as being 
the cause. " These it is," they said, " who, 
to give themselves an air of being in accord 
with us, now dissemble their heresy ; but 
we will now catch them in their own nets. 
If they confess to not having inserted in 
their Confession all that they reject, it will 
be proved that they are trifling with us. If, 
on the contrary, they pretend to have said 
everything, they will by that very circum- 
stance be compelled to admit all that they 
have not condemned." The Protestant 
princes were therefore called together, and 
they were asked if the Reformation was 
confined to the doctrines indicated in the 
Apology, or if there was something more. 1 

The snare was skilfully laid. The Papacy 
had not even been mentioned in Melanc- 
thon's paper; other errors besides had been 
omitted, and Luther himself complained of 
it aloud. " Satan sees clearly," said he, 
" that your Apology has passed lightly over 
the articles of purgatory, the worship of 
saints, and, above all, of the Pope and of 
Antichrist." The princes requested to con- 
fer with their allies of the towns; and all 
the Protestants assembled to deliberate on 
this momentous incident. 

They looked for Melancthon's explana- 
tion, who did not decline the responsibility 
of the affair. Easily dejected through his 
own anxiety, he became bold whenever he 
was directly attacked. "All the essential 
doctrines," said he, " have been set forth 
in the Confession, and every error and abuse 
that is opposed to them has been pointed 
out. But was it necessary to plunge into 
all those questions so full of contention and 
animosity, that are discussed in our univer- 
sities? Was it necessary to ask if all 
Christians are priests, if the primacy of the 
Pope is of right divine, if there can be in- 
dulgences, if every good work is a deadly 
sin, if there are more than seven sacra- 
ments, if they may be administered by a 
layman, if divine election has any founda- 
tion in our own merits, if sarcerdotal con- 
secration impresses an indelible character, 
if auricular confession is necessary to sal- 
vation? .... No, no! all these things are 
in the province of the schools, and by no 
means essential to faith." 2 

It cannot be denied that in the questions 
thus pointed out by Melancthon there were 
important points. However that may be, 
the Evangelical committee were soon agreed, 
and on the morrow they. gave an answer to 
Charles's ministers, drawn up with as much 
frankness as firmness, in which they said 
" that the Protestants, desirous of arriving 
at a cordial understanding, had not wished 
to complicate their situation, and had pro- 

Cosed not to specify all the errors that had 
een introduced into the Church, but to con- 



1 An plura velimus Caesari praeponere contro- 
versa quam fecerimus. (Corp. Ret', ii. p. 188.) 

2 Melancthonis Judicium. (Ibid. p. 182.) 



fess all the doctrines that were essential to 
salvation ; that if, nevertheless, the adverse 
party felt itself urged to maintain certain 
abuses, or to put forward any point not 
mentioned in the Confession, the Protestants 
declared themselves ready to reply in con- 
formity with the Word of God." 1 The 
tone of this answer showed pretty clearly 
that the Evangelical Christians did not fear 
to follow their adversaries wherever the 
latter should call them. Accordingly the 
Roman parly said no more on this business. 

IX. The commission charged to refute 
the Confession met twice a day, 2 and each 
of the theologians who composed it added 
to it his refutation and his hatred. 

On the 13th July the work was finished. 
" Eck with his bandj" 3 said Melancthon, 
" transmitted it to the Emperor. Great was 
the astonishment of this prince and of his 
ministers at seeing a work of two hundred 
and eighty pages filled with abuse. 4 "Bad 
workmen lose much wood," said Luther, 
" and impious writers soil much paper." 
This was not all : to the Refutation were sub- 
joined eight appendices on the heresies that 
Melancthon had dissembled, (as they said,) 
i and wherein they exposed the contradictions 
; and "the horrible sects" to whicfci Luther 
! anism had given birth. Lastly, not con- 
i fining themselves to this official answer, the 
I Romish theologians, who saw the sun of 
I power shining upon them, filled Augsburg 
| with insolent and abusive pamphlets. 

There was but one opinion on the Papist 

Refutation ; it was found confused, violent, 

thirsting for blood. 5 Charles the Fifth had 

I too much good taste not to perceive the dif- 

\ ference that existed between this coarse 

| work and the noble dignity of Melancthon's 

I Confession. He rolled, handled, crushed, 

I and so damaged the 280 pages of his doctors, 

that when he returned them two days after, 

| says Spalatin, there were not more than 

i twelve entire. Charles would have been 

I ashamed to have such a pamphlet read in 

j the diet, and he required, in consequence, 

that it should be drawn up anew, shorter 

and more moderate. 8 That was not easy, 

"for the adversaries, confused and stupified," 

says Brenz, "by the noble simplicity of the 

Evangelical Confession, neither knew where 

to begin nor where to end ; they accordingly 

took nearly three weeks to do their work 

over again." 7 

1 Aus Gottes Wort, weiter bericht zu thun. (F. 
Urkundenbuch, ii. p. 19.) 

2 Bis die convenire dicuntur. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 
472.) 

3 Eccius cum sua commanipulatione. (Corp. 
Ret. ii. p. 193.) 

4 Longum et plenum conviciis scriptum. (Ibid.) 

5 Adeo confusa, incondita, violenta, sanguino- 
lenta et crudelis ut puduerint. (Ibid. p. 198.) 

6 Hodie auctoribus ipsis Sophistis, a Caesare 
rursus esse reddiiam ui emendetur et civilius 
componatur. (Ibid.) 

7 Nostra confessione ita stupidos, attonitos. et 
confusos. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



503 



Charles and his ministers had great doubts 
of its success ; leaving, therefore, the theo- 
logians for a moment, they imagined another 
manoeuvre. " Let us take each of the Pro- 
testant princes separately," said they: " iso- 
lated, they will not resist." Accordingly, 
on the 15th July, the Margrave of Branden- 
burg was visited by his two cousins, the 
Electors of Mentz and of Brandenburg, and 
by his two brothers the Margraves Frederick 
and John Albert. "Abandon this new 
faith," said they to him, " and return to that 
which existed a century ago. If you do so, 
there are no favours that you may not ex- 
pect from the Emperor ; if not, dread his 
anger." 1 

Shortly after, the Duke Frederick of Bava- 
ria, the Count of Nassau, De Rogendorf, and 
Truchses were announced to the Elector on 
the part of Charles. " You have solicited 
the Emperor," said they, "to confirm the 
marriage of your son with the Princess of 
Juliers, and to invest you with the electoral 
dignity ; but his majesty declares, that if 
you do not renounce the heresy of Luther, 
of which you are the principal abettor, he 
cannot accede to your demand." At the 
same time the Duke of Bavaria, employing 
the most urgent solicitations, accompanied 
with the most animated gestures 2 and the 
most sinister threats, 3 called upon the Elec- 
tor to abandon his faith. " It is asserted," 
added Charles' envoys, " that you have 
made an alliance with the Swiss. The Em- 
peror cannot believe it; and he orders you 
to let him know the truth." 

The Swiss! it was the same thing as re- 
bellion. This alliance was the phantom 
incessantly invoked at Augsburg to alarm 
Charles the Fifth. And in reality deputies 
or at least friends of the Swiss, had already 
appeared in that city, and thus rendered the 
position still more serious. 

Bucer had arrived two days before the 
reading of the Confession, and Capito on 
the day subsequent to it. 4 There was even 
a report that Zwingle would join them. 5 — 
But for a long time all in Augsburg, except 
the Strasburg deputation, were ignorant of 
the presence of these doctors. 6 It was only 
twenty-one days after their arrival that Me- 
lancthon learnt it positively, 7 so great was 
the mystery in which the Zwinglians were 
forced to enshroud themselves. This was 
not without reason : a conference with Me- 

1 Corp. Ret, ii. p. 206 ; F. Urkund ii. p. 93 

2 Mit reden und Gebehrden prachtig erzei^t. 
(Ibid. p. 207.) 

3 Minas diras promissis ingentibus adjiciens. 
iZw. Epp. ii. p. 484.) 

4 Venirnus hue, ego pridie solemnitatis Divi 
Johannis. Capito die dominica sequeute. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 472.) 

6 Rumor apud nos est, et te cum tuis Helvetiis 
comitia advolamium. (Ibid. pp. 431, 467.) 

6 Ita latent ut non quibuslibet sui copiam fa- 
ciant, (Corp. Ref. p. 196.) 

7 Capito et Bucerus adsunt. Id hodie certo 
comperi. (Ibid.) 



lancthon having been requested by them : 
"Let them write," replied he; "I should 
compromise our cause by an interview with 
them." 

Bucer and Capito in their retreat, which 
was like a prison to them, had taken advan- 
tage of their leisure to draw up the Telra- 
politan Confession, or the confessions of the 
four cities. The deputies of Strasburg, Con- 
stance, Nemmingen, and Lindau, presented 
it to the Emperor. 1 These cities purged 
themselves from the reproach of war and 
revolt that had been continually objected 
against them. They declared that their only 
motive was Christ's glory, and professed the 
truth "freely, boldly, but without insolence 
and without scurrility." 2 

Zwingle about the same time caused a 
private confession to be communicated to 
Charles, 3 which excited a general uproar. — 
" Does he not dare to say," exclaimed the 
Romanists, " that the mitred and withered 
race (by which he means the bishops) is in 
the Church what hump-backs and the scro- 
fula are in the body?" 4 — "Does he not 
insinuate," said the Lutherans; " that we 
are beginning to look back after the onions 
and garlic of Egypt 1 ?" — "One might say 
with great truth, that he had lost his senses," 
exclaimed Melancthon. 5 "All ceremonies, 
according to him, ought to be abolished ; all 
the bishops ought to be suppressed. In a 
word, all is perfectly Helvetic, that is to say, 
supremely barbarous." 

One man formed an exception to this corv 
cert of reproaches, and this was LutheE. 
" Zwingle pleases me tolerably," wrote he 
to Jonas, " as well as Bucer." 6 By Bucer, 
he meant no doubt the Tetrapolitan' Confes- 
sion : this expression should be noted. 

Thus three confessions laid at the feet of 

Charles the Fifth, attested the divisions that 

were rending Protestantism. In vain did 

Bucer and Capito endeavour to come to an 

understanding with Melancthon, and write 

to him : " We will meet where you will, 

and when you will ; we will bring Sturm 

alone with us, and if you desire it, we will 

I not even bring him." 7 All was unavailing. 

It is not enough for a Christian to confess 

: Christ ; one disciple should confess another 

I disciple, even if the latter lies under the 



1 Cinglianae civitates propriam Confessionem 
obtulerunt Caesari. (Corp. Ref. p. 187.) This 
Confession will be found in Niemeyer, Collectio 
Confessionum, p. 740. 

2 Ingenue ac fortiter ; citra procaciam tamen et 
saunas, id fateVi et dicere quod res est. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 485.) 

3 See Niemeyer Coll. Conf. p. 16. 

4 Pedatum et mitratum genus Episcoporum, id 
esset in Eeclesia, quod gibbi et strumata in cor- 
pore. (Ibid.) Zwingle compares the bishops to 
the dry and fruitless props that support the vines, 

6 Dicas simpliciter mente captum esse. (Corp. 
Ref. p. 193.) 

6 Zwinglins mihi sane placet, et Bucerus. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 110.) 

7 Veniemus quo et quando tu voles. (Coro 
Ref. ii. p. 208.) 



504 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



shame of the world ; but they did not then 
comprehend this duty. " Schism is in the 
schism," said the Romanists, and the Em- 
peror flattered himself with an easy victory. 
" Return to the Church," was the cry from 
every side, "which means," interrupted 
the Slrasburgers, "let us put the bit in 
your mouths, that we may lead you as we 
please." 1 

All these things deeply afflicted the Elec- 
tor, who was besides still under the burden 
of Charles' demands and threats. The 
Emperor had not once spoken to him, 2 and 
it was everywhere said that his cousin 
George of Saxony would be proclaimed 
Elector in his stead. 

On the 28th July, there was a great festi- 
val at the court. Charles, robed in his im- 
perial garments, whose value was said to 
exceed 200,000 gold ducats, and displaying 
an air of majesty which impressed respect 
and fear, 8 conferred on many princes the 
investiture of their dignities; the Elector 
alone was excluded from these favours. — 
Ere long he was made to understand more 
plainly what was reserved for him, and it 
was insinuated, that if he did not submit, 
the Emperor would expel him from his 
states, and inflict upon him the severest 
punishment. 4 

The Elector turned pale, for he doubted 
not that such would certainly be the ter- 
mination. How with his small territory 
could he resist that powerful monarch who 
had just vanquished France and Italy, and 
now saw Germany at his feet? And be- 
sides, if he could do it, had he the right ? 
Frightful nightmares pursued John in his 
dreams. He beheld himself stretched be- 
neath an immense mountain under which 
he struggled painfully, while his cousin 
George of Saxony stood on the summit and 
seemed to brave him. 

John at length came forth from this fur- 
nace. " I must either renounce God or the 
world," said he. "Well! my choice is not 
doubtful. It is God who made me Elector, 
— me, who was not worthy of it. I fling 
myself into his arms, and let him do with 
me what shall seem good to him." Thus 
the Elector by faith stopped the mouths of 
lions and subdued kingdoms. 6 

All evangelical Christendom had taken 
part in the struggle of John the Persevering. 
It was seen that if he should now fall, all 
would fall with him; and they endeavoured 
to su-pport him. "Fear not," cried the 
Christians of Magdeburg, "for your high- 
ness is under Christ's banner." 6 " Italy is 

•Una tamen omnium vox: Reverlimini ad 
Ecclesiam. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 484.) 

2 Colloquium ejus nondum frui potuisse. — 
(Seek. ii. p. 154.) 

3 Apparuit Caesar majestate .... insignitus ves- 
tibus suis imperialibus. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 242.) 

4 Miiller. Geseh. der Protestation, p. 715. 

5 Hebrews xi. 33, 34. 

6 Unter dem Heerpannyr Jesu Christi. (Ibid. 
d. 134.) 



in expectation," wrote they from Venice; 
" if for Christ's glory you must die, fear no- 
thing." 1 But it was from a higher source 
that John's courage was derived. " I beheld 
Satan as lightning fall from heaven," said 
his Master. 2 The Elector, in like manner, 
beheld in his dreams George fall from the 
top of the mountain, and lie dashed in pieces 
at his feet. 

Once resolved to lose every thing, John, 
free, happy, and tranquil, assembled his 
theologians. These generous men desired to 
save their master. " Gracious lord," said 
Spalatin, "recollect that the Word of God, 
being the sword of the Spirit, must be up- 
held, not by the secular power, but by the 
hand of the Almighty." 3 " Yes," said all 
the doctors, " we do not wish that, to save 
! us, you should risk your children, your sub- 
j jects, your states, your crown. . . .We will 
I rather give ourselves into the hands of the 
I enemy, and conjure him to be satisfied with 
our blood." 4 John, touched by this lan- 
iguage, refused, however, their solicitations, 
and firmlv repeated these words, which had 
| become his device : " 1 also desire to confess 
! my Saviour." 

It was on the 20th July that he replied to 
the pressing arguments by which Charles 
had endeavoured to shake him. He proved 
to the Emperor that, being his brother's le- 
gitimate heir, he could not refuse him the 
investiture, which, besides, the Diet of 
Worms had secured to him. He added, 
that he did not blindly believe what his doc- 
tors said, but that, having recognised the 
Word of God to be the foundation of their 
teaching, he confessed anew, and without 
any hesitation, all the articles of the Apolo- 
gy. " I therefore entreat your majesty," 
continued he, " to permit me and mine to 
render an account to God alone of what con- 
cerns the salvation of our souls." 5 The 
Margrave of Brandenburg made the same 
reply. Thus failed this skilful manoeuvre, 
by which the Romanists had hoped to break 
the strength of the Reformation. 

Six weeks had elapsed since the Confes- 
sion, and yet no reply. " The Papists, from 
the monent they heard the Apology," it was 
said, " suddenly lost their voice." 6 At length 
the Romish theologians handed their revised 
and corrected performance to the Emperor, 
and persuaded this prince to present it in 
his own name. The mantle of the state 
seemed to them admirably adapted to the 
movements of Rome. " These sycophants," 
said Melancthon, " have desired to clothe 



1 Etiamsi mors subeunda tibi foret ob Christi 
gloriam. (Corp. Ref. ii. 228. L. P. Roselli.) 

2 Luke x. 18. 

3 Gottes Wort keines wegs durch weltlich 
Schwert. (F. Urkund. ii. p. 82.) 

4 Sie wollen ihnen an ihrem Bliite geniigen 
lassen. (Ibid. p. 90.) 

5 Forstemann's Urkundenbuch, pp. 80 — 92, 
113—119. 

6 Papistas obmutuisse ad ipsorum Confea 
sionem. (Cochl. p. 195.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



505 



themselves with the lion's skin, to appear 
to us so much the moie terrible." 1 All the 
states of the Empire were convoked for the 
next day but one. 

On Wednesday, 3d August, at two o'clock 
in the afternoon, the Emperor, sitting on his 
throne in the chapel of the Palatinate Palace, 
surrounded by his brother, and the electors, 
princes, and deputies, the Elector of Saxony 
and his allies, were introduced, and the 
Count-palatine, who was called " Charles' 
mouthpiece," said to them : " His majesty- 
having handed your Confession to several 
doctors of different nations, illustrious by 
their knowledge, their morals, and their im- 
partiality, has read their reply with the 
greatest care, and submits it to you as his 
own, ordaining that all the members and 
subjects of the Holy Empire should accept 
it with unanimous accord." 2 

Alexander Schweiss then took the papers 
and read the Refutation. The Roman party 
approved some articles of the Confession, 
condemned others, and in certain less salient 
passages, it distinguished between what 
must be rejected and what accepted. 

It gave way on an important point; the 
opus operatum. The Protestants having said 
in their 13th Article that faith was necessary 
in the Sacrament, the Romish party assented 
to it; thus abandoning an error which the 
Papacy had so earnestly defended against 
Luther in that very city of Augsburg, by 
the mouth of Cajetan. 

Moreover, they recognised as truly Chris- 
tian the Evangelical doctrine on the Trini- 
ty, on Christ, on baptism, on eternal pun- 
ishment, and on the origin of evil. 

But on all the other points, Charles, his 
princes, and his theologians, declared them- 
selves immovable. They maintained that 
men are born with the fear of God, that 
good works are meritorious, and that they 
justify in union with faith. They upheld 
the Seven Sacraments, the Mass, transub- 
stantiation, the withdrawal of the cup, the 
celibacy of priests, the invocation of saints, 
and they denied that the Church was an 
assembly of the saints. 

This Refutation was skilful in some re- 
spects, and, above all, in what concerned 
the doctrine of works and of faith. But on 
other points, in particular on the withdraw- 
al of the cup and the celibacy of priests, its 
arguments were lamentably weak, and con- 
trary to the well known facts of history. 

While the Protestants had taken their 
stand on the Scriptures, their adversaries 
supported the divine origin of the hierarchy, 
and laid down absolute submission to its 
laws. Thus, the essential character, which 
still distinguishes Rome from the Reforma- 



1 Voluerunt sycophantas theologi \*cvrriv illam 
sibi circumdare, ut essent nobis formidabiliores. 
(Corp. Ref. p. 252.) 

* Velut suam suaque publica auctoritate robora- 
tam, ab omnibus unanimi consensu acceptandam. 
(Urkundenbuch, ii. p. 144.) 



tion, stood prominently forth in this first 
combat. 

Among the auditors who filled the chapel 
of the Palatinate Palace, concealed in the 
midst of the deputies of Nuremberg, was 
Joachim Camerarius, who, while Schweiss 
was reading, leant over his tablets and care- 
fully noted down all he could collect. At 
the same time others of the Protestants, 
speaking to one another, were indignant, 
and even laughed, as one of their opponents 
assures us. 1 " Really," said they with one 
consent, "the whole of this Refutation is 
worthy of Eck, Faber, and Cochloeus!" 

As for Charles, little pleased with these 
theological dissertations, he slept during the 
reading ; 2 but he awoke when Schweiss had 
finished, and his awakening was that of a 
lion. 

The Count-palatine then declared that his 
majesty found the articles of this Refuta- 
tion orthodox, catholic, and conformable to 
the Gospel; that he therefore required the 
Protestants to abandon their Confession, now 
refuted, and to adhere to all the articles that 
had just been set forth ; 3 that, if they refused, 
the Emperor would remember his office, and 
would know how to show himself the advo- 
cate and defender of the Roman Church. 

This language was clear enough : the ad- 
versaries imagined that they had refuted the 
Protestants by commanding the latter to con- 
sider themselves beaten. Violence — arms — 
war — were all contained in these cruel words 
of Charles' minister. 4 The princes repre- 
sented that, as the Refutation adopted some 
of their articles and rejected others, it re- 
quired a careful examination, and they con- 
sequently begged a copy should be given 
them. 

The Romish party had a long conference 
on this demand : night was at hand ; the 
Count-palatine replied that, considering the 
late hour and the importance of the affair, 
the Emperor would make known his plea- 
sure somewhat later. The diet separated, 
and Charles the Fifth, exasperated at the 
audacity of the Evangelical princes, says 
Cochlceus, returned in ill-humour to His 
apartments. 5 

The Protestants, on the contrary, with- 
drew full of peace ; the reading of the Re- 
futation having given them as much confi- 
dence as that of the Confession itself. 6 They 
saw in their adversaries a strong attachment 
to the hierarchy, but a great ignorance ol 
the Gospel— a characteristic feature of the 
Romish party ; and this thought encouraged 



1 Multi e Lutheranis inepte cachinnabantur. 
(Cochlceus, p. 895.) 

2 Imperator iterum obdormivit. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 245.) 

3 Petit Caesar ut omnes in illos articulos con- 
sentiant. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 345.) 

4 Orationis summa atrox. (Ibid. p. 253.) 

5 Caesar non aequo animo ferebat eorum contu- 
maciam. (Cochl. p. 195.) 

6 Facti sunt erectiore animo. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 
259.-> 



5CG 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



them. " Certainly," said they, " the Church 
cannot be where there is no knowledge of 
Christ." 1 

Melancthon alone was still alarmed ; he 
walked by sight, and not by faith, and, re- 
membering the legate's smiles, he had 
another interview with him, as early as the 
4th August, still demanding the cup for the 
laity, and lawful wives for the priests. 
" Then," said he, " our pastors will place 
themselves again under the government of 
bishops, and we shall be able to prevent 
those innumerable sects with which posterity 
is threatened." 2 Melanclhon's glance into 
the future is remarkable : it does not, how- 
ever, mean that he, like many others, pre- 
ferred a dead unity to a living diversity. 

Campeggio, now certain of triumphing 
by the sword, disdainfully handed this pa- 
per to Cochlceus, who hastened to refute it. 
It is hard to say whether Melancthon or 
Campeggio was the most infatuated. God 
did not permit an arrangement that would 
have enslaved his Church. 

Charles passed the whole of the 4th and 
the morning of the 5th August in consulta- 
tion with the Ultramontane party. " It will 
never be by discussion that we shall come 
to an understanding," said some ; " and if 
the Protestants do not submit voluntarily, it 
only remains for us to compel them." They 
nevertheless decided, on account of the Re- 
futation, to adopt a middle course. During 
the whole of the diet, Charles pursued a 
skilful policy. At first he refused every- 
thing, hoping to lead away the princes by 
violence; then he conceded a few unim- 
portant points, under the impression that 
the Protestants having lost all hope, would 
esteem so much the more the little he yield- 
ed to them. This was what he did again 
under the present circumstances. In the 
afternoon of the 5th, the Count-palatine an- 
nounced that the Emperor would give them 
a copy of the Refutation, but on these con- 
ditions ; namely, that the Protestants should 
not reply, that they should speedily agree 
with the Emperor, and that they would not 
print or communicate to any one the Refu- 
tation that should be confided to them. 3 

This communication excited murmurs 
among the Protestants. " These condi- 
tions," said they all, "are inadmissible." — 
" The Papists present us with their paper," 
added the Chancellor Briick, " as the fox 
offered a thin broth to his gossip the stork." 

The savoury broth upon a plate by Reynard was 

served up, 
But Mistress Stork, with her long beak, she could 

not get a sup. 4 

" If the Refutation," continued he, " should 

1 Ecclesiam ibi non esse, ubi ignoratur Christus. 

2 Quod nisi fiet, quid in tot sectis ad posteros 
futururn sit. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 148.) 

3 F. Utkund. ii. p. 179; Corp. Ref. ii. p. 256; 
Briio-k, Apol. p. 72 

4 Gluck wie der Fuchs brauchet, da er den 
Storch zu gast lud. (Ibid. p. 74.) 



come to be known without participation, 
(and how can we prevent it?) we shall be 
charged with it as a crime. Let us beware 
of accepting so perfidious an offer. 1 We 
already possess in the notes of Camerarius 
several articles of this paper, and if we omit 
any point, no one will have the right to re- 
proach us with it." 

On the next day (6th August^ the Pro- 
testants declared to the diet that they pre- 
ferred declining the copy thus offered to 
them, and appealed to God and to his Ma- 
jesty. 2 They thus rejected all that the Em- 
peror proposed to them, even what he con- 
sidered as a favour. 

Agitation, anger, and affright, were mani- 
fested on every branch of that august as- 
sembly. 3 This reply of the Evangelicals 
was war — was rebellion. George of Saxony, 
the Princes of Bavaria, all the violent ad- 
herents of Rome, trembled with indigna- 
tion; there was a sudden, an impetuous 
movement, an explosion of murmurs and 
of hatred ; and it might have been feared 
that the two parties would have come to 
blows in the very presence of the Emperor, 
if Archbishop Albert, the Elector of Bran- 
denburg, and the Dukes of Brunswick, Po- 
merania, and Mecklenburg, rushing between 
them, had not conjured the Protestants to 
put an end to this deplorable combat, and 
not drive the Emperor to extremities. The 
diet separated, their hearts filled with emo- 
tion, apprehension, and trouble. 

Never had the diet proposed such fatal 
alternatives. The hopes of agreement, set 
forth in the edict of convocation, had only 
been a deceitful lure : now the mask was 
thrown aside; submission or the sword — 
such was the dilemma offered to the Re- 
formation. All announced that the day of 
tentatives was passed, and that they were 
beginning one of violence. 

In truth, on the 6th July, the Pope had 
assembled the consistory of cardinals in his 
palace at Rome, and had made known to 
them the Protestant ultimatum ; namely, the 
cup for the laity, the marriage of priests, 
the omission of the invocation of saints in 
the sacrifice of the Mass, the use of eccle- 
siastical property already secularized, and 
for the rest, the convocation of a council. 
" These concessions," said the cardinals, 
" are opposed to the religion, the discipline, 
and the laws of the Church. 5 We reject 
them, and vote our thanks to the Emperor 
for the zeal which he employs in bringing 
back the deserters." The Pope having thus 



1 Quando exemplum per alios in vulgus exire 
poterat. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 76.) 

2 Das Sie es Gott und Kays. Maj beschlen 
mufften. (Urkund. ii. p. 181.) 

3 Und darob wie man Spiiren mag, ein Entzet 
zen gehabt. (Ibid.) 

4 Hi accedunt ad nostros principes et jubent 
oniittere hoc certamen, ne Caesar vehementiua 
commoveatur. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 254.) 

5 Oppositas religioni, disciplines, iegibusque Eo« 
clesiae. (Pallav. i. p. 234.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



507 



lecided, every attempt at conciliation be- 
came useless. 

Campeggio,on his side, redoubled in zeal. 
He spoke as if in his person the Pope him- 
self were present at Augsburg. 1 "Let the 
Emperor and the right-thinking princes form 
a league," said he to Charles; " and if these 
rebels, equally insensible to threats and pro- 
mises, obstinately persist in their diabolical 
course, then let his Majesty seize fire and 
sword, let him take possession of all the 
property of the heretics, and utterly eradi- 
cate these venomous plants. 2 Then let him 
appoint holy inquisitors, who shall go on 
the track of the remnants of Reform, and 
proceed against them, as in Spain against 
the Moors. Let him put the university of 
Wittemberg under ban, burn the heretical 
books, and send back the fugitive monks to 
their convents. But this plan must be exe- 
cuted with courage." 

Thus the jurisprudence of Rome consist- 
ed; according to a prophecy uttered against 
the city which is seated on seven hills, in 
adorning itself with pearls that it had stolen, 
and in becoming drunk with the blood of 
the saints. 3 

While Charles was thus urged on with 
blind fury by the diet and the Pope, the Pro- 
testant princes, restrained by a mute indig- 
nation, did not open their mouths, 4 and 
hence they seemed to betray a weakness of 
which the Emperor was eager to profit. 
But there was also strength concealed under 
this weakness. " It only remains for us," 
exclaimed Melancthon, "to embrace, our 
Saviour's knees." In this they laboured 
earnestly. Melancthon begged for Luther's 
prayers ; Brenz for those of his own church : 
a general cry of distress and of faith ran 
through Evangelical Germany. " You 
shall have sheep," said Brenz, " If you will 
send us sheep: you know what I mean." 5 
The sheep that were to be offered in sacri- 
fice were the prayers of the saints. 

The Church was not wanting to itself. 
" Assembled every day," wrote certain cities 
to the Electors, "we beg for you strength, 
grace, and victory, — victory full of joy." 
But the man of prayer and faith was espe- 
cially Luther. A calm and sublime courage, 
in which firmness shines at the side of joy — 
a courage that rises and exults in proportion 
as the danger increases — is what Luther's 
letters at this time present in every line. 
The most poetical images are pale beside 
those energetic expressions which issue in 
a boiling torrent from the Reformer's soul. 

1 Als were der Papst selbst gegenwartig ge- 
west. (Briick, Apol. 62.) 

2 Se alcuni. . . . perseverassero in questa diabolica 
via quella S. M. poira metfere la mano al ferro e 
al toco et radicitus extirpate questa venenata 
pianta. (lnstruetio data Csesari a reverendissimo 
Campeggi in dieta Augustana, 1530.) 

3 Revelation xvii. and xviii. 

4 Tacita indignatio. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 254.) 

5 Habebitis oves, si oves ad nos mittatis : intel- 
ligitis qua? volo. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 246.) 



"I have recently witnessed two miracles," 
wrote he on the 5th August to Chancellor 
Briick; " this is the first. As I was at my 
window, I saw the stars, and the sky, and 
that vast and magnificent firmament in 
which the Lord has placed them. I could 
nowhere discover the columns on which the 
Master has supported this immense vault, 
and yet the heavens did not fall 

"And here is the second. I beheld thick 
clouds hanging above us like a vast sea. I 
could neither perceive ground on which 
they reposed, nor cords by which they were 
suspended; and yet they did not fall upon 
us, but saluted us rapidly, and fled away. 

" God," continued he, " will choose the 
manner, the time, and the place suitable for 
deliverance, and he will not linger. What 
the men of blood have begun, they have not 

yet finished Our rainbow is faint 

their clouds are threatening 

the enemy comes against us with frightful 

machines But at last it will be seen 

to whom belonged the ballistse, and from what 
hands the javelins are lanched. 1 It is no 
matter if Luther perishes : if Christ is con- 
queror, Luther is conqueror also." 2 

Never had the Roman party, who did not 
know what was the victory of faith, imagined 
themselves more certain of success. 

The doctors having refuted the Confes- 
sion, the Protestants ought, they imagined, 
to declare themselves convinced, and all 
would then be restored to its ancient footing : 
such was the Emperor's plan of campaign. 
He therefore urges and calls upon the Pro- 
testants ; but instead of submitting, they 
announce a refutation of the Refutation. 
Upon this Charles looked at his sword, and 
all the princes who surrounded him did the 
same. 

John of Saxony understood what that 
meant, but he remained firm. "The straight 
line," said he, (the axiom was familiar to 
him,) "is the shortest road." It is this in- 
domitable firmness that has secured for him 
in history the name of John the Persevering. 
He was not alone: all those Protestant 
princes who had grown up in the midst of 
courts, and who were habituated to pay an 
humble obedience to the Emperor, found at 
that time in their faith a noble independence 
that confounded Charles the Fifth. 

With the design of gaining the Marquis 
of Brandenburg, they opened to him the 
possibility of according him some posses- 
sions in Silesia, on which he had claims. 
"If Christ is Christ," replied he, "the doc- 
trine that I have confessed is truth." — " But 
do you know," quickly replied his cousin 
the Elector Joachim, " what is vour stake ?" 
— "Certainly," replied the Margrave, "it 
is said I shall be expelled from this country. 

1 In fine videbitur cujus torn (L. Epp. iv. p. 

130.) 

2 Vincat Christus modo. nihil refert si pereat 
Lutherus, quia victore Christo victor erit. (Ibid, 
p. 139.) 



508 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Well! may God protect me!" One day 
Prince Wolfgang of Anhalt met Doctor Eck. 
"Doctor," said he, "you are exciting to 
war, but you will find those who will not 
be behindhand with you. I have broken 
many a lance for my friends in my time. 
My Lord Jesus Christ is assuredly worthy 
that I should do as much for him." 

At the sight of this resolution, each one 
asked himself whether Charles, instead of 
curing the disease, was not augmenting it. 
Reflections, criticisms, jests, passed between 
the citizens; and the good sense of the peo- 
ple manifested in its own fashion what they 
thought of the folly of their chief. We will 
adduce one instance. 

It is said that one day, as the Emperor 
was at table with many Roman Catholic 
princes, he was informed that some come- 
dians begged permission (according to cus- 
tom) to amuse their lordships. First ap- 
peared an old man wearing a mask, and 
dressed in a doctor's robe, who advanced 
with difficulty carrying a bundle of sticks in 
his arms, some straight and some crooked. 
He approached the wide fire-place of the 
Gothic hall, threw down his load in disor- 
der, and immediately withdrew. 1 Charles 
and the courtiers read on his back — John 
Reuchlin. Then appeared another mask 
with an intelligent look, who made every 
exertion to pair the straight and the crooked 
pieces; 2 but finding his labours useless, he 
shook his head, turned to the door, and dis- 
appeared. They read — Erasmus of Rot- 
terdam. Almost immediately after ad- 
vanced a monk with bright eye and decided 
gait, carrying a brasier of lighted coals. 3 
He put the wood in order, set fire to it, 
blew and stirred it up, so that the flame rose 
bright and sparkling into the air. He then 
retired, and on his back were the words — 
Martin Luther. 

Next approached a magnificent person- 
age, covered with all the imperial insignia, 
who, seeing the fire so bright, drew his 
sword, and endeavoured by violent thrusts 
to extinguish it; but the more he struck, 
the fiercer burnt the flames, so that at last 
he quitted the place in indignation. His 
name, as it would seem, was not made 
known to the spectators, but all divined it. 
The general attention was soon attracted by 
a new character. A man, wearing a sur- 
plice and a mantle of red velvet, with an 
alb of white wool that reached to his heels, 
and having a stole around his neck whose 
ends were ornamented with pearls, advanced 
majestically. Beholding the flames that al- 
ready filled the hearth, he clapped his hands 
in terror, and looking around him sought to 
find something to extinguish them. He sees 

1 Persona larva contecta, habitu doctorali por- 
tabat struem lignorum. (T. L. Fabricius, opp. 
omnia, ii. p. 131.) 

2 Hie conabatur curva rectis exaequare lignis. 
(Ibid, p. 231.) 

3 In azula ferens ignem et prunas. (Ibid. N 



two vessels at the very extremity of the hall, 
one filled with water, and the other with oil. 
He rushes to them, seizes unwittingly on 
that containing the oil, and throws it on the 
fire. 1 The flames then spread with such 
violence that the mask fled in alarm, raising 
his hands to heaven ; on his back was read 
the name of Leo X. 

The mystery was finished; but instead of 
claiming their remuneration, the pretended 
actors had disappeared. No one asked the 
moral of this drama. 

The lesson, however, proved useless; 
and the majority of the diet, assuming at 
the same time the part assigned to the Em- 
peror and the Pope, began to prepare the 
means necessary for extinguishing the fire 
kindled by Luther. They negotiated in Italy 
with the Duke of Mantua, who engaged to 
send a few regiments of light cavalry across 
the Alps; 2 and in England with Henry 
VIII., who had not forgotten Luther's reply, 
and who promised Charles, through his 
ambassador, an immense subsidy to destroy 
the heretics. 3 

At the same time frightful prodigies an- 
nounced the gloomy future which threaten- 
ed the Reform. At Spire fearful spectres, 
having the shape of monks, with angry eyes 
and hasty steps, had appeared during the 
night. "What do you want?" they had 
been asked. — "We are going," they re- 
plied, "to the Diet of Augsburg!" The 
circumstance has been carefully investi- 
gated, and was found perfectly trustworthy. 4 
" The interpretation is not difficult," ex- 
claimed Melancthon : "Evil spirits are 
coming to Augsburg to counteract our ex- 
ertions, and to destroy peace. They fore- 
bode horrible troubles to us." 5 No one 
doubted this. " Everything is advancing 
towards war," said Erasmus. 6 " The diet 
will not terminate," wrote Brenz, " except 
by the destruction of all Germany." 7 
" There will be a slaughter of the saints," 
exclaimed Bucer, " which will be such that 
the massacres of Diocletian will scarcely 
come up to it." 8 War and blood! — this 
was the general cry. 

Suddenly, on the night of Saturday, 6th 
August, a great disturbance broke out in the 



1 Currens in amphoram oleo plenam. (T. L. 
Fabricius, opp. omnia, ii. p. 232.) 

2 Che tentano col Duca di Mantona d' avere 
il modo di condurre 1000 cavalli leggieri d' Italia 
in caso si facesse guerra in Germamca. (Nic. 
Tiefolo Relat.) 

3 Cui (Cassari) ingentem vim pecuniae in hoc 
sacrum bellum contra haereticos Anglus promi- 
sisse fertur. (Zw. Epp. ii. p 484.) 

4 Res et diligenter inquisita et explorata maxi« 
meque c^tomirroc. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 259.) 

5 Monachorum Spirensium $6.<t[a.& plane signifi- 
cat horrib-ilem tumultum. (Ibid. p. 260.) 

6 Vides rem plane tendere ad bellum. (Ibid. 
Aug. 12, p. 268.) 

7 Comiiia non finientur nisi totius Germamaj 
malo et exitio. (Ibid. p. 216.) 

8 Laniena sanctorum qualis vix Diocletiani tern 
pore fuit. (Buc. Ep. Aug. 14, 1530.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



509 



city of Augsburg. 1 There was running to 
and fro in the streets ; messengers from the 
Emperor were galloping in every direction; 
the senate was called together and received 
an order to allow no one to pass the gates 
of the city. 2 At the same time all were afoot 
in the imperial barracks ; the soldiers got 
ready their arms ; the regiments were drawn 
up, and at daybreak (about three o'clock on 
Sunday morning) the Emperor's troops, in 
opposition to the custom constantly followed 
in the diet, relieved the soldiers of the city 
and took possession of the gates. At the 
same time it was learnt that these gates 
would not be opened, and that Charles had 
given orders to keep a strict watch upon the 
Elector and his allies. 3 A terrible awakening 
for those who still flattered themselves with 
seeing the religious debates conclude peace- 
fully! Are not these unheard-of measures 
the commencement of wars and the signal 
of a frightful massacre? 

X. Trouble and anger prevailed in the 
imperial palace, and it was the Landgrave 
who had caused them. Firm as a rock 
in the midst of the tempest with which he 
was surrounded, Philip of Hesse had never 
bent his head to the blast. One day, in a 
public assembly, addressing the bishops, he 
had said to them, " My lords, give peace to 
the Empire ; we beg it of you. If you will 
not do so, and if I must fall, be sure that I 
will drag one or two of you with me." 
They saw it was necessary to employ mild- 
er means with him, and the Emperor en- 
deavoured to gain him by showing a favour- 
able disposition with respect to the county 
of Katzenellenbogen, about which he was 
at. variance with the country of Nassau, 
and to Wurtemberg, which he claimed for 
his cousin Ulric. On his side Duke George 
of Saxony, his father-in-law, had assured 
him that he would make him his heir if he 
would submit to the Pope. "They carried 
him to an exceeding high mountain, whence 
they showed him all the kingdoms of the 
world and the glory thereof," 4 says a chro- 
nicler, but the Landgrave resisted the temp- 
tation. 

One day he heard that the Emperor had 
manifested a desire to speak to him. He 
leapt instantly on his horse and appeared 
before Charles. 6 The latter, who had with 
him his secretary Schweiss and the Bishop 
of Constance, represented that he had four 
complaints against him ; namely, of having 
violated the Edict, of Worms, of despising 

1 Tumultum magnum fuisse incivitate. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 277.) 

2 Facto autem intempesta nocte Caesar senatui 
mandavit, tie quenquam per portas urbis suae 
emittant. (Ibid. p. 277.) 

3 Daffman auf den Churfurst zu Sachsen aufs- 
chen haben soil. (Briick, Apol. p. 80. 

4 Auf den hohen berg gefuhrt. (Lanze's 
Chronik.) 

5 Von ihr selbst gen Hof geritten. (Corp. Ref. 
ii. p. 165.) 



the Mass, of having, during his absence, 
excited all kinds of revolt, and, finally, of 
having transmitted to him a book in which 
his sovereign rights were attacked. The 
Landgrave justified himself; and the Em- 
peror said that he accepted his replies, ex- 
cept with regard to the faith, and begged 
him to show himself in that respect entirely 
submissive to his majesty. "What would 
you say," added Charles, in a winning tone, 
"if I elevated you to the regal dignity? 1 
But, if you show yourself rebellious to my 
orders, then I shall behave as becomes a 
Roman Emperor." 

These words exasperated the Landgrave, 
but they did not move him. "I am in the 
flower of my age," replied he, " and I do 
not pretend to despise the joys of life and 
the favour of the great j but to the deceitful 
goods of this world I shall always prefer the 
ineffable grace of my God." Charles was 
stupified; he could not understand Philip. 

From this time the Landgrave had re- 
doubled his exertions to unite the adherents 
of Reform. The Zwinglian cities felt that, 
whatever was the issue of the diet, they 
would be the first victims, unless the Sax- 
ons should give them their hand. But this 
there was some difficulty in obtaining. 

" It does not appear to me useful to the 
public weal, or safe for the conscience," 
wrote Melancthon to Bucer, " to load our 
princes with all the hatred your doctrine 
inspires." 2 The Strasburgers replied, that 
the real cause of the Papists' hatred was 
not so much the doctrine of the Eucharist 
as that of justification by faith. " All we, 
who desire to belong to Christ," said they, 
" are one, and we have nothing to expect 
but death." 3 

This was true ; but another motive be- 
sides checked Melancthon. If all the Protest- 
ants united, they would feel their strength, 
and war would be inevitable. Therefore, 
then, no union ! 

The Landgrave, threatened by the Em- 
peror, rejected by the theologians, began to 
ask himself what he did at Augsburg. The 
cup was full. Charles' refusal to commu- 
nicate the Romish Refutation, except on 
inadmissible conditions, made it run over. 
Philip of Hesse saw but one course to take 
— to quit the city. 

Scarcely had the Emperor made known 
the conditions which he placed on the com- 
munication of the reply, than on Friday 
evening, 5th August, the Landgrave, going 
alone to the Count-palatine, Charles' minis- 
ter, had begged for an immediate audience 
with his majesty. Charles, who did not 
care about it, pretended to be busy, and had 



1 Quin et in regem te evehendum curabimus. 
(Rommel, Philip der Gr. i. p. 268.) 

2 Nostros principes onerare invidia vestri dog- 
matis. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 221.) 

3 Arctissime quoque inter nos conjuncti essemus, 
quotquot Chrisli esse volumus. (Ibid. p. 236.; 



510 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



put off Philip until the following Sunday. ' 
But the latter answerpd that he could not 
wait; that his wife, who was dangerously 
ill, entreated him to return to Hesse without 
delay ; and that, being one of the youngest 
princes, the meanest in understanding, and 
useless to Charles, he humbly begged his 
majesty would permit him to leave on the 
morrow. The Emperor refused. 

We may well understand the storms this 
refusal excited in Philip's mind : but he 
knew how to contain himself; never had he 
appeared more tranquil ; during the whole 
of Saturday, (6th August,) he seemed occu- 
pied only with a magnificent tourney in 
honour of the Emperor and of his brother 
Ferdinand. 2 He prepared for it publicly ; 
his servants went to and fro, but under that 
din of horses and of armour, Philip con- 
cealed very different designs. "The Land- 
grave conducts himself with very great 
moderation," wrote Melancthon to Luther, 
the same day. 3 " He told me openly that, 
to preserve peace, he would submit to con- 
ditions still harder than those which the 
Emperor imposes on us, and whatever he 
could accept without dishonouring the Gos- 
pel, he would do so." 

Yet Charles was not at ease. The Land- 
grave's demand pursued him ; all the Pro- 
testants might do the same, and even quit 
Augsburg unexpectedly. The clue, that he 
had hitherto skilfully held in his hands, was 
perhaps about to be broken : it was better to 
be violent than ridiculous. The Emperor 
therefore resolved on striking a decisive 
blow. The Elector, the princes, the depu- 
ties, are still in Augsburg : he must at every 
risk prevent them from leaving it. Such 
were the heavy thoughts that on the night 
of the 6th August, while the Protestants 
were calmly sleeping, 4 banished repose from 
Charles' eyes; and which made him hast- 
ily arouse the councillors of Augsburg, and 
send his messengers and soldiers through 
the streets of the city. 

The Protestant princes were still slumber- 
ing, when they received on the part of the 
Emperor, the unexpected order to repair 
immediately to the Hall of the Chapter. 5 

It was eight o'clock when they arrived. 
They found there the electors of Branden- 
burg and Mentz, the Dukes of Saxony, 
Brunswick, and Mecklenburg, the Bishops 
of Salzburg, Spire, and Strasburg, George 
Truchses, ihe Margrave of Baden's repre- 
sentative, Count Martin, of CEIting, the Ab- 
bot of Weingarten, and the Provost of Bam- 



1 Cum imperator dilationem respondendi astu 
qaodam accepisset. (Corp. Ref. ii. pp. 254. 276.) 

2 Ad ludos equestresin honorem Caesari institu- 
endos publice sese apparavit. (Seek. ii. p. 172.) 

3 Landgravius valde moderate se gerit. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 254.) 

4 Ego vero somno sopitus dulciter quiescebam. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 273.) 

5 Mane facto Caesar .... convocavit nostros 
pnncipes. (Ibid. p. 277; Bruck, Apol. p. 79.) 



berg. These were the commissioners nom- 
inated by Charles to terminate this great 
affair. 

It was the most decided among them, 
Joachim of Brandenburg, who began to 
speak. " You know," said he to the Pro- 
testants, "with what mildness the Emperor 
has endeavoured to re-establish unity. If 
some abuses have crept into the Christian 
Church, he is ready to correct them, in con- 
junction with the Pope. But how contrary 
to the Gospel are the sentiments you have 
adopted! Abandon then your errors, do 
not any longer remain separate from the 
Church, and sign the Refutation without 
delay. 1 If you refuse, then through your 
fault how many souls will be lost, how 
much blood shed, what countries laid waste, 
what trouble in all the Empire ! And you," 
said he, turning towards the Elector, " your 
electorate, your life, all will be torn from 
you, and certain ruin will fall upon your 
subjects, and even upon their wives and 
children." 

The Elector remained motionless. At 
any time this language would have been 
alarming: it was still more so now that 
the city was almost in a state of siege. 
" We now understand," said the Protest- 
ants to one another, "why the imperial 
guards occupy the gates of the city." 2 It 
was evident, indeed, that the Emperor in- 
tended violence. 3 

The Protestants are unanimous: sur- 
rounded with soldiers, at the very gates of 
the prison, and beneath the thousand swords 
of Charles, they will remain firm. All these 
threats will not make them take one step 
backwards. 4 It was important for them, 
however, to consider their reply. Th<-y 
begged for a feAV minutes' delay, and retired. 

To submit voluntarily, or to be reduced 
by force, such was the dilemma Charles 
proposed to the Evangelical Christians. 

At the moment when each was anxious 
about the issue of this struggle, in which 
the destinies of Christianity were contend- 
ing, an alarming rumour suddenly raised 
the agitation of all minds to its height. 

The Landgrave, in the midst of his pre- 
parations for the tournament, meditated 
the most serious resolution. Excluded by 
Charles from every important deliberation, 
irritated at the treatment the Protestants had 
undergone during this diet, 5 convinced that 
they had no more chance of peace, 6 not 
doubting that their liberty was greatly en- 



1 Ut sententiae quam in refutatione audivissent 
suhscribant. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 277.) 

2 Intelligis nunc cur portae munitse fuerunt. 
(Ibid.) 

3 Quia volebat Caesar nostros violentia ad auam 
sententiam cogere. (Ibid.) 

4 Sed hae minae nostros nihil commoverunt. 
perstant in sententia, nee vel tantillum receduut. 
(Ibid.) 

5 Commotus indignitate actionum. (Corp. Ret. 
ii. p. 260.) 

6 Spem pacis abjecisse. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



5 LI 



dangered in Augsburg, and feeling unable 
to conceal under the appearance of modera- 
tion the indignation with which his soul was 
filled, being, besides, of a quick, prompt, 
and resolute character, Philip had decided 
on quitting the city and repairing to his 
states, in order to act freely, and to serve as 
a support to the Reform. 

But what mystery was required ! If the 
Landgrave was taken in the act, no doubt 
he would be put under arrest. This daring 
step might therefore become the signal of 
those extreme measures from which he 
longed to escape. 

It was Saturday, the 6th August, the day 
for which Philip had requested the Em- 
peror's leave of absence. He waits until 
the commencement of the night, and then, 
about eight o'clock, disguised in a foreign 
dress, without bidding farewell to any of his 
friends, 1 and taking every imaginable pre- 
caution, 2 he makes for the gates of the city, 
about the time when they are usually closed. 
Five or six cavaliers followed him singly, 
and at a little distance. 3 In so critical a 
moment, will not these men-at-arms attract 
attention ? Philip traverses the streets with- 
out danger, approaches the gate, 4 passes 
with a careless air through the midst of the 
guard between the scattered soldiers ; no 
one moves, all remain idly seated, as if no- 
thing extraordinary was going on. Philip 
has passed without being recognised. 5 His 
five or six horsemen come through in like 
manner. Behold them all at last in the open 
country. The little troop immediately spur 
their horses, and flee with headlong speed 
far from the walls of the imperial city. 

Yet Philip has taken his measures so 
well, that no one as yet suspects his de- 
parture. When during the night Charles 
occupies the gates with his own guards, he 
thinks the Landgrave still in the city. 6 When 
the Protestants were assembled at eight in 
the morning in the Chapter-hall, the princes 
of both parties were a little astonished at 
the absence of Philip of Hesse. They are 
accustomed, however, to see him keep 
aloof; he is in a pet, no doubt. No one 
imagines he is between twelve and fifteen 
leagues from Augsburg. 

After the termination of the conference, 

1 Clam omnibus abit. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 260.) 

2 Multa cum cautela. (Seek. ii. p. 172.) 

3 Clam cum paucis equitibus. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 277 ; Mil 5 oder 6 pferden. Ibid. p. 263.) 

4 Seckendorf, and M. de Rommel no doubt 
after him, say iharthe Landgrave went out through 
a secret gate (porta urbis secretion, Seek, ii p. 
172; Rommel i. p. 270.) I prefer the contempo- 
rary evidence, particularly that of Brenz, which 
says : Vesperi priusquam portae urbis clauderentur, 
urbe elapsus est. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 277.) The 
chief magistrate of Augsburg, who alone had the 
keys of the wicket, would never have dared to 
favour the departure of the Landgrave. 

5 Ubi erat ille ignotus. (Corp.^Ref. p. 261.) 

s Existimabat enim Caesar adhuc presto adesse. 
(Ibid.) 

34 



and as each was returning towards his 
hotel, the Elector of Brandenburg and' his 
friends on the one hand, elated at the speech 
they had delivered, the Elector of Saxony 
and his allies on the other, resolved to sacri- 
fice every thing, inquiries were made at the 
Landgrave's lodgings as to the reason of his 
absence; they closely question Salz, Nusz- 
bicker, Mayer, and Schnepf. At last the 
Hessian councillors can no longer keep the 
secret. "The Landgrave," said they, " has 
returned to Hesse." 

This news circulated immediately through 
all the city; and shook it like the explosion 
of a mine. Charles especially, who found 
himself mocked, and frustrated in his ex- 
pectations — Charles, who had not the least 
suspicion, 1 trembled, and was enraged. 3 
The Protestants, whom the Landgrave had 
not admitted to his secret, 3 areas much asto- 
nished as the Roman Catholics themselves, 
and fear that this inconsiderate departure 
may be the immediate signal for a terrible 
persecution. There was only Luther, who, 
the moment he heard of Philip's proceed- 
ing, highly approved of it, and exclaimed : 
" Of a truth, all these delays and indignities 
are enough to fatigue more than one Land- 
grave." 4 

The Chancellor of Hesse gave the Elec- 
tor of Saxony a letter that his master had 
left for him. Philip spoke in this ostensi- 
ble document of his wife's health; but he 
had charged his ministers to inform the 
Elector in private of the real causes of his 
departure. He announced, moreover, that 
he had given orders to his ministers to assist 
the Protestants in all things, and exhort his 
allies to permit themselves in no manner to 
be turned aside from the Word of God. 5 " As 
for me," said he, " I shall fight for the 
Word of God, at the risk of my goods, my 
states, my subjects, and my life." 

The effect of the Landgrave's departure 
was instantaneous : a real revolution was 
then effected in the diet. The Elector of 
Mentz and the bishops of Franconia, Phi- 
lip's near neighbours, imagined they already 
saw him on their frontiers at the head of a 
powerful army, and they replied to the Arch- 
bishop of Salzburg, who expressed astonish- 
ment at their alarm : " Ah! if you were in 
our place, you would do the same." Fer- 
dinand, knowing the intimate relations of 
Philip with the Duke of Wurtemberg, trem- 
bled for the estates of this prince, at that 
time usurped by Austria; and Charles the 
Fifth, undeceived with regard to those 



1 Caesare nihil suspicante. (Corp. Ref. p. 277.) 
2 .lmperator re insperata commotus. (Seek, it 
p. 172.) 

3 Unwissend des Churfursten von Sachsen und 
unserer. (Corp. Re/, ii. p. 263.) 

4 Es mbchte wohl ista mora et )7idi<r7iitas noch- 
einen Landgraven niiide machen. (L. Epp. iv. 
p. 134) 

5 Ut nullo modo a verbo Dei abstrahi aut war- 
reri se patiatur. (Seek. ii. p. 172. i 



512 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



princes whom he had believed so timid, 
and whom he had treated with so much 
arrogance, had no doubt that this sudden fit 
of Philip's had been maturely deliberated in 
the common council of the Protestants. All 
saw a declaration of war in the Landgrave's 
sudden departure. They called to mind, 
that at the moment when they thought the 
least about it, they might see him appear at 
the head of his soldiers, on the frontiers 
of his enemies, and no one was ready; no 
one even wished to be ready! A thunder- 
bolt had fallen in the midst of the diet. 
They repeated the news to one another, 
with troubled eyes and affrighted looks. All 
was confusion in Augsburg; and couriers 
bore afar, in every direction, astonishment 
and consternation. 

This alarm immediately converted the 
enemies of the Reform. The violence of 
Charles and of the princes was broken in 
this memorable night as if by enchant- 
ment ; and the furious wolves were sud- 
denly transformed into meek and docile 
lambs. 1 

It was still Sunday morning: Charles the 
Fifth immediately convoked the diet for the 
afternoon. 2 " The Landgrave has quitted 
Augsburg," said Count Frederick from the 
Emperor; " his majesty flatters himself that 
even the friends of that prince were igno- 
rant of his departure. It was without the 
Emperor's knowledge, and even in defiance 
of his express prohibition, that Philip of 
Hesse has left, thus failing in. all his duties. 
He has wished to put the diet out of joint. 3 
But the Emperor conjures you not to per- 
mit yourselves to be led astray by him, and 
to contribute rather to the happy issue of 
this national assembly. His majesty's grati- 
tude will thus be secured to you." 

The Protestants replied, that the depart- 
ure of the Landgrave had taken place with- 
out their knowledge; that they had heard 
of it with pain, and that they would have 
dissuaded him. Nevertheless they did not 
doubt that this prince had solid reasons for 
such a step ; besides he had left his council- 
lors with full powers, and that, as for them, 
they were ready to do everything to con- 
clude the diet in a becoming manner. Then, 
confident in their rights, and decided to re- 
sist Charles' arbitrary acts, they continued : 
fX It is pretended that the gates were closed 
on our account. We beg your majesty to 
revoke this order, and to prevent any simi- 
lar .orders being given for the future." 

Never was Charles the Fifth less at ease: 
he had just spoken as a father, and they re- 
mind him that a few hours back he had ac- 
ted like a tyrant. Some subterfuge was 
requisite. " It is not on your account," 



1 Sed hanc violentiam abitus Landgravii inter- 
rupt. (Corp. Ref. p. 277.) 

2 Nam cum paucis post horis resciscunt Land- 
graviumelapsum, convocant iterum nostros. (Ibid.) 

3 Zerrrennung dieses Reichstags zu verursachen. 
Ibid. p. 264.^ 



[replied the Count-palatine, " that the Em- 
peror's soldiers occupy the gates Be 

ware of believing those who tell you so. . . . 
Yesterday there was a quarrel between two 

soldiers, 1 and a mob was collected 

This is why the Emperor took that step. 
Besides, such a thing shall not be done again 
without the Elector of Saxony, in his 
quality of marshal of the Empire/being first 
informed of them." An order was given 
immediately to re-open the gates. 

No exertions were now spared by the Ro- 
man party to convince the Protestants of 
their good- will: there was an unaccustomed 
mildness in the language of the Count-pal- 
atine and in the looks of Charles. 2 The 
princes of the Papal party, once so terrible, 
were similarly transformed. They had been 
hastily forced to speak out; if they desired 
war, they must begin it instantly. 

But they shrunk back at this frightful 
prospect. How, with the enthusiasm that an- 
imated the Protestants, take up arms against 
them ! Were not the abuses of the Church, 
everywhere acknowledged, and could the 
Roman princes be sure of their own sub- 
jects? Besides, what would be the issue 
of a war but the increase of the Emperor's 
power ? The Roman Catholic states, and 
the Duke of Bavaria in particular, would 
have been glad to see Charles at war with 
the Protestants, in the hope that he would 
thus consume his strength; but it was, on 
the contrary, with their own soldiers that 
the Emperor designed attacking the heretics. 
Henceforth they rejected the instrumentality 
of arms as eagerly as they had at first de- 
sired it. 

Everything had thus changed in Augs- 
burg : the Romish party was paralyzed, 
disheartened, and even broken up. The 
sword already drawn was hastily thrust 
back into the sheath. Peace! peace! was 
the cry of all. 

XI. The diet now entered upon its third 
phasis, and as the time of tentatives had been 
followed by that of menaces ; now that of 
arrangements was to succeed the period of 
menaces. New and more formidable dan- 
gers were then to be encountered by the 
Reform. Rome, seeing the sword torn from 
its hands, had seized the net, and enlacing 
her adversaries with "cords of humanity 
and bands of love," was endeavouring to 
drag them gently into the abyss. 

At eight o'clock in the morning of the 16th 
August, a mixed commission was framed, 
which counted on each side two princes, 
two lawyers, and three theologians. In the 
Romish party there were Duke Henry of 
Brunswick, the Bishop of Augsburg, the 
Chancellors of Baden and Cologne, with 
Eck, CochloBus, and Wimpina; on the 



1 Es habe ein Trabant mit einem andern ein Un 
will gehabt. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 265.) 

2 Nul'.o alio tempore minus et henignins quam 
tunc cum protestantibus egerit. (Seek. ii. p. 172. v 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



513 



part of the Protestants, were the Margrave 
George of Brandenburg, the Prince Electoral 
of Saxony, the Chancellors Brack and Hel- 
ler, with Melancihon, Brenz, and Schnepf. 1 

They agreed to take as basis the Confes- 
sion of the Evangelical, states, and they be- 
gan to read it article by article. The Romish 
theologians displayed an unexpected conde- 
scension. Out of twenty -one dogmatical 
articles, there were only six or seven to 
which they made any objection. Original 
Sin stopped them some time : at length they 
came to an understanding; the Protestants 
admitted that Baptism removed the guilt of 
the sin, and the Papists agreed that it did 
not wash away concupiscence. As for the 
Church, they granted that it contained sanc- 
tified men and sinners; they coincided also 
on Confession. The Protestants rejected es- 
pecially as impossible the enumeration of 
all the sins prescribed by Rome. Doctor 
Eck yielded this point. 2 

There remained three doctrines only on 
which they differed. 

The first was that of Penance. The 
Romish doctors taught that it contained 
three parts : contrition, confession, and satis- 
faction. The Protestants rejected the latter, 
and the Romanists clearly perceiving that 
with satisfaction would fall indulgences, 
purgatory, with other of their doctrines and 
profits, vigorously maintained it. " We 
agree, said they, "that the penance imposed 
by the priest does not procure remission of 
the guilt of sin : but we maintain that it is 
necessary to obtain remission of the pen- 
alty." 

The second controverted point was the 
Invocation of Saints ; and the third, and 
principal one, was Justification by Faith. 
It was of the greatest importance for the 
Romanists to maintain the meritorious in- 
fluence of works: all their system, in reality, 
was based on that. Eck therefore haughtily 
declared war on the assertion that faith alone 
justifies. " That word sole," said he, " we 
cannot tolerate. It generates scandals, and 
renders men brutal and impious. Let us 
send back the sole to the cobbler." 3 

But the Protestants would not listen to 
such reasoning ; and even when they put 
the question to each other, Shall we maintain 
that faith alone justifies us gratuitously? 
" Undoubtedly, undoubtedly," exclaimed 
one of them with exaggeration, " gratui- 
tously and uselessly." 4 ' They even adduced 
strange authorities: "Plato," said they, 
"declares that it is not by external works, 
but by virtue that God is adored ; and every 
one knows these verses of Cato's : 

1 P. Urkundenbuch, ii. p. 219. 

2 Die Liind die man nicht wisse, die durff man 
nicht beichten. (F. Urkunden, ii. p. 228.) 

3 Man soil die Sole ein weil zum Schuster 
Schicken. (Urkund. ii. p. 225.) This wretched 
pun of-Eck's requires no comment. 

4 Omnino, omnino, addendum etiam frustra. 
Sccltet. p. 289.) 



Si deus est animus, nobis ut carmina dicunt, 
Hie tibi precipue para sit mente colendus." 1 

"Certainly," resumed the Romish theo- 
logians ; " it is only of works performed 
with grace that we speak; but we say that 
in such works there is something meritori- 
ous." The Protestants declared they could 
not grant it. 

They had approximated however, beyond 
all hope. The Roman theologians, clearly 
understanding their position, had purposed 
to appear agreed rather than be so in reality. 
Every one knew, for instance, that the Pro- 
testants rejected transubstantiation : but the 
Article of the Confession on this point, being 
able to be taken in the Romish sense, the 
Papists had admitted it. Their triumph was 
only deferred. The general expressions that 
were used in all the controverted points, 
would permit somewhat later a Romish in- 
terpretation to be given to the Confession ; 
ecclesiastical authority would declare this 
the only true one ; and Rome, thanks to a 
few moments of dissimulation, would thus 
reascend the throne. Have you not seen in 
our own days the Thirty-nine Articles of the 
Anglican Church interpreted in accordance 
with the Council of Trent? There are 
causes in which falsehood is never awant- 
ing. This plot was as skilfully executed, as 
it was profoundly conceived. 

Tbe Commissioners were on the best terms 
with one another, and concord seemed re- 
stored. One single uneasiness disturbed that 
happy moment : the idea of the Landgrave : 
" Ignorant that we are almost agreed," said 
they, " this young mad-brain is doubtless 
already assembling his army; we must 
bring him back and make him a witness of 
our cordial union." On the morning of the 
13th, one of the members of the Commission 
(Duke Henry of Brunswick), accompanied 
by a councillor of the Emperor, set out 
to discharge this difficult mission. 2 Duke 
George of Saxony supplied his place as 
arbitrator. 

They now passed from the first part of 
the Confession to the second : from doctrines 
to abuses. Here the Romish theologians 
could not yield so easily ; for if they appear- 
ed to agree with the Protestants, it was all 
over with the honour and power of the 
hierarchy. It was accordingly for this period 
of the combat that they had reserved their 
cunning and their strength. 

They began by approaching the Protest- 
ants as near as they could, for the more they 
granted, the more they might draw the Re- 
form to them and stifle it. " We think," 
said they, " that with the permission of his 
holiness, and the approbation of his majesty, 
we shall be able to permit, until the next 



1 If God is a spirit, as the poets teach, he should 
be worshipped with a pure mind. 

2 Brunswigus coactus est abire 7rpos rev ixdLKiiw* 
quern timent contrahere exercitum. (Scultet. p. 
299.) 



ill 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



council, the communion in both kinds, 
wherever it is practised already ; only, your 
ministers should preach at Easter, that that 
is not of Divine institution, and that Christ 
is wholly in each kind. 1 

"Moreover," continued they, "as for the 
married priests, desirous of sparing the poor 
women whom they have seduced, of pro- 
viding for the maintenance of their innocent 
children, and of preventing every kind of 
scandal, we will tolerate them until the next 
council, and we shall then see if it will not 
be right to decree that married men may be 
admitted to holy orders, as was the case in 
the primitive Church for many centuries. 2 

" Finally, we acknowledge that the sacri- 
fice of the Mass is a mystery, a representa- 
tion, a sacrifice of commemoration, a me- 
morial of the sufferings and death of Christ, 
accomplished on the cross." 3 

This was yielding much : but the turn of 
the Protestants was come; for if Rome ap- 
peared to give, it was only to take in 
return. 

The grand question was the Church, its 
maintenance and government : who should 
provide for it? They could see only two 
means : princes or bishops. If they feared the 
bishops, they must decide for the princes : 
if they feared the princes, they must decide 
for the bishops. They were at that time 
too distant from the normal state to disco- 
ver a third solution, and to perceive that 
the Church ought to be maintained by the 
Church itself — by the Christian people. — 
" Secular princes in the long-run will be 
defaulters to the government of the Church," 
said the Saxon divines in the opinion they 
presented on the 18th August; " they are 
not fit to execute it, and besides it would 
cost them too dear : 4 the bishops, on the 
contrary, have property destined to provide 
for this charge." 

Thus the presumed incapacity of the 
state, and the fear they entertained of its 
indifference, threw the Protestants into the 
arms of the hierarchy. 

They proposed therefore to restore to the 
bishops their jurisdiction, the maintenance 
of discipline, and the superintendence of the 
priests, provided they did not persecute the 
Evangelical doctrine, and did not oppress 
the pastors with impious vows and burdens. 
— " We may not," added they, " without 
strong reasons rend that order by which the 
bishops are over the priests, and which ex- 
isted in the Church from the beginning. It 
is dangerous before the Lord to change the 
order of governments." Their argument 



1 Vorschlage des Anschlusses der Sieben des 
Geeentheils. (Urk. ii. p. 251.) 

2 YVie von alters in der ersten Kirche etliche 
Hundert Jahre, in Gebrauch gewesen. (Ibid. ii. 
p. 254.) 

3 Zu Errinnerung und Gedachtniss. (Ibid. p. 
253.) 

4 1st Ihmen auch nicht moglich. Dazu Kostet 
es zu veil. (Ibid. p. 247.) 



is not founded upon the Bible, as may be 
seen, but upon ecclesiastical discipline. 

The Protestant divines went even farther, 
and, taking a last step that seemed decisive, 
they consented to acknowledge the Pope as 
being (but of human right) supreme bishop 
of Christendom. "Although the Pope is 
Antichrist, we may be under his govern- 
ment, as the Jews were under Pharaoh, and 
in later days under Caiaphas." We must 
confess these two comparisons were not 
flattering to the Pope. " Only," added the 
doctors, " let the sound doctrine be fully ac- 
corded to us." 

The chancellor Bruck alone appears to 
have been conscious of the truth : he wrote 
on the margin with a firm hand : " We 
cannot acknowledge the Pope, because we 
say he is Antichrist, and because he claims 
the primacy of right divine." ' 

Finally, the Protestant theologians con- 
sented to agree with Rome as regards in- 
different ceremonies, fasts, and forms of 
worship ; and the Elector engaged to put 
under sequestration the ecclesiastical pro- 
perty already secularized, until the decision 
of the next council. 

Never was the conservative spirit of Lu- 
theranism more clearly manifested. " We 
have promised our adversaries to concede to 
them certain points of church government, 
that may be granted without wounding the 
conscience," wrote Melancthon. 2 But he 
began to be very doubtful whether the eccle- 
siastical concessions would not drag with 
them doctrinal concessions also. The reform 

was drifting away still a few more 

fathoms, and it was lost. Already disunion, 
trouble, and affright began to spread among 
its ranks. Melancthon has become more 
childish than a child, said one of his friends, 3 
and yet he was so excited, that the Chan- 
cellor of Lunenburg having made some 
objections to these unprecedented conces- 
sions, the little Master of Arts proudly raised 
his head, and said with a sharp and harsh 
tone of voice : " He who dares assert that 
the means indicated are not Christian is a 
liar and a scoundrel." 4 On which the 
Chancellor immediately repaid him in his 
own coin. These expressions cannot, how- 
ever, detract from Melancthon's reputation 
for mildness. After so many useless efforts, 
he was exhausted, irritated, and his words 
cut the deeper, as they were the less ex- 
pected from him. He was not the only one 
demoralized. Brenz appeared clumsy, rude, 
and uncivil ; Chancellor Keller had misled 
the pious Margrave of Brandenburg, and 
transformed the courage of this prince into 
pusillanimity: no other human support re- 



1 Cum dicimus eum Antichristum. (Urk. p. 
247.) 

2 Nos politica quaedam concessuros qu:e sine 
offensione conscientiae. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 302.) 

3 Philippus ist kindischer denn ein kind warden, 
(Baumgartner, Ibid. p. 363.) 

4 Der luge als ein Bosewichst. (Ibid. p. 364 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



515 



mained to the Elector than his chancellor 
Briick. And even this firm man began to 
grow alarmed at his isolation. 

JBut he was not alone : the most earnest 
protests were received from without. " If 
it is true that you are making such conces- 
sions," said their affrighted friends to the 
Saxon divines, " Christian liberty is at an 
end. 1 What is your pretended concord ? a 
thick cloud that you raise in the air to eclipse 
the sun that was beginning to illumine the 
Church. 2 Never will the Christian people 
accept conditions so opposed to the Word 
of God ; and your only gain will be furnish- 
ing the enemies of the Gospel with a spe- 
cious pretext to butcher those who remain 
faithful to it." Among the laymen these 
convictions were general. " Better die with 
Jesus Christ," said all Augsburg, 8 "than 
gain the favour of the whole world without 
him!" 

No one felt so much alarm as Luther at 
the moment when he saw the glorious edi- 
fice that God had raised by his hands on 
the point of falling to ruin in those of Me- 
lancthon. The day on which this news 
arrived, he wrote five letters, — to the Elec- 
tor, to Melancthon, to Spalatin, to Jonas, 
and to Brenz, all equally filled with courage 
and with faith. 

" I learn," said he, " that you have be- 
gun a marvellous work, namely, to put 
Luther and the Pope in harmony ; but ihe 
Pope is unwilling, and Luther begs to be 
excused. 4 And if, in despite of them, you 
succeed in this affair, then after your exam- 
ple, I will bring together Christ and Belial. 

"The world I know is full of wranglers 
who obscure the doctrine of justification by 
faith, and of fanatics who persecute it. Do 
not be astonished at it, but continue to de- 
fend it with courage, for it is the heel of the 
seed of the woman that shall bruise the head 
of the serpent. 5 

" Beware also of the jurisdiction of the 
bishops, for fear we should have soon to re- 
commence a more terrible struggle than the 
first. They will take our concessions wide- 
ly, very widely, always more widely, and 
will give us theirs narrowly, very narrowly, 
and always more narrowly. 6 All these ne- 
gotiations are impossible, unless the Pope 
should renounce his Papacy. 

"A pretty motive indeed our adversaries 
assign! They cannot, say they, restrain 
their subjects, if we do not publish every- 

1 Actum est de Christiana libertate. (Baumgart- 
ner, Corp. Ref. ii. p. 295.) 

2 Quid ea concordia aliud esset quam natae jam 
ct divulgatae luci obducere nubem. (Ibid. p. 
296.) 

3 Die gange Stadt sagt. (Ibid. p. 297.) 

4 Sed Fapa nolet et Lutherus. deprecatur. (L. 
Epp. iv. p. 144.) 

, 5 Nam hie est ille unicus calcaneus seminis an- 
tique- serpenti adversantis. (Ibid. p. 151.) 

6 Ipsi enim nostras concessiones large, largius. 
largissime, suas vero, stride, strictius, sirictissi- 
me. (Ibid. p. 145.) 



where that they have the truth for them, 
as if God only taught his Word, in order 
that our enemies might at pleasure tyran- 
nize over their people. 

"They cry out that we condemn all the 
Church. No, we do not condemn it; but 
as for them, they condemn all the Word of 
God, and the Word of God is more than 
the Church." 1 

This important declaration of the Refor- 
mers decides the controversy between the 
Evangelical Christians and the Papacy : 
unfortunately we have often seen Protestants 
return, on this fundamental point, to the 
error of Rome, and set the visible Church 
above the Word of God. 

" I write to you now," continues Luther, 
" to believes with all of us, (and that through 
obedience to Jesus Christ,) that Campeggio 
is a famous demon. 2 I cannot tell how 
violently these conditions agitate me which 
you propose. The plan of Campeggio and 
the Pope has been to try us first by threats, 
and then, if they do not succeed, by strata- 
gems ; you have triumphed over the first 
attack, and sustained the terrible coming of 
Caesar: now, then, for the second. Act 
with courage, and do not yield to the ad- 
versaries except what can be proved with 
evidence from the very Word of God. 

"But if, which Christ forbid! you do 
not put forward all the Gospel ; if, on the 
contrary, you shut up that glorious eagle in 
a sack; Luther — doubt it not! — Luther will 
come and gloriously deliver the eagle. 3 As 
certainly as Christ lives, that shall be 
done!" 

Thus spoke Luther, but in vain : every- 
thing in Augsburg was tending towards 
approaching ruin ; Melancthon had a ban- 
dage over his eyes that nothing could tear 
off. He no longer listened to Luther, and 
cared not for popularity. " It does not be- 
come us," said he, " to be moved by the 
clamours of the vulgar : 4 we must think 
of peace and of posterity. If we repeal the 
episcopal jurisdiction, what will be the con- 
sequence to our descendants? The secular 
powers care nothing about the interests of 
religion. 5 Besides too much dissimilarity 
in the Churches is injurious to peace : we 
must unite with the bishops, lest the infamy 
of schism should overwhelm us for ever." 6 
They too readily listened to Melancthon, 
and they vigorously laboured to bind the 
Papacy by the bonds of the hierarchy the 
Church that God had wonderfully emanci- 



1 Sed ab ipsis totum verbum Dei quod plus quam 
ecclesia est damnari. (L. Epp. iv. p. 145.) 

2 Quod Campe£gius est unus magnus et in- 
signia diabolus. (Ibid. p. 147.) 

3 Veniet, ne dubita, veniet Lutterus, hanc aqui- 
Iam liberarurus magnifice. (L. Epp. iv. p. 155.) 

4 Sed nos nihil decet vulgi clamoribus moveri. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 303.) 

5 Profani jurisdiction em ecclesiasticam et simi- 
lia neeotia religionem non curent. (Ibid.) 

6 Ne schismatis infamia pernetuo laboremua 
(Ibid.) 



516 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



pated. Protestantism rushed blindfold into 
the nets of its enemies. Already serious 
voices announced the return of the Luther- 
ans into the bosom of the Romish Church. 
" They are preparing their defection, and 
are passing over to the Papists," said 
Zwingle. 1 The politic Charles the Fifth so 
acted that no haughty word should com- 
promise the victory ; but the Roman clergy 
could not master themselves : their pride, 
their insolence increased every day. "One 
would never believe," said Melancthon, 
"the airs of triumph which the Papists give 
themselves." There was good reason ! the 
agreement was on the verge of conclusion : 
yet one or two steps .... and then, woe to 
Reform ! 

Who could prevent this desolating ruin? 
It was Luther who pronounced the name 
towards which all eyes should be turned : 
" Christ lives," said he, " and he by whom 
the violence of our enemies has been con- 
quered will give us strength to surmount 
their wiles." This was in truth the only 
resource, and it did not fail the Reform. 

If the Roman hierarchy had been willing, 
under certain admissible conditions, to re- 
ceive the Protestants who were ready to 
capitulate, it was all over with them. When 
once it held them in its arms, it would have 
stifled them ; but God blinded the Papacy, 
and thus saved his Church. " No conces- 
sions," had declared the Romish senate ; 
and Campeggio, elated with his victory, 
repeated. "No concessions!" He moved 
heaven and earth to inflame the Catholic 
zpal of Charles in this decisive moment. 
From the Emperor he passed to the princes. 
" Celibacy, confession, the withdrawal of 
the cup, private masses!" exclaimed he: 
" all these are obligatory : we must have 
all." This was saying to the Evangelical 
Christians, as the Samnites to the ancient 
Romans : " Here are the Caudine Forks : 
pass through them!" 

The Protestants saw the yoke, and shud- 
dered. God revived the courage of the con- 
fessors in their weakened hearts. They 
raised their heads, and rejected this humili- 
ating capitulation. The commission was 
immediately dissolved. 

This was a great deliverance ; but soon 
appeared a fresh danger. The Evangelical 
Christians should have immediately quitted 
Augsburg; but, said one of them, 2 "Satan, 
disguised as an angel of light, blinded the 
eyes' of their understanding." They re- 
mained. 

All was not yet lost for Rome, and the 
spirit of falsehood and of cunning might 
again renew its attacks. 

It was believed at court that this disagree- 
able termination of the commission was to 
be ascribed to some wrong-headed individu- 

1 Lufherani defectionem parant ad Papistas. 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 461.) 

2 Baumgartner to Spengler. (Corp. Ref. ii. 
p. 363.) 



als, and particularly to Duke George. They 
therefore resolved to name another, com- 
posed of six members only : on the one side, 
Eck, with the chancellors of Cologne and 
Baden; on the other, Melancthon, with the 
chancellors Briick and Heller. The Pro- 
testants consented, and all was begun anew. 
The alarm then increased among the 
most decided followers of the Reformation. 
"If we expose ourselves unceasingly to 
new dangers, must we not succumb at 
last?" 1 The deputies of Nuremberg in 
particular declared that their city would 
never place itself again under the detested 
yoke of the bishops. " It is the advice of 
the undecided Erasmus that Melancthon 
follows," said they. "Say rather of Ahi- 
thopel," (2 Sam. xv.,) replied others. 
"However it may be," added they; "if 
the Pope had bought Melancthon, the latter 
could have done nothing better to secure 
the victory for him." 2 

The Landgrave was especially indignant 
at this cowardice. " Melancthon," w/ote 
he to Zwingle, "walks backwards like a 
crab." 3 From Friedwald, whither he had 
repaired after his flight from Augsburg, 
Philip of Hesse endeavoured to check the 
fall of Protestantism. " When we begin 
to yield, we always yield more," wrote he 
to his ministers at Augsburg. " Declare 
therefore to my allies that I reject these per- 
fidious conciliations. If we are Christians, 
what we should pursue is, not our own 
advantage, but the consolation of so many 
weary and afflicted consciences, for whom 
there is no salvation if we take away the 
Word of God. The bishops are not real 
bishops, for they speak not according to the 
Holy Scriptures. If we acknowledge them, 
what would happen ? They would remove 
our ministers, oppress the Gospel, re-estab- 
lish ancient abuses, and the last state would 
be worse than the first. If the Papists will 
permit the free preaching of the pure Gos- 
pel, let us come to an understanding with 
them ; for the truth will be the strongest, 
and will root out all the rest. But if not! — 
No. This is the moment, not to yield, but to 
remain firm even to the death. Baffle these 
fearful combinations of Melancthon, and 
tell, from me, the deputies of the cities to 
be men, and not women. 4 Let us fear no- 
thing : God is with us." 

Melancthon and his friends, thus attacked, 
sought to justify themselves : on the one 
hand, they maintained, that if they preserved 
the doctrine it would finally overthrow the 
hierarchy. But then why restore it? Was 
it not more than doubtful whether a doctrine 
so enfeebled would still retain strength suf- 



1 Fremunt et alii socii ac indignatur regnum 
Episcoporum restitui. (Ibid. p. 328.) 

2 Si conductus quanta ipse voluisset pecunia a 
Papa esset. (Ibid. 333.) 

3 Retro it, ut cancer. (Zvv. Epp. ii. p. 506.) 

4 Das sie nicht wevber seyen sondern manner, 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 327/ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



517 



ficient to shake the Papacy? On the other 
hand, Melancthon and his friends pointed 
out two phantoms before which they shrunk 
in affright. The first was war : it was, in 
their opinion, imminent. " It is not only," 
said they, " numberless temporal evils that 
it will bring with it, — the devastation of 
Germany, murder, violation, sacrilege, ra- 
pine ; but it will produce spiritual evils more 
frightful still, and will inevitably bring on 
the perturbation of all religion.'" The 
second phantom was the supremacy of the 
state. Melancthon and his friends foresaw 
the dependence to which the princes would 
reduce the Church, the increasing secu- 
larization of its institutions and of its instru- 
ments, the spiritual death that would result, 
and they shrunk back with terror from the 
frightful prospect. " Good men do not think 
that the court should regulate the ministry 
of the Church," 2 said Brenz. " Have you 
not yourselves experienced," added he iro- 
nically, " with what wisdom and mildness 
these boors ('tis thus I denominate the offi- 
cials and prefects of the princes) treat the 
ministers of the Church, and the Church 
itself. Rather die seven times!" — " I see," 
exclaimed Melancthon, "what a Church we 
shall have if the ecclesiastical government 
is abolished. I discover in the future a ty- 
ranny far more intolerable than that which 
has existed to this day. - " 3 Then, bowed 
down by the accusations that poured upon 
him from every side, the unhappy Philip 
exclaimed : '■ If it is I who have aroused 
this tempest, I pray his majesty to throw 
me, like Jonas, into the sea, and to drag 
me out only to give me up to torture and to 
the stake." 4 

The Romish episcopacy once recognised, 
all seemed easy. In the Commission of Six, 
they conceded the cup to the laity, marriage 
to the pastors, and the article of prayer to 
saints appeared of little importance. But 
they stopped at three doctrines which the 
Evangelicals could not yield. The first was 
the necessity of human satisfaction for the 
remission of the penalties of sin ; the second, 
the idea of something meritorious in every 
good work; the third, the utility of private 
masses. " Ah !" quickly replied Campeg- 
gio to Charles the Fifth, " I would rather be 
cut in pieces than concede anything about 
Masses." 5 

" What ! " replied the politicians, " when 
you agree on all the great doctrines of sal- 

1 Confusio et perturbatio religionum. (Corp. 
Ref. li. p. 382.) 

2 Ut aula ministerium in ecclesia ordinet bonis 
non videter consultum. (Ibid. p. 362.) 

3 Video postea rnulto intolerabiliorem futuram 
tyrannidem quam unquam antea fuisse. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 334.) 

4 Si mea causa haec tempestas coacta est, me 
statim velut Jonam in mare ejiciat. (Ibid. p. 382.) 

5 Er wollte sich ehe auf Stacker Zureissen las- 
sen. (L. Op^. xx. p. 328.') 



vation, will you for ever rend the unity of 
the Church for three such trivial articles? 
Let the theologians make a last effort, and 
we shall see the two parties unite, and 
Rome embrace Wittemberg." 

It was not so : under these three points 
was concealed a whole system. On the 
Roman side, they entertained the idea that 
certain works gain the Divine favour, -inde- 
pendently of the disposition of him who 
performs them, and by virtue of the will of 
the Church. On the Evangelical side, on 
the contrary, they felt a conviction that 
these external ordinances were mere human 
traditions, and that the only thing which 
procured man the Divine favour was the 
work that God accomplished by Christ on 
the cross; while the only thing that put 
him in possession of this favour was the 
work of regeneration that Christ accom- 
plishes by his Spirit in the heart of the sin- 
ner. The Romanists, by maintaining their 
three articles, said : " the Church saves," 
which is the essential doctrine of Rome; 
the Evangelicals, by rejecting them, said : 
" Jesus Christ alone saves," which is Chris- 
tianity itself. This is the great antithesis 
which then existed, and which .still sepa- 
rates the two Churches. With these three 
points, which placed souls under her de- 
pendence, Rome justly expected to recover 
everything; and she showed by her perse- 
verance that she understood her position. 
But the Evangelicals were not disposed to 
abandon theirs. The Christian principle 
was maintained against the ecclesiastical 
principle which aspired to swallow it up : 
Jesus Christ stood firm in the presence of 
the Church, and it was seen that hencefor- 
ward all conferences were superfluous. 

Time pressed : for two months and a half 
Charles the Fifth had been labouring in 
Augsburg, and his pride suffered because 
four or five theologians checked the tri- 
umphal progress of the conqueror of Pavia. 
" What!" said they to him, " a few days 
sufficed to overthrow the King of France 
and the Pope, and you cannot succeed with 
these Gospellers!" They determined on 
breaking off the conferences. Eck, irritated 
because neither stratagem nor terror had 
been effectual, could not master himself in 
the presence of the Protestants. "Ah!" 
exclaimed he, at the moment of separation, 
"why did not the Emperor, when he en- 
tered Germany, make a general inquest 
about the Lutherans? He would then 
have heard arrogant answers, witnessed 
monsters of heresy, and his zeal suddenly 
taking fire, would have led him to destroy 
all this faction. 1 But now Briick's mild lan- 
guage and Melancthon's concessions pre- 
vent him from getting so angry as the cause 



1 Haec inflannnassent Imperatorem ad totam 
banc {actionem delendarh. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 335 } 



518 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



requires." Eck said these words with a 
smile; but they expressed all his thoughts. 
The colloquy terminated on the 30th of Au- 
gust. 

The Romish states made their report to the 
Emperor. They were face to face, three 
steps only from each other, without either 
side being able to approach nearer, even by 
a hair's breadth. 

Thus, then, Melancthon had failed ; and 
his enormous concessions were found use- 
less. From a false love of peace, he had 
set his heart on an impossibility. Melanc- 
thon was at the bottom a really Christian 
soul. God preserved him from his great 
weakness, and broke the clue that was 
about to lead him to destruction. Nothing 
could have been more fortunate for the Re- 
formation than Melancthon's failure; but 
nothing could, at the same time, have been 
more fortunate for himself: his friends saw 
that though he was willing to yield much, 
he could not go so far as to yield Christ 
himself, and his defeat justified him in the 
eyes of the Protestants. 

The Elector of Saxony and the Margrave 
of Brandenburg sent to beg Charles' leave 
to depart. The latter refused at first rather 
rudely, but at last he began to conjure the 
princes not to create by their departure new 
obstacles to the arrangements they soon 
hoped to be able to conclude. 1 We shall 
see of what nature these arrangements were. 

They appeared to redouble their exertions. 
If they now let the clue slip, it is lost for 
ever: they laboured accordingly to reunite 
the two ends. There were conferences in 
the gardens, conferences at the churches, at 
St. Georges, at St. Maurice's, between the 
Duke of Brunswick and John Frederick the 
Elector's son, the Chancellors of Baden and 
of Saxony, the Chancellor of Liege and 
Melancthon ; but all these attempts were 
unavailing. It was to other means they 
were going to have recourse. 

Charles the Fifth had resolved to take the 
affair in hand, and to cut the Gordian knot, 
which neither doctor nor princes could untie. 
Irritated at seeing his advances spurned and 
his authority compromised, he thought that 
the moment was come for drawing the 
sword. On the 4th September the mem- 
bers of the Roman party, who were still 
endeavouring to gain over the Protestants, 
whispered these frightful intentions in Me- 
lancthon's ears. " We scarcely dare men- 
tion it," said they : " the sword is already 
in the Emperor's hands, and certain peo- 
ple exasperate him more and more. He is 
not easily enraged, but once angry it is im- 
possible to quiet him."* 

Charles had reason to appear exacting 



1 Antwort des Kaisers, &e. (Urkund. ii. p. 
513.) 

2 Nescio an ausim dicere, jam ferrum in manu 
Cae3aris esse. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 342.) 



and terrible. He had at length obtained from 
Rome an unexpected concession — a council. 
Clement VII. had laid the Emperor's request 
before a Congregation; "How will men who 
reject the ancient councils submit to a new 
one?" they had replied. Clement himself 
had no wish for such an assembly. His 
birth and his conduct made him equally 
dread it. 1 However, his promises at the 
Castle of St. Angelo and at Bologna ren- 
dered it impossible for him to give a decided 
refusal. He answered, therefore, that " the 
remedy would be worse than the disease; 2 
but that if the Emperor, who was so good 
a Catholic, judged a council absolutely ne- 
cessary, he would consent to it, under the 
express condition, however, that the Pro- 
testants should submit in the meanwhile to 
the doctrines and rites of the Church." 
Then as the place of meeting he appointed 
Rome ! 

Scarcely had the news of this concession 
spread abroad, than the fear of a Reformation 
froze the Papal court. The public charges 
of the Papacy, which were altogether venal, 
immediately fell, says a cardinal, and were 
offered at the lowest price, 3 without even 
being able to find purchasers. 4 The Papacy 
was compromised ; the merchandise was in 
great danger ; and the price current imme- 
diately declined on the Roman exchange. 

On Wednesday, 7th September, at two in 
the afternoon, the Protestant princes and de- 
puties having been introduced into the cham- 
ber of Charles the Fifth, the Count-palatine 
said to them, " that the Emperor, considering 
their small number, had not expected they 
w T ould uphold new sects against the ancient 
usages of the Universal Church ; that, never- 
theless, being desirous of appearing to the 
last full of kindness, he would require of his 
Holiness the convocation of a council ; but 
that in the meanwhile they should return im- 
mediately into the bosom of the Catholic 
Church, and restore everything to its ancient 
footing." 5 

The Protestants replied on the morrow, the 
i 8th September, that they had not stirred up 
new sects contrary to the Holy Scriptures; 6 
that, quite the reverse, if they had not agreed 
with their adversaries, it was because they 
had desired to remain faithful to the Word 
of God ; that by convoking in Germany a 



1 In earn (concilii celebrationem) Pontificis ani- 
mus haud propendebatur. (Pallavieini. i. p. 251.) 

2 Al contrario, remedio e piu pericoloso e per 
parrorir maggiori mali. (Lettere de Principe, ii. 
p. 197.) 

3 Evulgatus concilii rumor .... publica Roma 
munera .... jam in vilissimum pretium decidis- 
sent. (Pallav. i. p. 251.) 

4 Che non se non trovano danari. (Lett, di 
Prin. iii. p. 5.) 

5 Interim restitui debere omnia Papistis. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 355. See also ErM'urung des Kaisirs 
Karl v. Urkunden, ii. p. 391.) 

6 Nit neue, Secten vvieder die heilige SchrifTt 
(Brack. Apol. p. 136.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



510 



general, free, and Christian council, it would 
only be doing what preceding diets had pro- 
mised ; but that nothing should compel them 
to re-establish in their churches an order of 
things opposed to the commandments of 
God." 

It was eight in the evening when, after a 
long deliberation, the Protestants were again 
called in. " His majesty," said George 
Truchses to them, " is equally astonished, 
both that the Catholic members of the com- 
missions have accorded so much, and that 
the Protestant members have refused every- 
thing. What is your party in the presence 
of his imperial majesty, of his Papal holi- 
ness, of the electors, princes, estates of the 
Empire, and other kings, rulers, and poten- 
tates of Christendom 1 It is but just that the 
minority should yield to the majority. Do 
you desire the means of conciliation to be 
protracted, or do you persist in your answer ? 
Speak frankly ; for if you persist, the Empe- 
ror will immediately see to the defence of 
the Church. To-morrow at one o'clock you 
will bring your final decision." 

Never had such threatening words issued 
from Charles' mouth. It was evident he 
wished to subdue the Protestants by terror; 
but this end was not attained. They replied 
the next day but one — a day more having 
been accorded them — that new attempts at 
conciliation would only fatigue the Emperor 
and the diet; that they only required regula- 
tions to maintain political peace until the as- 
sembling of the council. 1 " Enough," re- 
plied the redoubtable Emperor ; " I will reflect 
upon it ; but in the mean time let no one quit 
Augsburg." 

Charles the Fifth was embarrassed in a 
labyrinth from which he knew not how to 
escape. The state had resolved to interfere 
with the Church, and saw itself compelled 
to have immediate recourse to its ultima ratio 
— the sword. Charles did not desire war, 
and yet how could he now avoid it! If he 
did not execute his threats, his dignity was 
compromised, and his authority rendered con- 
temptible. He sought an outlet on one side 
or the other, but could find none. It there- 
fore only remained for him to close his eyes, 
and rush forward without knowing what 
might happen. These thoughts disturbed 
him : these cares preyed upon him ; he was 
utterly confounded. 

It was now T that the Elector sent to beg 
Charles would not be offended if he left Augs- 
burg. " Let him await my answer," abruptly 
replied the Emperor ; and the Elector having 
rejoined that he would send his ministers to 
explain his motives to his majesty : " Not so 
many speeches," resumed Charles, with irri- 
tation ; "let the Elector say whether he will 
stay or not !" 2 

A rumour of the altercation between these 

1 Urkunden. ii. p. 410; Briiek. Apoi. p. 139. 
2 -Kurtz mit Solchpn worten ob er erwarten 
wolte oder nirht ? (Ibid. p. 143.) 
35 



two powerful princes having spread abroad, 
the alarm became universal ; it was thought 
war would break out immediately, and there 
was a great cry in all Augsburg. 1 It was 
evening : men were running to and fro ; they 
rushed into the hotels of the princes and of 
the Protestant deputies, and addressed thern 
with the severest reproaches. " His imperial 
majesty," said they, '* is about to have re- 
course to the most energetic measures !" 
They even declared that hostilities had begun : 
it was whispered that the commander of Hor- 
neck, (Walter of Kronberg,) elected by the 
Emperor grand-master of the Teutonic order, 
was about to enter Prussia with an army, and 
dispossess Duke Albert, converted by Luther. 2 
Two nights successively the same tumult was 
repeated. They shouted, they quarrelled, 
they fought, particularly in and before the 
mansions of the princes : the war was nearly 
commencing in Augsburg. 

At that crisis, (12th September,) John Fre- 
derick, prince-electoral of Saxony, quitted the 
city. 

On the same day, or on the morrow, Je- 
rome Wehe, chancellor of Baden, and Count 
Truchses on the one side ; Chancellor Briiek 
and Melancthon on the other, met at six in 
the morning in the church of St. Maurice. 3 

Charles, notwithstanding his threats, could 
not decide on employing force. He could no 
doubt by a single word to his Spanish bands 
or to his German lansquenets have seized on 
these inflexible men, and treated them like 
Moors. But how could Charles, a Nether- 
lander, a Spaniard, who had been absent ten 
years from the Empire, dare, without raising 
all Germany, offer violence to the favourites 
of the nation 1 W^ould not the Roman Catho- 
lic princes themselves see in this act an in- 
fringement of their privileges 1 War was 
unseasonable. " Lutheranism is extending 
already from the Baltic to the Alps," wrote 
Erasmus to the legate: "You have but one 
thing to do: tolerate it." 4 

The negotiation begun in the Church of 
St. Maurice was continued between the Mar- 
grave of Brandenburg and Count Truchses. 
The Roman party only sought to save appear- 
ances, and did not hesitate, besides, to sacri- 
fice everything. It asked merely for a few 
theatrical decorations — that the Mass should 
be celebrated in the sacerdotal garment, with 
chanting, reading, ceremonies, and its two 
canons. 5 All the rest was referred to the next 
council, and the Protestants, till then, should 



1 Ein beschwerlich Geschrey zu Augsbourg den 

selben abend ausgebrochen. (Ibid. p. 145.) 

2 Man wiirde ein Kreigs-volk in Preussen 
Schicken. (Ibid. p. 143.) 

3 Ibid. p. 155—160. 

4 A mare Baltico ad Helvetios. (Erasm. Epp. 
xiv. p. 1.) 

5 Ingewohnlichen Kleidungen mit Gesana: und 
Lesen. (Urk. ii. p. 4^S.) The canon was a Frame 
of card-board placed on the altar before the priest, 
and which contained the Apostles' Creed with 

I various prayers. 



520 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



conduct themselves so as to render account to | 
God, to the council, and to his majesty. 

But on the side of the Protestants the wind 
had also changed. Now they will no longer i 
have peace with Rome : the scales had at last : 
fallen from their eyes, and they discovered 
with affright the abyss into which they had \ 
so nearly plunged. Jonas^ Spalatin, and even 
Melancthon were agreed. " We have hitherto 
obeyed the commandment of St. Paul, Be at 
peace with all men" said they; "now we 
must obey this commandment, of Christ, Be- 
ware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which 
is hypocrisy. On the side of our adversaries 
is nothing but cunning and perfidy, and their 
only aim is to stifle our doctrine, which is 
truth itself. 1 They hope to save the abomi- 
nable articles of Purgatory, Indulgences, and 
the Papacy, because we have passed them by 
in silence. 2 Let us beware of betraying Christ 
and his Word in order to please antichrist 
and the devil." 3 

Luther at the same time redoubled his en- 
treaties to withdraw his friends from Augs- 
burg. " Return, return," cried he to them ; 
" return, even if it must be so, cursed by the 
Pope and the Emperor. 4 You have confessed 
Jesus Christ, offered peace, obeyed Charles, 
supported insults, and endured blasphemies. 
I will canonize you, I, as faithful members 
of Jesus Christ. You have done enough, 
and more than enough : now it is for the 
Lord to act, and he will act ! They have our 
Confession, they have the Gospel ; let them 
receive it, if they will ; and if they will not, 

let them go . If a war should come, 

let it come ! We have prayed enough ; and 
we have discussed enough. The Lord is pre- 
paring our adversaries as the victim for the 
sacrifice ; he will destroy their magnificence, 
and deliver his people. Yes ! he will pre- 
serve us even from Babylon, and from her 
burning walls." 

XII. Thus Luther gave the signal of de- 
parture. They replied to the Reformer's 
appeal, and all prepared to quit Augsburg 
on Saturday, 17th September. At ten at 
night Duke Ernest of Luneburg assembled 
the deputies of Nuremberg and the ministers 
of the Landgrave in his hotel, and announced 
to them that the Elector was determined to 
leave the next morning, without informing 
any one, and that he would accompany 
him. " Keep- the secret," said he to them, 
" and know that, if peace cannot be preserved, 
it will be a trifling matter for me to lose, com- 
bating with you, all that God has given me." 6 

1 Estel List gefahiiiche Tiicke, &c. (Jonas 
Urkund. ii. p. 423.) 

2 Die grauliche artikel. (Spalat. Ibid. p. 428.) 
De Primatu Papae, de Purgatorio, de Indulgentiis. 
(Melancthon, Cord. Ref. ii. p. 374.) 

3 Dem Teufel und antichrist zu gefallen. (Urk. 
ii. p. 431.) 

4 Vel maledicti a Papa et Caesare. (L. Epp. iv. 
p. 1(52—171.) 

6 Alles das, so Ihm Gots geben hatt, dorob zu 



. The Elector's preparations betrayed his 
intentions. In the middW of the night Duke 
Henry of Brunswick auived hastily at his 
hotel, beseeching him to wait, 1 and, towards 
morning, Count Truchses and Mansfeldt an- 
nounced that, on the morrow r between seven 
and eight, the Emperor would give him his 
conge. 

On Monday, 19th September, the Elector 
purposing to leave Augsburg immediately 
after his audience with Charles, breakfasted 
at seven o'clock, then sent off his baggage 
and his cooks, 2 and ordered his officers to be 
ready at ten o'clock. At the moment when 
John quitted the hotel to wait upon the Em- 
peror, all the members of his household were 
drawn up on each side booted and spurred : 3 
but, having been introduced to Charles, he 
was requested to wait two, four, or six days 
longer. 

As soon as the Elector was alone with his 
allies, his indignation burst forth, and he even 
became violent. "This new delay will end 
in nothing," 4 he said ; "I am resolved to set 
out, happen what may. It seems to me, from 
the manner in which things are arranged, that 
I have now completely the air of a prisoner."' 
The Margrave of Brandenburg begged him 
to be calm. " I shall go," the Elector still 
replied. At last he yielded, and having ap- 
peared again before Charles the Fifth, he said, 
"I w r ili wait until Friday next; and, if no- 
thing is done by that time, I shall leave forth- 
with." 

Great was the anxiety of the Protestants 
during these four days of expectation. Most 
of them doubted not that, by acceding to 
Charles 1 prayers, they had delivered them- 
selves into the hands of their enemies. — 
"The Emperor is deliberating whether he 
ought to hang us or let us live," wrote Brenz. 5 
Fresh negotiations of Truchses were without 
success. 6 

All that now remained for the Emperor was 
to draw up, in common with the Romish 
states, the recess of the diet. This was done ; 
and, that the Protestants might not complain 
of its having been prepared without their 
knowledge, he assembled them in his palace 
on Thursday, 22d September, the day previous 
to that fixed for the Elector's departure, and 
had his project read to them by the Count- 
palatine. This' project was insult and war. 
The Emperor granted to the Elector, the five 
princes, and the six cities, 7 a delay of six 



vertieren ein geringes ware. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 
379.) 

1 In der selben Naeht. (Ibid.) 

2 Praemissis fere omnibus impedimentius una 
cum cocis. (Ibid. p. 335.) 

3 Gestiefelt und gespornt. (Ibid. p. 380.) 

4 Etwas darob schwermutig und hitzig erzeight. 
(Ibid.) 

5 Adhuc deliberat Caesar pendendum ne nobis 
sit, an diutius vivendum. (Corp. Ref. ii.) 

6 Urkunden. ii. p. 455 — 472. 

7 Nuremberg and Reutlingen, to which were 
added the cities of Kempten, Heilbrunn, Wind- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



521 



months, until the 15th April next year, to 
come to an arrangement with the Church, the 
Pope, the Emperor, and all the princes and 
monarchs of Christendom. This was clearly 
announcing to them that the Romanists were 
very willing to delay until the usual period 
for bringing armies into the field. 

Nor was this all : this delay was granted 
only on the express condition that the Pro- 
testants should immediately join the Emperor 
in reducing the Anabaptists, and all those 
who opposed the holy sacrament, by which 
were meant the Zwinglian cities. He wished 
by this means to tie the hands of the Protes- 
tants, and prevent the two families of the 
Reform from uniting during the winter. 

Finally, the Protestants were forbidden to 
make any innovations, to print or sell any- 
thing on the objects of faith, 'or to draw any 
one whatever to their sect, "since the Con- 
fession had been soundly refuted by the Holy 
Scriptures." Thus they officially proclaimed 
the Reform a sect, and a sect contrary to the 
Word of God. 

Nothing was more calculated to displease 
the friends of the Gospel, who remained in 
Charles' presence astonished, alarmed, and 
indignant. 1 This had been foreseen ; and, at. 
the moment when the Protestants were about 
to enter the Emperor's chamber, Truchses 
and Wehe, making signs to them, mysteri- 
ously slipped a paper into their hands, con- 
taining a promise that, if, on the 15th April, 
the Protestants required a prolongation of 
the delay, their request would certainly be 
granted. 2 But Brack, to whom the paper 
was given, was not deceived. " A subtle 
ambuscade," said he ; "a master-piece of 
knavery ! God will save his own, and will 
not permit them to fall into the snare." 3 
This trick, in fact, served only still more to 
increase the courage of the Protestants. 

Briick. without discussing the recess in a 
political point of view, confined himself to 
what was principally at stake, the Word of 
God. " We maintain," said he, " that our 
Confession is so based on the holy Word of 
God, that it is impossible to refute it. We 
consider it as the very truth of God, and we 
hope by it to stand one day before the judg- 
ment-seat of the Lord." He then announced 
that the Protestants had refuted the Refuta- 
tion of the Romish theologians, and holding 
in his hand the famous Apology of the Con- 
fession of Augsburg written by Melancthon, 
he stepped forward, and offered it to Charles 
the Fifth. The Count-palatine took it, and 
the Emperor was already stretching out his 
hand, when Ferdinand having whispered a 
few words, he motioned the Count, who im- 



sheim. and Weissembersr. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 474 
—478.) 

1 Frotesfantes vehementer hoc decreto minime 
expectaio territi (Seek. ii. p. 200.) 

2 Briick, Apologie, p. 182. 

3 Retriige. meisterstuck, aber Gott errettet dio 
semen. (Ibid.) 



mediately returned the Apology to Doci<~>r 
Briick. 1 This paper and the " Common- 
places," are the masterpieces of the Re- 
former. The embarrassed Emperor told the 
Protestants to come again at eight the next 
morning. 

Charles the Fifth, resolving to employ every 
means to get his decree accepted, began by 
entreaties ; and scarcely was the Margrave 
of Brandenburg seated to take his evening 
repast, when Truchses and Wehe, appearing 
before him, used every kind of discourse and 
argument, but without success. 2 

The next day, (Friday, 23d September.) 
the Evangelical princes and the deputies of 
the cities, assembling at five in the morning 
in the Margrave's hotel, the recess was there 
read anew in the presence of Truchses and 
Wehe, and Chancellor Briick detailed seven 
reasons for its rejection. " I undertake," said 
Wehe, " to translate the recess into German in 
such a manner that you can accept it. As for 
the word sect, in particular, it is the clerk who 
placed it there by mistake." 3 The media- 
tors retired in haste to communicate to Charles 
the complaints of the Protestants. 

Charles and his ministers gave up every 
idea of reconciliation, and hoped for nothing 
except through fear. The Protestants having 
arrived at eight o'clock at the imperial pa- 
lace, they were made to wait an hour ; the 
Elector of Brandenburg -then said to them in 
Charles' name: "His majesty is astonished 
beyond measure that you still maintain your 
doctrine to be based on the Holy Scriptures. 
If you said the truth, his majesty's ancestors, 
so many Kings and Emperors, and even the 
ancestors of the Elector of Saxony, would 
have been heretics! There is no Gospel, 
there is no Scripture, that imposes on us the 
obligation of seizing by violence the goods of 
another, and of saying afterwards that we 
cannot conscientiously restore them. It is 
for this reason," added Joachim, after these 
words, which he had accompanied with a sar- 
donic smile, " I am commissioned to inform 
you, that if you refuse the recess, all the Ger- 
manic states will place their lives and their 
property at the Emperor's disposal, and his 
majesty himself will employ the resources ot 
all his kingdoms to complete this affair before 
leaving the Empire." 

" We do not accept it," replied the Pro- 
testants firmly, — " His majesty also has a 
conscience," then resumed the Elector of 
Brandenburg, in a harsh tone; "and if you 
do not submit, he will concert with the Pope 
and the other potentates on the best means of 
extirpating this sect and its new errors." 
But in vain did they add threat to threat: the 
Protestants remained calm, respectful, and 



1 Anf Konig Ferdinandus wincke wieder gebeiv 
(Apologie, p. 184.) 

2 Nach essen allerley Rede Disputation und 
Persuasion furgewendt. (Urk. ii. p. 601.) 

3 Sondern vom Schreiber gesetzt. der dis nichl 
geacht. (Ibid. o. 606.) 



522 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



unshaken. " Our enemies, destitute of all 
confidence in God !" said they, " would shake 
like a reed in presence of the Emperor's 
anger, and they imagine that we should trem- 
ble in like manner ; but we have called unto 
God, and he will keep us faithful to his 
truth." 

The Protestants then prepared to take their 
final leave of the Emperor. This prince, 
whose patience had been put to a severe trial, 
approached to shake hands according to cus- 
tom: and beginning with the Elector of 
Saxony, he said to him in a low voice : 
11 Uncle, uncle ! I should never have expected 
this of you." The Elector was deeply af- 
fected : his eyes filled with tears : but, firm 
and resolute, he bent his head and quitted 
Charles without reply. It was now two in 
the afternoon. 

While the Protestants were returning to 
their hotels, calm and happy, the Romish 
princes returned to theirs, confused and dispi- l 
rited, uneasy and divided. They doubted 
not that the conge that had just been given , 
the Protestants would be regarded by them . 
as a declaration of war, and that on quitting 
Augsburg, they would rush to arms. This 
thought terrified them. Accordingly, the I 
Elector of Saxony had hardly reached his 
palace, when he saw Dr. Ruhel, councillor ] 
of the Elector of Mentz, hastening towards 
him, commissioned by his master to deliver j 
this message: "Although my brother the. 
Elector (Joachim of Brandenburg) has de- 
clared that all the states of the Empire are 
ready to support the Emperor against you, | 
know that both myself and the ministers of 
the Elector-palatine and of the Elector of 
Treves immediately declared to his majesty 
that we do not adhere to this declaration, 
seeing that we think very favourably of you. 1 
I intended saying this to the Emperor in your 
presence, but you left so precipitately, that I 
was unable." 

Thus spoke the primate of the German 
Church, and even the choice of his messen- 
ger was significant: Dr. Ruhel was Luther's 
brother-in-law. John begged him to thank 
his master. 

As this envoy retired, there arrived one of 
the gentlemen of Duke Henry of Brunswick, 
a zealous Romanist. He was at first refused 
admittance on account of the departure, but 
returned hastily, just as Briick's carriage was 
leaving the court-yard of the hotel. Ap- 
proaching the carriage-door, he said : " The 
Duke informs the Elector that he will en- 
deavour to put things in a better train, and 
will come this winter to kill a wild boar with 
him." 2 Shortly after, the terrible Ferdinand 
himself declared that he would seek every 
means of preventing an outbreak. 3 All these 
manifestations of the affrighted Roman Catho- 

1 Wussten auch nicht anders derm wohl und 
put. (Urk. p. 210.) 



2 Ein Sawe fahen helfen. 
* Corp. Re[. ii. p. 397. 



(Ibid. 211. 



lies showed on which side was the real 
strength. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon the Elec- 
tor of Saxony, accompanied by the D.ikes of 
Luneburg and the Princes of Anhalt, quitted 
the walls of Augsburg. " God be praised," 
said Luther, " that our dear Prince is at last 
out of hell." ' 

As he saw these intrepid princes thus es- 
caping from his hands, Charles the Fifth gave 
way to a violence that was not usual with 
him. 2 " They want to teach me a new faith," 
cried he : " but it is not with the doctrine 
that we shall finish this matter : we must 
draw the sword, and we shall then see who 
is the strongest. 3 There was a concert of in- 
dignation around him. They were astonished 
at the audacity of Bruck, who had dared call 
the Romanists— -heretics ! 4 But nothing irri- 
tated them so much as the spirit of prose- 
lytism which in those glorious days charac- 
terized Evangelical Germany; and the anger 
of the Papists was particularly directed 
against the Chancellor of Luneburg, " who," 
said they, " had sent more than a hundred 
ministers into different places to preach the 
new doctrine, and who had even publicly 
boasted of it." 6 — " Our adversaries thirst for 
our blood," wrote, as they heard these com- 
plaints, the deputies of Nuremberg, who re- 
mained almost alone at Augsburg. 

On the 4th Octoher, Charles the Fifth wrote 
to the Pope ; for it was from Rome that the 
new crusade was to set out. " The negotia- 
tions are broken off; our adversaries are more 
obstinate than ever; and I am resolved to em- 
ploy my strength and my person in combating 
them. For this reason I beg your holiness 
will demand the support of all Christian 
Princes." 

The enterprise began in Augsburg itself. 
The day on which he wrote to the Pope, 
Charles, in honor of St. Francis of Assisi, 
whose feast it was, re-established the Corde- 
liers in that city, and a monk ascending the 
pulpit said : " All those who preach that 
Jesus Christ alone has made satisfaction for 
our sins, and that God saves us without re- 
gard to our works, are thorough scoundrels. 
There are, on the contrary, two roads to sal- 
vation : the common road, namely, the ob- 
servance of the commandments ; and the 
perfect road, namely, the ecclesiastical state." 
Scarcely was the sermon finished ere they 
began to remove the benches placed in the 
church for the Evangelical preaching, break- 
ing them violently, (for they were fixed with 
chains,) and throwing them one upon another. 



1 Ein mal aus de Holle los ist. (L. Epp. iv. p. 
175.) 

2 Der Kaiser ist fast hitzig im Handel. (Cor-). 
Ref. ii. 591.) 

3 Es gehoren die Fauste dar zu. (Ibid. p. 592; 
Urkund. ii. p. 710.) 

4 Fur ketzer angezogen. (Ibid.) 

5 Bis in die Hundert Prediger in andere Lande 
Schiken helfen daselbst die neue Lehre zu predi 
gen. (Urkund. ii. p. 646.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



523 



Within these consecrated walls two monks, 
in particular, armed with hammers and pin- 
cers, tossed their arms, and shouted like men 
possessed. " From this frightful uproar," 
exclaimed some, " one would say they were 
pulling down a house." 1 It was in truth the 
house of God that they wished to begin de- 
stroying. 

After the tumult was appeased, they sang 
Mass ; then a Spaniard desiring to recom- 
mence breaking the benches, and being pre- 
vented by one of the citizens, they began to 
hurl chairs at each other ; one of the monks, 
leaving the choir, ran up to them and was 
soon dragged into the fray; at length the cap- 
tain of police arrived with his men, who dis- 
tributed their well-directed blows on every 
side. Thus recommenced in Germany the 
restoration of Roman Catholicism : popular 
violence has often been one of its most pow- 
erful allies. 

On the 13th October the recess was read to 
all the Romish states, and on the same day 
they concluded a Roman league. 2 

Two cities had signed the Confession, and 
two others had assented to it; the Imperial- 
ists hoped, however, that these powerless 
municipalities, affrighted at the imperial au- 
thority, would withdraw from the Protestant 
union. But on the 17th October, instead of 
two or four cities, sixteen imperial cities, 
among which were the most important in 
Germany, declared it was impossible to grant 
any support against the Turks, so long as 
public peace was not secured in Germany 
itself. 3 

An event more formidable to Charles had 
just taken place. The unity of the Reforma- 
tion had prevailed. " We are one in the fun- 
damental articles of faith," had said the 
Zwinglian cities, " and in particular, (notwith- 
standing some disputes about words among 
our theologians,) we are one in the doctrine 
of the communion in the body and blood of 
our Lord. Receive us." The Saxon depu- 
ties immediately gave their hands. Nothing 
unites the children of God so much as the 
violence of theiradversaries. " Let us unite," 
said all, " for the consolation of our brethren, 
and the terror of our enemies." 4 

In vain did Charles, who was intent on 
keeping up the division among the Protest- 
ants, convoke the deputies of the Zwinglian 
cities ; in vain, desiring to render them odi- 
ous, had he accused them of fastening a con- 
secrated wafer to a wall, and firing bullets at 
it ; 5 in vain did he overwhelm them with fierce 
threats ; — all his efforts were useless. At 
ength the Evangelical party was one. 

1 Ein alt Haus abbrechen. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 
400.) 

2 Ratschlag, &c. _ (Urkund. ii. 737—740.) 

3 Wo sie nicht einen gemeinen Friedens ver- 
Bichert. (Corp. Ref. ii. pp. 411, 416.) 

4 Diesem Theil desto mehr Freude und Trost 
und dem gegentheil Erschrecken. (Urkund. ii. 
p. 728.) 

5 An eine Wand geheftet und dazu geschossen. 
iCorp. Ref. ii. p. 423.) 



The alarm increased among the Roman 
party, who resolved on fresh concessions. 
" The Protestants call for public peace," said 
they : " well, then, let us draw up articles of 
peace." But, on the 29th October, the Pro- 
testants refused these offers, because the Em- 
peror enjoined peace to all the world, without 
binding himself. " An Emperor has the right 
to command peace to his subjects," haughtily 
answered Charles ; " but it has never been 
heard that he commanded it to himself." ' 

Nothing remained but to draw the sword ; 
and for that Charles made every preparation. 
On the 25th October, he wrote to the cardinals 
at Rome : " We inform you, that we shall 
spare neither kingdoms nor lordships; and 
that we shall venture even our soul and our 
body to complete things so necessary." 

Scarcely had Charles' letter been received, 
before his major-domo, Pedro de la Cueva, 
arrived in Rome by express. " The season 
is now too far advanced to attack the Luther- 
ans immediately," said he to the Pope ; " but 
prepare everything for this enterprise. His 
majesty thinks it his duty to prefer before all 
things the accomplishment of your designs." 
Thus, Clement and the Emperor were also 
united, and both sides began to concentrate 
their forces. 

On the evening of the 11th November, the 
recess was read to the Protestant deputies, and 
on the 12th they rejected it, declaring that 
they did not acknowledge the Emperor's 
power to command in matters of faith. 2 The 
deputies of Hesse and of Saxony departed 
immediately after, and on the 19th November 
the recess was solemnly read in the presence 
of Charles the Fifth, and of the princes and 
deputies who were still in Augsburg. This 
report was more hostile than the project com- 
municated to the Protestants. It bore, among 
other things, (this is only a sample of the ur- 
banity of this official doctrine,) that " to deny 
free-will was the error not of a man, but of a 
brute." — " We beg his majesty," said the 
Elector Joachim, after it was read, "not to 
leave Germany, until by his cares one sole 
and same faith be re-established in all the 
Empire." 

The Emperor replied, that he would not go 
farther than his states of the Low Countries. 
They desired deeds should follow close upon 
words. It was then nearly seven in the even- 
ing ; a few torches lighted here and there by 
the ushers, and casting a pale light, illumin- 
ated this assembly : they separated without 
seeing each other; and thus ended, as it were 
by stealth, that diet so pompously announced 
to the Christian world. 

On the 22d November, the recess was made 
public, and two days after Charles the Fifth 
set out for Cologne. The ruler of two worlds 
had seen all his power baffled by a few Chris- 
tians ; and he who had entered the imperial 
city in triumph, now quitted it gloomy, silent, 

1 These negotiations will be found in Forster- 
matin's Urkuiiden, pp.750 — 793. 
a Urkunden, ii. p. S23 ; Corp. Ref. ii. p. 437. 



524 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and dispirited. The mightiest power of the 
earth was broken against the power of God. 

But the Emperor's ministers and officers, 
excited by the Pope, displayed so much the 
more energy. The states of the Empire were 
bound to furnish Charles for three years, 
40,000 foot. 8,000 horse, and a considerable 
sum of money; 1 the Margrave Henry of Ze- 
nete, the Count of Nassau, and other nobles, 
made considerable levies on the side of the 
Rhine; a captain going through the Black 
Forest, called its rude inhabitants to his stand- 
ard, and there enrolled six companies of lan- 
squenets ; King Ferdinand had written to all 
the knights of the Tyrol and of Wurtemberg 
to gird on their cuirasses and to seize their 
swords ; Joachim of Talheim collected the 
Spanish bands in the Low Countries, and 
ordered them towards the Rhine ; Peter Scher 
solicited from the Duke of Lorraine the aid 
of his arms ; and another chief hastily moved 
the Spanish army of Florence in the direction 
of the Alps. There was every reason to fear 
that the Germans, even the Roman Catholics, 
would take Luther's part; and hence, princi- 
pally foreign troops were levied. 2 Nothing 
but war was talked of in Augsburg. 

On a sudden a strange rumour was heard. 3 
The signal is given, said every one. A free 
city, lying on the confines of the Germanic 
and Roman world, — a city at war with its bi- 
shops, in alliance with the Protestants, and 
which passes for Reformed even before really 
being so, has been suddenly attacked. A 
courier from Strasburg brings this news to 
Augsburg, and it circulates through the town 
with the rapidity of lightning. Three days 
after Michaelmas, some armed men, sent by 
the Duke of Savoy, pillaged the suburbs of 
Geneva, and threatened to take possession of 
the city, and put all to the edge of the sword. 
Every one in Augsburg was amazed. " Ho !" 
exclaimed Charles the Fifth, in French, " the 
Duke of Savoy has begun too soon." 4 It 
was reported that Margaret, governor of the 
Low Countries, the Pope, the Dukes of Lor- 
raine and Guelders, and even the King of 
France, were directing their troops against 
Geneva. It was there that the army of Rome 
intended fixing its point oVappui. The ava- 
lanche was gathering on the first slopes of 
the Alps, whence it would rush overall Swit- 
zerland, and then roll into Germany, burying 
the Gospel and the Reformation under its huge 
mass. 5 

Never had this sacred cause appeared to be 

1 40,000 zu Fuss und 8000 zu Ross. (Corp. 
Ref. ii. p. 399.) 

2 Legati Norinb. ad Senatum, 11th October. 
(Corp. Ref. ii. p. 402;) Legati Sax. ad Electorem, 
JOih October. (Urkund. ii. p. 711.) 

3 Shortly before the close of the diet. 

4 Hatt der Kayser unter andern in Franzosisch 
geredet. (Ibid. p. 421.) 

6 Geneva expugnata, bellum etiam urbibus Ger- 
maniae Superioris inferretur. (Corp. Ref. ii. p. 402.) 



in such great danger, and never, in reality, 
had it gained so noble a triumph. The amp 
de main attempted on those hills, where, six 
years later, Calvin was to take his station, 
and plant the standard of Augsburg and of 
Nazareth, having failed, all fears were dis- 
pelled, and the victory of the confessors of 
Christ, for an instant obscured, shone forth 
anew in all its splendour. 

While the Emperor Charles, surrounded by 
a numerous train of princes, was approaching 
the banks of the Rhine, sad and dispirited, 
the Evangelical Christians were returning in 
triumph to their homes. Luther was the 
herald of the victory gained at Augsburg by 
faith. " Though our enemies should have 
around them, beside them, with thern, not 
only that puissant Roman Emperor, Charles, 
but still more, the Emperor of the Turks and 
his Mahomet," said he, " they could not inti- 
midate, they could not frighten me. It is 
I who, in the strength of God, am resolved to 
frighten and overthrow them. They shall 
yield to me — they shall fall ! and I shall re- 
main upright and firm. My life shall be their 

headsman, and my death their hell I 1 

God blinds them, and hardens their hearts ; 
he is driving them them towards the Red 
Sea: all the horses of Pharaoh, his chariots 
and his horsemen, cannot escape their inevi- 
table destiny. Let them go then, let them 
perish, since they will it so ! 2 As for us, the 
Lord is with us." 

Thus the Diet of Augsburg, destined to 
crush the Reformation, was what strengthened 
it for ever. It has been usual to consider the 
peace of Augsburg (1555) as the period when 
the Reform was definitively established. 
That is the date of legal Protestantism ; Evan- 
gelical Chrisiianity has another — the autumn 
of 1530. In 1555 was the victory of the 
sword and of diplomacy; in 1530 was that 
of the Word of God and of Faith; and this 
latter victory is, in our eyes, the truest and 
the firmest. The Evangelical history of 
the Reformation in Germany is nearly finish- 
ed at the epoch we have reached, and the 
diplomatic history of legal Protestantism be- 
gins. Whatever may be done now, whatever 
may be said, the Church of the first ages has 
re-appeared ; and it has re-appeared strong 
enough to show that it will live. There will 
still be conferences and. discussions; there 
will still be leagues and combats ; there will 
even be deplorable defeats; but all that is a 
secondary movement. The great movement 
is accomplished : the cause of Faith is w^on 
by Faith. The effort has been made : the 
Evangelical doctrine has taken root in the 
world, and neither the storms of men, nor the 
powers of hell, will ever be able to tear it up. 



1 Mein leben soil ihr Henker seyn. (L. Opp. 
xx. p. 304.) 

2 Vadant igitur et pereant, quomodo sic volunt 
(L. Epp. iv. p. 167. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



525 



BOOK XV. 



SWITZERLAND CONQUESTS. 



1526—1530. 



Three Periods of Reform— Two Movements in the Church— The Two Movements — Aggressive 
Spirit— The Schoolmaster— Farel's New Baptism— Farel's Studies— The Door is Opened— 
Opposition — Lausanne — Picture of the Clergy — Farel at Lausanne — Farel and the Monk — Op- 
position to the Gospel — The Converted Monk — Christian Unity — State Religion — A Resolution 
of Berne— Almanac of Heretics — Haller — Zwingle's Exhortation — Anabaptists at Berne — Vic- 
tory of the Gospel — Papist Provocations — Proposed Disputation — Objections of the Forest Can- 
tons — Important Question— Unequal Contest — A Christian Band — The Cordeliers' Church — 
Opening of the Conference — Christ the Sole Head— Remarkable Conversion — St. Vincent's 
Day — A Strange Argument — Papist Bitterness— Necessity of Reform — Zwingle's Sermon — 
Charity — Edict of Reform — The Reformation Reproached — The Reform Accepted — Faith and 
Charity — First Evangelical Communion — Faith shown by Works — Head of Beatus — Threaten- 
ing Storm — Revolt— Christ in Danger — A Revolt — Energy of Berne — 'Victory — Political Ad- 
vantages — Romish Relics — Nuns of St. Catharine — Contests — Spread of Reform — A Popish 
Miracle — Obstacles in Basle — Zeal of the Citizens — Witticisms of Erasmus — Half Measures — 
The Petition — Commotion in Basle — Half Measures Rejected — Reformed Propositions — -A 
Night of Terror- The Idols Broken— The Hour of Madness— The Reform Legalized— Erasmus 
in Basle — 'Objections — Principles of the Reformation — Farel's Commission — Farel at Lausanne 
— Farel at Morat — 'Neufchatel — Farel's Labours — Farel's Preaching— Popery in Neufchatel — 
Resistance of the Monks — The Hospital Chapel— Civil Power Invoked— Guillemette de Vugy 
—The Feast of Assumption — The Mass Interrupted— Farel's Danger— 111 Treatment of Farel 
— Apostles and Reformers Compared — Farel in the Cathedral — The Idols Destroyed — Interpo- 
sition of the Governor — Reflections — Plans of the Romanists — The Governor's Difficulties — 
Preliminaries — Hatred and Division — Proposed Delay — The Romanist Protest — The Voting — 
Majority for Reform— Protestantism Perpetual— The Image of St. John— A Miracle— Popery 
and the Gospel — -Reaction Preparing — Failure of the Plot — Farel's Labours — De Bely at Fon- 
taine — The Pastor Marcourt — Disgraceful Expedient— The Reform Established— Remarks. 



1. The divisions which the Reformation 
disclosed within its bosom, on its appearance 
before the Diet of Augsburg, humbled it and 
compromised its existence ; but we must not 
forget that the cause of these divisions was 
one of the conditions of the existence of the 
regenerated Church. No doubt it would have 
been desirable for Germany and Switzerland 
to have agreed ; but it was of still greater im- 
portance that Germany and Switzerland 
should have each its original Reform. If 
the Swiss Reformation had been only a fee- 
ble copy of the German, there would have 
been uniformity, but no duration. The tree, 
transplanted into Switzerland, without hav- 
ing taken deep root, would soon have been 
torn up by the vigorous hand that was ere long 
about to seize upon it. The regeneration of 
Christianity in these mountains proceeded 
from forces peculiar to the Helvetian Church, 
and received an organization in conformity 
with the ecclesiastical and political condition 
of that country. By this very originality it 
communicated a particular energy to the 
principles of the Reformation, of much 
greater consequence to the common cause 
than a servile uniformity. The strength of 
an army arises in great measure from its be- 
ing composed of soldiers of different arms. 

The military and political influence of 
Switzerland was declining. The new deve- 
lopments of the European nations, subsequent 
to the sixteenth century, were about to ban- 
ish to their native mountains those proud Hel- 
vetians, who for so long a period had placed 
their two-handed swords in the balance in 



which the destinies of nations were weighed. 
The Reformation communicated a new in- 
fluence in exchange for that which was de- 
parting. Switzerland, where the Gospel ap- 
peared in its simplest and purest form, was 
destined to give in these new times to many 
nations of the two worlds a more salutary 
and glorious impulse than that which had 
hitherto proceeded from its halberds and its 
arquebuses. 

The history of the Swiss Reformation is 
divided into three periods, in which the light 
of the Gospel is seen spreading successively 
over three different zones. From 1519 to 
1526 Zurich was the centre of the Reforma- 
tion, which was then entirely German, and 
was propagated in the eastern and northern 
parts of the Confederation. Between 1526 
and 1532 the movement was communicated 
from Berne : it is at once German and French, 
and extended to the centre of Switzerland 
from the gorges of the Jura to the deepest 
valleys of the Alps. In 1532 Geneva be- 
came the focus of the light; and the Reforma- 
tion, which was here essentially French, 
was established on the shores of the Leman 
Lake, and gained strength in every quarter. 
It is of the second of these periods — that of 
Berne — of which we are now to treat. 

Although the Swiss Reformation is not 
yet essentially French, still the most active 
part in it is taken by Frenchmen. Switzer- 
land Romande is yoked to the chariot of 
reform, and communicates to it an accele- 
rated motion. In the period we are about to 



530 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cr^at of, there is a mixture of races, of forces, 
and of characters, from which proceeds a 
greater commotion. In no part of the Chris- 
tian world will the resistance be so stubborn ; 
but nowhere will the assailants display so 
much eouiage. This petty country of Swit- 
zerland Romande, 1 enclosed within the colos- 
sal arms of the Jura and the Alps, was for 
centuries one of the strongest fortresses of 
the Papacy. It is about to be carried by 
storm ; it is going to turn its arms against its 
ancient masters ; and from these few hillocks, 
scattered at the foot of the highest mountains 
in Europe, will proceed the reiterated shocks 
that will overthrow, even in the most distant 
30untries, the sanctuaries of Rome, their 
images and their altars. 

There are two movements in the Church : 
one is effected inwardly, and its object is its 
preservation ; the other is effected outwardly, 
and the object aimed at is its propagation. 
There* is thus a doctrinal Church and a 
missionary Church. These two movements 
ought never to be separated, and whenever 
they are disunited, it is because the spirit of 
man, and not the spirit of God, prevails. In 
the apostolic ages these two tendencies were 
evolved at the same time and with equal 
power. In the second and third centuries 
the external tendency prevailed ; after the 
Council of Nice (325) the doctrinal move- 
ment resumed the superiority ; at the epoch 
of the irruption of the northern tribes the 
missionary spirit revived ; but ere long came 
the times of the hierarchy and of the school- 
men, in which all doctrinal powers warred 
within the Church to found therein despotic 
government and an impure doctrine — the 
Papacy. The revival of Christianity in the 
sixteenth century, which emanated from 
God, was destined to renovate these two 
doctrines, but by purifying them. Then in- 
deed the spirit of God acted at once exter- 
nally and internally. In the days of the 
Reformation there were tranquil and internal 
developments ; but there was also a more 
powerful and aggressive action. Men of 
God had for ages studied the Word, and had 
peacefully explained its salutary lessons. 
Such had been the work of Vesalia, Goch, 
Groot, Radewin, Ruybrook,Tauler, Thomas 
a Kempis, and John Wessel ; now, some- 
thing more was required. The pow 7 er of 
action was to be united with the power of 
thought. The Papacy had been allowed all 
necessary time for laying aside its errors; 
for ages men had been in expectation ; it had 
been" warned, it had been entreated ; all had 
been unavailing. Popery being unwilling 
to reform itself, it became necessary for men 
of God to take its accomplishment upon 
themselves. The calm and moderate influ- 
ence of the precursors of the Reform was 
succeeded by the heroic and holy revolution- 
ary work of the Reformers : and the revolu- 
tion they effected consisted in overthrowing 

1 The French pan ot Switzerland, comprising 
the cantons of Geneva, Vaud, NeuJchatel, and 
nart ot those of Friburg, Berne, and Calais. 



the usurping power to re-establish the legi- 
timate authority. "To every thing there is 
a season," says the Preacher, " and a time 
to every purpose under heaven : a time to 
plant, and a time to pluck up that which is 
planted ; a time to break down, and a time 
to build up." 1 Of all Reformers, those who 
carried the aggressive spirit to its highest 
degree were the men who came from France, 
and more especially Farel, whose labours we 
have now to consider. 

Never were such mighty effects accom- 
plished by so puny a force. In the govern- 
ment of God we pass in an instant from the 
greatest to the least of things. We now 
quit the haughty Charles V. and all that 
court of princes over which he presides, to 
follow the steps of a schoolmaster ; and we 
leave the palaces of Augsburg to take our 
seats in the lowly cottages of Switzerland. 

The Rhone, after issuing near St. Gothard 
from the mountains of the Furka, from be- 
neath an immense sea of eternal ice, rolls its 
noisy waters through a rugged valley sepa- 
rating the two great chains of the Alps ; then 
issuing from the gorge of St. Maurice, it 
wanders through a more smiling and fertile 
country. The sublime Dent du Midi on the 
south, the proud Dent du Morcles on the 
north, picturesquely situated opposite each 
other, point out from afar to the traveller's 
eye the beginning of this latter basin. On 
the tops of these mountains are vast glaciers 
and threatening peaks, near which the shep- 
herds in the midst of summer lead their nu- 
merous flocks to pasture ; while in the plain, 
the flowers and fruits of southern climes 
grow luxuriantly, and the laurel blooms be- 
side the most exquisite grapes. 

At the opening of one of the lateral valleys 
that lead into the Northern Alps, on the 
banks of the Grande Eau that falls in thunder 
from the glaciers of the Diablerets, is situated 
the small town of Aigle*, one of the most 
southern in Switzerland. For about fifty 
years it had belonged to Berne, with the four 
parishes (mandemens) which are under its 
jurisdiction, namely, Aigle, Bex, Allon, and 
the chalets scattered in the lofty valleys of the 
Ormonds. It is in this country that the se- 
cond epoch of the Swiss Reformation was 
destined to begin. 

In the winter of 1526-1527, a foreign 
schoolmaster, named Ursinus, arrived in this 
humble district. He was a man of middle 
stature, with red beard and quick eyes, and 
who, to a voice of thunder (says Beza), 
united the feelings of a hero : his modest 
lessons w T ere intermingled with new and 
strange doctrines. The benefices being 
abandoned by their titularies to ignorant 
curates, the people, who were naturally of 
rude and turbulent habits, had remained withr 
out any cultivation. Thus did this stranger, 
who was no other than Farel, meet with new 
obstacles at every step. 

Whilst Lefevre and most of his friends 



» Eccles. iii. 1, 2, 3. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



531 



had quitted Strasburg to re-enter France, 
after the deliverance of Francis I., Farel had 
turned his steps towards Switzerland; and 
on the very first day of his journey, he re- 
ceived a lesson that he frequently recalled 
to mind. 

He was on foot, accompanied by a single 
friend. Night had closed around them, the 
rain fell in torrents, and the travellers, in 
despair of finding their road, had sat down 
midway, drenched with rain. 1 " Ah !" said 
Farel, " God, by showing me my helpless- 
ness in these little things, has willed to 
teach me what I am in the greatest, without 
Jesus Christ !" At last Farel, springing up, 
plunged into the marshes, waded through 
the waters, crossed vineyards, fields, hills, 
forests, and valleys, and at length reached 
his destination, covered with mud and 
soaked to the skin. 

In this night of desolation, Farel had re- 
ceived a new baptism. His natural energy 
had been quelled ; he became, for some time 
at least, wise as a serpent and harmless as a 
dove ; and, as not unfrequently happens to 
men of such disposition, he at first overstep- 
ped his aim. Believing that he was follow- 
ing the example of the Apostles, he sought, 
in the words of QEcolampadius, " to circum- 
vent by pious frauds the old serpent that was 
hissing around him." 2 He represented him- 
self to be a schoolmaster, and waited until a 
door should be opened to him to appear as a 
Reformer. 3 

Scarcely had Magister Ursinus quitted the 
schoolroom and his primers, than, taking re- 
fuge in his modest chamber, he became ab- 
sorbed in the Greek and Hebrew Scriptures, 
and the most learned treatises of the theolo- 
gians. The struggle between Luther and 
Zwingle was commencing. To which of 
these two chiefs should the French Reform 
attach itself? Luther had been known in 
France for a much longer time than Zwingle ; 
yet Farel decided in favour of the latter. 
Mysticism had characterized the Germanic 
nations during the Middle Ages, and scho- 
lasticism those of Roman descent. The 
French were in closer relation with the dia- 
lectician Zwingle than with the mystic Lu- 
ther; or rather, they were the mediators 
between the two great tendencies of the 
Middle Ages ; and, while giving to the Chris- 
tian thought that correct form which seems 
to be the province of southern nations, they 
became the instruments of God to spread 
through the Church the fulness of life and 
of the Spirit of Christ. 

It was in this little chamber at Aigle that 
Farel read the first publication addressed 



to the German by the Swiss Reformer. 
" With what learning," cries he, "does 
Zwingle scatter the darkness! with what 
holy ingenuity he gains over the wise, and 
what captivating meekness he unites with a 
forcible erudition ! Oh, that by the grace of 
God this work may win over Luther, so that 
the Church of Christ, trembling from such 
violent shocks, may at length find peace!" 3 

The Schoolmaster Ursinus, excited by so 
noble an example, gradually set about in- 
structing the parents as well as the children. 
He at first attacked the doctrine of purgatory, 
and next the invocation of Saints. " As for 
the Pope, he is nothing," said he, " or almost 
nothing, in these parts ; 3 and as for the 
priests, provided they annoy the people with 
all that nonsense, which Erasmus knows so 
well how to turn into ridicule, that is enough 
for them." 

Ursinus had been some months at Aigle : 
a door was opened to him ; a flock had been 
collected there, and he believed the looked- 
for moment had arrived. 

Accordingly, one day the prudent school- 
master disappears. " I am William Farel," 
said he, "minister of the Word of God." 
The terror of the priests and magistrates was 
great, when they saw in the midst of them 
that very man whose name had already be- 
come so formidable. The schoolmaster 
quitted his humble study ; he ascended the 
pulpit, and openly preached Jesus Christ to 
the astonished multitude. The work of Ur- 
sinus was over: Farel was himself again. 4 
It was then about the month of March or 
April, 1527, and in that beautiful valley, 
whose slopes were brightening in the warm 
rays of the sun, all was fermenting at the 
same time, the flowers, the vineyards, and 
the hearts of this sensible but rude people. 

Yet the rocks that the torrent meets as it 
issues from the Diablerets, and against which 
it dashes at every step as it falls from eternal 
snows, are more trifling obstacles than the 
prejudice and hatred that were shown erelong 
in this populous valley to the Word of God. 

The council of Berne, by a license of the 
9th of March, had commissioned Farel to 
explain the Holy Scriptures to the people of 
Aigle and its neighbourhood. But the arm 
of the civil magistrate, by thus mingling in 
religious affairs, served only to increase the 
irritation of men's minds. The rich and lazy 
incumbents, the poor and ignorant curates, 
were the first to cry out. "If this man," 
said they one to another, " continues preach- 
ing, it is all over with our benefices and our 
Church." 5 



1 Gvavabat nox, opprimebat pluvia 

coegit viae difficriltas in media sedere via sub plu- 
via. (Farel to Capiio andBucer; Neuichatel, 
lVIS.) 

2 Piis artibus et apostolicis versatiis ad circum- 
venieudum ilium opus est. (OEcol. to Farel, 27th 
December, 1526. Neufchatel MS.) 

3 Ubi ostium patuerit, tunc adversariis liberius 
obsistetur. (Ibid.i 

35 



1 Pia et arnica ad Lutheri sermcnem apologia. 
(Opp. vol. ii. t. 2, p. 1.) 

2 Ut Christi suecussa undique Ecclesia, pacis 
noil nihil sentiat. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 26.) 

3 Papa aut nullus aut modicus hie est. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 36.) 

4 The name of Ursinus was doubtless taken 
from the bear (ursa) , which was on the shield of 
Berne. Ursinus meant Bernese. 

6 J. J. Houinger, H. K. G., iii. p. 364. 



532 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



In the midst of this agitation, the bailiff of 
Aigle and the governor of the four mande- 
mens, Jacques de Roverea, instead of sup- 
porting the minister of their excellencies of 
Berne, eagerly embraced the cause of the 
priests. " The Emperor," said they, " is 
about to declare war against all innovators. 
A great army will shortly arrive from Spain 
to assist the Archduke Ferdinand." 1 Farel 
stood firm. Upon this the bailiff and Rove- 
rea, exasperated by such boldness, interdicted 
the heretic from every kind of instruction, 
whether as minister or schoolmaster. But 
Berne caused to be posted on the doors of all 
the churches in the four mandemens a new 
decree, dated the 3d of July, in which their 
excellencies, manifesting great displeasure 
at this interdiction " of the very learned Farel 
from the propagation of the Divine Word, 2 
ordered all the officers of the state to allow 
him to preach publicly the doctrines of the 
Lord." 

This new proclamation was the signal of 
revolt. On the 25th July, great crowds as- 
sembled at Aigle, at Bex, at Ollon, and in 
the Ormonds, crying out, " No more sub- 
mission to Berne ! down with Farel !" From 
words they soon proceeded to actions. At 
Aigle the insurgents, headed by the fiery 
syndic, tore down the edict, and prepared to 
fall upon the Reformed. These, uniting 
with promptitude, surrounded Farel, resolved 
to defend him. The two parties met face to 
face, and blood was near flowing. The firm 
countenance of the friends of the Gospel 
checked the partisans of the priests, who 
dispersed, and Farel., quitting Aigle for a few 
days, carried his views farther. 

In the middle of the beautiful valley of the 
Leman, on hills which overlook the lake, 
stands Lausanne, the city of the bishop and 
of the Virgin, placed under the patronage of 
the Dukes of Savoy. A host of pilgrims, 
assembling from all the surrounding places, 
knelt devoutly before the image of Our Lady, 
and made costly purchases at the great fair 
of indulgences that was held in its precincts. 
Lausanne, extending its episcopal crosier 
from its lofty towers, pretended to keep the 
whole country at the feet of the Pope. But 
the eyes of many began to be opened, thanks 
to the dissolute life of the canons and priests. 
The ministers of the Virgin were seen in 
public playing at games of chance, which 
they seasoned with mockery and blasphemy. 
They fought in the churches ; disguised as 
soldiers, they descended by night from the 
cathedral hill, and roaming through the 
streets, sword in hand and in liquor, sur- 
prised, wounded, and sometimes even killed 
the worthy citizens ; they debauched married 
women, seduced young girls, changed their 



1 Ferdinando advent urum esse ingentem ex 
Hispania exercitum. (Zwinglius, Epp. ii. p. 64 ; 
dated 11 May, 1527.) 

2 Inhibita verbi divini propagatio. (Choupard 
MS.) 



residences into houses of ill fame, and heart- 
lessly turned out their young children to beg 
their bread.' Nowhere, perhaps, was better 
exemplified the description of the clergy 
given us by one of the most venerable pre- 
lates of the sixteenth century : " Instead of 
training up youth by their learning and holi- 
ness of life, the priests train birds and dogs ; 
instead of books, they have children ; they 
sit with topers in the taverns, and give way 
to drunkenness." 2 

Among the theologians in the court of the 
bishop Sebastian of Montfaucon, was Natalis 
Galeotto, a man of elevated rank and great 
urbanity, fond of the society of scholars, and 
himself a man of learning, 3 but nevertheless 
very zealous about fasts and all the ordi- 
nances of the Church. Farel thought that, 
if this man could be gained over to the Gos- 
pel, Lausanne, " slumbering at the foot of 
its steeples," would perhaps awaken, and all 
the country with it. He therefore addressed 
himself to him. " Alas ! alas !" said Farel, 
" religion is no longer but an empty mockery, 
since people, who think only of their appe- 
tites, are the kings of the Church. Chris- 
tian people, instead of celebrating in the 
sacrament the death of the Lord, live as if 
they commemorated Mercury, the god of 
fraud. Instead of imitating the love of 
Christ, they emulate the lewdness of Venus ; 
and when they do evil, they fear more the 
presence of a wretched swineherd than of 
God Almighty." 4 

But Galeotto made no reply, and Farel 
persevered. " Knock ; cry out with all your 
might," wrote he in a second letter; "re- 
double your attacks upon our Lord." 5 Still 
there was no answer. Farel returned to the 
charge a third time, and Natalis, fearing to 
reply in person, commissioned his secretary, 
who forwarded a letter to Farel full of in- 
sulting language. 6 For a season Lausanne 
was inaccessible. 

After having thus contended with a priest, 
Farel was destined to struggle with a monk. 
The two arms of the hierarchy by which the 
Middle Ages were governed had been chi- 
valry and monachism. The latter still re- 
mained for the service of the Papacy, al- 
though falling into decay. " Alas !" ex- 
claimed a celebrated Carthusian, " what an 
obstinate devil would fear to do, a reprobate 



1 Histoire de la Reformation Suisse, by Ruchat, 
i. p. 35. 

a Pro libros sibi liberos comparant, pro studio 
cubinas amant. (Trithenn. Just. Viiae Sacer- 
dotalis, p. 765.) The play upon libros and liberos 
(books and children) cannot be conveyed in Eng- 
lish. 

3 Urbanus, doctus, magnus, consuetudine doc- 
torum obligatus. (Farel to Galeotto, Neufchatel 
MS.) . . 

4 Pluris faciunt miserrimi subulci aspectum 
quam omnipotentis Dei. (Farel to Galeotto, 
Neufchatel MS.) 

5 Pulsare, vociferari perge, nee prius cessa 
quam, &c. (Ibid.) 

6 Naeniis totas implevit et conviciis. (Ibid.) 




TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



533 



and arrogant monk will commit without 
hesitation." 1 

A mendicant friar, who dared not oppose 
the reformer in a direct manner at Aigle, 
ventured into the village of Noville, situated 
on the low grounds deposited by the Rhone 
as it falls into the lake of Geneva. The 
friar, ascending- the pulpit, exclaimed, " It 
is the devil himself who preaches by the 
mouth of the minister, and all those who 
listen to him will be damned." Then, 
taking- courage, he slunk along the bank of 
the Rhone, and arrived at Aigle with a meek 
and humble look, not to appear there against 
Farel, whose powerful eloquence terribly 
alarmed him, but to beg in behalf of his 
convent a few barrels of the most exquisite 
wine in all Switzerland. He had not ad- 
vanced many steps into the town before he 
met the minister. At this sight he trembled 
in every limb. " Why did you preach in 
such a manner at Noville V demanded Farel. 
The monk, fearful that the dispute would 
attract public attention, and yet desirous of 
replying to the point, whispered in his ear, 
" I have heard say, that you are a heretic and 
mi-sleader of the people." " Prove it," said 
Farel. Then the monk " began to storm," 
says Farel, 2 and, hastening down the street, 
endeavoured to shake off his disagreeable 
companion, " turning now this way, now 
that, like a troubled conscience." 3 A few 
citizens beginning to collect around them, 
Farel said to them, pointing to the monk, 
" You see this fine father ; he has said from 
the pulpit that I preach nothing but lies." 
Then the monk, blushing and stammering, 
began to speak of the offerings of the faithful 
(the precious wine of Yvorne, for which he 
had come begging), and accused Farel of 
opposing them. The crowd had now in- 
creased in number, and Farel, who only 
sought an opportunity of proclaiming the 
true worship of God, exclaimed, with a loud 
voice, "It is no man's business to ordain 
any other way of serving God than that 
which He has commanded. We must keep 
his commandments without turning either 
to the right hand or to the left. 4 Let us 
worship God alone in spirit and in truth, 
offering to him a broken and a contrite 
heart." 

The eyes of all the spectators were fixed 
on the two actors in this scene — the monk 
with his wallet, and the reformer with his 

1 Quod agere veretur obstinatus diabolus. in- 
trepide agit reprobus' et contumax monachus. 
(Jacob von Juterbock ; de Negligentia Preia- 
torum.) 

2 Commence de se tempester ; in the narrative 
he gives of this adventure to the nuns of Vevay. 
(Neufchatel MS.) 

3 Tournant maintenant de 5a, maintenant de 
la, comme fait la conscience mal assuree. (Ibid.) 

4 II n'appartient a personne vivante d'ordonner 
autre maniere de faire service a Dieu, que celle 
qu'ila commandee. Nous devons garder ses 
commandemens, sans tirer ni a la dextre, ni a la 
eenestre. (Ibid.) 



glistening eye. Confounded by FarePs 
daring to speak of any other worship than 
that which the holy Roman Church pre- 
scribed, the friar was out of his senses ; he 
trembled, and was agitated, becoming pale 
and red by turns. At last, taking his cap 
olf his head, from under his hood, he flung 
it on the ground, trampling it under foot, and 
crying : "lam amazed that the earth- does 

not gape and swallow us up I" 1 

Farel wished to reply, but in vain. The 
friar with downcast eyes kept stamping on 
his cap, "bawling out like one out of his 
wits :" and his cries, resounding through th? 
streets of Aigle, drowned the voice of thu 
reformer. At length one of the spectators, 
who stood beside him, plucked him by the 
sleeve, and said, " Listen to the minister, as 
he is listening to you." The affrighted 
monk, believing himself already half-dead, 
started violently and cried out : " Oh, thou 
excommuniate ! layest thou thy hand upon 
me?" 

The little town was in an uproar ; the friar 
at once furious and trembling, Farel follow- 
ing up his attack with vigour, and the people 
in confusion and amazement. At length the 
magistrate appeared, ordered the monk and 
Farel to follow him, and shut them up, " one 
in one tower and one in another." 2 

On the Saturday morning Farel was libe- 
rated from his prison, and conducted to the 
castle before the officers of justice, where 
the monk was already present. The minister 
began to address them : " My lords, to whom 
our Saviour enjoins obedience without any 
exception, this friar has said that the doctrine 
which I preach is against God. Let him 
make good his words, or, if he cannot, per- 
mit your people to be edified." The violence 
of the monk was over. The tribunal before 
which he was standing, the courage of his 
adversary, the power of the movement which 
he could not resist, the weakness of his 
cause— all alarmed him, and he was now 
ready to make matters up. " Then the friar 
fell upon his knees, saying: My lords, I 
entreat forgiveness of you and of God. Next 
turning to Farel : And also, Magister, what 
I preached against you was grounded on 
false reports. I have found you to be a good 
man, and your doctrine good, and I am pre- 
pared to recall my words." 3 

Farel was touched by this appeal, and 
said : " My friend, do not ask forgiveness of 
me, for I am a poor sinner like other men, 



1 Hors de sens, trembloit, s'agitoit, palissoit, et 
rougissoit lour a tour. Enfin tirant son bonnet 
de sa tete, hors du chaperon, il le rua a terre, 
jettant et mettant son pied sus, en s'ecriant : 
" Je suis esbahi comme la terre ne nous abyme !" 
(Neufchatel MS.) 

2 L'un en une tour, et l'autre en l'autre. 
(Ibid.) 

3 Lors le frere se jeta a genoux, disant : Mes- 
seigneurs, je demande merci a Dieu et a vous. 

Et aussi, Magister. ce que j'ai prech< 

contre vous a ete par de faux rapports, &c 
(Ibid.) 



534 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



putting my „rust not in my own righteous- 
ness, but in the death of Jesus." 1 

One of the lords of Berne coming- up at 
this time, the friar, who already imagined 
himself on the brink of martyrdom, began 
to wring his hands, and to turn now towards 
the Bernese councillors, now towards the 
tribunal, and then to Farel, crying, " Pardon, 
pardon!" "Ask pardon of our Saviour," 
replied Farel. The lord of Berne added : 
"Come to-morrow and hear the minister's 
sermon ; if he appears to you to preach the 
truth, you shall confess it openly before all ; 
if not, you will declare your opinion : this 
promise in my hand." The monk held out 
his hand, and the judges retired. " Then 
the friar went away, and I have not seen him 
since, and no promises or oaths were able to 
make him stay." 2 Thus the Reformation 
advanced in Switzerland Romande. 

But violent storms threatened to destroy 
the work that was hardly begun. Romish 
agents from the Valais and from Savoy had 
crossed the Rhone at St. Maurice, and were 
exciting the people to energetic resistance. 
Tumultous assemblages took place, in which 
dangerous projects were discussed; the pro- 
clamations of the government were torn down 
from the church-doors ; troops of citizens 
paraded the city ; the drum beat in the streets 
to excite the populace against the reform- 
er : everywhere prevailed riot and sedition. 
Thus on the 16th February, Farel ascended 
the pulpit for the first time after a short ab- 
sence ; some Papist bands collected round the 
gate of the church, raised their hands in 
tumult, uttered savage cries, and compelled 
the minister to break off in his sermon. 

The council of Berne thereupon decreed 
that the parishioners of the four mandemens 
should assemble. Those of Bex declared 
for the Reform ; Aigle followed their exam- 
ple, but with indecision ; and in the moun- 
tains above Ollon, the peasants not daring to 
maltreat Farel, set their wives at him, who 
rushed upon him with their fulling-clubs. 
But it was especially the parish of the Or- 
monds which, calm and proud at the foot of 
its glaciers, signalized itself by its resist- 
ance. A companion of Farel's labourers, 
named Claude (probably Claude de Glon- 
tinis), wntm preaching there one day with 
great animation, was suddenly interrupted by 
the ringing of the bells, whose noise was 
such that one might have said all hell was 
busy pulling them. " In fact," says another 
herald of the Gospel, Jacques Comralis, who 
chanced to be present, " it was Satan him- 
self, who, breathing his anger into some of 
his agents, filled the ears of the auditors 
with all this uproar." 3 At another time, 



1 Je suis pauvre pecheur comme les autres, 
ayant ma fiance, non en ma justice, mais a la 
mori de Jesus. (Neui'chatel MS.) 

2 Puis quand le here fut parti, depuis ne l'ai vu, 
et nulles promesses ni sermens ne font pu faire 
demeurer. (Ibid.) 

3 Sed Sathan per ejus servos, voluit aures 
nuditorum ejus sono cymbali implere. (Ibid.) 



some zealous Reformers having thrown down 
the altars of Baal, according to the language 
of the times, the evil spirit began to blow 
with violence in all the chalets scattfc-ed 
over the sides of the mountains ; the shep- 
herds issued precipitously like avalanches, 
and fell upon the Church and the Reform- 
ers. " Let us only find these sacrilegious 
wretches," cried the furious Ormondines; 
" we will hang them, — we will cut off their 
heads, — we will burn them, — we will throw 
their ashes into the Great Water." 1 Thus 
were these mountaineers agitated, like the 
wind that roars in their lofty valleys with a 
fury unknown to the inhabitants of the 
plains. 

Other difficulties overwhelmed Farel. His 
fellow-labourers were not all of them blame- 
less. One Christopher Ballista, formerly a 
monk of Paris, had written to Zwingle : "I 
am but a Gaul, a barbarian, 2 but you will 
find me a man pure as snow, without any 
guile, of open heart, through whose windows 
all the world may see." 3 Zwingle sent Bal- 
lista to Farel, who was loudly calling for 
labourers in Christ's vineyard. The fine 
language of the Parisian at first charmed the 
multitude ; but it was soon found necessary 
to beware of these priests and monks dis- 
gusted with Popery. " Brought up in the 
slothfulness of the cloister, gluttonous and 
lazy," says Farel, " Ballista could not con- 
form to the abstemiousness and rude labours 
of the Evangelists, and soon began to regret 
his monk's hood. When he perceived the 
people beginning to distrust him, he became 
like a furious monster, vomiting wagon- 
loads of threats." 4 Thus ended his labours. 

Notwithstanding all these trials, Farel 
was not discouraged. The greater the diffi- 
culties, the more his energy increased. 
" Let us scatter the seed everywhere," said 
he, " and let civilized France, provoked to 
jealousy by this barbarous nation, embrace 
piety at last. Let there not be in Christ's 
body either fingers, or hands, or feet, or eyes, 
or ears, or arms, existing separately and 
working each for itself, but let there be only 
one heart that nothing can divide. Let not 
varietv in secondary things divide into many 
separate members that vital principle whici 
is one and simple. 5 Alas ! the pastures o { 
the Church are trodden under foot, and ivi 
waters are troubled ! Let us set our minds 
to concord and peace. When the Lord snail 



1 Quo invento suspenderetur primum, deib ] <j 
dignus comburi, alterius capitis obiruncatione 
novissime in aquis mergeretur. (Neufcha;ei MS ) 

2 Me quantumvis Galium et barbarum. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 205.) 

3 Absque ullo fuco, niveum, et aperti fenes 
tratique pectoris. (Ibid.) 

4 Quam beatus hie venter incanduit ! iyi«t 
minarum plaustra! SoJent tales belluae, &,c. 
(Neufchatel MS.) 

5 Ne in digitos, manus, pedes, oculos, nares 
aures, brachia, cor quod unum est discindatur 
et quae in rebus est varietas, principium non 
faciat multiplex (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



535 



have opened heaven, there will not be so 
many disputes about bread and water. 1 A 
fervent charity — that is the powerful batter- 
ing-ram with which we shall beat down 
those proud walls, those material elements, 
with which men would confine us." 2 

Thus wrote the most impetuous of the 
Reformers. These words of Farel, preserved 
for three centuries in the city where he died, 
disclose to us more clearly the intimate na- 
ture of the great Revolution of the sixteenth 
century, than all the venturesome assertions 
of its Popish interpreters. Christian unity 
thus from these earliest moments found a 
zealous apostle. The nineteenth century is 
called to resume the work which the six- 
teenth century was unable to accomplish. 

II. Of all the Swiss cantons, Berne ap- 
peared the least disposed to the Reformation. 
A military state may be zealous for religion, 
but it will be for an external and a disciplined 
religion ; it requires an ecclesiastical organ- 
ization that it can see, and touch, and manage 
at its will. It fears the innovations and the 
free movements of the Word of God : it 
loves the form and not the life. Napoleon, 
by restoring religion in France in the Con- 
cordat, has given us a memorable example 
of this truth. Such, also, was the case with 
Berne. Its government, besides, was ab- 
sorbed by political interests, and although it 
had little regard for the Pope, it cared still 
less to see a Reformer put himself, as Zwin- 
gle did, at the head of public affairs. As 
for the people, feasting on the " butter of 
their kine and milk of their sheep, with fat 
of lambs," 3 they remained closely shut up 
within the narrow circle of their material 
wants. Religious questions were not to the 
taste either of the rulers or of their fellow- 
citizens. 

The Bernese government, being without 
experience in religious matters, had proposed 
to check the movement of the Reform by its 
edict of 1523. As soon as it discovered its 
mistake, it moved towards the cantons that 
adhered to the ancient faith ; and while that 
portion of the people whence the Great 
Council was recruited, listened to the voice 
of the Reformers, most of the patrician 
families, who composed the Smaller Council, 
believing their power, their interests, and 
their honour menaced, attached themselves 
to the old order of things. From this op- 
position of the two councils there arose a 
general uneasiness, but no violent shocks. 
Sudden movement, repeated starts, announced 
from time to time that incongruous matters 
were fermenting in the nation ; it was like 



' An allusion to the controversies on anabaptism 
and the real presence. Non tanta erit super aqua 
et pane contentio, nee super gramip.e, solutaque 
obsidione. (Neutchatel MS.) The sense of 
these latter words is obscure. 

2 Charitas fortissimus aries. (Farel to Bucer, 
10th May, 1529.) 

3 Deut. xxxii. 14. 



an indistinct earthquake, which raises the 
whole surface without causing- any rents : 
then anon all returns to apparent tranquillity. 1 
Berne, which was always decided in its 
politics, turned in religious matters at one 
time to the right, and at another to the left ; 
and declared that it would be neither Popish 
nor Reformed. To gain time was, for the 
new faith, to gain every thing. 

What was done to turn aside Berne from 
the Reformation, was the very cause of pre 
cipitating it into the new way. The haugh- 
tiness with which the five primitive cantons 
arrogated the guardianship of their confede- 
rates, .the secret conferences to which Berne 
was not even invited, and the threat of ad- 
dressing the people in a direct manner, deep- 
ly offended the Bernese oligarchs. Thomas 
Murner, a Carmelite of Lucerne, one of those 
rude men who act upon the populace, but 
who inspire disgust in elevated minds, made 
the cup run over. Furious against the Zu- 
rich calendar, in which the names of the 
saints had been purposely omitted, he pub- 
lished in opposition to it the " Almanac of 
Heretics and Church-robbers," a tract filled 
with lampoons and invectives, in which the 
portraits of the Reformers and of their adhe- 
rents, among whom were many of the most 
considerable men of Berne, were coupled 
with the most brutal inscriptions. 2 Zurich 
and Berne in conjunction demanded satisfac- 
tion, and from this time the union of these 
two states daily became closer. 

This change was soon perceived at Berne. 
The elections of 1527 placed a considerable 
number of friends of the Reform in ihe Great 
Council ; and this body, forthwith resuming 
its right to nominate the members of the 
Smaller Council, which had been usurped 
for twenty years by the Bannerets and the 
Sixteen, removed from the government the 
most decided partisans of the Roman hie- 
rarchy, and among others Gaspard de Muli- 
nen and Sebastian de Stein, 3 and filled the 
vacancies with members of the Evangelical 
majority. The union of Church and State, 
which had hitherto checked the progress of 
the Reform in Switzerland, was now about 
to accelerate its movements. 

The Reformer Haller was not alone in 
Berne. Kolb had quitted the Carthusian 
monastery at Nuremberg, in which he had 
been compelled to take refuge, and had ap- 
peared before his compatriots, demanding no 
other stipend than the liberty of preaching 
Jesus Christ. Already bending under the 
weight of years, his head crowned with hoary 
locks, Kolb, young in heart, full of fire, and 
of indomitable courage, presented boldly be- 



1 Hundeshagen, Conflikte der Bernischen 
Kirche, p. 19. 

2 Quum nudus-tertius Murneri Calendnrium 
legissem, panim ridendo hominis stultissimara 
impudemiam. ((Eeolamp. to Zwingle, Febr. 
1527. Epp. ii. p. 26.) 

3 Mullinen e Senatoria dignirate protrusus est. 
Lapides auoque. (Haller to Zwingle, April 26, 
1527. Ibid. p. 49.) 



536 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fore the chiefs of the nation that Gospel 
which had saved him. Haller, on the con- 
trary, although only thirty-five years old, 
moved with a measured step, spoke with 
gravity, and proclaimed the new doctrines 
with unusual circumspection. The old man 
had taken the young man's part, and the 
youth that of the graybeard. 

Zwingle, whose eye nothing escaped, saw 
that a favourable hour for Berne was coming, 
and immediately gave the signal. " The 
dove commissioned to examine the state of 
the waters is returning with an olive-branch 
into the ark," wrote he to Haller ; " come 
forth now, thou second Noah, and take pos- 
session of the land. Enforce, be earnest, 
and fix deeply in the hearts of men the hooks 
and grapnels of the Word of God, so that 
they can never again be rid of them.'" — 
" Your bears," wrote he to Thomas ab Ho- 
fen, " have again put forth their claws. 
Please God that they do not draw them back 
until they have torn every thing in pieces that 
opposes Jesus Christ." 

Haller and his friends were on the point 
of replying to this appeal, when their situa- 
tion became complicated. Some Anabaptist, 
who formed everywhere the extreme party, 
arriving in Berne in 1527, led away the peo- 
ple from the Evangelical preachers, " on 
account of the presence of idols." 2 Haller 
had* a useless conference with them. "To 
what dangers is not Christianity exposed," 
cried he, " wherever these furies have crept 
in !" 3 There has never been any revival in 
the Church, without the hierarchical or radi- 
cal sects immediately endeavouring to dis- 
turb it. Haller, although alarmed, still 
maintained his unalterable meekness. " The 
magistrates are desirous of banishing them," 
said he ; " but it is our duty to drive out their 
errors, and not their persons. Let us employ 
no other weapons than the sword of the Spi- 
rit." 4 It was not from Popery that the Re- 
formers had learnt these principles. A public 
disputation took place. Six Anabaptists de- 
clared themselves convinced, and two others 
were sent out of the country. 

The decisive movement was drawing near. 
The two great powers of the age, the Gospel 
and the Papacy, were stirring with equal en- 
ergy ; the Bernese councils were to speak 
out. They saw on the one hand the five 
primitive cantons taking daily a more threat- 
ening attitude, and announcing that the Aus- 
trian would soon reappear in Helvetia, to 
reduce it once more into subjection to Rome ; 
and on the other they beheld the Gospel 
everjr day gaining ground in the Confedera- 



1 Aculeos ac hamos, sic in mortalium pectora 
'dimitte, ut etiam si velint, non possint. (Zw. 

Epp. ii. p. 10.) 

2 Ne plebem dehortentur ab auditione conrio- 
num nostrarum ob idolorum praesentiam. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 49.) m 

3 Consideravimus omnes periculum urbis nos- 
tra et totius Christianismi, ubi illae furiae irrepse- 
rint. (Ibid. p. 50.) 

4 Nostrum est, omnio gladio spiritus refellere. 
(Ibid.) 



tion. Which was destined to prevail in 
Switzerland — the lances of Austria or tho 
Word of God 1 In the uncertainty in which 
the councils were placed, they resolved to 
side with the majority. Where could they 
discover a firm footing, if not there? Vox 
populi, vox Dei. " No one," said they, 
" can make any change of his own private 
authority : the consent of all is necessary." 1 

The government of Berne had to decide 
between two mandates, both emanating from 
its authority : that of 1523, in favour of the 
free preaching of the Gospel, and that of 
1526, in favour "of the sacraments, the 
saints, the mother of God, and the ornaments 
of the churches." State messengers set out 
and traversed every parish : the people gave 
their votes against every law contrary to lib- 
erty, and the councils, supported by the na- 
tion, decreed that " the Word of God should 
be preached publicly and freely, even if it 
should be in opposition to the statutes and 
doctrines of men." Such was the victory 
of the Gospel and of the people over the 
oligarchy and the priests. 

Contentions immediately arose throughout 
the canton, and every parish became a battle- 
field. The peasants began to dispute with 
the priests and monks, in reliance on the 
Holy Scriptures. " If the mandate of our 
lords," said many, " accords to our pastors 
the liberty of preaching, why should it not 
grant the flock the liberty of acting I"— 
" Peace, peace !" cried the councils, alarmed 
at their own boldness. But the flocks reso- 
lutely declared that they would send away 
the Mass, and keep their pastors and the 
Bible. 2 Upon this the Papal partisans grew 
violent. " Heretics, rascals, wantons," said 
the banneret Kuttler 3 to the good people of 
Emmenthal ; and these peasants obliged him 
to make an apology. The bailiff of Trach- 
selwald was more cunning. Seeing the in- 
habitants of Ruderswell listening with eager- 
ness to the Word of God, which a pious 
minister was preaching to them, he came 
with fifers and trumpeters, and interrupted 
the sermon, inviting the village girls by 
words and by lively tunes to quit the church 
for the dance. 

These singular provocations did not check 
the Reform. Six of the city companies (the 
shoemakers, weavers, merchants, bakers* 
stone-masons, and carpenters) abolished in 
the churches and convents of their district 
all masses, anniversaries, advowsons, and 
prebends. Three others (the tanners, smiths, 
and tailors) prepared to imitate them ; 4 the 
seven remaining companies were undecided, 
except the butchers, who were enthusiasts 
for the Pope. Thus the majority of the 

1 Ut privata auctoritate nemo quippiam immu- 
tare prsesumat. (Haller to Vadian.) 

2 Incolas vallis Emmenthal Senatum adiisse 
missamque missam fecisse. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 104.) 

3 Pueros, hereticos, et homines lascivos. (Ibid, 
p. 106.) 

4 Haller to Zwingle, 4th November, J537. 
(Epp. ii. p. 105.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



537 



citizens had embraced the Gospel. Many 
parishes throughout the canton had done the 
same; and the avoyer d'Erlach, the great 
adversary of the Reformation, could no 
longer keep the torrent within bounds. 

Yet the attempt was made : the bailiffs 
were ordered to note the irregularities and 
dissolute lives of the monks and nuns ; all 
women of loose morals were even turned out 
of the cloisters. 1 But it was not against 
these abuses alone that the Reformation was 
he-veiled ; it was against the institutions them- 
selves, and against Popery on which they 
were founded. The people must therefore 
decide. — "The Bernese clergy," said they, 
" must be convoked, as at Zurich, and let 
the two doctrines be discussed in a solemn 
conference. We will proceed afterwards in 
conformity with the result." 

On the Sunday following the festival of 
Saint Martin (11th November), the council 
and citizens unanimously resolved that a 
public disputation should take place at the 
beginning of the succeeding year. "The 
glory of God and his Word," said they, 
" will at length appear !" Bernese and stran- 
gers, priests and laymen, all were invited 
by letter or by printed notice to come and 
discuss the controverted points, but by Scrip- 
ture alone, without the glosses of the an- 
cients, and renouncing all subtleties and 
abusive language. 2 Who knows, said they, 
if all the members of the ancient Swiss con- 
federation may not be thus brought to unity 
of faith] 

Thus, within the walls of Berne, the strug- 
gle was about to take place that would decide 
the fate of Switzerland ; for the example of 
the Bernese must necessarily lead with it a 
great part of the Confederation. 

The Five Cantons, alarmed at this intel- 
ligence, met at Lucerne, when they were 
joined by Friburg, Soleure, and Glaris. 
There was nothing either in the letter or in 
the spirit of the federal compact to obstruct 
religious liberty. " Every state," said Zu- 
rich, " is free to choose the doctrine that it 
desires to profess." The Waldstettes, 3 on 
the contrary, wished to deprive the cantons 
of this independence, and to subject them to 
the federal majority and to the Pope. They 
protested, therefore, in the name of the con- 
federation against the proposed discussion. 
" Your ministers," wrote they to Berne, 
"dazzled and confounded at Baden by the 
brightness of truth, would desire by this 
new discussion to hide their shame; but we 
entreat you to desist from a plan so contrary 
to our ancient alliances." — "It is not we 
who have infringed them," replied Berne ; 
"it is much rather your haughty missive 
that has destroyed them. We will notaban- 

1 J. J. Hottinger, H. Kirchen,viii., p. 394. 

2 Solam sacram Scripturam, absque veterum 
glossematis. (Haller to Zwingle, 19th November, 
1527. Epp. h. p. 113.) 

8 The inhabitants of the primitive democratic 
cantons, Schwytz, Uri, Underwald, and Lucerne, 
to •which Zug may be added. 



don the Word of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
Upon this the Roman cantons decided to 
refuse aH safe-conduct to those who should 
proceed to Berne. This was giving token 
of sinister intentions. 

The four bishops of Lausanne, Constance, 
Basle, and Sion, being invited to the confer- 
ence under pain of forfeiting all their privi- 
leges in the canton of Berne, replied that, 
since it was to be a disputation according to 
the Scriptures, they had nothing to do with 
it. Thus did these priests forget the words 
of one of the most illustrious Roman doctors 
of the fifteenth century : " In heavenly things 
man should be independent of his fellows, 
and trust in God alone." 1 

The Romanist doctors followed the ex- 
ample of the bishops. Eck, Murner, Coch- 
1(eus, and many others said everywhere : 
" We have received the letter of this leper, 
of this accursed heretic Zwingle. 2 They 
want to take the Bible for their judge ; but 
has the Bible a voice against those who do 
it violence ? We will not go to Berne ; we 
will not crawl into that obscure corner of 
the world ; we will not go and combat in 
that gloomy cavern, in that school of here- 
tics. Let these villains come out into the 
open air, and contend with us on level 
ground, if they have the Bible on their side, 
as they say." The Emperor ordered the 
discussion to be adjourned; but on the very 
day of its opening, the council of Berne re- 
plied, that as every one was already assem- 
bled, delay was impossible. 

Then, in despite of the doctors and bish- 
ops, the Helvetic Church assembled to 
decide upon its doctrines. Had it a right 
to do so I No ; — not if priests and bishops 
were appointed, as Rome pretends, to form 
a mystic bond between the Church and our 
Lord ; Yes — if they were established, as the 
Bible declares, only to satisfy that law of 
order by virtue of which all society should 
have a directing power. The opinions of 
the Swiss Reformers in this respect were 
not doubtful. The grace which creates the 
minister comes from the Lord, thought they; 
but the Church examines this grace, ac- 
knowledges it, proclaims it by the elders, 
and in every act in which faith is concerned, 
it can always appeal from the minister to the 
Word of God. Try the spirits — prove all 
things, it says to the faithful. The Church 
is the judge of controversies ; 3 and it is this 
duty, in which it should never be found 
wanting, that it was now about to fulfil in 
the disputation at Berne. 

The contest seemed unequal. On one 
side appeared the Roman hierarchy, a giant 
which had increased in strength during 
many centuries ; and on the other, there was 

1 John Goch, Dialogus de quatuor erroribus, p. 
237. 

2 Epistolam leprosi, damnati, ha^retici Zwirw 
glii accepi. (Eck to G. A. Zell, Z\v. Epp. ii. p. 
126.) 

3 Judex lontroversiarum — 1 John iv. 1; 1 Theae. 
v. 21. 



538 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



at first but. one weak and timid man, the 
modest Berthold Haller. " I cannot wield 
the sword of the Word," said he in alarm 
to his friends. "If you do not stretch out 
your hands to me, all is over." He then 
threw himself trembling- at the feet of the 
Lord, and soon arose enlightened and ex- 
claiming, " Faith in the Saviour gives me 
courage, and scatters all my fears." 1 

Yet he could not remain alone : all his 
looks were turned towards Zwingle : "It 
was I took the bath at Baden," wrote OBco- 
lampadius to Haller, "and now it is Zwin- 
gle who should lead off the bear-dance in 
Berne." 2 — " We are between the hammer 
and the anvil," wrote Haller to Zwingle ; 
"we hold the wolf by the ears, and know 
not how to let him go. 3 The houses of De 
Watteville, Noll. Tremp, and Berthold are 
open to you. Come, then, and command 
the battle in person." 

Zwingle did not hesitate. He demanded 
permission of the Council of Zurich to visit 
Berne, in order to show there " that his 
teaching was full of the fear of God, and not 
blasphemous ; mighty to spread concord 
through Switzerland, and not to cause trou- 
bles and dissension." 4 At the very time 
that Haller received news of Zwingle's com- 
ing, (Ecolampadius wrote to him : " I am 
ready, if it be necessary, to sacrifice my life. 
Let us inaugurate the new year by embracing 
one another to the glory of Jesus Christ." 
Other doctors wrote to the same effect. 
"These, then," cried Haller with emotion, 
" these are the auxiliaries that the Lord sends 
to my infirmity, to aid me in fighting this 
rude battle !" 

It was necessary to proceed with circum- 
spection, for the violence of the oligarchs 
and of the Five Cantons was well known. 5 
The doctors of Glaris, Schaffhausen, St. 
Gall, Constance, Ulm, Lindau and Augs- 
burg, assembled at Zurich, to proceed under 
the same escort as Zwingle, Pellican, Col- 
lin, Megander, Grossman, the commander 
Schmidt, Bullinger, and a great number of 
the rural clergy, selected to accompany the 
reformer. " When all this game traverses 
the country," said the pensioners, " we will 
go a-hunting, and see if we cannot kill some, 
or at least catch them and put them into a 
cage." 

Three hundred chosen men, selected from 
the companies of Zurich, and from the pa- 
rishes within its precincts, donned their 
breastplates and shouldered their arque- 
buses ; but in order not to give the journey 
of these doctors the appearance of a military 



1 Fides in Dominum me animat, lit nihil verear. 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 123.) 

2 An allusion to the dispute at Baden, a cele- 
brated bathing-place, and to the arms of Berne. 
{Ibid. p. 118.) 

3 Lupum auribus tenemus. (Zurich MS.) 

4 Neque ad perturbationem nostra almas Hel- 
vetia;. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 120.) 

6 Oligarchs in angulifc obmurmurent. (Ibid. p. 
123.) 



expedition, they took neither colours, fife, 
nor drum ; and the trumpeter of the city, a 
civil officer, rode alone at the head of the 
company. 

On Tuesday the 3d of January, they set 
out. Never had Zwingle appeared more 
cheerful. " Glory be to the Lord," said he, 
"my courage increases every day." 1 The 
burgomaster Roust, the town-clerk of Man- 
goldt, with Funck and Ja'ekli, both masters 
of arts, and all four delegated by the coun- 
cil, were on horseback near him. They 
reached Berne on the 4th of January, having 
had only one or two unimportant alarms. 

The Cordeliers' Church was to serve as 
the place of conference. Tillmann, the city 
architect, had made arrangements according 
to a plan furnished by Zwingle. 2 A large 
platform had been erected on which were 
placed two tables, and around them sat the 
champions of the two parties. On the evan- 
gelical side were remarked, besides Haller, 
Zwingle, and (Ecolampadius, many distin- 
guished men of the Reformed Church, stran- 
gers to Switzerland, as Bucer, Capito, and 
Ambrose Blarer. On the side of the papacy, 
Dr. Treger of Friburg, who enjoyed a high 
reputation, appeared to keep up the fire of 
the combat. As for the rest, whether through 
fear or contempt, the most famous Roman 
doctors were absent. 

The first act was to publish the regulations 
of the conference. "No proof shall be pro- 
posed that is not drawn from the Holy Scrip- 
tures, and no explanation shall be given of 
those scriptures, that does not come from 
Scripture itself, explaining obscure texts by 
such as are clear." After this, one of the 
secretaries, rising to call over the roll, shouted 
with a loud voice that re-echoed through the 
church, — The Bishop of Constance ! No 
one replied. He did the same for the bishops 
of Sion, Basle, and Lausanne. Neither of 
these prelates was present at this meeting, 
either in person or by deputy. The Word 
of God being destined to reign alone, the 
Roman hierarchy did not appear. These 
two powers cannot walk together. There 
were present about three hundred and fifty 
Swiss and German ecclesiastics. 

On Tuesday, 7th January, 1528, the burgo- 
master Vadianus, of St. Gall, one of the pre- 
sidents, opened the disputation. After him 
the aged Kolb stood up, and said : " God is 
at this moment agitating the whole world, 
let us, therefore, humble ourselves before 
him," and he pronounced with fervour a 
confession of sins. 

When this was done, the first thesis was 
read. It was thus drawn up. " The Holy 
Christian Church, of which Christ is the 
sole head, is born of the Word of God, 
abideth in it, and listeneth not to the voice 
of a stranger." 



1 Crescit, Domino gloria, mihi animus in hac 
pugna. (Zw. Epp. Vadiano.) 

2 Tillmannus urbis architectus locum juxta tuara 
deformationem operabit. (Ibid. ii. p. 123.} 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



539 



Alexis Grat, a Dominican monk, — "The 
word sole is not in Scripture. Christ has 
left a vicar here below." 

Haller. — " The vicar that Christ left is 
the Holy Ghost." 

Treger. — " See then to what a pass things 
have come these last ten years. This man 
calls himself a Lutheran, that a Zwinglian ; 
a third, a Carlstadtian ; a fourth an (Ecolam- 
padist; a fifth, an Anabaptist. . . ." 

Bucer. — " Whosoever preacheth Jesus as 
the only Saviour, we recognize as our brother. 
Neither Luther, nor Zwingle, nor GEcolam- 
padius, desires the faithful to bear his name. 
Besides, you should not boast so much of a 
mere external unity. When antichrist gained 
the upperhand throughout the world, in the 
East by Mahomet, in the West by the Pope, 
he'was able to keep the people in unity of 
error. God permits divisions, in order that 
those who belong to him may learn to look 
not to men, but to the testimony of the Word, 
and to the assurance of the Holy Ghost in 
their hearts. Thus then, dearly beloved 
brethren, to the Scriptures, the Scriptures! 1 
Church of Berne, hold fast to the teaching 
of Him who said, Come unto me, and not, 
Come unto my vicar I" 

The disputation then turned successively 
on Tradition, the Merits of Christ, Transub- 
stantiation, the Mass, Prayer to the Saints, 
Purgatory, Images, Celibacy, and the Dis- 
orders of the Clergy. Rome found numerous 
defenders, and among others, Murer, priest 
of Rapperswyl, who had said : " If they wish 
to burn the two ministers of Berne, I will 
undertake to carry them both to the stake." 

On Sunday, the 19th of January, the day 
on which the doctrine of the Mass was 
attacked, Zwingle, desirous of acting on the 
people also, went into the pulpit, and reciting 
the Apostles' Creed, made a pause after these 
words : " He ascended into heaven, and 
sitteth on the right hand of God the Father 
Almighty; from thence he shall come to 
judge the quick and the dead." "These 
three articles," said he, " are in contradiction 
to the Mass." All his hearers redoubled 
their attention; and a priest, clothed in his 
sacerdotal vestments, who was preparing to 
celebrate the holy sacrifice in one of the 
chapels, stopped in astonishment at Zwin- 
gle's words. Erect before the consecrated 
altar on which lay the chalice and the body 
of the Saviour, with eyes fixed upon the re- 
former, whose words electrified the people, 
a prey to the most violent struggles, and 
beaten down by the weight of truth, the 
agitated priest resolved to sacrifice every 
thing for it. In the presence of the whole 
assembly, he stripped off his priestly orna- 
ments, and throwing them on the altar, he 
exclaimed : " Unless the Mass reposes on a 
more solid foundation, I can celebrate it no 
longer !" The noise of this conversion, 
effected at the very foot of the altar, imme- 



1 Darum fromme Christen ! Zur 
Schrit't ! (Acta Zw. ii. p. 92.) 



Schrift, zur 



diately spread through the city,' and it was 
regarded as an important omen. So long as 
the Mass remains, Rome has gained every- 
thing: as soon as the Mass falls, Rome has 
lost all. The Mass is the creative principle 
of the whole system of Popery. 

Three days later, on the 22d January, was 
the feast of St. Vincent, the patron of the 
city. The disputation that had been carried 
on during Sunday was suspended on that 
day. The canons asked the council what 
they were to do. " Such of you," replied 
the council, "as receive the doctrine of the 
theses ought not to say Mass; the others 
may perform divine worship as usual." 2 
Every preparation was accordingly made for 
the solemnity. On St. Vincent's eve the 
bells from every steeple announced the festi- 
val to the inhabitants of Berne. On the 
morrow the sacristans lit up the tapers; in- 
cense filled the temple, but no one appeared. 
No priests to' say Mass, no faithful to hear 
it ! Already there was a vast chasm in the 
Roman sanctuary, a deep silence, as on the 
field of battle, where none but the dead are 
lying. 

In the evening it was the custom for the 
canons to chaunt vespers with great pomp. 
The organist was at his post, but no one else 
appeared. The poor man left thus alone, 
beholding with sorrow the fall of that wor- 
ship by which he gained his bread, gave 
utterance to his grief by playing a mourning- 
hymn instead of the majestic Magnificat: 
'.' Oh, wretched Judas, what hast thou done, 
that thou hast thus betrayed our Lord]" 
After this sad farewell, he rose and went 
out. Almost immediately, some men, ex- 
cited by the passions of the moment, fell 
upon his beloved organ, an accomplice in 
their eyes of so many superstitious rites, 
and their violent hands broke it to pieces. 
No more Mass, no more organ, no more an- 
thems ! A new Supper and new hymns 
shall succeed the rites of Popery. 

On the next day there was the same 
silence. Suddenly, however, a band of 
men with loud voices and hasty steps was 
heard. It was the Butchers' Company that, 
at this moment so fatal to Rome, desired to 
support it. They advanced, carrying small 
fir-trees and green branches, for the decora- 
tion of their chapel. In the midst of them 
was a foreign priest, behind whom walked 
a few poor scholars. The priest officiated ; 
the sweet voices of the scholars supplied the 

1 Das lachet menklich und ward durch die 
gantzen Stadt kundt. (Bulling, i. p. 436.) In this 
and other quotations, we preserve the orthogniphy 
of the times. 

2 Bullinger says, on the contrary, that the coun- 
cil positively forbade the Mass. But Bullinger, 
who is a very animated writer, is not always exact 
in diplomatic matters. The council would not 
have come to such a resolution before the close 
of the discussion. Other contemporary historians 
and official documents leave no room for doubt 
on this point. Stettler, in his Chronicle, pars ii. 
p. 6, ad annum 1528, details these proceedings au 
in the text. 



540 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



place of the mute organ, and the butchers 
retired proud of their victory. 

The discussion was drawing- to a close: 
the combatants had dealt vigorous blows. 
Burgauer, pastor of St. Gall, had maintained 
the real presence in the Host; but on the 
19th January he declared himself convinced 
by the reasonings of Zwingle, (Ecolampa- 
dius, and Bucer; and Matthias, minister of 
Saengen, had done the same. 

A conference in Latin afterwards took 
place between Farel and a Parisian doctor. 
The latter advanced a strange argument. 
"Christians," said he, "are enjoined to 
obey the devil ;' for it is said, Submit unto 
thine adversary (Matt. v. 25) ; now, our ad- 
versary is the devil. How much more, then, 
should we submit to the Church !" Loud 
bursts of laughter greeted this remarkable 
syllogism. A discussion with the Anabap- 
tists terminated the conference. 

The two councils decreed that the Mass 
should be abolished, and that every one 
might remove from the churches the orna- 
ments he had placed there. 

Immediately twenty-five altars and a great 
number of images were destroyed in the 
cathedral, yet without disorder or bloodshed ; 
and the children began to sing in the streets 
(as Luther informs us :) 2 — 

By the Word at length we're saved 
From a God in a mortar brayed. 

The hearts of the adherents of the Papacy 
were filled with bitterness as they heard 
the objects of their adoration fall one after 
another. " Should any man," said John 
Schneider, " take away the altar of the 
Butchers' Company, I will take away his 
life." Peter Thorman compared the ca- 
thedral stripped of its ornaments to a stable. 
" When the good folks of the Oberland 
come to market," added he, " they will be 
happy to put their cattle in it." And John 
Zehender, member of the Great Council, to 
show the little value he set on such a place 
of worship, entered it riding on an ass, in- 
sulting and cursing the Reform. A Ber- 
nese, who chanced to be there, having said 
to him, " It is by God's will that these 
images have been pulled down," — " Say 
rather by the devil's," replied Zehender ; 
" when have you ever been with God so 
as to learn his will V He was fined twen- 
ty livres, and expelled from the council. 3 
" What times ! what manners !" exclaimed 
many ; " what culpable neglect ! How easy 
would it have been to prevent so great a 
misfortune ! Oh ! if our bishops had only 
been willing to occupy themselves more 
with learning and a little less with their 
mistresses." 4 

1 Nos tenemur obedire diabolo. (J. J. Hottin- 
ger, iii. p. 405.) 

2 Pueri in plateis cantant : se esse a Deo pisto 
liberatos. (L. Epp. iii. p. 290.) 

3 History of Berne, by Tillier, iii. p. 257. 

4 Si studiorum quam scortorum nostri episcopi 
amantiores essent. (Ruchat, i. p. 576. Letter of 
J. de Munster, priest at Soleure.) 



This Reform was necessary. When Chris- 
tianity in the fourth century had seen the 
favour of princes succeed to persecution, a 
crowd of heathens rushing into the church 
had brought with them the images, pomps, 
statues, and demigods of Paganism, and a 
likeness of the mysteries of Greece and Asia, 
and above all of Egypt, had banished the 
Word of Jesus Christ from the Christian 
oratories. This Word returning in the six- 
teenth century, a purification must neces- 
sarily take place ; but it could not be done 
without grievous rents. 

The departure of the strangers was draw- 
ing near. On the 28th January, the day after 
that on which the images and altars had been 
thrown down, while their piled fragments 
still encumbered here and there the porches 
and the aisles of the cathedral, Zwingle 
crossing these eloquent ruins, once more 
ascended the pulpit in the midst of an im- 
mense crowd. In great emotion, directing 
his eyes by turns on these fragments and 
on the people, he said : " Victory has de- 
clared for the truth, but perseverance alone 
can complete the triumph. Christ perse- 
vered even until death. Ferendo vincitur 
fortuna. Cornelius Scipio, after the disas- 
ter at Cannae, having learnt that the generals 
surviving the slaughter meditated quitting 
Italy, entered the senate-house, although 
not yet of senatorial age, drew his sword, 
and constrained the affrighted chiefs to swear 
that they would not abandon Rome. Citizens 
of Berne, to you I address the same demand : 
do not abandon Jesus Christ." 

We may easily imagine the effect produc- 
ed on the people by such words, pronounced 
with Zwingle's energetic eloquence. 

Then, turning towards the fragments that 
lay near him : " Behold," said he, "behold 
these idols ! Behold them conquered, mute, 
and shattered before us ! These corpses 
must be dragged to the shambles, and the 
gold you have spent upon these foolish im- 
ages must henceforward be devoted to com- 
forting in their misery the living images of 
God. Feeble souls, ye shed tears over these 
sad idols ; do ye not see that they break, do 
ye not hear that they crack like any other 
wood, or like any other stone ] Look ! here 
is one deprived of its head. . . (Zwingle 
pointed to the image, and all the people 
fixed their eyes upon it) ; here is another 
maimed of its arms.' If this ill usage had 
done any harm to the saints that are in hea- 
ven, and if they had the power ascribed to 
them, would you have been able, I pray, to 
cut off their arms and their heads ?" 

"Now then," said the powerful orator in 
conclusion, " stand fast in the liberty where- 
with Christ has made you free, and be not 
entangled again with the yoke of bondage 
(Gal. v. 1). Fear not ! That God who has 
enlightened you, will enlighten your con- 
federates also, and Switzerland, regenerated 



1 Hie liit einer, dem ist's houpt ab, dem andern 
ein arm, &c. (Zw. Opp. ii. p. 228.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



541 



by the Holy Ghost shall flourish in right- 
eousness and peace." 

The words of Zwingle were not lost. The 
mercy of God called forth that of man. Some 
persons condemned to die for sedition, were 
pardoned, and all the exiles were recalled. 
" Should we not have done so," said the 
council, " had a great prince visited us ] 
Shall we not much more do so, now that the 
King of kings and the Redeemer of our 
souls has made his entry among us, bearing 
an everlasting amnesty V n 

The Romish cantons, exasperated at the 
result of the discussion, sought to harass 
the return of the doctors. On arriving be- 
fore Bremgarten, they found the gates closed. 
The bailiff Schutz, who had acconmpanied 
them with two hundred men-at-arms, placed 
two halberdiers before Zwingle's horse, two 
behind him, and one on each side ; then 
putting himself at the Reformer's left hand, 
while the burgomaster Roust stationed him- 
self on the right, he ordered the escort to 
proceed lance in rest. 2 The avoyers of the 
town being intimidated, came to a parley; 
the gates were opened ; the escort traversed 
Bremgarten amidst an immense crowd, and 
on the 1st February reached Zurich without 
accident, which Zwingle re-entered, says 
Luther, like a conqueror. 3 

The Roman-catholic party did not dissem- 
ble the check they had received. " Our 
cause is falling," said the friends of Rome. 4 
" Oh ! that we had had men skilled in the 
Bible! The impetuosity of Zwingle support- 
ed our adversaries ; his ardour was never re- 
laxed. That brute has more knowledge than 
was imagined. 5 Alas! alas! the greater party 
has vanquished the better. ,,(i 

The Council of Berne, desirous of sep- 
arating from the Pope, relied upon the peo- 
ple. On the 30th January, messengers 
going from house to house convoked the 
citizens ; and on the 2d February, the bur- 
gesses and inhabitants, masters and servants, 
uniting in the cathedral, and forming but 
one family, with hands upraised to heaven, 
swore to defend the two councils, in all they 
should undertake for the good of the State 
or of the Church. 

On the 7th February, 1528, the council 
published a general edict of Reform, and 
44 threw for ever from the necks of the Ber- 
nese the yoke of the four bishops, who," 
said they, "know well how to shear their 
sheep, but not how to feed them." 7 

At the same time the Reformed doctrines 

1 Da der Kbnig aller Konige (Haller, by 

Kirchhofer, p. 439.) 

2 Mit iren Spyessen fur den hauffen. (Bull. 
chr. i. p. 439.) 

3 Zwingel triumphator et imperator gloriosus. 
(L. Epp. hi. p. 290.) 

4 Ruunt res nostrse. (Letterof the priest J. de 
Muller, an eye-witness of the discussion. Rachat. 
i. p. 575.) 

5 Doctior tamen haec bellua est quam putabam. 
tfbid.) 

6 Vicitque pars major meliorem. (Ibid.) 
» Bull. Chron. i. p. 4G6. 22. 



were spreading among the people. In every 
quarter might be heard earnest and keen 
dialogues, written in rhyme by Manuel, in 
which the pale and expiring Mass, stretched 
on her deathbed, was loudly calling for all 
her physicians, and finding their advice use- 
less, at last dictating with a broken voice her 
last will and testament, which the people re- 
ceived with loud bursts of laughter. 

The Reformation generally, and that of 
Berne in particular, has been reproached as 
being brought about by political motives. 
But, on the contrary, Berne, which of all 
the Helvetic states was the greatest favour- 
ite of the court of Rome — which had in its 
canton neither a bishop to dismiss nor a 
powerful clergy to humiliate — Berne, whose 
most influential families, the Weingartens, 
Manuels, Mays, were reluctant to sacrifice 
the pay and the service of the foreigner, and 
all whose traditions were conservative, ought 
to have opposed the movement. The Word 
of God was the power that overcame this 
political tendency. 1 

At Berne, as elsewhere, it was neither a 
learned, nor a democratic, nor a sectarian 
spirit that gave birth to the Reformation. 
Undoubtedly the men of letters, the liberals, 
the sectarian enthusiasts, rushed into the 
great struggle of the sixteenth century ; but 
the duration of the Reform would not have 
been long had it received its life from them. 
The primitive strength of Christianity, reviv- 
ing after ages of long and complete pro- 
stration, was the creative principle of the 
Reformation ; and it was erelong seen to 
separate distinctly from the false allies that 
had presented themselves, to reject an incre- 
dulous learning by elevating the study of the 
classics, to check all demagogic anarchy by 
upholding the principles of true liberty, and 
to repudiate the enthusiastic sects by con- 
secrating the rights of the Word and of the 
Christian people. 

But while we maintain that the Reforma- 
tion was at Berne, as elsewhere, a truly 
Christian work, we are far from saying that 
it was not useful to the canton in a political 
sense. All the European states that have 
embraced the Reformation have been ele- 
vated, while those which have combated it 
have been lowered. 

III. It now became a question of propa 
gating throughout all the canton the reform 
accomplished in the city. On the 17th Fe- 
bruary, the council invited the rural parishes 
to assemble on the following Sunday to re- 
ceive and deliberate upon a communication. 
The whole Church, according to the ancient 
usage of Christendom, was about to decide 
for itself on its dearest interests. 

The assemblies were crowded ; all condi 
tions and ages were present. Beside the 
hoary and the trembling head of the aged 
man might be seen the sparkling eye of the 



Hundeshagen, conflicte der Bernerkirchu, p. 



542 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



youtkful shepherd. The messengers of the 
council first read the edict of the Reforma- 
tion. They next proclaimed that those who 
accepted it should remain, and that those 
who rejected it should withdraw. 

Almost all the assembled parishioners re- 
mained in their places. An immense ma- 
jority of the people chose the Bible. In 
some few parishes this decision was accom- 
panied with energetic demonstrations. At 
Arberg, Zofingen, Brugg, Arau, and Buren, 
the images were burnt. "At StaufFberg." 
it was said, " idols were seen carrying idols, 
and throwing one another into the flames." 1 

The images and the Mass had disappeared 
from this vast canton. "A great cry re- 
sounded far and wide," writes Bullinger 2 
In one day Rome had fallen throughout the 
country, without treachery, violence, or se- 
duction, by the strength of truth alone. In 
some places, however, in the Hasli, at Fru- 
tingen, Unterseen, and Grindewald, the mal- 
contents were heard to say : " If they abolish 
the Mass, they should also abolish tithes." 
The Roman form of worship was preserved 
in the Upper Simmenthal, a proof that there 
was no compulsion on the part of the state. 

The wishes of the canton being thus 
manifested, Berne completed the Reforma- 
tion. All excesses in gambling, drinking, 
and dancing, and all unbecoming dress, were 
forbidden by proclamation. The houses of 
ill fame were destroyed, and their wretched 
inhabitants expelled from the city. 3 A con- 
sistory was appointed to watch over the 
public morals. 

Seven days after the edict, the poor were 
received into the Dominican cloister, and a 
little later the convent of the Island was 
changed into an hospital; the princely mo- 
nastery of Konigsfield was also devoted to the 
same useful purpose. Charity followed every- 
where in the steps of faith. " We will show," 
said the council, " that we do not use the 
property of the convents to our own advan- 
tage;" and they kept their word. The poor 
were clothed with the priests' garments ; the 
orphans were decorated with the ornaments 
of the Church. So strict were they in these 
distributions, that the state was forced to 
borrow money to pay the annuities of the 
monks and nuns ; and for eight days there 
was not a crown in the public treasury.' 
Thus it was that the State, as it has been 
continually repeated, grew rich with the 
spoils of the Church ! At the same time 
they invited from Zurich the ministers Hoff- 

1 Da tregt ein Gbtz den andern in das fhliwr. 
(Bull. Chron. ii. p. 1.) A man whose business it 
was to shear the flocks, and who had been nick- 
named Gdtz-scherer (idol-shearer), had made him- 
self very distinguished among those who carried 
the images to the fire. Such was the origin of 
this popular legend, and it is the key to many 
others. 

2 Das wyt und breit ein gross geschrey und 
wunder gepa. (Bull. Chron. ii. p. 1.) 

3 J. J. Hottinger, iii. p. 414. 

* Hoc unum tibi dico secretissime. (Haller to 
Zwmgle, 21st January, 1530.) 



meister, Megander, and Rhellican, to spread 
throughout the canton the knowledge of the 
classics and of the Holy Scriptures. 

At Easter the Lord's Supper was cele- 
brated for the first time according to the 
Evangelical rites. The two councils and all 
the people, with few exceptions, partook cf 
it. Strangers were struck with the solemnity 
of this first communion. The citizens of 
Berne and their wives, dressed in decent 
garments, which recalled the ancient Swiss 
simplicity, approached Christ's table with 
gravity and fervour; 1 the heads of the state 
showed the same holy devotion as the people, 
and piously receiyed the bread from the hands 
of Berthold Haller. Each one felt that the 
Lord was among them. Thus Hoffmeister, 
charmed at this solemn service, exclaimed : 
"How can the adversaries of the Word re- 
fuse to embrace the truth at last, seeing that 
God himself renders it so striking a testi- 
mony !" 2 

Yet every thing was not changed. The 
friends of the Gospel witnessed with pain 
the sons of the chief families of the republic 
parading the streets in costly garments, in- 
habiting sumptuous houses in the city, 
dwelling in magnificent mansions in the 
country — true seignorial abodes, following 
the chase with hound and horn, sitting down 
to luxurious banquets, conversing in licen- 
tious language, or talking with enthusiasm 
of foreign wars and of the French party. 
"Ah!" said that pious people, "could we 
but see old Switzerland revive with its old 
virtues!" 

There was soon a powerful reaction. The 
annual renewal of the magistrature being 
about to take place, the councillor Butschel- 
bach, a violent adversary of the Gospel, was 
ejected for adultery ; four other senators and 
twenty members of the Great Council were 
also replaced by friends of the Reformation 
and of public morality. Emboldened by this 
victory, the Evangelical Bernese proposed in 
the diet that every Swiss should renounce 
foreign service. At these words the war- 
riors Of Lucerne started under their weighty 
armour, and replied with a haughty smile: 
" When you have returned to the ancient 
faith we will listen to your homilies." All 
the members of the government, assembled 
at Berne in sovereign council, resolved to set 
the example, and solemnly abjured the pay 
of foreign princes. Thus the Reformation 
showed its faith by its works. 

Another struggle took place. Above the 
lake of Thunn rises a chain of steep rocks, 
in the midst of which is situated a deep 
cavern, where, if we may believe tradition, 
the pious Breton, Beatus, came in ancient 
times to devote himself to all the austerities 
of an ascetic life; but especially to the con- 

1 Relucet enim in illorum vestitu et habitu 
nescio quid veteris illius Helvetiae simplicitatia. 
(Hoffmeister to Zwingle. Zw. Epp. ii. p. 167.) 

2 Ea res magnam spem mihi injecit de illis lu- 
crandis qui hactenus fuerunt male morigeri verbtt, 
(Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



543 



version of the surrounding district that was 
still heathen. It was affirmed that the head 
of this saint, who had died in Gaul, was pre- 
served in this cavern ; and hence it was visit- 
ed by pilgrims from every quarter. The pious 
citizens of Zug, Schwytz, Uri, and Argovia, 
groaned, as they thought that the holy head 
of the apostle of Switzerland would hereafter 
remain in a land of heretics. The abbot of 
the celebrated convent of Muri in Argovia 
and some of his friends set out, as in ancient 
times the Argonauts went in quest of the 
Golden Fleece. They arrived in the humble 
guise of poor pilgrims, and entered the 
cavern; one skilfully took away the head, 
another placed it mysteriously in his hood, 
and they disappeared. The head of a dead 
man ! — and this was all that Rome saved 
from the shipwreck. But even this conquest 
was more than doubtful. The Bernese, who 
had gained information of this procession, 
sent three deputies on the 18th May, who, 
according to their report, found this famous 
head, and caused it to be decently interred 
before their eyes in the cemetery belonging 
to the convent of Interlaken. This contest 
about a skull characterizes the Church that 
had just given way in Berne before the 
vivifying breath of the Gospel. Let the dead 
bury their dead. 

The Reformation had triumphed in Berne ; 
but a storm was gathering unperceived in 
the mountains, which threatened to over- 
throw it. The State in union with the 
Church recalled its ancient renown. Seeing 
itself attacked by arms, it took up arms in 
its turn, and acted with that decision which 
had formerly saved Rome in similar dangers. 

A secret discontent was fermenting among 
the people of the valleys and mountains. 
Some were still attached to the ancient faith ; 
others had only quitted the Mass because 
they thought they would be exempted from 
tithes. Ancient ties of neighbourhood, a 
common origin, and similarity of manners 
had united the inhabitants of the Obwald 
(Unterwalden) to those, of the Hasli and of 
the Bernese Oberland, which are separated 
only by Mount Brunig and the high pass of 
the Yoke. A rumour had been set afloat 
that the government of Berne had profaned 
the spot where the precious remains of Bea- 
tus, the apostle of these mountains, were 
preserved, and indignation immediately filled 
these pastoral people, who adhere firmer than 
others to the customs and superstitions of 
their forefathers. 

But while some were excited by attach- 
ment to Rome, others were aroused by a 
desire for liberty. The subjects of the mo- 
nastery of Interlaken, oppressed by the 
monkish rule, began to cry out, " We desire 
to become our own masters, and no longer 
pay rent or tithes." The provost of the con- 
vent in affright ceded all his. rights to Berne 
for the sum of one hundred thousand florins ; ; 



1 Totum regnum suum tradiderunt in'manus ma- 
gistrates nostri. (Hallerto Zwingie, 31st March.) 



and a bailiff, accompanied by several coun 
cillors, went and took possession of the 
monastery. A report was soon spread that 
they were about to transfer all the pro- 
perty of the convent to Berne; and on the 
21st of April bands of men from Grindel- 
wald, Lauterbrunnen, Ringelberg, Brienz, 
and other places, crossed the lake, or issued 
from their lofty valleys, and taking forcible 
possession of the cloister, swore to go even 
to Berne in quest of the goods which the 
citizens had dared to take from them. 

They were quieted for a time; but in the 
beginning of June, the people, at the insti- 
gation of Unterwalden, again rose in all the 
Hasli. The Landsgemeinde 1 having been 
convoked, it decided by a majority of forty 
voices for the re-establishment of the Mass. 
The pastor Ja'e'kli was immediately expelled ; 
a few men crossed the Brunig, and brought 
back some priests from Unterwalden, to the 
sound of fifes and trumpets. They were 
seen from afar descending the mountains, 
and shouts, both loud and long, replied to 
them from the bottom of the valley. At 
last they arrived : — all embraced one an- 
other, and the people celebrated the Mass 
anew with great demonstrations of joy. At 
the same time, the people of Frutigen and 
of the fertile valley of Adelboden assailed 
the castellan Reuter, carried off his flocks, 
and established a Roman-catholic priest in 
the place of their pastor. At Aeschi even 
the women took up arms, drove out the pas- 
tor from the church, and brought back the 
images in triumph. The revolt spread from 
hamlet to hamlet and from valley to valley, 
and again took possession of Interlaken. 
All the malcontents assembled there on the 
22d October, and swore, with hands upraised 
to heaven, boldly to defend their rights and 
liberty. 

Never, perhaps, had the republic been .in 
greater danger. All the kings of Europe, 
and almost all the cantons of Switzerland, 
were opposed to the Gospel. The report of 
an army from Austria, destined to interpose 
in favour of the Pope, spread through the 
Reformed cantons. 2 Seditious meetings took 
place every day, 3 and the people refused to 
pay their magistrates either quit-rent, ser- 
vice, tithes, or even obedience, unless they 
shut their eyes to the designs of the Roman- 
catholics. The council became confused. 
Amazed and confounded, exposed to the 
mistrust of some and to the insults of others, 
they had the cowardice to separate under the 
pretext of getting in the vintage, and folding 
their arms, in the presence of this great dan- 
ger, waited until a Messiah should descend 
from heaven (says a reformer) to save the 



1 The assembly of all the people. 

2 Audisti nimirum quam se apparent Aust~iaei 
ad helium, adversus quos ignoratur. Suspicantoi 
quidam in Helvetios. (CEcol. to Zw. Epp. ii. p. 
161.) 

3 Seditiosorum concursus sunt quotodiani. (Zw 
Epp. ii. p. 227.) 



544 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



republic. 1 The ministers pointed out the 
danger, forewarned and conjured them ; but 
each one turned a deaf ear. " Christ lan- 
guishes in Berne," said Haller, "and ap- 
pears nigh perishing." 2 The people were 
all in commotion; they assembled, made 
speeches, murmured, and shed tears ! Eve- 
rywhere — in all their tumultuous meetings 
— might be heard this complaint of Manuel 
on Papists and Papacy. 3 

With rage our foes their hateful threats denounce, 
Because, O Lord, we love Thee best of all ; 
Because at sight of Thee the idols fall ; 

And war and bloodshed, shuddering, we renounce. 

Berne was like a troubled sea, and Haller, 
who listened to the roaring of the waves, 
wrote in the deepest anguish : " Wisdom 
has forsaken the wise, counsel has departed 
from the councillors, and energy from the 
chiefs and from the people ! The number 
of the seditious augments every day. Alas ! 
what can the Bear, oppressed with sleep, 
oppose to so many and to such sturdy hunt- 
ers. 4 If Christ withdraw himself, we shall 
nil perish." 

These fears were on the point of being 
realized. The smaller cantons claimed to 
have the power of interfering in matters of 
faith without infringing the federal compact. 
While six hundred men of Uri kept them- 
selves ready to depart, eight hundred men 
of Unterwalden, bearing pine branches in 
their hats, symbols of the old faith, with 
haughty heads and gloomy and angry looks, 
crossed the Brunig under the ancient banner 
of the country, which was borne by Gaspard 
de Flue, a very unworthy grandson of the 
great Nicholas. 5 This was the first viola- 
tion of the national peace for many years. 
Uniting at Hasli with the men of Brienz, 
this little army crossed the lake, passed 
under the cascades of Geisbach, and arrived 
at Unterseen, thirteen hundred strong, and 
ready to march on Berne to re-establish the 
Pope, the Idols, and the Mass in that rebel- 
lious city. In Switzerland, as in Germany, 
the Reformation at its outset met with a 
peasant war. At the first success, new 
combatants would arrive and pour through 
the passes of the Brunig upon the unfaithful 
republic. The army was only six leagues 
from Berne, and already the sons of Unter- 
walden were proudly brandishing their 
swords on the banks of the lake of Thum. 

Thus were the federal alliances trodden 
under foot by those very persons who as- 
pired 'to the name of conservatives. Berne 
had a right to repel this criminal attack by 
force. Suddenly calling to mind her ancient 
virtues, the city roused herself, and vowed 

1 Nunc, nunc suum Messiam advenisse spe- 
rantes. (Ibid.) 

2 Ita languet Christus apud nos. (Ibid.) 

3 Dass wirhand d'Gotzen geworfen hin. (Hymn 
and Prayer.) 

4 Quid hffic inter tot et tantos venatores robus- 
tos. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 223.) 

5 A celebrated hermit who prevented a civil 
war in Switzerland in 1481. 



to perish rather than tolerate the interven- 
tion of Unterwalden, the restoration of the 
Mass, and the fiery violence of the peasants.* 
There was at that moment in the hearts of 
the Bernese one of those inspirations that 
come from above, and which save nations as 
well as individuals. " Let the strength of 
the city of Berne," exclaimed the Avoyer 
d'Erlach, "be in God alone, and in the loy- 
alty of its people." All the council and the 
whole body of citizens replied by noisy ac- 
clamations. The great banner was hastily 
brought forth, the townspeople ran to arms, 
the companies assembled, and the troops of 
the republic marched out with the valiant 
avoyer at their head. 

Scarcely had the Bernese government 
acted thus energetically, before it saw the 
confidence of its friends increase, and the 
courage of its adversaries diminish. God 
never abandons a people who are true to 
themselves. Many of the Oberlanders be- 
came intimidated, and deserted the ranks of 
the revolt. At the same time deputies from 
Basle and Lucerne, represented to Unter- 
walden that it was trampling the ancient 
alliances under foot. The rebels, disheart- 
ened by the firmness of the republic, aban- 
doned Unterseen, and retired to the convent 
of Interlaken. And soon after, when they 
beheld the decision of their adversaries, dis- 
tressed besides by the cold rains that fell 
incessantly, and fearing that the snow, by 
covering the mountains, would prevent their 
return to their homes, the men of Unter- 
walden evacuated Interlaken during the 
night. The Bernese, to the number of five 
thousand men, entered it immediately, and 
summoned the inhabitants of the Hasli and 
of the bailiwick of Interlaken to assemble on 
the 4th November in the plain that surrounds 
the convent. 2 The day being arrived, the 
Bernese army drew up in order of battle, 
and then formed a circle within which 
D'Erlach ordered the peasants' to enter. 
Hardly had he placed the rebels on the left 
and the loyal citizens on the right, before 
the muskets and artillery fired a general 
discharge, whose report re-echoing among 
the mountains, filled the insurgents with 
terror, who thought it the signal of their 
death. But the avoyer only intended to 
show they were in the power of the republic. 
D'Erlach, who addressed them immediately 
after this strange exordium, had not finished 
his speech, before they all fell on theii 
knees, and, confessing their crime, begged 
for pardon. The republic was satisfied: 
the rebellion was over. The banners of the 
district were carried to Berne, and the Eagle 
of Interlaken, in union with the Wild-goat 
of Hasli, hung for a time beneath the Bear, 
as a trophy of this victory. Four of the 
chiefs were put to death, and an amnesty was 



1 Quam missam reducem aut violentiam villa- 
norum pati. (Haller to Zwingle, 26th October.) 

2 Tradition says that it was on the spot where 
the hotel of Interlaken now stands. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



545 



granted to the remainder of the rebels. 
"The Bernese," said Zwingle, "as Alex- 
ander of Macedon in times of old, have cut 
the Gordian knot with courage and with 
glory." 1 Thus thought the Reformer of 
Zurich; but experience was one day to 
teach him, that to cut such knots is required 
a different sword from that of Alexander and 
of D'Erlach. However that may be, peace 
was restored, and in the valleys of the Hasli 
no other noise was heard than the sublime 
tumult borne afar by the Reichenbach and 
all the surrounding torrents, as they pour 
from the mountain-tops their multitudinous 
and foaming waters. 

While we repudiate on behalf of the 
Church the swords of the Helvetic bands, 
it would be unwise not to acknowledge the 
political advantages of this victory. The 
nobles had imagined that the Reformation 
of the Church would endanger the very 
existence of the State. They now had a 
proof to the contrary: they saw that when a 
nation receives the Gospel, its strength is 
doubled. The generous confidence with 
which, in the hour of danger, they had placed 
some of the adversaries of the Reformation 
at the head of affairs and of the army, pro- 
duced the happiest results. All were now 
convinced that the Reformation would not 
trample old recollections under foot: pre- 
judices were removed, hatred was appeased, 
the Gospel gradualty rallied all hearts around 
it, and the ancient and remarkable saying 
was verified, which wa<* so often repeated 
by the friends and enemies of that powerful 
republic — " God is become a citizen of 
Berne." 

IV. The reformation of Berne was deci- 
sive for several cantons. The same wind 
that had blown from on high with so much 
power on the country of De Watteville and 
Haller, threw down "the idols" in a great 
part of Switzerland. In many places the 
people were indignant at seeing the Reforma- 
tion checked by the timid prudence of diplo- 
matists ; but when diplomacy was put to 
flight at Berne, the torrent so long restrained 
poured violently onwards. 

Vadianus, burgomaster of St. Gall, who 
presided at the Bernese disputation, had 
scarcely returned home, when the citizens, 
with the authority of the magistrate, removed 
the images from the church of St. Magnus, 
carried to the mint a hand of the patron saint 
in silver, with other articles of plate, and 
distributed among the poor the money they 
received in exchange ; thus, like Mary, pour- 
ing their precious ointment on the head of 
Christ. 2 The people of St. Gall, being 
curious to unveil the ancient mysteries, laid 
their hands on the abbey itself, on the shrines 
and crosses which had so ' long been pre- 



1 Bernenses pro sua dignitate nodum hunc,que- 
madmodum Alexander Macedo. Gordium dissec- 
tari". (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 243 ) 

2 War gemiinzet und den Armen ausgetheilt. 
(J. J. Hottinger, iii. p. 415. St. Matthew xxvi. 7.) 



sented to their adoration ; but instead of 
saintly relics, they found, to their great sur- 
prise, nothing but some resin, a few pieces 
of money, several paltry wooden images, 
some old rags, a skull, a large tooth, and a 
snail's shell ! Rome, instead of that noble 
fall which marks the ends of great charac- 
ters, sunk in the midst of stupid superstitions, 
shameful frauds, and the ironical laughter of 
a whole nation. 

Such discoveries unfortunately excited the 
passions of the multitude. One evening 
some evil disposed persons, wishing to 
alarm the poor nuns of St. Catherine, who 
had obstinately resisted the Reform, sur- 
rounded the convent with loud cries. In 
vain did the nuns barricade the doors; the 
walls were soon scaled, and the good wine, 
meat, confectionaries, and all the far from 
ascetic delicacies of the cloister became the 
prey of these rude jesters. Another persecu- 
tion awaited them. Doctor Schappeler hav- 
ing been appointed their catechist, they were 
recommended to lay aside their monastic 
dress, and to attend his heretical sermons 
" clothed like all the world," said the sister 
Wiborath. Some of them embraced the 
Reform, but thirty others preferred exile. 1 
On the 5th February, 1528, a numerous 
synod framed the constitution of the church 
of St. Gall. 

The struggle was more violent at Glaris. 
The seeds of the Gospel truth, which Zwin- 
gle had scattered there, had prospered but 
little. The men in power anxiously rejected 
every innovation, and the people loved better 
"to leap and dance, and work miracles, 
glass in hand" as an old chronicle says, 
" than to busy themselves about the Gospel." 
The Landsgemeinde having pronounced, on 
the 15th May 1528, in favour of the Mass 
by a majority of thirty-three voices, the two 
parties were marked out with greater distinct- 
ness : the images were broken at Matt, at 
Elm, at Bettschwanden, and as each man 
remained aloof in his own house and village, 
there was no longer in the canton either 
council of state or tribunal of justice. At 
Schwanden, the minister Peter Rumelin, 
having invited the Roman catholics to a dis- 
putation with him in the church, the latter, 
inetead of discussing, marched in procession 
to the sound of drums round the place of 
worship in which the Reformed were assem- 
bled, and then rushing into the pastor's 
house, whirh was situated in the middle of 
the city, destroyed the stoves and the win- 
dows: the irritated Reformed took their re- 
venge and broke the images. On the 15th 
April, 1529, an agreement was concluded, 
by virtue of which every man was free to 
choose between the Mass and the Sermon. 

At Wesen, where Schwytz exercised 
sovereignty conjointly with Glaris, the de- 
puties of the former canton threatened the 
people. Upon this the young men took the 

1 Arx. Gesch. St. Gall, ii. p. 529. J. J. Hot- 
tinger, p. 416. Midler ; Hottinger, ii. p. 91. 



£16 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



•mages oit of the churches, carried them to 
an open place near the banks of the pictu- 
resque lake of Wallenstadt, above which 
soar the mountains of the Ammon and of 
the Seven Electors, and cried : " Look ! this 
road (that by the lake) leads to Coire and to 
Rome ; that (to the south) to Glaris ; this 
other (to the west) to Schwytz ; and the 
fourth (by the Ammon) to St. Gall. Take 
which you please ! But if you do not move 
off, you shall be burnt!" After waiting - a 
few moments, these young- people flung the 
motionless images into the fire, and the 
Schwytz deputies, eyewitnesses of this exe- 
cution, withdrew in consternation, and filled 
the whole canton with projects of vengeance 
that were but too soon realized. 

In the canton of Appenzell, where a con- 
ference had been opened, there suddenly 
appeared a band of Roman catholics, armed 
with whips and clubs, and crying 1 out : 
" Where are these preachers 1 we are re- 
solved to put them out of the village !" 
These strange doctors wounded the ministers 
and dispersed the assembly with their whips. 
Out of the eight parishes of the canton, six 
embraced the Reform, and Appenzell be- 
came finally divided into little sections, the 
one Romanist and the other Reformed. 

In the Grisons religious liberty was pro- 
claimed ; the parishes had the election of 
their pastors, several castles were rased to 
the ground to render all return to arbitrary 
government impossible, and the affrighted 
bishop went and hid in the Tyrol his anger 
and his desire for vengence. " The Gri- 
sons," said Zwingle, " advanced daily. It 
is a nation that by its courage reminds us 
of the ancient Tuscans, and by its candour 
of the ancient Swiss." 1 

Schaffhausen, after having long "halted 
between two opinions," at the summons of 
Zurich and of Berne, removed the images 
from its churches without tumult or disorder. 
At the same time the Reformation invaded 
Thurgovia, the valley of the Rhine, and 
other bailiwicks subordinate to these can- 
tons. In vain did the Roman-catholic can- 
tons, that were in the majority, protest 
against it. " When temporal affairs are 
concerned," replied Zurich and Berne, "we 
will not oppose a plurality of votes ; but the 
Word of God cannot be subjected to the 
suffrages of men." All the districts that 
lie along the banks of the Thur, of the Lake 
of Constance, and of the Upper Rhine, em- 
braced the Gospel. The inhabitants of Mam- 
meren', near the place where the Rhine issues 
from the lake, flung their images into the 
water. But the statue of St. Blaise, after 
remaining some time upright, and contem- 
plating the ungrateful spot whence it was 
banished, swam across the lake to Catahorn, 
situated on the opposite shore, if we may 
believe the account of a monk named Lang. 2 



1 Gens animo veteres Tuscos referens, candore 
vpteres Helvetios. (Zw. Epp.) 
* J. J. Hottinger, iii. p. 426. 



Even while running away Popery worked 
its miracles. 

Thus were the popular superstitions over- 
thrown in Switzerland, and sometimes not 
without violence. Every great development 
in human affairs brings with it an energetic 
opposition to that which has existed. It 
necessarily contains an aggressive element, 
which ought to act freely, and by that means 
open the new path. In the times of the 
Reformation the doctors attacked the Pope, 
and the people the images. The movement 
almost always exceeded a just moderation. 
In order that human nature may take one 
step in advance, its pioneers must take 
many. Every superfluous step should be 
condemned, and yet we must acknowledge 
their necessity. Let us not forget this in 
the history of the Reformation, and espe- 
cially in that of Switzerland. 

Zurich was reformed ; Berne had just be- 
come so : Basle still remained, before the 
great cities of the Confederation were gained 
over to the Evangelical faith. The reforma- 
tion of this learned city was the most im- 
portant consequence resulting from that of 
the warlike Berne. 

For six years the Gospel had been preached 
in Basle. The meek and pious CEcolampa- 
dius was always waiting for happier times. 
" The darkness," said he, " is about to re- 
tire before the rays of truth." 1 But his 
expectation was vain. A triple aristocracy 
— the superior clergy, the nobles, and the 
university — checked the free expansion of 
christian convictions. It was the middle 
classes who were destined to effect the tri- 
umph of the Reformation in Basle. 2 Un- 
happily the popular wave invades nothing 
without tossing up some foul scum. 

It is true that the Gospel had many friends 
in the councils : but being men of a middle 
party, they tacked backwards and forwards 
like Erasmus, instead of sailing straight to 
the port. They ordered " the pure preach- 
ing of the Word of God ;" but stipulated at 
the same time that it should be " without 
Lutheranism." The aged and pious bishop 
Utenheim, who was living in retirement at 
Bruntrut, tottered daily into the church, sup- 
ported by two domestics, to celebrate Mass 
with a broken voice. Gundelsheim, an 
enemy of the Reformation, succeeded him 
ere long; and on the 23d September, fol- 
lowed by many exiles and with a train of 
forty horses, he made his triumphal entry 
into Basle, proposing to restore every thing 
to its ancient footing. This made (Ecolam- 
padius write in alarm to Zwingle: "Our 
cause hangs upon a thread." 

But in the citizens the Reform found a 
compensation for the disdain of the great, 
and foi the terrors inspired by the new 
bishop. They organized repasts for fifty 
and a hundred guests each ; QScolampadius 

1 Sperabam enim tenebras veritatis radio ces- 
suras tandem. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 136.) 

2 Major pars civitatis quae toto corde dolet tantis 
nos dissidiis laborare. (Ibid. p. 36.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



547 



and his colleagues took their seats at these 
tables with the people, where energetic ac- 
clamations and reiterated cheers greeted the 
work of the Reformation. In a short time 
even the council appeared to incline to the 
side of the Gospel. Twenty feast-days were 
retrenched, and the priests were permitted 
to refuse celebrating the Mass. " It is all 
over with Rome," was now the cry. But 
CEcolampadius, shaking his head, replied : 
"I am afraid that, by wishing to sit on the 
two stools, Basle will at last fall to the 
ground." 1 

This was at the period of his return from 
his discussion at Berne. He arrived in time 
to close the eyes of his pious mother; and 
then the reformer found himself alone, suc- 
cumbing under the weight of public and 
domestic cares ; for his house was like an 
inn for all fugitive Christians. "I shall 
marry a Monica," 2 he had often said, " or 
else I shall remain a bachelor." He thought 
he had now discovered the " christian sis- 
ter" he was in search of. This was Wili- 
brandis, daughter of one of the Emperor 
Maximilian's knights, and widow of a mas- 
ter of arts named Keller, — a woman already 
proved by many trials. He married her, 
saying: "I look to the ordinances of God, 
and not to the scowling faces of men." 
This did not prevent the sly Erasmus from 
exclaiming: " Luther's affair is called a tra- 
gedy, but I maintain it is a comedy, for each 
act of the drama ends in a wedding." This 
witticism has been often repeated. For a 
long time it was the fashion to account for 
the Reformation by the desire of the princes 
for the church-property, and of the priests 
for marriage. This vulgar method is now 
stigmatized by the best Roman controver- 
sialists as " a proof of a singularly narrow 
mind. The Reformation originated," add 
they, " in a true and Christian, although 
unenlightened zeal." 3 

The return of CEcolampadius had still 
more important consequences for Basle than 
ft had for himself. The discussion at Berne 
caused a great sensation there. " Berne, the 



powerful Berne, is reforming !' 



passed 



from mouth to mouth. " How, then !" said 
the people one to another, " the fierce bear 
has come out of his den he is grop- 
ing about for the rays of the sun 

and Basle, the city of learning — Basle, the 
adopted city of Erasmus and of CEcolampa- 
dius, remaining in darkness !" 

On Good Friday (10th April, 1528), with- 
out the knowledge of the council and CEco- 
lampadius, five workmen of the Spinners' 
Company entered the church of St. Martin, 
which was that of the reformer, and where 



1 Vereorque ne dum semper utraque sella sedere 
«elit, utraque extrudatur aliquando. - (Zw. Epp. ii. 
p. 157.) 

2 The name of St. Augustin's mother. 

3 See Mbhler's Symbolik, both in the preface 
and in the body of the work. This is one of the 
most important writings produced by Rome since 
the time of Bossuet. 

36 



the Mass was already abolished, and carried 
away all the "idols." t m Easter Monday, 
after the evening sermon, thirty-four citizens 
removed all the images from the church of 
the Augustines. 

This was going too far. Were they desi- 
rous, then, of drawing Basle and its coun- 
cils from that just medium in which they 
had till this moment so wisely halted ] The 
council met hastily on Tuesday morning, 
and sent the five men to prison ; but, on the 
intercession of the burghers, they were re- 
leased, and the images suppressed in five 
other churches. These half-measures suf- 
ficed for a time. 

On a sudden the flame burst out anew with 
greater violence. Sermons were preached at 
St. Martin's and St. Leonard's against the 
abominations of the cathedral; and at the 
cathedral the Reformers were called " here- 
tics, knaves, and profligates." 1 The Papists 
celebrated mass upon mass. The burgo- 
master Meyer, a friend of the Reform, had 
with him a majority of the people ; the bur- 
gomaster Meltinger, an intrepid leader of the 
partisans of Rome, prevailed in the coun- 
cils : a collision became inevitable. " The 
fatal hour approaches," says CEcolampadius, 
"terrible for the enemies of God." 2 

On Wednesday, the 23d December, two 
days before Christmas, three hundred citi- 
zens from all the companies, pious and 
worthy men, assembled in the hall of the 
Gardeners' Company, and there drew up a 
petition to the senate. During this time the 
friends of Popery, who resided for the most 
part in Little Basle and the suburb of St. 
Paul, took up arms, brandishing their swords 
and lances against the Reformed citizens at 
the very moment that these were bearing 
their petition to the council, and endea- 
voured, although ineffectually, to bar their 
road. Meltinger haughtily refused to receive 
the petition, and charged the burghers, on 
the faith of their civic oath, to return to 
their homes. The burgomaster Meyer, how- 
ever, took the address, and the senate ordered 
it to be read. 

" Honoured, wise, and gracious Lords," 
it ran, " we, your dutiful fellow-citizens of 
the companies, address you as well-beloved 
fathers, whom we are ready to obey at the 
cost of our goods and of our lives. Take 
God's glory to heart; restore peace to the 
city ; and oblige all the Pope's preachers to 
discuss freely with the ministers. If the 
Mass be true, we desire to have it in oui 
churches ; but if it is an abomination before 
God, why, through love for the priests, 
should we draw down His terrible anger 
upon ourselves and upon our children?" 

Thus spoke the citizens of Basle. There 
was nothing revolutionary either in their 
language or in their proceedings. They de- 



j 1 Ketzer, schelmen, und biiben. (Bulling, ii. 
p. 36.) 

2 Maturatur fatalis hrya et tremenda hostibu", 
I Dei. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 213.) 



548 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



sired what was right with decision, but also 
with calmness. All might still proceed with 
order and decorum. But here begins a new 
period : the vessel of Reform is about to enter 
the port, but not until it has passed through 
violent storms. 

V. It was the bishop's partisans who first 
departed from the legal course. Filled with 
terror on learning that mediators were ex- 
pected from Zurich and Berne, they ran into 
the city, crying that an Austrian army was 
coming to their aid, and collected stones in 
their houses. The Reformed did the same. 
The disturbance increased hourly, and in 
the night of the 25th December the Papists 
met ufcder arms : priests with arquebuse in 
hand were numbered among their ranks. 

Scarcely had the Reformed learnt this, 
when some of them running hastily from 
house to house, knocked at the doors and 
awoke their friends, who, starting out of 
bed, seized their muskets, and repaired to 
the Gardeners' Hall, the rendezvous of their 
party. They soon amounted to three thou- 
sand. 

Both parties passed the night underarms. 
At every moment a civil war, and what is 
worse, "a war of hearths," might break out. 
It was at last agreed that each party should 
nominate delegates to treat with the senate 
on this matter. The Reformed chose thirty 
men of respectability, courage, faith, and 
experience, who took up their quarters at 
the Gardeners' Hall. The partisans of the 
ancient faith chose also a commission, but 
less numerous and less respectable: their 
station was at the Fishmongers' Hall. The 
council was constantly sitting. All the gates 
of the city, except two, were closed ; strong 
guards were posted in every quarter. De- 
puties from Lucerne, Uri, Schaffhausen, 
Zug, Schwytz, Mulhausen, and Strasburg, 
arrived successively. The agitation and 
tumult increased from hour to hour. 

It was necessary to put an end to so vio- 
lent a crisis. The senate, faithful to its 
ideas of half-measures, decreed that the priest 
should continue to celebrate the Mass ; but 
that all, priests and ministers, should preach 
the Word of God, and for this purpose should 
meet once a-week to confer upon the hoty 
Scriptures. They then called the Lutherans 
together in the Franciscan church, and the 
Papists in that belonging to the Dominicans. 
The senate first repaired to the former church, 
where they found two thousand five hundred 
citizens assembled. The secretary had hard- 
ly read the ordinance before a great agitation 
arose. " That shall not be," cried one of 
the people. 1 " We will not put up with the 
Mass, not even with a single one !" cried 
another; and all repeated, " No Mass — no 
Mass, — we will die sooner !" 2 

The senate havino" next visited the Do- 



1 Quidam e plebe clamitabat : Hoc non fiet ! 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 255.) 

2 Nos plane ea non feremus, aut moriemur 

omnes. (Ibid.) 



minican church, all the Romanists, to the 
number of six hundred, among whom were 
many foreign servants, cried out, " We are 
ready to sacrifice our lives for the Mass. 
We swear it, we swear it!" repeated they 
with uplifted hands. " If they reject the 
Mass — to arms ! to arms !" ] 

The senate withdrew more embarrassed 
than ever. 

The two parties were again assembled 
three days after. GEcolampadius was in the 
pulpit. " Be meek and tractable," said he; 
and he preached with such unction that 
many were ready to burst into tears. 2 The 
assembly offered up prayers, and then de- 
creed that it would accept a new ordinance, 
by virtue of which, fifteen days after Pente- 
cost, there should be a public disputation. 
in which no arguments should be employed 
but such as were drawn from the Word of 
God : after this a general vote should take 
place upon the Mass, that the majority should 
decide the question, and that in the mean- 
while the Mass should be celebrated in three 
churches only ; it being however understood, 
that nothing should be taught there that 
was in opposition to the Holy Scriptures. 

The Romanist minority rejected these 
propositions : " Basle," said they, " is not 
like Berne and Zurich. Its revenues are 
derived in great measure from countries op- 
posed to the Reformation !" The priests 
having refused to resort to the weekly con- 
ferences, they were suspended ; and during 
a fortnight there was neither sermon noi 
mass at the cathedral, or in the churches of 
St. Ulric, St. Peter, and St. Theodore. 

Those who remained faithful to Rome, 
resolved upon an intrepid defence. Mel- 
tinger placed Sebastian Muller in the pulpit 
at St. Peter's, from which he had been in- 
terdicted, and this hot-headed priest vented 
such abusive sarcasms against the Reform, 
that several of the Evangelicals, who were 
listening to the sermon, were insulted and 
nearly torn in pieces. 

It was necessary to arouse Basle from this 
nightmare, and strike a decisive, blow. " Let 
us remember our liberty," said the reformed 
citizens, "and what we owe to the glory 
of Christ, to public justice and to our pos- 
terity." 3 They then demanded that iho 
enemies of the Reformation, friends and re- 
lations of the priests, who were the cause 
of all these delays and of all these troubles, 
should no longer sit in the councils until 
peace was re-established. This was th^ 
8th February. The council notified tha*. 
they would return an answer on the mo> 
row. 

At six o'clock in the evening, twelve hun- 
dred citizens were assembled in the corn- 



1 At altera pars minitabat pranlia si missam reji- 
cerent. (Ibid.) 

2 Ut nemo non commoveretur et profocto fere 
mihi lacrymas excussisset. (Zw. Epp. ii. d. 255.) 

3 Cogitans quid gloria? Christi, quid justitis pub- 
lican, quidque posteritati suae deberet. (CEcoL 
Zurich MS.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



549 



market. They began to fear that the delay- 
required by the senate concealed some evil 
design. " We must have a reply this very 
night," they said. The senate was con- 
voked in great haste. 

From that period affairs assumed a more 
threatening attitude in Basle. Strong guards 
were posted by the burghers in the halls of 
the different guilds; armed men patrolled 
the city, and bivouacked in the public places, 
to anticipate the machinations of their adver- 
saries ; J the chains were stretched across the 
streets ; torches were lighted, and resinous 
trees, whose flickering light scattered the 
darkness, were placed at intervals through 
the town ; six pieces of artillery were planted 
before the town-hall ; and the gates of the 
city, as well as the arsenal and the ramparts, 
were occupied. Basle was in a state of 
siege. 

There was no longer any hope for the 
Romish party. The burgomaster, Melting- 
er, an intrepid soldier and one of the heroes 
of Marignan, where he had led eight hun- 
dred men into battle, lost courage. In the 
darkness he gained the banks of the Rhine 
with his son-in-law, the councillor Eglof 
d'Offenburg, embarked unnoticed in a small 
boat, and rapidly descended the stream amid 
the fogs of the night. 2 Other members of 
the council escaped in a similar manner. 

This gave rise to new alarms. " Let us 
beware of their secret manoeuvres,'" said the 
people. " Perhaps they are going to fetch 
1he Austrians, with whom they have so often 
ihreatened us!" The affrighted citizens 
collected arms from every quarter, and at 
break of day they had two thousand men on 
loot. The beams of the rising sun fell on 
this resolute but calm assembly. 

It was mid-day. The senate had come to 
no decision : the impatience of the burghers 
could be restrained no longer. Forty men 
were detached to visit the posts. As this 
patrol was passing the cathedral, they entered 
it, and one of the citizens, urged by curiosity, 
opened a closet with his halberd, in which 
some images had been hidden. One of them 
fell out and was broken into a thousand pieces 
against the stone pavement. 3 The sight of these 
fragments powerfully moved the spectators, 
who began throwing down one after another 
all the images that were concealed in this 
place. None of them offered any resistance : 
heads, feet, and hands — all were heaped in 
confusion before the halberdiers. "I am 
much surprised," said Erasmus, " that they 
performed no miracle to save themselves ; 
formerly the saints worked frequent prodigies 
for much smaller offences !" 4 Some priests 
ran to the spot, and the patrol withdrew. 



1 Ne quid forte ab adversariis ingidiarum strue- 
retur. ((Ecol. Zurich MS.) 

2 Clam conscensa navicula fuga, nescio senatu, 
elapsus est. (Ibid.) 

3 Cum halpardis quasi per ludum aperirent 
armarium idolorum, unumque idolum educerent. 
tlbid.) 

4 Eiasm. Opp. p. 291. 



A rumour, however, having spread that a 
disturbance had taken place in tl a<o church, 
three hundred men came to the support of 
the forty. "Why," said they, ' should we 
spare the idols that light up the flames of 
discord ?" The priests in alarm had closed 
the gates of the sanctuary, drawn the bolts, 
raised barricades, and prepared every thing 
for maintaining a siege. But the townspeo- 
ple, whose patience had been exhausted by 
the delays of the council, dash against one 
of the doors of the church : it yields to their 
blows, and they rush into the cathedral. 
The hour of madness has arrived. These 
men are no longer to be recognised, as they 
brandish their swords, rattle their pikes, and 
utter formidable cries : are they Goths, or are 
they fervent worshippers of God, animated 
by the zeal which in times of yore inflamed the 
prophets and the kings of Israel l . However 
that might be, these proceedings were disor- 
derly, since public authority alone can inter- 
fere in public reforms. Images, altars, pic- 
tures — all were thrown down and destroyed. 
The priests who had fled into the vestry, and 
there concealed themselves, trembled in every 
limb at the terrible noise made by the fall of 
their holy decorations. The work of destruc 
tion was completed without one of them 
venturing to save the objects of his worship, 
or to make the slightest remonstrance. The 
people next piled up the fragments in the 
squares and set fire to them ; and during the 
chilly night the armed burghers stood round 
and warmed themselves at the crackling 
flame. 1 

The senate collected in amazement, and 
desired to interpose their authority and appease 
the tumult; but they might as well have 
striven to command the winds. The enthu- 
siastic citizens replied to their magistrates 
in these haughty words : " What you have 
not been able to effect in three years, we will 
complete in one hour." 2 

In truth the anger of the people was no 
longer confined to the cathedral. They re- 
spected all kinds of private property; 3 but 
they attacked the churches of St. Peter, St. 
Ulric, St. Alban, and of the Dominicans ; 
and in all these temples " the idols" fell under 
the blows of these good citizens of Basle, 
whom an extraordinary zeal inflamed. Al- 
ready they were making preparations to cross 
the bridge and enter Little Basle, which was 
devoted to the cause of Popery, when the 
alarmed inhabitants begged to be allowed to 
remove the images themselves, and with 
heavy hearts they hastily carried them into 
the upper chambers of the church, whence 
they hoped to be able after a time to restore 
them to their old position. 

They did not stop at these energetic demon- 



1 Lignis imaginum usi sunt vigiles, pro arcendo 
frigore nocturno. (Zurich MS.) 

2 De quo vos per triennium deliberastis. nihil 
efficientes, nos intra horam omnem absolvenms. 
(GEcol. Capitoni. Basle MS.) 

3 Nulli enim vel obolum abstulerunt. (Ibid.) 



550 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



strations ; the most excited talked of going 1 
to the town-hall and of constraining the senate 
to accede to the wishes of the people ; but 
the good sense of the majority .treated these 
brawlers as they deserved, and checked their 
guilty thoughts. 

The senators now perceived the necessity 
of giving a legal character to this popular 
movement, and of thus changing a tumultuous 
revolution into a durable reformation. 1 De- 
mocracy and the. Gospel were thus established 
simultaneously in Basle. The senate, after 
an hour's deliberation, granted that in future 
tne burghers should participate in the election 
of the two councils ; that from this day the 
Mass and images should be abolished through- 
out all the canton, and that in every delibera- 
tion which concerned the glory of God or the 
good of the state, the opinion of the guilds 
should be taken. The people, delighted at 
having obtained these conditions, which se- 
cured their political and religious liberty, 
returned joyful to their houses. It was now 
the close of day. 2 

On the morrow, Ash-Wednesday, it was 
intended to distribute the ruins of the altars 
and. other ornaments of the Church among 
the poor, to serve them for fire-wood. But 
tht.se unhappy creatures, in their eagerness 
foi the fragments, having begun to dispute 
about them, they constructed great piles in 
the cathedral close and set fire to them. 
"The idols," said some wags, "are really 
keeping their Ash-Wednesday to-day !" The 
friends of Popery, turning away their horror- 
etricken eyes from this sacrilegious sight, 
says CEcolampadius, shed tears of blood. — 
"Thus severely did they treat the idols," 
continues the reformer, "and the Mass died 
of grief in consequence." 3 On the following 
Sunday hymns in German were sung at every 
church ; and on the 18th February a general 
amnesty was published. Every thing was 
changed in Basle. The last had become first, 
and the first last. While CEcolampadius, who 
a few years before had entered the city as a 
stranger, without resources and without pow- 
er, found himself raised to the first station in 
the Church, Erasmus, disturbed in the quiet 
study whence during so long a period he had 
issued his absolute commands to the world 
of letters, saw himself compelled to descend 
into the arena. But this king of the schools 
had no desire to lay down his sceptre before 
the sovereign people. For a long time he 
used to turn aside his head when he met his 
friend CEcolampadius. Besides, he feared by 
remaining at Basle to compromise himself 
with his protectors. " The torrent," said he, 
" which was hidden underground, has burst 
forth with violence, and committed frightful 
ravages. 4 My life is in danger : CEcolam- 

1 Cedendum plebi. (GEcol. Capitoni, Basle 
MS.) 

2 His conditionibus plebs laeta doraum rediit, sub 
ipsum noctis crepusculum. (Ibid. Zurich MS.) 

3 Ita ssevitum est in idola, ac missa prae dolore 
expiravit. (GEcol. Cap. Zurich MS.) 

Basilica torrens quidem, qui sub terra labeba- 



padius possesses all the churches. People 
are continually bawling in my ears ; 1 am 
besieged with letters, caricatures and pamph- ' 
lets. It is all over : I am resolved to leave 
Basle. Only shall I or shall I not depart by 
stealth 1 7'he one is more becoming, the 
other more secure." 

Wishing as much as possible to make his 
honour and his prudence agree, Erasmus 
desired the boatmen with whom he was to 
descend the Rhine to depart from an unfre- 
quented spot. This was opposed by the 
senate, and the timid ^philosopher was com- 
pelled to enter the boat as it lay near the 
great bridge, at that time covered with a crowd 
of people. He floated down the river, sadly 
bade adieu to the city be had so much loved, 
and retired to Friburg in Brisgau with several 
other learned men. 

New professors were invited to fill the va- 
cant chairs in the university, and in particular 
Oswald Myconius, Phrygio, Sebastian Mun- 
ster, and Simon Grynaeus. At the same time 
was published an ecclesiastical order and a 
confession of faith, one of the most precious 
documents of this epoch. 

Thus had a great transformation been ef- 
fected without the loss of a single drop of 
blood. Popery had fallen in Basle, in despite 
of the secular and spiritual power. "The 
wedge of the Lord," says CEcolampadius, 
"has split this hard knot." 1 

We cannot, however, help acknowledging 
that the Basle Reformation may afford ground 
for some objections. Luther had opposed 
himself to the power of the many. " When 
the people prick up their ears, do not whistle 
too loud. It is better to suffer at the hand 
of one tyrant, that is to say, of a king, than 
of a thousand tyrants, that is to say, of the 
people." On this account the German Re- 
former has been reproached for acknowledg- 
ing no other policy than servilism. 

Perhaps when the Swiss Reformation is 
canvassed, a contrary objection will be made 
against it, and the Reform at Basle, in particu- 
lar, will be looked upon as a revolution. 
' The Reformation must of necessity bear 
the stamp of the country in which it was 
accomplished : it will be monarchical in 
Germany, republican in Switzerland. Nev- 
ertheless, in religion as in politics, there is 
a great difference between reformation and 
revolution. 

In neither of these spheres does Christian- 
ity desire either despotism, servitude, stag- 
nation, retrogression, or death. But while 
looking for progress, it seeks to accomplish 
it by reformation and not by revolution. 

Reformation works by the power of the 
Word, of doctrine, cultivation and truth; 
while revolution, or rather revolt, operates 
by the power of riot, of the sword, and of 
the club. 



tur, subito erumpens, &c. (Er. Epp. ad Pirk- 
heimer, July, 1539.) 

1 Malo nodo suus cuneus obvenit. (CEcoL 
Capit.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



551 



Christianity proceeds by the inner man, 
and charters themselves, if they stand alone, 
cannot satisfy it. No doubt constitutions 
are one of the blessings of our age ; but it is 
not sufficient for these securities to be com- 
mitted to parchment ; they must be written 
in the heart, and guarantied by the manners 
of the people. 

Such were the principles of the Swiss Re- 
formers, such were .those of the Reform at 
Basle, and by these it is distinguished from 
a revolution. 

There were, it is true, some excesses. Never 
perhaps has a reformation been accomplished 
among men without some mixture of a revo- 
lution. But it was doctrines, however, that 
were in question at Basle : the doctrines had 
acted powerfully on the moral convictions 
and on the lives of the people ; the movement 
had taken place within, before it showed it- 
self without. But more than this : the Re- 
formation was not satisfied with taking away ; 
it gave more than it took ; and, far from 
confining itself to the work of destruction, 
. t scattered rich blessings over all the peo- 

VI. The recoil of the discussion at Berne 
had overthrown Popery in a considerable part 
of German Switzerland. It was also felt in 
many of the churches of French Switzerland, 
lying at the foot of the Jura, or scattered amid 
the pine-forests of its elevated valleys, and 
which up to this time had shown the most 
absolute devotion to the Roman pontiff. 

Farel, seeing the Gospel established in the 
places where the Rhone mingles its sandy 
waters with the crystal Leman, turned his 
eyes to another quarter. He was supported 
by Berne. This state, which possessed 
jointly with Friburg the bailiwicks of Morat, 
Orbe, and Granson, and which had alliances 
with Lausanne, Avenches, Payerne, Neufcha- 
tel, and Geneva, saw that both its interest and 
its duty alike called it to have the Gospel 
preached to its allies and subjects. Farel 
was empowered to carry it among them, al- 
ways with reserve of the consent of the re- 
spective governments. 

One day, therefore, journeying towards 
Morat, Farel arrived and preached the- Gospel | 
at the foot of those towers and battlements j 
that had been attacked at three different pe- i 
riods by the armies of Conrad the Salic, Ro- ' 
dolph of Hapsburg, and Charles the Bold. 
Erelong the friends of the Reform amounted 
to a great number. A general vote having 
nevertheless declared in favour of the Pope, 
Farel proceeded to Lausanne. 

He was at first driven away by the bishop 
and the clergy, but soon reappeared provided 
with a letter from the lords of Berne. " We 
send him to you," said their excellencies to 
the authorities of the city, " to defend his own 
cause and ours. Allow him to preach the 
Word of God, and beware that you touch not 
a hair of his head." 



'Hagenbach, Vorlesungen, ii. pp. 125, 200. 



There was great confusion in the councils. 
Placed between Berne and the bishop, what 
could they do 1 The Council of Twenty- 
four, finding the matter very serious, convoked 
the Council of Sixty ; and this body excusing 
itself, they convoked the Council of Two 
Hundred, on the 14th of November, 1529. 
But these in their turn referred the business 
to the smaller council. No one would have 
any thing to do with it. The inhabitants of 
Lausanne, it is true, complained loudly of 
the holy members of their chapters, whose 
lives (they said) were one long orgy ; but 
when their eyes turned on the austere coun- 
tenance of Reform, they were still more ter- 
rified. Besides, how deprive Lausanne of 
her bishop, her court, and her dignitaries 1 
What ! no more pilgrims in the churches, — 
no more suitors in the ecclesiastical courts, — 
no more purchasers in the markets, or boon 
companions in the taverns ! The widowed 
and desolate Lausanne would no longer 
behold the noisy throng of people, that were 
at once her wealth and her glory ! — Better far a 
disorder that enriches, than a Reform that 
impoverishes ! Farel was compelled to de- 
part a second time. 

He returned to Morat, and soon the Word 
gained over the hearts of the people. On 
feast-days, the roads from Payerne and Aven- 
ches were covered with merry bands, who 
laughingly said to one another, " Let us go 
to Morat and hear the preachers !" and ex- 
horted each other slily, as they went along 
the road, " not to fall into the nets of the 
heretics." But at night, all was changed. 
Grasped by the strong hand of truth, these 
very people returned,- — some in deep thought, 
others discussing with animation the doctrines 
they had heard. The fire was sparkling 
throughout all this district, and spreading in 
every direction its long rays of light. This 
was enough for Farel : he required new con- 
quests. 

At a short distance from Morat lay one of 
the strongholds of Popery — the Earldom of 
Neufchatel. Joan of Hochberg, who had 
inherited this principality from her ancestors, 
had married, in 1504, Louis of Orleans, 
Duke of Longueville. This French nobleman 
having supported the King of France in 1512, 
in a war against the Swiss, the cantons had 
taken possession of Neufchatel, but had re- 
stored it to his widow in 1529. 

Few countries could have presented greater 
difficulties to the daring reformer. The prin- 
cess of Longueville, residing in France in 
the suite of Francis I., a woman of courtly 
habits, vain, extravagant, always in debt, and 
thinking of Neufchatel only as a farm that 
should bring her in a large revenue, was de- 
voted to thePope and Popery. Twelve canons 
with several priests and chaplains formed a 
powerful clergy, at whose head was the pro- 
vost Oliver of Hochberg, natural brother to 
the princess. Auxiliaries full of zeal lianked 
this main army. On the one side there was 
the abbey of thePremonstrantes of Fontaine- 
Andre, three quarters of a league beyond tno 



552 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



town, the monks of which, after having in the 
twelfth century cleared the ground with their 
own hands, 1 had gradually become powerful 
lords ; and, on the other side, the Benedictines 
of the Island of St. John, whose abbot, having 
been deposed, by the Bernese, had taken 
refuge, burning with hatred and vengeance, in 
his priory at Corcelles. 

The people of Neufchatel had a great re- 
spect for ancient rights, and it was easy to 
take advantage of this state of feeling, con- 
sidering- the general ignorance, to maintain 
the innovations of Popery. The canons 
improved the opportunity. For the instruc- 
tions of the Gospel they substituted pomps 
and shows. The church, situated on a steep 
rock, was filled with altars, chapels, and 
images of saints ; and religion, descending 
from this sanctuary, ran up and down the 
streets, and was travestied in dramas and 
mysteries, mingled with indulgences, mira- 
cles and debauchery. 2 

The soldiers of Neufchatel, however, who 
had made the campaign of 1529 with the 
Bernese army, brought back to their homes 
the liveliest enthusiasm for the Evangelical 
cause. It was at this period that a frail boat 
quitting the southern bank of the lake, on 
the side opposite Morat, and carrying a 
Frenchman of mean appearance, steered to- 
wards the Neufchatel shore. Farel, for it 
was he, had learnt that the village of Serriere, 
situated at the gates of Neufchatel, depended 
in spiritualities on the evangelical city of 
Bienne, and that Emer Beynon, the priest of 
the place, " had some liking for the Gospel." 
The plan of his campaign was immediately 
drawn up. He appeared before parson Emer, 
who received him with joy ; but what could 
be done 1 for Farel had been interdicted from 
preaching in any church whatever in the 
earldom. The poor priest thought to recon- 
cile every thing by permitting Farel to mount 
on a stone in the cemetery, and thus preach 
to the people, turning his back upon the 
church. 3 

A great disturbance arose in Neufchatel. 
On one side the government, the canons, and 
the priests, cried " Heresy !" but, on the 
other, " some inhabitants of Neufchatel, to 
whom God had given a knowledge of the 
truth," 4 flocked to Serriere. In a short time 
these last could not contain themselves : 
" Come," said they to Farel, "and preach 
to us m the town." 

This was at the beginning of December. 
They entered by the gate of the castle, and 
leaving the church on the hill to the left, 
they passed in front of the canons' houses, 



1 Propriis manibus. (Hist, of Neufchatel, by 
F. de Chambrier, p. 13.) 

2 Memoires sur l'Eglise collegiale de Neufchatel, 
p. 240. 

3 M. de Perrot, ex-pastor of Serriere, and author 
of a work entitled " L'Eglise et la Reformation," 
has shown me the stone on which Farel stood. 

4 "Aucuns de Neufchatel, auxquels Dieu 
avaient donne connoissance de la vente, &c. 
.ChoupartMS.) 



and descended through the narrow streets 
inhabited by the citizens. On reaching the 
market-cross, Farel ascended a platform and 
addressed the crowd, which gathered to- 
gether from all the neighbourhood, — weavers, 
vinedressers, husbandmen, a worthy race, 
possessing more feeling than imagination. 
The preacher's exterior was grave, his dis- 
course energetic, his voice like thunder: his 
eyes, his features, his gestures, all showed 
him a man of intrepidity. The citizens, 
accustomed to run about the streets after the 
mountebanks, were touched by his powerful 
language. " Farel preached a sermon of 
such great efficacy," says a manuscript, 
" that he gained over much people." 1 

Some monks, however, with shaven 
crowns, 2 glided among his hearers, seeking 
to excite them against the heretical minister. 
"Let us beat out his brains," said some. 
"Duck him, duck him !" cried others, ad- 
vancing to throw Farel into a fountain, which 
may still be seen near the spot where he 
preached. But the reformer stood firm. 

This first preaching was succeeded by 
others. To this Gospel missionary every 
place was a church; every stone, every 
bench, every platform was a pulpit. Already 
the cutting winds and the snows of Decem- 
ber should have kept the Neufchatelans 
around their firesides; " the canons made a 
vigorous defence ;" 3 and in every quarter 
" the shorn crowns" were in agitation, sup- 
plicating, menacing, howling, and threat- 
ening, — but all was useless. No sooner did 
this man of small stature rise up in any 
place, with his pale yet sunburnt complexion, 
with red and unkempt beard, with sparkling 
eye and expressive mouth, than the monks' 
labour was lost: the people collected around, 
for it was the Word of God that fell from 
his lips. 4 All eyes were fixed on him : with 
open mouth and attentive ears they hung 
upon his words. 5 And scarcely does he 
begin to speak, when — Oh ! wonderful work 
of God ! he himself exclaims — this multi- 
tude believes as if it had but one soul. 

The Word of God carried the town, as it 
were, at the first assault ; and throwing down 
the devices Rome had taken ages to com- 
pose, established itself in triumph on the 
ruins of human traditions. Farel saw in 
imagination Jesus Christ himself walking 
in spirit through the midst of this crowd, 
opening the eyes of the blind, softening the 

hard heart, and working miracles, 6 so 

that scarcely had he returned to his humble 
residence before he wrote to his friends with 
a heart full of emotion : " Render thanks 
with me to the Father of mercies, in that he 
has shown his favour to those bowed down 



1 Quoted in the Choupart MS. 

2 Rasorum remoramenta. (Farellus Molano, 
Neufchatel MS.) 

3 Contra tyrannica praecepta. (Ibid.) 

4 Ad verbum festinarent. (Ibid.) 

5 Avide audientes. (Ibid.) 

6 Quid Christus in suis egerit, (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



553 



by a weighty tyranny ;" and falling- on his 
knees, he worshipped God. 1 

But during this time, what were the adhe- 
rents of the Pope doing in Neufchatel 1 

The canons, members of the General Au- 
diences, of which they formed the first estate, 
treated both priests and laymen with intole- 
rable haughtiness. Laying the burden of 
their offices on poor curates, they publicly 
kept dissolute women, clothed them sump- 
tuously, endowed their children by public 
acts, fought in the church, haunted the 
streets by night, or went into a foreign coun- 
try to enjoy in secret the produce of their 
avarice and of their intrigues. Some poor 
lepers placed in a house near the city were 
maintained by the produce of certain offer- 
ings. The rich canons, in the midst of their 
banquets, dared take away the bread of 
charity from these unhappy wretches. 

The abbey of Fontaine-Andre was at a 
little distance from the town. Now the 
canons of Neufchatel and the monks of 
Fontaine were at open war. These hostile 
powers, encamped on their two hills, dis- 
puted each other's property, wrested away 
each other's privileges, launched at one 
another the coarsest, insults, and even came 
to blows. " Debaucher of women !" said 
the canons to the abbot of Fontaine-Andre, 
who returned the compliment in the same 
coin. It is the Reformation which, through 
faith, has re-established the moral law in 
Christendom, — a law that Popery had trod- 
den under foot. 

For a long time these conventual wars 
had disturbed the country. On a sudden 
they cease. A strange event is passing in 
Neufchatel, — the Word of God is preached 
there. The canons, seized with affright in 
the midst of their disorders, look down from 
their lofty dwellings on this new movement. 
The report reaches Fontaine-Andre. The 
monks and priests suspend their orgies and 
their quarrels. The heathen sensualism that 
had invaded the Church is put to the rout; 
Christian spiritualism has reappeared. 

Immediately the monks and canons, so 
long at war, embrace and unite against the 
Reformer. "We must save religion," said 
they, meaning their tithes, banquets, scan- 
dals, and privileges. Not one of them could 
oppose a doctrine to the doctrine preached 
by Farel : to insult him was their sole wea- 
pon. At Corcelles, however, they went 
farther. As the minister was proclaiming 
the Gospel near the priory, the monks fell 
upon him ; in the midst of them was the 
prior Rodolph de Benoit, storming, exciting, 
and striving to augment the tempest. He 
even had a dagger in his hand, according to 
one writer. 2 Farel escaped with difficulty. 

This was not enough. Popery, as it al- 
ways does, had recourse to the civil power. 



' Gratias ergo, Fratres, mecurn agite Patri 
misericordiarum, quod sit propitius gravi pressis 
tirannide. (Farellus Molano, Neufchatel MS.) 

2 Rosselet in Annotat. Farel Leben von 
Kirchofer. 



The canons, the abbot, and the prior, soli- 
cited the governor George de Rive at the 
same time. Farel stood firm. " The glory 
of Jesus Christ," said he, " and the lively 
affection his sheep bear to his Word, con- 
strain me to endure sufferings greater than 
tongue can describe." 1 Erelong, however, 
he was compelled to yield. Farel again 
crossed the lake ; but this passage was very 
different from the former. The fire was 
kindled ! — On the 22d December he was at 
Morat, and shortly after at Aigle. 

He was recalled hence. On the 7th Jan- 
uary, religion was put to the vote at Morat, 
and the majority was in favour of the Gospel. 
But the Romish minority, supported by Fri- 
burg, immediately undertook to recover its 
ancient position by insults and bad treat- 
ment. " Farel ! Farel !" cried the reformed 
party. 2 

A few days after this, Farel, accompanied 
by a Bernese messenger, scaled that magni- 
ficent amphitheatre of mountains above Ve- 
vay, whence the eye plunges into the waters 
of the Leman; and soon he crossed the 
estates of Count John of Gruyere, who was 
in the habit of saying, " We must burn 
this French Luther." 3 Scarcely had Farel 
reached the heights of St. Martin de Vaud, 4 
when he saw the vicar of the place with two 
priests running to^ meet him. " Heretic ! 
devil !" cried they. But the knight, through 
fear of Berne, remained behind his walls, 
and Farel passed on. 

The Reformer, not allowing himself to be 
stopped by the necessity of defending him- 
self in Morat, or by the inclemency of the 
season, immediately carried the Gospel to 
those beautiful hills that soar between the 
smiling waters of lakes Morat and Neuf- 
chatel into the villages of the Vully. This 
manoeuvre was crowned with the most com- 
plete success. On the 15th February four 
deputies from the Vully came to Morat to 
demand permission to embrace the Reform, 
which was immediately granted to them. 
" Let our ministers preach the Gospel," said 
their excellencies of Berne to the Friburgers, 
" and we will let your priests play their 
monkey tricks. We desire to force no 
man." 5 The Reform restored freedom of 
will to the Christian people. It was about 
this time that Farel wrote his beautiful letter 
" To all lords, people, and pastors," which 
we have so often quoted. 6 

The indefatigable reformer now went for- 
ward to new conquests. A chain of rocks 



1 At levia facit omnia Christus, added ne. 
Farel to Dumoulin, 15th December. (Neuf- 
chatel MS.) 

2 Choupart MS. (Chambrier, Hist, de Neuf- 
chatel, p. 293.) 

3 Missive of Berne to the Count of Gruyere, 
5th and 16th January, 1530. 

4 To the left of the modern road from Vevay 
to Friburg. 

5 Missive of Berne, Choupart MS. 

6 A tons seigneurs, peuples, et pasteurs. See 
above, Vol. III. book xii. 



554 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



separates the Juran valley of Erguel, already 
evangelized by Farel, from the country of j 
♦he ancient Rauraci, and a passage cut i 
through the rock serves as a communication | 
between the two districts. It was the end i 
of April when Farel, passing through the ! 
Pierre-Pertuis, 1 descended to the village of j 
Tavannes, and entered the church just as the 
priest was sa3 r ing Mass. Farel went into 
the pulpit : the astonished priest stopped, — 
the minister filled his hearers with emotion, 
and seemed to them an angel corne down 
from heaven. Immediately the images and 
the altars fell, and " the poor priest who was 
chanting the Mass could not finish it." 2 
To put down Popery had required less time 
than the priest had spent at the altar. 

A great part of the bishopric of Basle was 
in a few weeks gained over to the Reforma- 
tion. 

During this time the gospel was ferment- 
ing in Neufchatel. The young men who 
had marched with Berne to deliver Geneva 
from the attacks of Savoy, recounted in their 
jovial meetings the exploits of the campaign, 
and related how the soldiers of Berne, feeling 
cold, had taken the images from the Domi- 
nican church at Geneva, saying : " Idols of 
wood are of no use but to make a fire with 
in winter." 

Farel re-appeared in Neufchatel. 3 Being 
master of the lower part of the town, he 
raised his eyes to the lofty rocks on which 
soared the cathedral and the castle. The 
best plan, thought he, is to bring these 
proud priests down to us. One"£rnoming 
his young friends spread themselves in the 
streets, and posted up large placards bearing 
these words : " Ml those who say Mass are 
robbers, murderers, and seducers of the peo- 
ple."* Great was the uproar in Neufchatel. 
The canons summoned their people, called 
together their clerks, and marching at the 
head of a large troop, armed with swords 
and clubs, descended into the town, tore 
down the sacrilegious placards, and cited 
Farel before the tribunal as a slanderer, de- 
manding ten thousand crowns damages. 

The two parties appeared in court, and 
this was all that Farel desired. " I confess 
the fact," said he, " but I am justified in 
what I have done. Where are there to be 
found more horrible murderers, than these 
seducers who sell paradise, and thus nullity 
the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ? I 
will prove my assertion by the Gospel." 
And he prepared to open it, when the canons, 
flushed with anger, cried out : " The com- 
mon law of Neufchatel, and not the Gospel, 
is in question here ! Where are the wit- 
nesses V But Farel, always returning to 
that fearful assertion, proved by the Word 

1 Petra Pertusa. 

2 Done le pauvre pretre qui chantoit sa messe 
ne la peut pas achever. (Old MS. quoted in the 
Choupart MS.) 

3 Farellus suo more magna fortitudine jamjam 
agit. Megander to Zwingle, 6th August, 1530. 
4 De Chambrier, Hist, de Neufchatel, i. p. 293. 



of God that the canons were really guilty 
of murder and robbery. To plead such a 
cause was to ruin Popery. The court of 
Neufchatel, that had never heard a similar 
case, resolved, according to ancient custom, 
to lay it before the Council of Besancon, 1 
which, not daring to pronounce the first 
estate of the General Audiences guilty of 
murder and robbery, referred the matter to 
the Emperor and to a general council. Bad 
causes gain nothing by making a disturb- 
ance. 

At every step they wished to drive him 
back, Farel made one in advance. The 
streets and the houses were still his temple* 
One day when the people of Neufchatel 
were around him, " Why," cried they, 
" should not the Word of God be proclaimed 
in a church ?" They then hurried Farel 
along with them, opened the doors of the 
Hospital Chapel, set the minister in the 
pulpit, and a numerous crowd stood silent 
before him. " In like manner as Jesus 
Christ, appearing in a state of poverty and 
humility, was born in a stable at Bethle- 
hem," said the Reformer ; " so this hospi- 
tal, this abode of the sick and of the poor, is 
to-day become his birthplace in the town of 
Neufchatel." Then feeling ill at ease in 
the presence of the painted and carved figures 
that decorated the chapel, he laid his hands 
on these objects of idolatry, removed them, 
and broke them in pieces. 2 

Popery, which anger had blinded, now 
took a step that it undoubtedly had a right 
to take, but which destroyed it : it had re- 
course to the secular arm, and the governor 
sent a deputation to the Bernese council, 
pnrying the removal of Farel and his conv 
panions. 

But almost at the same time deputies from 
the townspeople arrived at Berne. " Did 
not these hands bear arms at Interlaken and 
at Bremgarten to support your Reformation? 
and will you abandon us in ours ?" 

Berne hesitated. A public calamity was 
at that time filling the whole city with 
mourning. One- of the most illustrious 
citizens of the republic, the Banneret of 
Weingarten, attacked by the plague, was 
expiring amid the tears of his sons and of 
his fellow-citizens. Being informed of the 
arrival of the Neufchatelans, he rallied his 
waning strength : " Go," said he, " and 
beg the senate in my name to ask for a 
general assembly of the people of Neuf- 
chatel for Sunday next." 3 This message 
of the dying banneret decided the council. 

The deputies from Berne arrived in Neuf- 
chatel on the 7th August. Farel thought 
that during the debates he had time to make 
a new conquest, and quitted the city. His 
zeal can be compared onty to St. Paul's. 
His body was small and feeble, but his ac- 



1 Prendre les entraives. 

2 Choupart MS. 

3 Wingarterus iste infectus peste apud senatura 
nostrum, pia legations. (Megander to ZwingleJ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



555 



tivity was wholty apostolic : danger and bad 
treatment wasted him every day, but he had 
within him a divine power that rendered 
him victorious. *" 

VII. At the distance of a league from 
Neufchatel, beyond the mountain, extends 
the Val de Ruz, and near its entrance, in a 
precipitous situation, where roars an im- 
petuous torrent surrounded by steep crags, 
stands the town of Valangin. An old castle, 
built on a rock, raises its vast walls into the 
air, overlooking the humble dwellings of the 
townspeople, and extending its jurisdiction 
over five valleys of these lofty and severe 
mountains at that time covered with forests 
of pine, but now peopled by the most active 
industry. 1 

In this castle dwelt Guillemette de Vergy, 
dowager-countess of "Valangin, strongly at- 
tached to the Romish religion, and full of 
respect for the memory of her husband. A 
hundred priests had chanted high mass at 
the count's burial ; many penitent young 
women had been married, and large alms 
distributed ; the curate of Locle had been 
sent to Jerusalem, and Guillemette herself 
had made a pilgrimage, for the repose for 
the soul of her departed lord. 

Sometimes, however, the Countess of 
Gruyere and other ladies would come and 
visit the widow of Vergy, who assembled in 
the castle a number of young lords. The 
fife and tambourine re-echoed under its 
vaulted roofs, chattering groups collected in 
the immense embrasures of its Gothic win- 
dows, and merry dances followed hard upon 
a long silence and gloomy devotion. There 
was but one sentiment that never left Guille- 
mette — this was her hatred against the Re- 
formation. 

Guillemette and the priests had in fact 
reason to tremble. The 15th August was a 
great Romish festival — Our Lady of August, 
or the Assumption. All the faithful of the 
Val de Ruz were preparing to keep it. This 
was the very day Farel selected. Animated 
by the fire and courage of Elijah, he set out 
for Valangin, and a young man, his fellow- 
countryman, and, as it would appear, a dis- 
tant relation, Anthony Boyve, an ardent 
Christian and a man of decided character, 
went along with him. 3 The two mission- 
aries climbed the mountain, plunged into the 
pine forest, and then descending again into 
the valley, they traversed Valangin, where 
the vicinity of the castle did not give them 
much encouragement to pause, and arrived 
at a village, probably Boudevilliers, propos- 
ing to preach the Gospel there. 4 



1 Here are situated Chaux de Fonds, Locle, &c. 
2 Chambrier, Hist de Neufchatel, p. 276. 

3 Annals of Boyve and a family MS. — This 
family has since given several pasiors to the 
church of Neufchatel. 

4 There are two original manuscripts tboth 
quoted in the Choupart MS.) which give an ac- 
coun' of this transaction. One says that Farel 
preached at Valangin, the other indicates a vil- 



Already on all sides the people were throng- 
ing to the church ; Farel and his companion 
entered also with a small number of the inha- 
bitants who had heard him at Neufchatel 
The reformer immediately ascended the pul- 
pit, and the priest prepared to celebrate the 
Mass. The combat begins. While the voice 
of Farel is preaching Jesus Christ and his 
promises, the voices of the priests and of the 
choir are chanting the missal. The solemn 
moment approaches : the ineffable transub- 
stantiation is about to take place : the priest 
pronounces the sacred words over the ele™ 
ments. At this instant the people hesitate 
no longer ; ancient habits, an irresistible in- 
fluence, draw them towards the altar ; the 
preacher is deserted ; the kneeling crowd ha: v 
recovered its old worship ; Rome is tri- 
umphant Suddenly a young 

man springs from the crowd, — traverses the 
choir, — rushes to the altar, — snatches the 
host from the hands of the priest, and cries, 
as he turns towards the people: "This is 
not the God whom you should worship. 
He is above, — in heaven, — in the majesty 
of the Father, and not, as you believe, in 
the hands of a priest." 1 This man was An- 
thony Boyve. 

Such a daring act at first produced the de- 
sired effect. The Mass was interrupted, the 
chantings ceased, and the crowd, as if struck 
by a supernatural intervention, remained si 
lent and noiseless. Farel, who was still ia 
the pulpit, immediately took advantage of 
this calm, and proclaimed that Christ" whom 
the heaven must receive until the times of 
restitution of all things."- Then the priests 
and choristers with their adherents rushed tc 
the towers, ran up into the belfry, and sound- 
ed the tocsin. 

These means succeeded : a crowd was 
collected, and if Farel had not retired, his 
death and Boyve's would have been inevita 
ble. " But God," says the chronicle, " de- 
livered them." They crossed the interval 
that separates Boudevilliers from Valangin, 
and drew near the steep gorges of the torrent 
of the Seyon. But how traverse that towru 
which the tocsin had already alarmed ] 

Leaving Chaumont and its dark forests tc 
the left, these two heralds of the Gospel took 
a narrow path that wound beneath the castle 
they were stealing cautiously along, when 
suddenly a shower of stones assailed them 
and at the same time a score of individuals 
— priests, men, and women, — armed with 
clubs, fell furiously upon them. " The 
priests had not the gout either in their feet 
or arms," says a chronicler ; " the ministers 
were so beaten that they nearly lost theii 
lives." 3 



lage near Valangin. Ruchat has adopted the 

former version ; J think the latter preferable. 

The second MS. appears to me older and more 

correct than the first. 

1 Choupurt MS. 2 Acts hi. 21. 

i 3 Loo prctrca n'avoieht pas la goutte aux piedo 
I et aux brae, el ilr lr.r buturent tellement que pcu 



556 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Madame de Vergy, who descended to the 
terrace, far from moderating- the anger of the 
priests, cried out : " Drown them ! — drown 
tli em ! — throw them into the Seyon — these 
Lutheran dogs, who have despised the 
Host I" 1 In fact, the priests were begin- 
ning to drag the two heretics towards the 
bridge. Never was Farel nearer death. 

On a sudden, from behind the last rock 
that hides Valangin in the direction of the 
mountain, there appeared " certain good per- 
sons of the Val de Ruz, coming from Neuf- 
chatel," 2 and descending into the valley. 
" What are you doing ?" asked they of the 
priests, with the intention no doubt of saving 
Farel ; " put them rather in a place of safety, 
that they may answer for their proceedings ! 
Would you deprive yourselves of the only 
means in your power of discovering those 
infected by the poison of heresy ?" 

The priests left off at these words, and 
conducted the prisoners to the castle. As 
they were passing before a little chapel, con- 
taining an image of the Virgin, " Kneel 
down," said they to Farel and Boyve, show- 
ing them the statue ; " prostrate yourselves 
before Our Lady !" Farel began to admon- 
ish them.. " Worship one God alone in spirit 
and in truth," said he to them, " and not 
dumb images without life or power." But 
they, continues the chronicle, " greatly vexed 
at his words and his firmness, inflicted on 
him so many blows, that he was covered 
with blood, which even spirted on the walls 
of the chapel. For a long time after the 
traces of it might still be seen." 3 

They resumed their march — they entered 
the town — they climbed the steep road that 
led to the esplanade where Guillemette de 
Vergy and her attendants waited for the 
" Lutherans ;" so that, continues the chroni- 
cle, " from beating them thus continually, 
they conducted them all covered with filth 
and blood to the prisons, and let them down 
almost lifeless into the dungeon (croton) of 
the castle of Valangin." Thus had Paul at 
Lystra been stoned by the Jews, drawn out 
of the city, and left for dead. 4 The Apostles 
and the Reformers preached the same doc- 
trine and suffered the same treatment. 

It may perhaps be said, that Farel and 
Boyve were too violent in their attack ; but 
the Church of the Middle Ages, which had 
fallen back into the legal spirit of Judaism, 
and into all the corruptions that flow from it, 
needed an energetic opposition to lead it 



s'en fallut qu'ils ne perdissent la vie. (Choupart 
MS.) 

1 A l'eau ! a l'eau ! jettez les dans le Seyon 
ces chiens de Lutheriens qui ont meprise le bon 
Dieu ! (Choupart MS.) 

2 Choupart MS. 

3 Choupart MS. Mais eux rudement faches 
de ses propos et constance, lui donnerent tant de 
coups, qu'ils le mirent tout en sang, jusques la 
que son sang jailissoit sur les rnurailles de la cha- 
pelle. On en voyoit long temps apres encore les 
marques. 

4 Acts xiv .19. 



again to the principle of grace. Augustin 
and St. Paul reappeared in the Church of 
the sixteenth century ; and when we read of 
Boyve rushing in great emotion on those 
who were about to worship the bread of the 
Mass, may we not recall to mind the action 
of St. Paul, rending his clothes, and running 
in among the people, who were desirous of 
worshipping " men of like passions with 
themselves ?"' 

Farel and Boyve, thrust into the dungeons 
of the castle, could, like Paul and Silas in 
the prison at Philippi, " sing praises unto 
God." Messire de Bellegarde, ever ready 
to persecute the Gospel, was preparing for 
them a cruel end, when some townsmen of 
Neufclritel arrived to claim them. Madame 
de Valangin dared not refuse, and at the de- 
mand of the Bernese even instituted an in- 
quiry, " to put a good face on the matter," 
says a manuscript. " Nevertheless that 
priest who had beaten Farel most, never after 
failed to eat daily at the lady's table, by way 
But this was of little con- 



of 



recompense. 



sequence : the seed of truth had been sown 
in the Val de Ruz. 

At Neufchatel the Bernese supported the 
Evangelical citizens. The governor, whose 
resources were exhausted, sent ambassadors 
to the princess, " begging her to cross the 
mountains, to appease her people, who were 
in terrible trouble in consequence of this 
Lutheran religion." 3 

Meantime the ferment increased. The 
townspeople prayed the canons to give up 
the Mass : they refused ; whereupon the 
citizens presented them their reasons in 
writing, and begged them to discuss the 
question with Farel. Still the same refusal ! 
— " But, for goodness' sake, speak either for 
or against !" It was all of no use ! 

On Sunday, the 23d of October, Farel, 
who had returned to Neufch tel, was preach- 
ing at the hospital. He knew that the ma- 
gistrates of the city had deliberated on the 
expediency of co -derating the cathedral 
itself to the Evangelical worship. " What 
then," said he, " will you not pay as much 
honour to the Gospel as the other party does 
to the Mass 1 And if this supersti- 
tious act is celebrated in the high church, shall 
not the Gospel be proclaimed there also "1 
At these words all his hearers arose. " To 
the church !" cried they ; " to the church !" 
Impetuous men are desirous of putting their 
heads to work, to accomplish what the pru- 
dence of the burgesses had proposed 14 They 



1 Acts xiv. 14. 

2 Choupart MS. 

3 Letter from the Governor to the Princess. 

4 This is ihe conclusion I draw from various 
papers, and in particular from the report of the 
meeting held at Neufchatel by the Bernese depu- 
ties, in which the heads of the burgesses declare, 
that it appeared to them a very good matter to take 
down the altars, &c. Hitherto only one phasis 
of this action has been seen, — the popular move- 
ment : and the other, namely, the legal resolution 
of the magistrates of the city, seems to have been 
overlooked. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



557 



leave the hospital, and take Farel with them. 
They climb the steep street of the castle : in 
vain would the canons and their frightened 
followers stop the crowd : they force a pas- 
sage. Convinced that they are advancing 
for God's glory, nothing can check them. 
Insults and shouts assail them from every 
side, but in the name of the Truth they are 
defending, they proceed : they open the gates 
of the Church of Our Lady ; they enter, and 
here a fresh struggle begins. The canons 
and their friends assembled around the pul- 
pit endeavour to stop Farel ; but all is use- 
less. They have not to deal with a band of 
rioters. God has pronounced in his Word, 
and the magistrates themselves have passed 
a definitive resolution. The townspeople 
advance, therefore, against the sacerdotal 
coterie ; they form a close battalion, in the 
centre of which they place the Reformer. 
They succeed in making their way through 
the opposing crowd, and at last place the 
minister in the pulpit without any harm be- 
falling him. 1 

Immediately all is calm within the church 
and without ; even the adversaries are si- 
lent, and Farel delivers " one of the most 
effective sermons he had hitherto preached." 
Their eyes are opened ; their emotion in- 
creases ; their hearts are melted ; the most 
obstinate appear converted ; and from every 
part of the old church these cries resound : 
" We will follow the Evangelical religion, 
both we and our children, and in it will we 
live and die." 2 

Suddenly a whirlwind, as it were, sweeps 
over this multitude, and stirs it up like a vast 
sea. Farel's hearers desire to imitate the 
pious King Josiah. 3 " If we take away 
these idols from before our eyes, will it not 
be aiding us," said they, " in taking them 
from our own hearts 1 Once these idols 
broken, how many souls among our fellow- 
citizens, now disturbed and hesitating, will 
be decided by this striking manifestation of 
the truth ! We must save them as it were 
by fire." 4 

This latter motive decides them, and then 
begins a scene that fills the Romanists with 
horror, and which must, according to them, 
bring down the terrible judgment of God on 
the city. 

The very spot where this takes place 
would seem to add to its solemnity. To the 
north the castle-walls rise above the pointed 
crags of the gloomy but picturesque valley 
of the Seyon, and the mountain in front of 
the castle presents to the eye little more than 
bare rocks, vines, and black firs. But to the 
south, beneath the terrace on which this tu- 
multuous scene is passing, extend the wide 
and tranquil waters of the lake, with its fer- 
tile and picturesque shores ; and in the dis- 
tance the continuous summits of the higher 
Alps, with their dazzling snows, their im- 



iphoupart MS. 
2 2 Chron. xxxiv. 7. 



2 Ibid. 

4 Choupart MS. 



mense glaciers, and gigantic peaks, lie beforo 
the enraptured eye. 

On this platform the people of Neufchatel 
were in commotion, paying little attention 
to these noble scenes of nature. The 
governor, whose castle adjoined the church, 
was compelled to remain an idle spectator 
of the excesses that he could not prevent ; 
he was content to leave us a description of 
them. "These daring fellows," ' says he, 
" seize mattocks, hatchets, and hammers, 
and thus march against the images of the 
saints." They advance — they strike the 
statues and the altars — they dash them to 
pieces. The figures carved in the fourteenth 
century by the " imagers" of Count Louis 
are not spared ; and scarcely do the statues 
of the counts themselves, which were mis- 
taken for idols, escape destruction. The 
townspeople collect all these fragments of 
an idolatrous worship; they carry them out 
of the church, and throw them from the top 
of the rock. The paintings meet with no 
better treatment. " It is the devil," thought 
they with the early Christians, " who taught 
the world this art of statues, images, and all 
sorts of likenesses." 1 They tear out the 
eyes in the pictures of the saints, and cut 
off their noses. The crucifix itself is thrown 
down, for this wooden figure usurps the 
homage that Jesus Christ claims in the 
heart. One image, the most venerated of 
all, still remains : it is our Lady of Mercy, 
which Mary of Savoy had presented to the 
collegiated church ; but Our Lady herself 
is not spared. A hand more daring than the 
rest strikes it, as in the fourth century the 
colossal statue of Serapis was struck. 2 " They 
have even bored out the eyes of Our Lady 
of Mercy, which the departed lady your 
mother had caused to be made," wrote the 
governor to the Duchess of Longueville. 

The Reformed went still further : they 
seized the patens in which lay the corpus 
Domini, and flung them from the top of the 
rock into the torrent; after which, being de- 
sirous of showing that the consecrated wafers 
are mere bread, and not God himself, they 
distributed them one to another and ate 

them At this sight the canons and 

chaplains could no longer remain quiet. A 
cry of horror was heard ; they ran up w ith 
their adherents, and opposed force to fcuv.e. 
At length began the struggle that had bevn 
so much dreaded. 

The provost Oliver of Hochberg, the ca- 
nons Simon of Neufchatel and Pontus of 
Soleilant, all three members of the privy 
council, had repaired hastily to the castle, as 
well as the other councillors of the princess. 
Until this moment they had remained silent 
spectators of the scene ; but when they saw 
the two parties were coming to blows, they 
ordered all " the supporters of the Evan- 



1 Diabolum saeculo intulisse artifices sfatuarum 
et imaginum et omnis generis simulacrorum. 
(Tertuliian, de idolatria, cap. 3.) 

2 Socrates v. 16. 



558 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



gelicul doctrine" to appear before the go- 
vernor. This was like trying- to chain the 
winds. Besides, why should the Reformers 
stop 1 They were not acting without legiti- 
mate authority. 1 "Tell the governor," re- 
plied the townspeople haughtily, " that in 
the concerns of God and of our souls he has 
no command over us." 2 

George de Rive then discovered that his 
authority failed against a power superior to 
his own. He must yield, and save at least 
some remnants. He hastened therefore to 
remove the images that still remained, and 
to shut them up in secret chambers. The 
citizens of Neufchatel allowed him to exe- 
cute this measure. " Save your gods," 
thought they, "preserve them under strong 
bars, lest perchance a robber should deprive 
you of the objects of your adoration." 3 By 
degrees the tumult died away, the popular 
torrent returned within its channel, and a 
little after, in commemoration of this great 
day, they inscribed these words on a pillar 
of the church : — 

L'AN 1530, LE 23 OCTOBRE, FUT OTEE ET 
ABATTUE L'lDOLATRIE DE CEANT PAR LES 
BOURGEOIS. 4 

An immense revolution had been effected. 
Doubtless it would have been better if the 
images had been taken awa)^, and the Gospel 
substituted in their place with calmness, as 
at Zurich ; but we must take into conside- 
ration the difficulties that so profound and 
contested a change brings with it, and make 
allowance for the inexperience and excesses 
inseparable from a first explosion. He who 
should see in this revolution its excesses 
only, would betray a singularly narrow mind. 
It is the Gospel that triumphed on the es- 
planade of the castle. It was no longer a 
few pictures or legends that were to speak 
to the imagination of the Neufch .telans : 
the revelation of Christ and of the Apostles, 
as it had been preserved in the Holy Scrip- 
tures, was restored to them. In place of the 
mysteries, symbols, and miracles of Popery, 
the Reformation brought them sublime tenets, 
powerful doctrines, holy and eternal truths. 
Instead of a Mass, void of God, and filled 
with human puerilities, it restored to them 
the Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ, his 
invisible yet real and mighty presence, his 
promises giving peace to the soul, and his 
Spirit, which changes the heart, and is a 
sure pledge of a glorious resurrection. All 
is o-ain in such an exchange. 



1 " Par lesquatredudit Neufchatel," by the Four 
(the municipal authorities) ot the said Neu'chatel, 
remarks the priest Besancenet. See also the 
recess of the council held at Neufchatel by MM. 
of Berne, 4th November, 1530. 

2 The Governor's letter to the Princess. 

3 Cur vos sub validissimis clavibus, ingenti- 
Dusque sub claustris conservatis, ne forte fur 
aliquis irreptat ? (Arnobius contra gentes, vi. p. 
257. 

4 On the 23d of October, 1530, idolatry was 
overthrown and removed from the church by the 
Bitizens. 



VIII. The governor and his trusty friends 
had not, however, lost all hope. " It is only 
a minority," said they at the castle, " which 
has taken part in the destruction of the 
images; the majority of the nation still 
obeys the ancient doctrine." M. de Rive 
had yet to learn that if, in a popular move- 
ment, onty the minority appears, it is in 
some cases because the majority, being of 
the same mind with it, prefers leaving the 
action to others. However that may be, the 
governor, thinking himself upon sure ground, 
resolved to put the preservation of the Mass 
to the vote. If the majority were doubtful, 
the combined influence of the government 
and clergy would make it incline to the side 
of Rome. The friends of the Reformation 
perceiving this trick, and feeling the neces- 
sity of securing the integrity of the votes, 
demanded the presence of Berne's commis- 
sioners. This was at first refused. But 
Neufchatel, divided into two hostile parties, 
might at any time see her streets run blood : 
De Rive therefore called Berne to his aid. 

Anthony Noll and Sulpice Archer, both 
members of the council, with Jacques Tri- 
bolet, bailiff of the Isle of St. John, all three 
devoted to the Reform, made their entry into 
Neufchatel on the 4th November, — an event- 
ful day for the principality, and one which 
would decide on its reformation. The de- 
puties proceeded to the castle, and there 
spoke with haughtiness. 1 "Their excel- 
lencies of Berne," said they to the governor, 
"are much astonished that you should op- 
pose the true and pure Word of God. Desist 
immediately, or else your state and lordship 
may suffer for it." 2 

George de Rive was amazed : he had 
thought to summon helpers, and he had 
found masters. He made, however, an 
attempt to escape from the strait in which 
he was caught. The Roman catholic can- 
tons of Lucerne, Friburg, and Soleure, were 
also allies of the state. The governor in- 
sinuated to the Bernese deputies, that he 
might well claim their intervention. At 
these words the deputies indignantly arose, 
and declared to M. de Rive, that if he did so, 
he might be the cause of his sovereign's 
losing Neufchatel. The governor saw the 
impossibility of escaping from the net into 
which he had fallen. There remained no 
alternative but submission, and to watch the 
current of events which it was impossible 
for him to direct. 

It was not thus with the canons and the 
nobles. Not considering themselves beaten, 
they surrounded the Bernese ; and mingling, 
as they always do in similar cases, religion 
and politics, endeavoured to shake them. 
" Do you not see," said they, "that unless 
we support the spiritual power, we shall 
compromise the civil power? The surest 
bulwark of the throne is the altar ! These 



1 Trois ambassadeurs qui me tinrent assez grofj 
et rudes prooos. (The Governor to the Princess.) 

2 Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



559 



men, M r host> defenders you have become, are 
but a handful of mischief-makers : the ma- 
jority are for the Mass!" — "Turn which 
.way you like," replied one of the stubborn 
Bernese, "even though the majority should 
be on your side, stijl you must go that way ; 
never will our lordships abandon the defend- 
ers of the Evangelical faith." 1 

The people assembled at the castle for the 
definitive vote. The destiny of Neufchatel 
was about to be decided. On one hand were 
crowded around the governor the privy coun- 
cil, the canons, and the most zealous of the 
Romanists ; on the other were to be seen the 
four aldermen, the town-council, and a great 
number of the citizens, gravely ascending 
the steep avenue leading to the government- 
house, and drawing up in front of their ad- 
versaries. On both sides there was the 
same attachment to the faith they had em- 
braced, the same decision ; but around the 
canons were many anxious minds, troubled 
hearts, and downcast eyes, while the friends 
of the Reform advanced with uplifted heads, 
firm looks, and hearts full of hope. 

George de Rive, wishing to gain over 
their minds, began to address them. He 
described the violence with which the Re- 
formed had broken the images, and thrown 
down the altars ; "And yet," continued he, 
" who founded this church 1 It was the 
princess's predecessors, and not the citizens. 
For which reason, I demand that all those 
who have violently infringed our sovereign's 
authority, be obliged to restore what they 
have taken away, so that the holy Mass, 
and the canonical hours may be celebrated 
anew." 2 

Upon this the prudhommes of NeufchUel 
advanced. They were not a troop of young 
and giddy persons, as the Papists had pre- 
tended; they were grave citizens, whose 
liberties were guaranteed, and who had 
weighed what they had to say. " By the 
illumination of the Holy Ghost," replied 
they, " and by the holy doctrines of the 
Gospel, which are taught us in the pure 
Word of God, we will show that the Mass 
is an abuse, without any utility, and which 
conduces much more to the damnation than 
to the salvation of souls. And we are ready 
to prove that by taking away the altars, we 
have done nothing that was not right and 
acceptable to God." 3 

Thus the two parties met face to face with 
" great hatred and division," says the Ber- 
nese report. The arbitrators consulted to- 
gether. The governor persisted, feeling that 
this movement would decide the future. A 
few votes would suffice for the triumph of 
Rome, and he reckoned on gaining them by 
his assurance. "You should understand," 
said he, " that the majority of this town, 
men and women,' adhere firmly to the an- 

i Chambrier, Hist, de Neufchatel, p. 296. (The 
governor's letter. Quand bien le plus sera des 
iotres, si passerez vous par la, &c.) 

2 Choupart MS. ; Reces du MM. de Berne. 

3 Ibid. 



cient faith. The others are hotheaded young 
soldiers, vain of their persons, and puffed up 
with the new doctrine." 1 — " Well !" replied 
the Bernese deputies, "to prevent all mis- 
chief, let us settle this difference by the 
plurality of suffrages, in accordance with the 
treaty of peace made at Bremgarten between 
the cantons." 

This was what the Reformed desired. 
" The vote ! the vote !" cried they, accord- 
ing to the expression consecrated to such 
cases. 2 But the Lord of Prangins and the 
priests, who had desired it when they were 
alone, shrunk back in the presence of Berne. 
" We ask for time," said they. If the Re- 
formed allowed themselves to be cheated by 
these dilatory measures, it was all over. 
When once the Bernese had quitted Neuf- 
chatel, the governor and the clergy would 
easily have the upperhand. They therefore 
remained firm. " No, no !" said they, " now ! 
— no delay ! — not a day ! not an hour !" But 
the governor, in the face of a proceeding 
that would decide the legal fall of Popery, 
trembled, and obstinately opposed the cries 
of the people. The magistrates were al- 
ready indignant, the burghers murmured, 
and the most violent looked at their swords. 
" They were resolved to compel us, sword 
in hand," wrote the governor to the princess. 
A fresh storm was gathering over Neuf- 
ch itel. Yet a few more minutes' resistance, 
and it would burst forth upon the church, 
the town, and the castle, destroying not 
only statues, images, and altars, but "there 
would have remained dead men," said the 
lord of Rive. 3 He gave way in trouble and 
affright. 

At the news of this concession, the par- 
tisans of Rome saw all their danger. They 
confer, they concert their measures, and in 
an instant their resolution is taken : they 
are resolved to fight. 4 " My lord," said they, 
turning to M. de Rive, and touching the hilt 
of their swords, "all of us who adhere to the 
holy Sacrament are resolved to die martyrs 
for our holy faith." 5 This demonstration did 
not escape the notice of the young soldiers 
who had returned from the Genevese war. 
One minute more and the swords would 
have been drawn, and the platform changed 
into a battlefield." 

Monseigneur de Prangins, more wily than 
orthodox, shuddered at the thought. "I 
cannot suffer it," said he to the most violent 
of his party ; " such an enterprise would 
forfeit my mistress's state and lordship." 6 — 
" I consent," said he to the Bernese, " to 
take the votes, with reserve nevertheless of 
the sovereignty, rights, and lordship of Ma- 
dame." — "And we," replied the towns- 



1 Devez entendre que la pluspart de cette ville, 
hommes et femmes, tiennent fermement a l'an- 
cienne foi. Les autres sont jeunes gens de guerre, 
forts de leurs personnes, rcmplis de la nouvelle 
doctrine, ayants le feu a la tete. (Ibid.) 

2 Le plus, the majority. 

3 The Governor's letter to the Princess. 

4 Ibid. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid. 



560 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



people, " with the reserve of our liberties 
and privileges." 

The Romanists, seeing the political power 
they had invoked now failing them, felt that 
all was lost. They will save their honour 
at least in this great shipwreck ; they will 
subscribe their names, that posterity may 
know who had remained faithful to Rome. 
These proud supporters of the hierarchy ad- 
vance towards the governor; tears course 
their rough cheeks, betraying thus their 
stifled anger. They write their signatures 
as witnesses at the foot of the solemn testa- 
ment that Popery is now drawing up in 
Neufchatel, in the presence of the Bernese 
deputies. They then added, with tears in 
their eyes, " that the names and surnames 
of the good and of the perverse had been 
written in perpetual memory, and declared 
that they were still good and faithful burgh- 
ers of Madame, and would do her service 
unto death." 1 

The reformed townspeople were convinced 
that it was only by frankly bearing testimony 
to their religious convictions that they could 
discharge their debt before God, their sove- 
reign, and their fellow-citizens. So that the 
Catholics had scarcely protested their fidelity 
towards their lady, when, turning towards 
the governor, the Reformed cried out : " We 
say the same in every other thing in which 
t shall please our Mistress to command us, 
save and except the Evangelical faith, in 
which we will live and die." 2 

Everything was then prepared for taking 
the votes. The church of our lady was 
opened, and the two parties advanced be- 
tween the shattered altars, torn pictures, 
mutilated statues, and all those ruins of 
Popery, which clearly foretold to its parti- 
sans the last and irrevocable defeat it was 
about to undergo. The three Lords of 
Berne took their station beside the governor 
as arbitrators of the proceedings and presi- 
dents of the assembly, and the voting began. 

George de Rive, notwithstanding the de- 
spondency of his friends, was not altogether 
without hope. All the partisans of the an- 
cient worship in Neifchatel had been fore- 
warned ; and but a lew days previously the 
Reformed themselves, by refusing the voting, 
had acknowledged the numerical superiority 
of their adversaries. But the friends of the 
Gospel in Neufchatel had a courage and a 
hope that seemed to repose on a firmer basis. 
Were they not the victorious party, and could 
they be- vanquished in the midst of their 
triumph] 

The two parties, however, moved forward, 
confounded one with the other, and each 



1 Alors iceux dirent en pleurant que les noms 
et les surnoms des bons et des pervers fussent 
ecrits en perpetuelle memoire, et qu'ils protestoi- 
ent etre bons et fideles bourgeois de Madame, et 
lui faire service jusqu' a la mort. 

1 Governor's letter. Nous disons le semblable 
en toute autre chose oil il plaira a Madame nous 
commander, sauf et reserve icelle foi evangelique, 
dans laquelle nous voulons vivre et moujir. 



man gave his vote in silence. They counted 
each other : the result appeared uncertain , 
fear froze each party by turns. At length 
the majority seemed to declare itself; — they, 
took out the votes, — the result was pro- 
claimed. A majority of eighteen voices 
gave the victory to the Reformation, and 
the last blow to the Papacy ! 

The Bernese lords immediately hastened 
to profit by this advantage. " Live hence- 
forth," said they, "in good understand ing 
with one another; let the Mass be no longe» 
celebrated; let no injury be done to the 
priests ; and pay to your Lady, or to whom- 
soever they may be justly due, all tithes, 
quit-rent, cense, and revenues." These dif- 
ferent points were proclaimed by the assem- 
bly, and a report was immediately drawn up, 
to which the deputies, the governors, and 
the magistrates of the city of Neufchatel 
affixed their respective seals. 1 

Farel did not appear in all this business : 
one might have said that the reformer was 
not at Neufchatel : the citizens appealed 
only to the Word of God ; and the governor 
himself, in his long report to the princess, 
does not once mention him. It was the Apos- 
tles of our Lord, St. Peter, St. John, St. Paul, 
and St. James, who by their divine writings 
re-established the true foundations of the 
Church in the midst of the people of Neuf- 
chatel. The Word of God was the law of 
the prudhommes of Neufchatel. In vain will 
the Roman Church say, "But these very 
Scriptures, — it is I who give them to you ; 
you cannot therefore believe in them without 
believing in me." It is not from the Church 
of Rome that the Protestant Church receives 
the Bible. Protestantism has always existed 
in the Church. It has existed alone in 
every place where men have been engaged 
in the study of the Holy Scriptures, of their 
divine origin, of their interpretation, and in 
their dissemination. The Protestantism of 
the sixteenth century received the Bible 
from the Protestantism of every age. When 
I Rome speaks of the hierarchy, she is on her 
; own ground : as soon as she speaks of the 
i Scriptures, she is on ours. If Farel had 
i been put forward in Neufchatel, he would 
I not perhaps have been able to stand against 
| the Pope ; but the Word of Christ alone was 
concerned, and Rome must fall before Jesus. 
Thus terminated, by a mutual contract, 
that day at first so threatening. If the Re- 
formed had sacrificed any of their convictions 
to a false peace, disorder would have been 
perpetuated in Neufchatel. A bold mani- 
festation of the truth and the inevitable 
shocks that acccompanied it, far from de- 
stroying society, preserved it. This mani- 
festation is the wind that lifts the vessel 
from the rocks and brings it into the harbour. 
The Lord of Prangins felt that, between 
fellow-citizens, "it is better to touch one 



1 Reces de MM. de Berne, MS. Et que l'on 
paie a Madame ou a qui i] sera du justement 
dimes, cens, rentes et revenus. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



561 



another, even if it be by collision, than to 
avoid each other continually." The free 
explanation that had taken place had ren- 
dered the opposition of the two parties less 
irritating. "I give my promise," said the 
governor, "to undertake nothing against the 
vote of tnis day, for I am myself a witness 
tnat it has been honest, upright, without 
danger, and without coercion." 1 

It was necessary to dispose of the spoils 
of the vanquished party : the governor opened 
the castle to them. Thither were trans- 
ported the relics, the ornaments of the 
altars, the church papers, and even the 
organ ; and the Mass, expelled from the 
city, was there mournfully chaunted every 
day. 

All the ornaments, however, did not take 
this road. Some days after, as two citizens, 
named Fauche and Sauge, were going out 
together to their vineyards, they passed a 
little chapel, in which the latter had set up 
a wooden figure of St. John. He said to 
his companion, " There is an image I shall 
heat my stove with to-morrow." And, in 
fact, as he returned, he carried away the 
saint and laid it down in front of his house. 

The next morning he took the image and 
put it on the fire. Immediately a horrible 
explosion spread dismay through this hum- 
ble family. The trembling Fauche doubts 
not that it is a miracle of the saint, and 
hastens to ieturn to the Mass. In vain does 
his neighbour Sauge protest to him upon 
oath that, during the night, he had made a 
hole in the statuo, filled it with gunpowder, 
and closed it up again. Fauche will listen 
to nothing, and resolves to flee from the 
vengeance of the saints. He went and set- 
tled with his family at Morteau in Franche 
Comtc. 2 Such are the miracles upon which 
the divinity of Rome reposes ! 

By degrees everything became settled : 
some of the canons, as Jacques Baillod, 
Wiliam de Pury, and Benedict Chambrier, 
embraced the Reformation. Others were 
recommended by the governor to the priory 
of Motiers, in the Val de Travers; and, in 
the middle of November, at the time when 
the winds begin to rage among the mountains, 
several canons, surrounded by a few singing- 
boys, — sad relics of the ancient, powerful, 
rich, voluptuous, and haughty chapter of 
Neufchatel, painfully climbed up the gorges 
of the Jura, and went to conceal in these 
lofty and picturesque valleys the disgrace 
of a defeat, which their long disorders and 
their insupportable tyranny had but too 
justly provoked. 

During this time the new worship, was 
organized. In room of the high-altar were 
substituted two marble tables to receive the 
bread and wine ; and the Word of God was 
preached from a pulpit stripped of every 
ornament. The pre-eminence of the Word, 



1 Ungefahrlich, ungezwringen, aufrecht und 
redlich. (Berne to the Governor, 17th Dec. 1530/ 

2 Boyve Annals, MS. 



which characterizes the Evangelical worship, 
replaced in the church of Neufchatel the pre- 
eminence of the sacrament, which charac- 
terizes Popery. Towards the end of the 
second century, Rome, that ancient metro- 
polis of all religions, after having welcomed 
the christian worship in its primitive purity, 
had gradually transformed it into mysteries; 
a magic power had been ascribed to certain 
forms ; and the reign of the sacrifice offered 
by the priest had succeeded to the reign of 
the Word of God. The preaching of Farel 
had restored the Word to the rights which 
belong to it; and those vaulted roofs, which 
the piety of Count Ulric II. had, on his re- 
turn from Jerusalem, dedicated to the wor- 
ship of the Virgin, served at last, after four 
centuries, to nourish the faithful, as in the 
time of the Apostles, " in the words of faith 
and of good doctrine." 1 

IX. The convention, drawn up under the 
mediation of Berne, stipulated that "th<- 
change should take place only in the city 
and parish of Neufchatel." Must the rest 
of the country remain in darkness 1 This 
was not Farel's wish, and the zeal of the 
citizens, in its first fervour, effectually se- 
conded him. They visited the surrounding 
villages, exhorting some, combating others. 
Those who were compelled to labour with 
their hands during the day went thither at 
night. "Now, I am informed," writes the 
governor to the princess, " that they are 
working at a reformation night and day." 

George de Rive, in alarm, convoked the 
magistrates of all the districts in the earl- 
dom. These good folks believed that their 
consciences, as well as their places, de- 
pended upon Madame de Longueville. Af- 
frighted at the thought of freely receiving 
a new conviction from the Word of God, 
they were quite ready to accept it from the 
countess as they would a new impost. A 
sad helotism, in which religion springs from 
the soil, instead of descending from heaven ! 
"We desire to live and die under the pro- 
tection of our lady," said the magistrates to 
the Lord of Rive, " without changing the 
ancient faith, until it be so ordered by ker.' n 
Rome, even after her fall, could not receive 
a deeper insult. 

These assurances of fidelity, and the ab- 
sence of the Bernese, restored De Rive's 
confidence, and he secretly prepared a reac- 
tion among the nobles and the lower classes. 
There is in every historical catastrophe, in 
the fall of great establishments, and in the 
spectacle of their ruins, something which 
excites and improves the mind. This was 
what happened at the period in question. 
Some were more z&alous for Popery after its 
fall than in its day of power. The priests 
gliding into the houses said Mass to a few 
friends mysteriously called together around 

1 1 Tim. iv. 6. 

2 Choupart MS. Ncrus voulons vivre et mourir 
sous la protection de Madame, sans changer l'an- 
cienne ^oiyjusqu' a ce que par ellc en soit ordonni. 



662 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a temporary altar. If a child was born, the 
priest noiselessly arrived, breathed on the 
infant, made the sign of the cross on its 
forehead and breast, and baptized it accord- 
ing- to the Roman ritual. 1 Thus they were 
rebuilding - in secret what had been over- 
thrown in the light of day. At length a 
counter-revolution was agreed upon; and 
Christmas day was selected for the resto- 
ration of Roman-catholicism. While the 
Christians' songs of joy should be rising- to 
heavt n, the partisans of Rome were to rush 
into the church, expel the heretical assem- 
bly, overthrow the pulpit and the holy table, 
restore the images, and celebrate the Mass 
in triumph. Such was the plan of the Neuf- 
chatelan vespers. 2 

The plot got wind. Deputies from Berne 
arrived at Neufchatel on the very eve of the 
festival. " You must see to this," said they 
to the governor : " if the Reformed are at- 
tacked, we, their coburghers, will protect 
them with all our power." The conspira- 
tors laid down their arms, and the Christmas 
hymns were not disturbed. 

This signal deliverance augmented the 
devotion and zeal of the friends of the Gos- 
pel. Already Emer Beynon of Serriere, 
where Farel had one day landed from a 
small boat, ascending the pulpit, had said 
to his parishioners : " If I have been a good 
Driest, I desire by the grace of God to be a 
still better pastor." It was necessary for 
these words to be heard from every pulpit. 
Farel recommenced a career of labours, fa- 
tigues, and struggles, which the actions of 
the apostles and missionaries alone can equal. 

Towards the end of the year 1530, he 
crossed the mountain in the middle of win- 
ter, entered the church of Valangin, went 
into the pulpit, and began to preach at the 
very moment that Guillemette de Vergy was 
coming to Mass. She endeavoured to shut 
the. reformer's mouth, but in vain, and the 
aged and noble dowager retired precipitately, 
saying : " I do not think this is according to 
the old Gospels ; if there are any new ones 
that encourage this, I am quite amazed." 3 
The people of Valangin embraced the Gos- 
pel. The affrighted lieutenant ran to Neuf- 
chatel, thence to Berne, and on the 11th 
February, 1521, laid his complaint before 
the council; but all was useless. "Why," 
said their excellencies of Berne to him, 
•'why should you disturb the water of the 
river? let it flow freely on." 

Farel immediately turned to the parishes 
on the slopes between the lake and Mount 
Jura. At Corcelles a fanatic crowd, well 
armed and led on by the curate of Neufcha- 
tel. rushed into the church where the min- 
ister was preaching, and he did not escape 
witnout a wound. At Bevay, the abbot 

1 Berne to Neufchatel, 17th December. 

2 Berne to the Governor, 23d December. 

3 Chambrier, Hist, de Neufchatel et Valangin, 
p. 299. Je ne crois pas que ce soit selon les 
vieux evangiles ; s' 1 y en a de nouveaux qui fas- 
sent cela faire, j'er. suis esbahie. 



John of Livron and his monks, collected a 
numerous body of friends, surrounded the 
church, and having thus completed the 
blockade, entered the building, dragged the 
minister from the pulpit, and drove him out 
with blows and insults. Each time he re- 
appeared, they pursued him as far as Auver 
nier with stones and gun-shots. 

While Farel was thus preaching in the 
plain, he sent one of his brethren into the 
valley ; it was John de B^ly, a man of good 
family from Crest in Dauphiny. Beyond 
Valangin, at a little distance from Fontaine, 
on the left side of the road to Cernier, was a 
stone that remains to this day. It was here 
in the open air, as if in a magnificent tem- 
ple, that this herald of the Gospel began to 
proclaim salvation by grace. 1 Before him 
stretched the declivity of Chaumont, dotted 
with the pretty villages of Fenin, Villars, 
Sole, and Savagnier, and beyond, where the 
mountains fell away, might be seen the dis- 
tant and picturesque chain of the Alps. The 
most zealous of his hearers entreated him to 
enter the church. He did so ; but suddenly 
the priest and his curate "arrived with great 
noise." They proceeded to the pulpit, 
dragged Bely down ; and then turning to 
the women and young persons of the place, 
" excited them to beat him and drive him 
away " 2 

John de B ly returned to Neufchatel, 
hooted and bruised, like his friend after the 
affair at Valangin ; but these evangelists fol- 
lowed the traces of the Apostle Paul, whom 
neither whips nor scourges could arrest. 3 
De Bely often returned to Fontaine. The 
Mass was abolished ere long in this village ; 
Bely was its pastor for twenty-seven years ; 
his descendants have more than once exer- 
cised the ministry there, and now they form 
the most numerous family of agriculturists 
in the place. 

Farel, after evangelizing the shores of the 
lake to the south of Neufchatel, had gone 
to the north and preached at St. Blaise. The 
populace, stirred up by the priests and the 
lieutenant, had fallen upon him, and Farel 
escaped from their hands, severely beaten, 
spitting blood, and scarcely recognisable. 
His friends had thrown him hurriedly into a 
boat, and conveyed him to Morat, where his 
wounds detained him for some time. 4 

At the report of this violence the reformed 
Neufchatelans felt their blood boil. If the 
lieutenant, the priest, and his flock have 
bruised the body of Christ's servant, which 
is truly the altar of the living God, why 
should they spare dead idols 1 Immediately . 
they rush to St. Blaise, throw down the im- 
ages, and do the same at the abbey of Fon- 



1 It does not appear that Bely could have stood 
and preached on this stone, as is generally said, 
unless what now remains is but a fragment of the 
original. 

2 MS. AA. in the Choupart MS. 

3 2 Cor xi. 24, 25. 

4 De Perrot : L'Eglise et la Reformation ii. p. 
233. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



563 



tame-Andre, — a sanctuary of the ancient 
worship. 

The images still existed at Valangin, but 
their last hour was about to strike. A French- 
man, Anthony Marcourt, had been nominated 
pastor of Neufchatel. , Treading in Farel's 
footsteps, he repaired, with a few of the citi- 
zens, to Valangin on the 14th June, a great 
holiday in that town. 1 Scarcely had they 
arrived when a numerous crowd pressed 
around the minister, listening to his words. 
The canons, who were on the w T atch in their 
houses, and Madame de Vergy and M. de 
Bellegarde from their towers, sought how 
they could make a diversion against this 
heretical preaching. They could not em- 
■ploy force because of Berne. They had 
recourse to a brutal expedient, worthy of the 
darkest days of Popery, and which, by in- 
sulting the minister, might divert (they 
imagined) the attention of the people, and 
change it into shouts and laughter. A canon, 2 
assisted by the countess's coachman, went 
to the stables and took thence two animals, 
which they led to the spot where Marcourt 
was preaching. We will throw a veil over 
this scene : it is one of those disgraceful 
subjects which the pen of history refuses to 
transcribe. 3 But never did punishment fol- 
low closer upon crime. The conscience of 
the hearers was aroused at the sight of this 
infamous spectacle. The torrent, that such 
a proceeding was intended to check, rushed 
out of its channel. The indignant people, 
undertaking the defence of that religion 
which their opponents had wished to insult, 
entered the church like an avenging wave; 
the ancient windows were broken, the shields 
of the lords were demolished, the relics scat- 
tered about, the books torn, the images thrown 
down, and the altar overturned. But this 
was not enough : the popular wave, after 
sweeping out the church, flowed back again, 
and dashed against the canons' houses. Their 
inhabitants fled in consternation into the for- 
ests, and every thing was destroyed in their 
dwellings. 

Guillemette de Vergy and M. de Belle- 
garde, agitated and trembling behind their 
battlements, repenting, but too late, of their 
monstrous expedient, are the only ones who 
have not yet suffered the popular vengeance. 
Their restless eyes watch the motion of the 
indignant townspeople. The work is com- 
pleted ! the last house is sacked ! The 
burghers consult together. — Q horror! — 
they turn towards the castle, — they ascend 
the hill, — they draw near. Is then the abode 
of the noble counts of Arberg about to be 



i This incident is generally attributed to Farel, 
but Choupart, following an older manuscript, 
says, le ministre de Neufchatel, by which title he 
always means Marcourt, and never Farel. 

2 Some historians say " the coachman of the 
countess ;" but Choupart, on three different oc- 
casions, writes a canon. The latter is no doubt 
more revolting ; but there is nothing incredible 
in it. 

* De equo admissario loquitur qui equam init. 

37 



laid waste 1 But no!- — "We come,", said 
the delegates standing near the gate of the 
castle, "we are come to demand justice for 
the outrage committed against religion and 
its minister." They are permitted to enter, 
and the trembling countess orders the poor 
wretches to be punished who had acted 
solely by her orders. But at the same time 
she sends deputies to Berne, complaining of 
the "great insults that had been offered 
her." 1 Berne declared that the Reformed 
should pay for the damage; but that the 
countess should grant them the free exercise 
of their worship. Jacques Veluzat, a native 
of Champagne, was the first pastor of Va- 
langin. A little later we shall see new 
struggles at the foot of Mount Jura. 

Thus was the Reformation established at 
Valangin, as it had been at Neufchatel : the 
two capitals of these mountains were gained 
to the Gospel. Ere long it received a legal 
sanction. Francis, Marquis of Rothelin, son 
of the Duchess of Longueville, arrived in 
the principality in March, 1531, with the 
intention of playing on this small theatre 
the part of a Francis I. But he soon found 
out that there are revolutions which an irre- 
sistible hand has accomplished, and that 
must be submitted to. Rothelin excluded 
from the estates of the earldom the canons 
who had hitherto formed the first power, 
and replaced them by four bannerets and 
four burgesses. Then, availing himself of 
the principle that all abandoned property 
falls to the state, he laid his hands upon 
their rich heritage, and proclaimed freedom 
of conscience throughout all the country. 
All the necessary forms having been ob- 
served with Madame, the politic M. de Rive 
became reformed also. Such was the sup- 
port Rome received from the State, to which 
she had looked for her deliverance. 

A great energy characterized the Refor- 
mation of French Switzerland ; and this is 
shown by the events we have just witnessed. 
Men have attributed to Farel this distinctive 
feature of his work; but no man has ever 
created his own times ; it is always, on the 
contrary, the times that create the man. 
The greater the epoch, the less do individu- 
alities prevail in it. All the good contained 
in the events we have just related came from 
that Almighty Spirit, of which the strongest 
men are but weak instruments. All the evil 
proceeded from the character of the people ; 
and, indeed, it was almost always Popery 
that began these scenes of violence. Farel 
submitted to the influence of his time, rather 
than the time received his. A great man 
may be the personification and the type of 
the epoch for which God destines him : he 
is never its creator. 

But it is time to quit the Jura and its beau- 
tiful valleys, brightened by the vernal sun, 
to direct our step towards the Alps of Ger- 
man Switzerland, along which thick clouds 

1 Curate of Bezancenet's chronicle. Des graida 
vituperes qu'on lui avait faits. 



564 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



and horrible tempests are beginning to ga- 
ther. The free and courageous people, who 
dwell below the eternal glaciers, or on the 
smiling banks of the lakes, daily assume a 



fiercer aspect, and the collision threatens to 
be sudden, violent, and terrible. We have 
just been witnessing a glorious conquest: a 
dreadful catastrophe awaits us. 



BOOK XVI. 



SWITZERLAND CATASTROPHE. 



1528—1531. 



Christian Warfare — Zwingle — -Persecutions — Austrian Alliance — Animosity — Christian Exhortation — 
Keyser's Martyrdom — Zwingle and War — Zwingle's Error — Zwingle's Advice — War of Religion 
—Zwingle joins the Army — War — The Landamman JEbli — Bernese Interposition — Swiss Cordiality 
— The Zurich Camp — A Conference — Peace Restored — Austrian Treaty Torn — Zwingle's Hymn- 
Nuns of St. Catherine — Conquests of Reform — the Priest of Zurzack — The Reform in Glaris — 
Italian Bailiwicks — the Monk of Como — The Monk of Locarno — Letter to the German Church — 
— The Monks of Wettingen — Abbe of St. Gall — Kiliankouffi — Soleure — A New Miracle — Popery 
Triumphs — The Grisons Invaded — Forebodings to Berne — Mutual Errors— Failure of the Diet — 
Political Reformation — Activity of Zurich — Diet at Arau — Blockade of the Waldsleddtes — Indigna- 
tion — France Conciliates — Diet at Bremgarten — The Five Cantons Inflexible — Zurich — Zwingle's 
False Position — The Great Council — Zwingle at Bremgarten — The Apparition — Zwingle's Agony- 
Frightful Omens — The Comet — Zwingle's Tranquillity — New Mediations — Deceitful Calm — Fatal 
Inactivity — Zurich forewarned — Manifesto of the Cantons — The Abbot Wolfgang — Infatuation of 
Zurich — The War Begins — A Fearful Night — The War — Army of Zurich — Zwingle's Departure — 
Anna Zwingle — Army of Zurich — Battle of Cappel — The March — Ambuscade — The Banner in 
Danger — The Banner saved — Terrible Slaughter — Slaughter of the Pastors — Zwingle's Last Mo- 
ments — Barbarity of the Victors — The Furnace of Trial — Distress — Zwingle is Dead — Funeral 
Oration — Army of Zurich — Another Reverse — Inactivity of the Bernese — Joy of the Romanists — 
End of the War — Death of fficolampadius — Conclusion. 



I. It was the will of God that at the very- 
gates of his revived Church there should be 
two great examples to serve as lessons for 
future generations. Luther and the German 
Reformation, declining the aid of temporal 
power, rejecting the force of arms, and look- 
ing for victory only in the confession of the 
truth, were destined to see their faith 
crowned with the most brilliant success ; 
while Zwingle and the Swiss Reformation, 
stretching out their hands to the mighty- 
ones of the earth, and grasping the sword, 
were fated to witness a horrible, cruel, and 
bloody catastrophe fall upon the Word of 
God — a catastrophe which threatened to en- 
gulf the Evangelical cause in the most 
furious whirlpool. God is a jealous God, 
and gives not his glory to another ; he claims 
to perform his own work himself, and to 
attain his ends sets other springs in motion 
than those of a skilful diplomacy. 

We are far from forgetting that we are 
called upon to relate facts and not to discuss 
theories ; but there is a principle which the 
history we are narrating sets forth in capital 
letters : it is that professed in the Gospel, 
where it says : The weapons of our war- 
fare ARE NOT CARNAL, BUT MIGHTY THROUGH 

God ! In maintaining this truth we do not 
place ourselves on the ground of any par- 
ticular school, but on that of universal con- 
science and of the Word of God. 

Of all carnal support that religion can in- 
voke, there is none more injurious to it than 
arms and diplomacy. The latter throws it 
into tortuous ways ; the former hurries it 



into paths of bloodshed; and Religion, from 
whose brow has been torn the double wreath 
of truth and meekness, presents but a de- 
graded and humiliated countenance that no 
person can, that no person desires to recog- 
nise. 

It was the very extension of the Reform 
in Switzerland that exposed it to the dangers 
under which it sunk. So long as it was 
concentrated at Zurich, it continued a reli- 
gious matter ; but when it had gained Berne, 
Basle, Schaffhausen, St. Gall, Glaris, Ap- 
penzell, and numerous bailiwicks, it formed 
inter-cantonal relations ; and — here was the 
error and misfortune— while the connexion 
should have taken place between church and 
church, it was formed between state and 
state. 

As soon as spiritual and political matters 
became mingled together, the latter took the 
upperhand. Zwingle ere long thought it his 
duty to examine not only doctrinal, but also 
federal questions; and the illustrious re- 
former might be seen, unconscious of the 
snares beneath his feet, precipitating him- 
self into a course strewn with rocks, at the 
end of which a cruel death awaited him. 

The primitive Swiss cantons had resigned 
the right of forming new alliances without 
the consent of all ; but Zurich and Berne 
had reserved the power. Zwingle thought 
himself therefore quite at liberty to promote 
an alliance with the Evangelical states. 
Constance was the first city that gave her 
adhesion. But this christian co-burghery, 
which might become the germ of a new 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



565 



confederation, immediately raised up nume- 
rous adversaries against Zwingle, even 
among the partizans of the Reformation. 

There was yet time : Zwingle might with- 
draw from public affairs, to occupy himself 
entirely with those of ,the Gospel. But no 
one in Zurich had, like him, that application 
to labour, that correct, keen, and sure eye, 
so necessary for politicians. If he retired, 
the vessel of the state would be left with- 
out a pilot. Besides, he was convinced that 
political acts alone could save the Reform. 
He resolved, therefore, to be at one and the 
same time the man of the State and of the 
Church. The registers prove that in his 
latter years he took part in the most impor- 
tant deliberations ; and he was commissioned 
by the council of his canton to write letters, 
compose proclamations, and draw up opin- 
ions. Already, before the dispute with 
Berne, looking upon war as possible, he had 
traced out a very detailed plan of defence, 
the manuscript of which is still in existence. 1 
In 1528 he did still more; he showed in a 
remarkable paper, how the republic should 
act with regard to the Empire, France, and 
other European states, and with respect to 
the several cantons and bailiwicks. Then, 
•is if he had grown grey at the head of the 
Helvetic troops (and it is but just to remark 
that he had long lived among soldiers), he 
explained the advantages there would be in 
surprising the enemy ; and he described even 
the nature of the arms, and the manner of 
employing them. In truth, an important 
revolution was then taking place in the art 
of war. The pastor of Zurich is at once the 
head of the state and general of the army : 
this double — this triple part of the reformer 
was the ruin of the Reformation and of him- 
self. Undoubtedly we must make allow- 
ances for the men of this age, who, being 
accustomed to see Rome wield two swords 
for so many centuries, did not understand 
that they must take up one and leave the 
other. We must admire the strength of 
that superior genius, which, while pursuing 
a political course, in which the greatest 
minds would have been absorbed, ceased 
not however to display an indefatigable ac- 
tivity as pastor, preacher, divine, and author. 
We must acknowledge that the republican 
education of Zwingle had taught him to con- 
found his country with his religion, and that 
there was in this great man . enough to fill 
up many lives. We must appreciate that 
indomitable courage which, relying upon 
justice, feared not, at a time when Zurich 
had but one or two Weak cities for allies, to 
confront the redoubtable forces of the Em- 
pire and of the Confederation ; but we should 
also see in the great and terrible lesson that 
God gave him, a precept for all times and 
for every nation ; and finally, understand 
what is so often forgotten, " that the king- 
dom of Christ is not of this world." 

The Roman-catholic cantons, on hearing 

1 Escher e* Hottinger, Archives, ii. p. 263. 



of the new alliances of the Reformed, felt a 
violent indignation. William of Diesbach, 
deputy from Berne at the diet, was forced to 
submit to the keenest reproaches. The sit- 
ting, for some time interrupted, was resumed 
immediately after his departure. " They may 
try to patch up the old faith," said the Ber- 
nese, as he withdrew, "it cannot, however, 
last any longer." 1 In truth, they patched 
away with all their might, but with a sharp 
and envenomed needle that drew blood. 
Joseph Am Berg of Schwytz, and Jacques 
Stocker of Zug, bailiffs of Thurgovia, treat- 
ed with cruelty all who were attached to the 
Gospel. They enforced against them fines, 
imprisonment, torture, the scourge, confis- 
cation, and banishment ; they cut out the 
ministers' tongues, beheaded them, or con- 
demned them to be burnt. 2 At the same 
time they took away the Bibles and all the 
evangelical books ; and if any poor Luther- 
ans, fleeing- from Austria, crossed the Rhine, 
and that low valley where its calm waters 
flow between the Alps of the Tyrol and of 
Appenzell, — if these poor creatures, tracked 
by the lansquenets, came to seek a refuge 
in Switzerland, they were cruelly given up 
to their persecutors. 

The heavier lay the hands of the bailiff 
on Thurgovia and the Rhienthal, the greater 
conquests did the Gospel make. The Bishop 
of Constance wrote to the Five Cantons, 
that if they did not act with firmness, all 
the country would embrace the Reform. In 
consequence of this, the cantons convoked 
at Frauenfeld all the prelates, nobles, judges, 
and persons of note in the district; and a 
second meeting taking place six da}^s after 
(6th December, 1528,) at Weinfeld, depu- 
ties from Berne and Zurich entreated the 
assembly to consider the honour of God 
above all things, and in no respect to care 
for the threats of the world. 3 A great agita- 
tion followed upon this discourse. At last 
a majority called for the preaching of the 
Word of God : the people came to the same 
decision ; and the Rheinthal, as well as 
Bremgarten, followed this example. 

What, was to be done? The flood had 
become hourly encroaching. Must then the 
Forest Cantons open their valleys to it at 
last"? Religious antipathies put an end to 
national antipathies ; and these proud moun- 
taineers, directing their looks beyond the 
Rhine, thought of invoking the succour of 
Austria, which they had vanquished at Mor- 
garten and at Sempach. 4 The fanatical Ger- 
man party that had crushed the revolted 
Swabian peasants was all-powerful on the 
frontiers. Letters were exchanged ; mes- 
sengers passed to and fro across the river; 
at last they took advantage of a wedding in 



1 Mdgen sie blatzen am alten Glauben. (Hot- 
tinger, Zwingli, p. 3S9.) 

2 Die Zungen geschlitzt, mit dem Schwerdt 
richten und verbrannt. (Bull. ii. p. 31.) 

3 Die Eer Gottes, uwer Seelen Heil. (Bulling, 
Chron. ii. p. 2S.) 

4 Tbid. p. 48. 



566 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



high raiiK that was to take place at Feldkirch 
in Swahia, six leagues from Appenzell. On 
the 16th February, 1529, the marriage party, 
forming a brilliant cavalcade, in the midst 
of which the deputies of the Five Cantons 
were concealed, made their entry into Feld- 
kirch, and Am Berg had an immediate inter- 
view with the Austrian governor. " The 
power of the enemies of our ancient faith 
has so increased," said the Swiss, " that the 
friends of the Church can resist them no 
longer. We therefore turn our eyes to that 
illustrious prince who has saved in Germany 
the faith of our fathers." 

This alliance was so very unnatural, that 
the Austrians had some difficulty in believ- 
ing it to be sincere. " Take hostages," said 
the Waldstettes, " write the articles of the 
treaty with your own hands ; command, and 
we will obey !" " Very good !" replied the 
Austrians ; " in two months you find us again 
at Waldshut, and we will let you know our 
conditions." 

A rumour of these negotiations being 
spread abroad excited great dissatisfaction, 
even in the partisans of Rome. In no place 
did it burst out with greater force than in 
the council of Zug. The opposing parties 
were violently agitated ; they stamped their 
feet, they started from their seats, and were 
nearly coming to blows ; but hatred prevailed 
over patriotism. The Waldstette deputies 
appeared at Waldshut; they suspended the 
arms of their cantons by the side of those 
of the oppressors of Switzerland ; they de- 
corated their hats with peacocks' feathers 
(the badge of Austria), and laughed, drank, 
and chattered with the Imperialists. This 
strange alliance was at last concluded. 1 
" Whoever shall form new sects among the 
people," it ran, " shall be punished with 
death ; and, if need be, with the help of 
Austria. This power, in case of emergency, 
shall send into Switzerland six thousand 
foot soldiers, and four hundred horse, with 
all requisite artillery. If necessary, the re- 
formed cantons shall be blockaded, and all 
provisions intercepted.'* To the Romish 
cantons, then, belongs the initiative of this 
measure so much decried. Finally, Austria 
guaranteed to the Waldstettes the posses- 
sion, not only of the common bailiwicks, 
but of all the conquests that might be made 
on the left bank of the Rhine. 

Dejection and consternation immediately 
pervaded all Switzerland. The national 
complaint, which Bullinger has preserved, 
was sung in every direction : — 

Wail, Helvetians, wail, 

For the peacock's plume of pride 

To the forest-cantons' savage bull 
In friendship is allied. 

All the cantons not included in this alli- 
ance, with the exception of Friburg, assem- 
bled in diet at Zurich, and resolved to send 
a deputation to their mountain confederates, 



1 Bullinger gives the treaty at full length, 
'Cbron. <\. p. 49 — 59.) 



with a view to reconciliation. The deputa- 
tion, admitted at Schwytz in the presence 
of the people, was able to execute its mis- 
sion without tumult. At Zug there was a 
cry of " No sermon ! no sermon !" At Al- 
torf the answer was : " Would to God that 
your new faith was buried for ever !" At 
Lucerne they received this haughty reply : 
" We shall know how to defend ourselves, 
our children, and our children's children, 
from the poison of your rebellious priests." 
It was at Unterwalden that the deputation 
met with the worst reception. " We declare 
our alliance at an end," said they. "It is 
we, — it is the other Waldstettes who are the 
real Swiss. We graciously admitted you 
into our confederation, and now you claim to 
become our masters ! — The Emperor, Aus- 
tria, France, Savoy, and Valais will assist 
us !" The deputies retired in astonishment, 
shuddering as they. passed before the house 
of the secretary of state, .where they saw the 
arms of Zurich, Berne, Basle, and Strasburg 
hanging from a lofty gibbet. 

The deputation had scarcely returned to 
Zurich and made their report, when men's 
minds were inflamed. Zwingle proposed to 
grant no peace to Unterwalden, if it would 
not renounce foreign service, the alliance 
with Austria, and the government of the 
commonbailiwicks. " No ! no !" said Berne, 
that had just stifled a civil war in its own 
canton, " let us not be so hasty. When the 
rays of the sun shine forth, each one wishes 
to set out ; but as soon as it begins to rain, 
every man loses heart ! The word of God 
enjoins peace. It is not with pikes and 
lances that faith is made to enter the heart. 
For this reason, in the name of our Lord's 
sufferings, we entreat you to moderate our 
anger." 

This Christian exhortation would have 
succeeded, if the fearful news that readied 
Zurich, on the very day when the Bernese 
delivered their moderate speech, had not 
rendered it unavailing. 

On Saturday the 22d May, Jacques Key- 
ser, a pastor and father of a family in the 
neighbourhood of the Greiffensee, after coast- 
ing the fertile shores of this little lake, 
crossed the rich pastures of the bailiwick of 
Gruningen, passed near the Teutonic house 
of Bubikon and the convent of Ruti, and 
reached that simple and wild district bathed 
by the upper part of Lake Zurich. Making 
his w'ay to Oberkirk, a parish in the Gaster 
district, between the two lakes of Zurich and 
Wallenstadt, of which he had been nominated 
pastor, and where he was to preach on the 
morrow, he crossed on foot the lengthened 
and rounded flanks of the Buchberg, fronting 
the picturesque heights of the Ammon. He 
was confidently advancing into those woods 
which for many weeks he had often traversed 
without obstruction, when he was suddenly 
seized by six men, posted there to surprise 
him, and carried off to Schwytz. " The 
bailiffs," said they to the magistrates, " have 
ordered all innovating ministers to be brought 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



5C 



before the tribunals : here is one that we 
bring you." Although Zurich and Glaris 
interposed ; although the government of 
Gaster, where Keyser had been taken, did 
not then belong to Schwytz ; the Landsge- 
meinde desired a victim, and on the 29th 
May they condemned the minister to be 
burn 1 alive. On being informed of his sen- 
tence, Keyser burst into tears. 1 But when 
the hour of execution arrived, he walked 
cheerfully to death, freely confessed his faith, 
and gave thanks to the Lord even with his 
latest breath. " Go and tell them at Zurich 
how he thanks us !" said one of the Schwytz 
magistrates, with a sarcastic smile, to the 
Zurich deputies. Thus had a fresh martyr 
fallen under the hands of that formidable 
power that is "drunk with the blood of the 
saints." 2 

The cup was full. The flames of Keyser's 
pile became the signal of war. Exasperated 
Zurich uttered a cry that resounded through 
all the confederation. Zwingle above all 
called for energetic measures. Everywhere, 
— in the streets, in the councils, and even in 
the pulpits, — he surpassed in daring even 
the most valiant captains. He spoke at 
Zurich, — he wrote to Berne. "Let us be 
firm, and fear not to take up arms," said he. 
"This peace, which some desire so much, 
is not peace, but war: while the war that 
we call for is not war but peace. 3 We thirst 
for no man's blood, but we will clip the 
wings of the oligarchy. 4 If we shun it, 
the truth of the Gospel and the ministers' 
lives will never be secure among us." 

Thus spoke Zwingle. In every part of 
Europe he beheld the mighty ones of the 
earth aiding one another to stifle the reviving 
animation of the Church ; and he thought 
that without some decisive and energetic 
movement, Christianity, overwhelmed by so 
many blows, would soon fall back into its 
ancient slavery. Luther under similar cir- 
cumstances arrested the swords ready to be 
crossed, and demanded that the Word of God 
alone should appear on the field of battle. 
Zwingle thought not thus. In his opinion 
■war was not revolt, for Switzerland had no 
master. " Undoubtedly," said he, " we must 
trust in God alone; but when He gives us 
a just cause, we must also know how to 
defend it, and, like Joshua and Gideon, 
shed blood in behalf of our country and our 
God." 

If we adopt the principles of justice which 
govern the rulers of nations, the advice of 
Zwingle was judicious and irreproachable. 
It was the duty of the Swiss magistrates to 
defend the oppressed against the oppressor. 
But is not such language, which might have 
been suitable in the mouth of the magistrate, 
blamable in a minister of Chris*- 1 Perhaps 
Zwingle forgot his quality of pastor, and con- 

1 Weinet hiifftig. (Bull. ii. p. 149.) . 

2 Rev. xvii. 6. 

3 Bellum cui nos instamus, pax est, non bcllum. 
(Vita Zwinglii per 0. Myconium.) 

4 Obligarchise nervi succklantur. (Ibid.) 



sidered himself only as a citizen, consulted 
by his fellow-citizens; perhaps he wished 
to defend Switzerland, and not me Church, 
by his counsels ; but it is a question if he 
ought ever to have forgotten the Church and 
his ministry. We think we may go even 
further; and while granting all that may be 
urged in favour of the contrary supposition, 
we may deny that the secular power ought 
ever to interfere with the sword to protect 
the faith. 

To accomplish his designs, the reformer 
needed even in Zurich the greatest unity. 
But there were many men in that city de- 
voted to interests and superstitions which 
were opposed to him. " How long," had 
he exclaimed in the pulpit on the 1st De- 
cember, 1528, " will you support in the 
council these unbelievers, these impious 
men, who oppose the W T ord of God V v They 
had decided upon purging the council, as 
required by the reformer ; they had examined 
the citizens individually ; and then had ex- 
cluded all the hostile members. 

II. On Saturday the 15th June, 1529, 
seven days after Keyser's martyrdom, all 
Zurich was in agitation. The moment was 
come when Unterwalden should send a go- 
vernor to the common bailiwicks; and the 
images, having been burnt in those districts, 
Unterwalden had sworn to take a signal 
revenge. 2 Thus the consternation had be- 
come general. " Kej^ser's pile," thought 
they, " will be rekindled in all our villages." 
Many of the inhabitants flocked to Zurich, 
and on their alarmed and agitated features, 
one might, in imagination, have seen reflect- 
ed the flames that had just consumed the 
martyr. 

These unhappy people found a powerful 
advocate in Zwingle. The reformer imagined 
that he had at last attained the object that he 
never ceased to pursue — the free preaching 
of the Gospel in Switzerland. To inflict a 
final blow would, in his idea, suffice to bring 
this enterprise to a favourable issue. "Greedy 
pensioners," said Zwingle to the Zurichers, 
" profit by the ignorance of the mountaineers 
to stir up these simple souls against the 
friends of the Gospel. Let us therefore be 
severe upon these haughty chiefs. The mild- 
ness of the lamb would only serve to render 
the wolf more ferocious. 3 Let us propose 
to the Five Cantons to allow the free preach- 
ing of the Word of the Lord, to renounce 
their wicked alliances, and to punish the 
abettors of foreign service. As for the Mass, 
idols, rites, and superstitions, let no one be 
forced to abandon them. It is for the Word 
of God alone to scatter with its powerful 
breath all this idle dust.* Be firm, noble 



1 Den rath reinigen. (Fiissli Beytnige, iv. p. 91.) 

2 Den gbtzen brand, an inen mitt der Hand zu 
rlichen. (Bull. Chron. ii. p. 193.) 

3 Lupus lenitate agni, magis magisque vorax fit. 
(Zwing. Epp. ii. p. 296.). 

4 Dei verbum enirn hos pulveres omnes fhcila 
flatu suo disperget. (Ibid.) 



563 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



lords, and in despite of certain black horses, 
as black at Zurich as they are at Lucerne, 1 
but whose malice will never succeed in over- 
turning; the chariot of Reform, we shall clear 
this difficult pass, and arrive at the unity of 
Switzerland and at unity of faith." Thus 
Zwingie, while calling for force against 
political abuses, asked only liberty for the 
Gospel; but he desired a prompt interven- 
tion, in order that this liberty might be 
secured to it. (Ecolampadius thought the 
same : " It is not a time for delay," said he, 
" it is not a time for parsimony and pusil- 
lanimity ! So long as the venom shall not 
be utterly removed from this adder in our 
bosoms we shall be exposed to the greatest 
dangers." 2 

The council of Zurich, led away by the 
reformer, promised the bailiwicks to support 
religious liberty among them ; and scarcely 
had they learnt that Anthony ab Acker of the 
Unterwalden was proceeding to Baden with 
an army, than they ordered five hundred men 
to set out for Bremgarten with four pieces 
of artillery. This was the 5th June, and on 
the same evening the standard of Zurich 
waved over the convent of Mouri. 

The war of religion had begun. The 
horn of the Waldstettes re-echoed afar in 
mountains : men were arming in every direc- 
tion, and messengers were sent off in haste 
to invuke the assistance of the Valais and 
of Austria. Three days later (Tuesday the 
8th June), six hundred Zurichers, under the 
command of Jacques Werdmuller, set out 
for Rapperschwyl and the district of Gaster ; 
and, on the morrow, four thousand men re- 
paired to Cappel, under the command of the 
valiant Captain George Berguer, to whom 
Conrad Schmidt, pastor of Kussnacht, had 
been appointed chaplain. " We do not wish 
you to go to the war," said Burgomaster 
Roust to Zwingie ; "for the Pope, the Arch- 
duke Ferdinand, the Romish cantons, the 
bishops, the abbots, and the prelates hate 
you mortalty. Stay with the council: we 
have need of }rou." — " No !" replied Zwin- 
gie, who was unwilling to confide so im- 
portant an enterprise to any one ; " when my 
brethren expose their lives I will not remain 
quietly at home by my fireside. Besides, 
the army also requires a watchful eye, that 
1 )oks continually around it." Then, taking 
down his glittering halberd, which he had 
carried (as they say) at Marignan, and plac- 
ing it on his shoulder, the reformer mounted 
his horse and set out with the army. 3 The 
walls, towers, and battlements were covered 
with a crowd of old men, children, and 
women, among whom was Anna, Zwingle's 
wife. 

Zurich had called for the aid of Berne ; 
but that city, whose inhabitants showed 



1 The Pensioners. — Exceptis aliquot nigris 
equis. (Zwing. Epp. ii. 293.) 

2 Venenum a domestico illo cohibro. (Ibid.) 

3 Soudern sass auf ein Ross, und f'uhvte eine 
hubsche Helparten auf den Achseln. (Fiiss li. 
Bevtr. iv. p. 103.) 



little disposition for a religious war, and 
which besides was not pleased at seeing the 
increasing influence of Zurich, replied, 
" Since Zurich has begun the war without 
us, let her finish it in like manner." The 
Evangelical states were disunited at the 
very moment of struggle. 

The Romish cantons did not act thus. It 
was Zug that issued the first summons ; and 
the men of Uri, of Schwytz, and of Unter- 
walden had immediately begun the march. 
On the 8th June, the great banner floated 
before the townhouse of Lucerne, and on the 
next day the army set out to the sound of 
the antique horns that Lucerne pretended to 
have received from the Emperor Charle- 
magne. 

On the 10th June, the Zurichers, who 
were posted at Cappel, sent a herald at day- 
break to Zug, who was commissioned, ac- 
cording to custom, to denounce to the Five 
Cantons the rupture of the alliance. Imme- 
diately Zug was filled with cries and alarm. 
This canton, the smallest in Switzerland, 
not having yet received all the confederate 
contingents, was not in a condition to defend 
itself. The people ran to and fro, sent off 
messengers, and hastily prepared for battle ; 
the warriors fitted on their armour, the 
women shed tears, and the children shrieked. 

Already the first division of the Zurich 
arm} T , amounting to two thousand men, un- 
der the command of William Thoming, and 
stationed v.ear the frontier below Cappel, was 
preparing to march, when they observed, in 
the direction of Baar, a horseman, pressing 
the flanks of his steed and galloping up as 
fast as the mountain which he had to ascend 
would permit. It was Aebli, landamman ot 
Glaris. " The Five Cantons are prepared," 
said he, as he arrived, " but I have prevailed 
upon them to halt, if you will do the same. 
For this reason I entreat my lords and the 
people of Zurich, for the love of God, and the 
safety of the Confederation, to suspend their 
march at the present moment." As he said 
these words, the brave Helvetian shed tears. 1 
"In a few hours," continued he, "I shall 
be back again. I hope, with God's grace, 
to obtain an honourable peace, and to prevent 
our cottages from being filled with widows 
and orphans." 

Aebli was known to be an honourable 
man, friendly to the Gospel, and opposed to 
foreign service : his words, therefore, moved 
the Zurich captains, who resolved to halt. 
Zwingie alone, motionless and uneasy, be- 
held in his friend's intervention the machina- 
tions of the adversary. Austria, occupied 
in repelling the Turks, and unable to succour 
the Five Cantons, had exhorted them to 
peace. This, in Zwingle's opinion, was 
the cause of the propositions brought to 
them by the landamman of Glaris. So at 
the moment Aebli turned round to return to 
Zug, 2 Zwingie approaching him said with 



1 Das redt er mitt %veynenden Oucren. (Bull. ii. 
p. 169.) 

2 Alls nun der Amman wiederumm zu den 5 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



569 



earnestness, " Gossip landamman, you will 
render to God an account of all this. Our 
adversaries are caught in a sack : this is why 
they give you sweet words. By and by they 
will fall upon us unawares, and there will 
be none to deliver us." Prophetic words, 
whose fulfilment went beyond all foresight ! 
"Dear gossip!" replied the landamman, 
"I have confidence in God that all will go 
well. Let each one do his best." And he 
departed. 

Then, instead of advancing upon Zug, the 
irmy began to erect tents along the edge of 
the forest and the brink of the torrent a few 
paces from the sentinels of the Five Cantons ; 
while Zwingle, seated in his tent, silent, and 
in deep thought, anticipated some distressing 
news from hour to hour. 

He had not long to wait. It was the 
deputies of the Zurich Council who came 
to give reality to his fears. Bern£, main- 
taining the character that it bad so often 
filled as representative of the federal policy, 
declared that if Zurich or the cantons would 
not make peace, they should know how to 
compel them ; this state at the same time 
convoked a diet at Arau, and sent five thou- 
sand men into the field, under the command 
of Sebastian Diesbach. Zwingle was struck 
with consternation. 

Aebli's message, supported by that of 
Berne, was sent back by the council to the 
army ; for, according to the principles of the 
time, " wherever the banner waves, there is 
Zurich." — "Let us not be staggered," cried 
the reformer, ever decided and firm ; " our 
destiny depends upon our courage; to-day 
they beg and entreat, and in a month, when 
we have laid down our arms, they will crush 
us. Let us stand firm in God. Before all 
things, let us be just : peace will come after 
that." But Zwingle, transformed to a states- 
man, began to lose the influence which he 
had gained as a servant of God. Many could 
not understand him, and asked if what they 
had heard was really the language of a 
minister of the Lord. "Ah!" said one of 
his friends, who perhaps knew him best, 
Oswald Myconius, " Zwingle certainly was 
an intrepid man in the midst of danger; but 
he always had a horror of blood, even of his 
most deadly enemies. The freedom of his 
country, the virtues of our forefathers, and, 
above all, the glory of Christ, were the sole 
end of his designs. 1 — I speak the truth, as 
if in the presence of God," adds he. 

While Zurich was sending deputies to 
Arau, the two armies received reinforce- 
ments. The men of Thurgovia and St. 
Gall joined their banners to that of Zurich ; 
the Valaisans and the men of St. Gothard 
united with the Romanist cantons. The 
advanced posts were in sight of each other 
at Thunn, Leemattj and Goldesbrunnen, on 
the delightful slopes of the Albis. 

orten ryten wollt. (Bull. Chron. ii. p. 170.) Zwin- 
gle was godfather to one of Aebli's children. 

1 Libertas patriae, virtutes avitne, ot imprimis 
gloria Christi. (Osw. Myc. De vita Zw.) 



I Never, perhaps, did Swiss co:diality shine 
forth brighter with its ancient lustre. The 
soldiers called to one another in a friendly 

j manner, shook hands, styled themselves con- 
federates and brothers. " We shall not 
fight," said they. " A storm is passing over 
our heads, but we will pray to God, and he 
will preserve us from every harm." Scarcitv 
afflicted the army of the Five Cantons, 
while abundance reigned in the camp of 
Zurich. 1 Some young famishing W^ald- 
stettes one day passed the outposts : the 
Zurichers made them prisoners, led them to 
the camp, and then sent them back laden 
with provisions, with still greater good- 
nature than' was shown by Henry IV. at the 
siege of Paris. At another time, some war- 
riors of the Five Cantons, having placed a 
bucket filled with milk on the frontier line, 
cried out to the Zurichers that they had no 
bread. The latter came down immediately, 
and cut their bread into the enemies' milk: 
then the soldiers of the two parties began 
with jokes to eat out of the same dish — 
some on this side, some on that. The 
Zurichers were delighted that, notwithstand- 
ing the prohibition of their priests, the Wald- 
stettes ate with heretics. When one of the 
troop took a morsel that was on the side of 
his adversaries, these sportively struck him 
with their spoons, and said to him: "Do 
not cross the frontier !" Thus did these 
good Helvetians make war upon one an- 
other; and hence it was that the Burgo- 
master Sturm of Strasburg, one of the 
mediators, exclaimed: "You Confederates 
are a singular people ! When you are dis- 
united, you live still in harmony with one 
another, and your ancient friendship never 
slumbers." 2 

The most perfect order reigned in the 
camp of Zurich. Every day Zwingle, the 
commander Schmidt, Zink abbot of Cappel, 
or some other minister, preached among the 
soldiers. No oath or dispute was heard ; 
every disorderly woman was turned out of 
the camp ; prayers were offered up before 
and after every meal ; and each man obeyed 
his chiefs. There were no dice, no cards, 
no games calculated to excite quarrels ; but 
psalms, hymns, national songs, bodily ex- 
ercise, wrestling, or pitching the stone, 
were the military recreations of the Zurich- 
ers. 3 The spirit that animated the reformer 
had passed into the army. 

The assembly at Arau, transported to 
Steinhausen in the neighbourhood of the 
two camps, decreed that each army should 
hear the complaints of the opposite party. 
The reception of the deputies of the Five 
Cantons by the Zurichers was tolerably 
calm ; it was not so in the other camp. 



1 A measure of corn was sold for a florin, and 
one of wine for a half-batz, about three half- 
pence. (Bull. Chron. ii. p. 182.) 

2 Wenn ihr schon uneins sind, so sind ir eina 
(Bull. Chron. ii. p. 1S3.) 

3 Sondern sang, sprang, wurf, und Stiesa di# 
Steine. (FUssli Beyt. iv. p. 10S.) 



570 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



On the 15th June, fifty Zurichers, sur- 
rounded by a crowd of peasants, proceeded 
on horseback to the Waldstettes. The sound 
of the trumpet, the roll of the drum, and re- 
peated salvos of artillery announced their 
arrival. Nearly twelve thousand men of 
the smaller cantons, in good order, with up- 
lifted heads and arrogant looks, were under 
arms. Escher of Zurich spoke first, and 
many persons from the rural districts enume- 
rated their grievances after him, which the 
Waldstettes thought exaggerated. "When 
have we ever refused you the federal right V 
asked they. "Yes, yes!" replied Funk, 
Zwingle's friend ; " we know how you ex- 
ercise it. That pastor (Keyser) appealed to 
it, and you referred him — to the execution- 
er!" " Funk, you would have done better 
to have held your tongue," said one of his 
friends. But the words had slipped out; 
a dreadful tumult suddenly arose; all the 
army of the Waldstettes was in agitation ; 
the most prudent begged the Zurichers to 
retire promptly, and protected their departure. 

At length the treaty was concluded on the 
26th June, 1529. Zwingle did not obtain 
all he desired. Instead of the free preaching 
of the Word of God, the treaty stipulated 
only liberty of conscience ; it declared that 
the common bailiwicks should pronounce 
for or against the Reform by a majority of 
votes. Without decreeing the abolition of 
foreign pensions, it was recommended to 
the Romish cantons to renounce the alliance 
formed with Austria ; the Five Cantons 
were to pay the expenses of the war, Mur- 
ner to retract his insulting words, and an 
indemnity was secured to Keyser's family. 1 
An incontrovertible success had just crown- 
ed the warlike demonstration of Zurich. The 
Five Cantons felt it. Gloomy, irritated, si- 
lently champing the bit that had been placed 
in their mouths, their chiefs could not de- 
cide upon giving up the deed of their alliance 
with Austria. Zurich immediately recalled 
her troops, the mediators redoubled their so- 
licitations, and the Bernese exclaimed : " If 
you do not deliver up this document, we 
will ourselves go in procession and tear it 
from your archives." At last it was brought 
to Cappel on the 26th June, two hours after 
midnight. Ali the army was drawn out at 
eleven in the forenoon, and they began to 
read the treaty. The Zurichers looked with 
astonishment at its breadth and excessive 
length, and the nine seals which had been 
affixed, one of which was in gold. But 
scarcely had a few words been read, when 
Aebli, snatching the parchment, cried out : 
" Enough, enough !" — " Read it, read it !" 
said the Zurichers ; " we desire to learn 
their treason !" But the Bailiff of Glaris 
replied boldly : " I would rather be cut in a 
thousand pieces than permit it." Then dash- 
ing his knife into the parchment he cut it in 
pieces in the presence of Zwingle and the 



1 Supra, p. 536. The treaty is given entire in 
Bullinger,'ii. p. 185, and Ruchat, ii. 



soldiers, 1 and threw the fragments to the 
secretary to commit them to the flames. 
" This paper was not Swiss," says Bullinger 
with sublime simplicity. 

The banners were immediately struck. 
The men of Unterwalden retired in anger; 
those of Schwytz swore they would for 
ever preserve their ancient faith ; while the 
troops of Zurich returned in triumph to their 
homes. But the most opposite thoughts 
agitated Zwingle's mind. " I hope," said 
he, doing violence to his feelings, " that 
we bring back an honourable peace to our 
dwellings. It was not to shed blood that 
we set out. 2 God has once again shown 
the great ones of the earth that they can do 
nothing against us." But when he gave 
way to his natural disposition a very differ- 
ent order of thoughts took possession of his 
mind. He was seen walking apart in deep 
dejection, and anticipating the most gloomy 
future. In vain did the people surround him 
with joyful shouts. " This peace," said he, 
" which you consider a triumph, you will 
soon repent of, striking your breasts." It was 
at this time that, venting his sorrow, he 
composed, as he was descending the Albis, 
a celebrated hymn often repeated to the 
sound of music in the fields of Switzerland, 
among the burghers of the Confederate 
cities, and even in the palaces of kings. The 
hymns of Luther and of Zwingle play the 
same part in the German and Swiss Refor- 
mation as the Psalms in that of France. 

Do thou direct thy chariot, Lord, 

And guide it at thy will; 
Without thy aid our strength is vain, 

And useless all our skill. 
Look down upon thy saints brought low, 
And prostrate laid beneath the foe. 

Beloved Pastor, who hast saved 

Our souls from death and sin, 
Uplift thy voice, awake thy sheep 

That slumbering lie within 
Thy fold, and curb with thy right hand 
The rage of Satan's furious band. 

Send down thy peace, and banish strife, 

Let bitterness depart ; 
Revive the spirit of the past 

In every Svvitzer's heart; 
Then shall thy Church for ever sing 
The praises of her heavenly King. 

An edict, published in the name of the 
Confederates, ordered the revival everywhere 
of the old friendship and brotherly concord: 
but decrees are powerless to work such mi- 
racles. 

This treaty of peace was nevertheless fa- 
vourable to the Reform. No doubt it met 
with a violent opposition in some places. 
The nuns of the vale of St. Catherine in 
Thurgovia, deserted by their priests and ex- 
cited by some noblemen beyond the Rhine, 



1 Tabellse foederis a praetore Pagi Glaronensis 
gladio concisae et deletse, id quod ipse vidi. (Zw 
Epp. ii. p. 310.1 

2 Cum non oaedem factum profecti sumus 
(Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



571 



who styled them in their letters, " Chival- 
rous women of the house of God," sang 
Mass themselves, and appointed one of their 
number preacher to the convent. Certain 
deputies from the Protestant cantons having 
had an interview with, them, the abbess and 
three of the nuns secretly crossed the river 
by night, carrying with them the papers of 
the monastery and the ornaments of the 
church. But such isolated resistance as this 
was unavailing. Already in 1529 Zwingle 
was able to hold a synod in Thurgovia, 
which organized a church there, and decreed 
that the property of the convents should be 
consecrated to the instruction of pious young 
men in sacred learning. Thus concord and 
peace seemed at last to be re-established in 
the Confederation. 

III. When, however, the conqueror aban- 
dons himself to his triumph, in that very 
confidence he often finds destruction. Zu- 
rich and Zwingle were to exemplify this 
mournful lesson of history. Taking advan- 
tage of the national peace, they redoubled 
their exertions for the triumph of the Gos- 
pel. This was a legitimate zeal, but it was 
not always wisely directed. To attain the 
unity of Switzerland by unity of faith was 
the object of the Zurichers : but they forgot 
that, b}r desiring to force a unity, it is broken 
to pieces, and that freedom is the only me- 
dium in which contrary elements can be dis- 
solved, and a salutary union established. 
While Rome aims at unity by anathemas, 
imprisonment, and the stake, Christian truth 
demands unity through liberty. And let us 
not fear that unity, expanding each indivi- 
duality beyond measure, will produce by 
this means an infinite multiplicity. While 
we urge every mind to attach itself to the 
Word of God, we give it up to a power 
capable of restoring its diverging opinions 
to a wholesome unity. 

Zwingle at first signalized his victory by 
legitimate conquests. He advanced with 
courage. " His eye and his arm were every 
where." "A few wretched mischief-ma- 
kers," says Salat, a Romanist chronicler, 
" penetrating into the Five Cantons, trou- 
bled men's souls, distributed their frippery, 
scattered every where little poems, little 
tracts, little testaments, and ceased not from 
saying that the people ought not to believe 
the priests." 1 This was not all ; while the 
Reform was destined to be confined around 
the lake of the Waldstettes to a few fruit- 
less efforts, it made brilliant conquests 
among the cantons, — the allies and subjects 
of Switzerland ; and all the blows there in- 
flicted on the Papacy re-echoed among the 
lofty valleys of the primitive cantons, and 
filled them with affright. No where had 
Popery shown itself more determined than 
in the Swiss mountains. A mixture of 
Romish despotism and Helvetian roughness 



1 Die sectischen haltend vil elends Uiidel volk 
gefunden, Stc. (Salat, Chron.) 



existed there. Rome was resolved to con- 
quer, and yet she beheld her most important 
positions successively wrested from her. 

In fact, on the 29th September, 1529, 
the citizens of Schaffhausen removed the 
" great God" (/e bon Dieu) from the cathe- 
dral, to the deep regret of a small number 
of devotees, whom the Roman worship still 
counted in this city ; then they abolished the 
Mass, and stretched out their hands to Zu- 
rich and to Berne. 

At Zurzack, near the confluence of the 
Rhine and the Aar, at the moment when the 
priest of the place, a man devoted to the an- 
cient worship, was preaching with zeal, a 
person named Tufel (devil), raising his 
head, said to him : " Sir, you are heaping 
insults on good men, and you are loading 
the Pope and the saints of the Roman cal- 
endar with honour; pray where do we find 
that in the Holy Scriptures 1" This ques- 
tion, put in a serious tone of voice, raised a 
sly smile on many faces, and the people with 
their eyes fixed on the pulpit awaited the 
reply. The curate, in astonishment and at 
his wit's end, answered with a trembling 
voice : " Devil is thy name ; thou actest like 
the devil, and thou art the devil 1 For this 
reason I will have nothing to do with thee." 
Then hastily leaving the pulpit, he ran away 
as if Satan himself had been behind him. 
Immediately the images were torn down, and 
the Mass abolished. The Roman-catholics 
sought to console themselves by repeating 
every where : ''At Zurzack it was the devil 
who introduced the Reformation." 1 

The priests and warriors of the Forest 
Cantons beheld the overthrow of the Romish 
faith in countries that lay nearer to them. 
In the canton of Glaris, whence by the steep 
passes of the Klaus and the Pragel, 2 the 
Reform might suddenly fall upon Uri and 
Schwytz, two men met face to face. At 
Mollis, Fridolin Brunner, questioning him- 
self every day by what means he could ad- 
vance the cause of Christ, 3 attacked the 
abuses of the Church with the energy of his 
friend Zwingle, 4 and endeavoured to spread 
among the people, who were passionately 
fond of war, the peace and charity of the 
Gospel. At Glaris, on the contrary, Valen- 
tine Tschudi studied with all the circum- 
spection of his friend Erasmus to preserve a 
just medium between Rome and the Reform. 
And although — thanks to the preaching of 
Fridolin! — the doctrines of purgatory, in- 
dulgences, meritorious works, and interces 
sion of the. saints, were looked at by the 
Glaronais as mere follies and fables, 3 they 
still believed with Tschudi that the bod} 



1 That der Tuffcl den ersten Angriff. 

2 This is the road by which the army of Suwa- 
rofT escaped in 1799. 

3 Nam cotidie cogitare soleo qnanam re Chris- 
tianum adjuvem protcctum. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 13.) 

4 Audea ego intrepide omnem ecclesiaj abusum 
et omnia humana prccepta in enunciatione verbi 
Dei damnare. (Ibid.) 

5 Nngas esse et t'abulas. (Ibid.) 



572 



HISTOKl OF THE REFORMATION. 



and blood of Christ were substantially in the 
tread of the Lord's Supper. 

At the same time a movement in opposi- 
tion to the Reform was taking- place in that 
high and savage valley, where the Linth, 
roaring - at the foot of vast rocks with jagged 
crests — enormous citadels which seemed 
built in the air, — bathes the villages of 
Schwanden and Ruti with its waters. The 
Roman-catholics, alarmed at the progress of 
the Gospel, and wishing to save these moun- 
tains at least, had scattered with liberal 
hands the money they derived from their 
foreign pensions ; and from that time violent 
hatred had been seen to divide old friends, 
and men who appeared to have been won 
over to the Gospel basely sought for a pre- 
text to conceal a disgraceful flight. 1 "Pe- 
ter 2 and I," wrote Rasdorfer, pastor of Ruti, 
in despair, "are labouring in the vineyard, 
but, alas ! the grapes we gather are not em- 
ployed for the sacrifice, and the very birds 
do not eat them. We fish, but after having 
toiled all night, we find that we have only 
caught leeches. 3 Alas ! we are casting pearls 
before dogs, and roses before swine !" This 
spirit of revolt against the Gospel soon de- 
scended from these valleys with the noisy 
waters of the Linth, as far as Glaris and 
Mollis. " The council, as if it had been 
composed only of silly women, shifted its 
sails everyday," said Rasdorfer; 4 " one day 
it will have the cowl, on the next it will 
not." 5 Glaris, like a leaf carried along by 
one of its torrents, and which the waves and 
eddies drive in different directions, wavered, 
wheeled about, and was nearly being swal- 
lowed up. 

But this crisis came to an end : the Gospel 
suddenly regained strength, and on Easter 
Monday, 1530, a general assembly of the 
people " put the Mass and the altars to the 
vote." A powerful party that relied upon 
the Five Cantons vainly opposed the Reform. 
It was proclaimed, and its vanquished and 
disconcerted enemies were forced to content 
themselves, says Bnllinger, with myste- 
riously concealing a few idols, which they 
reserved for better days. 

In the meanwhile, the Reform advanced 
in the exterior Rhodes of Appenzell, 6 and in 
the districts of Sargans. But what most 
-exasperated the cantons that remained faith- 
ful to the Romish doctrines, was to see it 



1 Jam sere convicti palinodiam canunt. (Zw. 
Epp. ii'. p. 292.) 

2 Pierre Rumelin, pastor of Schwanden. 

3 Tota enim nocte piscantes, sanguisugas as- 
pendios cepimus. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 13.) R,asdorfer 
evidently alludes to what Pliny says of a kind of 
vine termed Aspendios : E diverso aspendios, 
damnata aris. Fexunt earn nee ab alite ulla attingi. 
(Hist. Nat. lib. xiv. cap. xviii. § 22.) 

4 Vertit vela indies senatus noster muliercula- 
rum more. (Ibid.) 

5 Vult jam cucullum, post non vult. (Ibid.) 
That is, at one time it recognises, at another re- 
jects, the Abbot of Saint Gall. 

6 See Benedict I^oil'# letter to Zwingle, Epp. 
ii. p. 635. 



pass the Alps and appear in Italy, in those 
beautiful districts round Lake Maggiore, 
where, near the embouchure of the Maggia, 
within the walls of Locarno, in the midst 
of laurels, pomegranates, and cypresses, 
flourished the noble families of Orelli, Mu- 
ralto, Magoria, and Duni, and where floated 
since 1512, the sovereign standard of the 
cantons. "What!" said the Waldstettes, 
"is it not enough that Zurich and Zwingle 
infest Switzerland ! They have the impu- 
dence to carry their pretended Reform even 
into Italy, — even into the country of the 
Pope !" 

Great irregularities prevailed there among 
the clergy : " Whoever wishes to be damned 
must become a priest," was a common say- 
ing. 1 But the Gospel succeeded in making 
its way even into that district. A monk of 
Como, Egidio a Porta, who had taken the 
cowl in 1511, against the wishes of his fa- 
mily, 2 struggled for years in the Augustine 
convent, and no where found peace for his 
soul. Motionless, environed, as it appeared 
to him, with profound night, he cried aloud : 
" Lord, what wilt thou that I should do?" 
Ere long the monk of Como thought he heard 
these words in his heart: "Go to Ulric 
Zwingle and he will tell thee." He rose 
trembling with emotion. " It is you," wrote 
he to Zwingle immediately, "but no! it is 
not you, it is God who, through you, will 
deliver me from the nets of the hunters." 
"Translate the New Testament into Ita- 
lian," replied Zwingle; " I will undertake 
to get it printed at Zurich." This is what 
Reform did for Italy more than three cen- 
turies ago. 

Egidio therefore remained. He com 
menced translating the Gospel ; but at one 
time he had to beg for the convent, at an- 
other to repeat his "hours," and then tc 
accompany one of the fathers on his jour- 
neys. 3 • Every thing that surrounded him 
increased his distress. He saw his country 
reduced to the greatest misery by desolating 
wars,— men formerly rich, holding out their 
hands for alms, — crowds of women driven 
by want to the most shameful degradation. 
He imagined that a great political deliver- 
ance could alone bring about the religious 
independence of his fellow-countrymen. 

On a sudden he thought that this happy 
hour was arrived. He perceived a band of 
Lutheran lansquenets descending the Alps. 
Thek serried phalanxes, their threatening 
looks were directed towards the banks of 
the Tiber. At their head marched Freunds- 



1 St. Charles Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan, 
suppressed somewhat later several convents in 
this district : " Monialium non dicam collegia, 
sed amantium contubernia," said he. (Die evan- 
gel Gem. in Locarno von F. Meyer, i. p. 109.) 

2 Subduxi memet a parentum patrocinio, cucul- 
lumque nigrum ex animo suscepi. (Zw. Epp. i. 
p. 448.) 

3 Confratres nonnulli viri certe et pietate et 
eruditione nequaquam contemptibiles. (Ibid, jh 
533.) 



HISTOR\ OF THE REFORMATION. 



573 



berg, wearing 1 a chain of gold around his 
neck, and saying : " If I reach Rome I will 
make use of it to hang the Pope." " God 
wills to save us," wrote Egidio to Zwingle : 
"write to the constable; 1 entreat him to 
deliver the people over 1 whom he rules, — to 
take from the shaven crowns, whose God is 
their belly, the wealth which renders them 
so proud, — and to distribute it among the 
people who are dying of hunger. Then let 
each one preach without fear the pure Word 
of the Lord. — The strength of Antichrist is 
near its fall !" 

Thus, about the end of 1526, Egidio al- 
ready dreamt of the Reformation of Italy. 
From that time his letters cease : the monk 
disappeared. There can be no doubt that 
the arm of Rome was able to reach him, 
and that, like so many others, he was plunged 
into the gloomy dungeon of some convent. 

In the spring of 1530, a new epoch com- 
menced for the Italian bailiwicks. Zurich 
appointed Jacques Werdmuller bailiff of 
Locarno ; he was a grave man, respected by 
all, and who even in 1524 had kissed the 
feet of the Pope ; he had since then been 
won over to the Gospel, and had sat down 
at the feet of the Saviour. 2 " Go," said 
Zurich, " and bear yourself like a Christian, 
and in all that concerns the Word of God 
conform to the ordinances." Werdmuller 
met with nothing but darkness in every 
quarter. Yet, in the midst of this gloom, a 
feeble glimmering seemed to issue from a 
convent situated on the delightful shores of 
Lake Maggiore. Among the Carmelites "at 
Locarno was a monk named Fontana, skilled 
in the Holy Scriptures, and animated with 
the same spirit that had enlightened the 
monk of Como. The doctrine of salvation, 
" without money and without price," which 
God proclaims in the Gospel, filled him with 
love and joy. "As long as I live," said he, 
" will 1 preach upon the Epistles of St. 
Paul ;" 3 for it was particularly in these 
Epistles that he had found the truth. Two 
monks, of whose names we are ignorant, 
shared his sentiments. Fontana wrote a 
letter "to all the Church of Christ in Ger- 
many," which was forwarded to Zwingle. 
We may imagine we hear that man of Ma- 
cedonia, who appeared in a vision to Paul in 
the night, calling him to Europe, and say- 
ing, " Come over and help us." 4 — " 0, trusty 
and well-beloved of Christ Jesus," cried the 
monk of Locarno to Germany, "remember 
Lazarus, the beggar, in the Gospel, — remem- 
ber .that humble Canaanitish woman, long- 
ing for the crumbs that fell from the Lord's 
table! hungry as David, I have recourse to 
the show-bread placed upon the altar. A 
poor traveller devoured by thirst, I rush to 



1 Bourbon, who commanded in Italy on behalf 
of the Emperor. (Supra, book xii.) 

2 Luke x. 39. 

8 Se dum vivat satis de Epistolis Pauli concio- 
naturum esse. (Zw. Epp. li. p. 497.) 
4 Acts xvi. 9. 



the springs of living water. 1 Plunged in 
darkness, bathed in tears, we cry to you who 
know the mysteries of God to send us by 
the hands of the munificent J. Werdmiillei 
all the writings of the divine Zwingle, of the 
famous Luther, of the skilful Melancthon, 
of the mild CEcolampadius, of the ingenious 
Pomeranus, of the learned Lambert, of the 
elegant Brenz, of the penetrating Bucer, of 
the studious Leo, of the vigilant Hiitten, 
and of the other illustrious doctors, if there 
are any more. Excellent princes, pivots of 
the Church, our holy mother, make haste to 
deliver from the slavery of Babylon a city 
of Lombardy that has not yet known the 
Gospel of Jesus Christ. We are but three 
who have combined together to fight on be- 
half of the truth ; 2 but it was beneath the 
blows of a small body of men, chosen by 
God, and not by the thousands of Gideon, 
that Midian fell. Who knows if from a 
small spark God may not cause a great con- 
flagration ?" 

Thus three men on the banks of the 
Maggia hoped at that time to reform Italy. 
They uttered a call to which, for three cen- 
turies, the Evangelical world has not replied. 
Zurich, however, in these days of its strength 
and of its faith, displayed a holy boldness, 
and dared extend her heretical arms beyond 
the Alps. Hence, Uri, Schwytz, Unterwal- 
den, and all the Romanists of Switzerland 
gave vent to loud and terrible threats, swear- 
ing to arrest even in Zurich itself the course 
of these presumptuous invasions. 

But the Zurichers did not confine them- 
selves to this : they gave the Confederates 
more serious cause of fear by waging inces- 
sant war against the convents, — those centres 
of Ultramontane fanaticism. The extensive 
monastery of Wettingen, around which roll 
the waters of the Limmat, and which, by its 
proximity to Zurich, was exposed more than 
any other to the breath of Reform, was in 
violent commotion. On the 23d August, 
1529, a great change took place ; the ice was 
broken and the downfal complete. The 
monks ceased to sing Mass; they cut off 
each other's beards, not without shedding a 
few tears; they laid down their frocks and 
their hoods, and clothed themselves in be- 
coming secular dresses. 3 Then, in astonish- 
ment at this metamorphosis, they listened 
devoutly to the sermon which Sebastian 
Benli of Zurich came and preached to them, 
and erelong employed themselves in propa- 
gating the Gospel, and in singing psalms in 
German. Thus Wettingen fell into the cur- 
rent of that river which seemed to be every- 
where reviving the Confederation. The 
cloister, ceasing to be a house for gaining, 

1 Debilis et infirmus apud piscinam, salutem 
mei et patriae toto mentis afFectu citissimc expecto. 
(Hottinger, smcul. 16, pars 2, p. 619.) 

2 Confederati conjunctique in expeditionem vei- 
itatis tres tantum numero sumus. (Hottinger 
srecul. 16, pars 2. p. 630'.) 

3 Bekleitend sich in erbare gemeine Landskley- 
der. (Bull. Chron. ii. p. 22U 



574 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



gluttony, and drunkenness, was changed into 
a school. Two monks alone in all the mo- 
nastery remained faithful to the cowl. 

The commander of Mulinen, without 
troubling himself about the threats of the 
Romish cantons, earnestly pressed the com- 
mandery of St. John at Hitzkirch towards 
the Reformation. The question was put to 
the vote, and the majority declared in favour 
of the Word of God. "Ah!" said the com- 
mander, " I have been long pushing behind 
the chariot." 1 On the 4th September the 
commandery was reformed. It was the same 
with that of Wadenswyl, with the convent 
of Pfeffers, and others besides. Even at 
Mury the majority declared for the Gospel; 
but the minority prevailed through the sup- 
port of the Five Cantons. 2 A new triumph, 
and one of greater value, was destined to 
indemnify the Reform, and to raise the in- 
dignation of the Waldstettes to the highest 
pitch. 

The Abbot of St. Gall, by his wealth, by 
the number of his subjects, and the influence 
which he exercised in Switzerland, was one 
of the most formidable adversaries of the 
Gospel. In 1529, therefore, at the moment 
when the army of Zurich took the field 
against the Five Cantons, the Abbot Francis 
of Geisberg, in alarm and at the brink of 
death, caused himself to be hastily removed 
into the strong castle of Rohrschach, not 
thinking himself secure except within its 
walls. Four days after this, the illustrious 
Vadianus, burgomaster of St. Gall, entered 
the convent, and announced the intention of 
the people to resume the use of their cathe- 
dral-church, and to remove the images. The 
monks were astonished at such audacity, and 
having in vain protested and cried for help, 
put their most precious effects in a place of 
safety, and fled to Einsideln. 

Among these was Kilian Kouffi, head- 
steward of the Abbey, a cunning and active 
monk, and, like Zwingle, a native of the 
Tockenburg. Knowing how important it 
was to find a successor to the abbot, before 
the news of his death was bruited abroad, he 
came to an understanding with those who 
waited on the prelate ; and the latter dying 
on Tuesday in Holy Week, the meals were 
carried as usual into his chamber, and with 
downcast eyes and low voice the attendants 
made every inquiry about his health. While 
this farce was going on round the dead body, 
the monks who had assembled in Einsideln 
repaired in all haste to Rapperswyl, in the 
territory of St. Gall, and there elected Kilian, 
who had so skilfully managed the affair. — 
The new abbot went immediately to Rohr- 
schach, and on Good Friday he there pro- 
claimed his own election and the death of his 
predecessor. Zurich and Glaris declared 
they would not recognise him, unless he 



1 Diu me in hoc curru promovendo laborasse, 
priusquam tarn longe processit. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 
334.) 

2 Das das minder must das meer sin. (Bull. ii. 
p. 241.) 



could prove by the Holy Scriptures that a 
monkish life was in conformity with the 
Gospel. "We are ready to protect the 
house of God," said they; "and it is for 
this reason we require that it be consecrated 
anew to the Lord. But we do not forget 
that it is our duty also to protect the people. 
It is in the bosom of a free people that the 
free Church of Christ should raise its head." 
At the same time the ministers of St. Gall 
published forty-two theses, in which they 
asserted that convents were not "houses of 
God, but houses of the devil." 1 The abbot, 
supported by Lucerne and Schwytz, which 
with Zurich and Glaris exercised sovereign 
power in St. Gall, replied that he would not 
dispute about rights which he held from kings 
and emperors. The two natives of the Tocken- 
burg, Zwingle and Kilian, were thus strug- 
gling around St. Gall, — the one claiming the 
people for the abbey, and the other the abbey 
for the people. The army of Zurich having 
approached Wyl, Kilian seized upon the trea- 
sures and immunities of the convent, and fled 
precipitately beyond the Rhine. Then when 
peace was concluded, the craft}'' monk clothed 
himself in a secular dress, and crept myste- 
riously as far as Einsideln, whence on a 
sudden he made all Switzerland re-echo with 
his cries. Zurich replied only by publishing 
in conjunction with Glaris a constitution, by 
which a governor "confirmed in the evangel- 
ical faith," should preside over the district, 
with a council of twelve members, while the 
election of pastors was left to the parishes. 2 
Not long afterwards, the abbot, expelled and 
a fugitive, while crossing a river near Bre- 
gentz, fell from his horse, got entangled in 
his frock, and was drowned. Of the two 
combatants from the Tockenburg, it was 
Zwingle who gained the victory. 

The convent was put up to sale, and was 
purchased by the town of St. Gall, " with the 
exception," says Bullinger, " of a detached 
building, called Hell, where the monks 
were left who had not embraced the Re- 
form." 3 The time having arrived when the 
governor sent by Zurich was to give place 
to the one sent from Lucerne, the people of 
St. Gall called upon the latter to swear to 
their constitution. "A governor has never 
been known," replied he, " to make an oath 
to peasants ; it is the peasants who should 
make oath to the governor !" Upon this he 
retired : the Zurich governor remained, and 
the indignation of the five Cantons against 
Zurich, which so daringly assisted the peo- 
ple of St. Gall in recovering their liberties, 
rose to the highest paroxysm of anger. 

A few victories, however, consoled in some 
degree the partisans of Rome. Soleure was 
for a long time one of the most contested 
battle fields. The citizens and the learned 



i Thesis 8. (Bull. ii. p. 115.) 

2 Die Pfarer soil den Gmeinden irs gfallens zu 
erkiessen Zugestelt syn. (Bull. ii. p. 268.) 

3 Alein was ein gebuw die Hell genampt, dew 
liess man den Munchen blyten. (Ibid. p. 271.; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



575 



were in favour of Reform : the patricians and 
canons for Popery. Philip Grotz of Zug 
was preaching the Gospel there, and the 
council having- desired to compel him to say- 
Mass, one hundred Reformed appeared in the 
hall of assembly on the 13th of September, 
1529, and with energy called for liberty of 
conscience. Zurich and Berne having sup- 
ported this demand, it was granted to them. 
Upon this, the most fanatical of the Ro- 
man catholics, exasperated at the concession, 
closed the gates of the city, pointed the guns, 
and made a show of expelling the friends of 
the Reform. The council prepared to punish 
these agitators, when the Reformed, willing 
to set an example of Christian moderation, 
declared they would forgive them. 1 The 
Great Council then published throughout the 
canton that the dominion of conscience be- 
longing to God alone, and faith being the 
free gift of His grace, each one might follow 
the religion which he thought best. Thirty- 
four parishes declared for the Reformation, 
and only two for the Mass. Almost all the 
rural districts were in favour of the Gospel ; 
but the majority of the city sided with the 
Pope. 2 Haller, whom the Reformed of So- 
leure had sent for, arrived, and it was a day 
of triumph for them. It was in the middle 
of winter: "To-day," ironically observed 
one of the Evangelical Christians, "our pa- 
tron saint (St. Ours) will sweat !" And in 
truth — oh ! wonderful ! — drops of moisture 
fell from the holy image. It was simply a 
little holy Water that had frozen and then 
thawed. But the Romanists would listen to 
no raillery on so illustrious a prodigy, remind- 
ing us of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples. 
All the city resounded with piteous cries, — 
the bells were tolled, — a general procession 
moved through the streets, — and high mass 
was sung in honour of the heavenly prince 
who had shown in so marvellous a manner 
the pangs he felt for his dearly beloved. " It 
is the fat minister of Berne (Haller) who is 
the cause of the saint's alarm," said the de- 
vout old women. One of them declared 
that she would thrust a knife into his body ; 
and certain Roman catholics threatened to ^o 
to the Cordelier's church and murder the 
pastors who preached there. Upon this the 
Reformed rushed to that church and called 
for a public discussion : two hundred of their 
adversaries posted themselves at the same 
time in the church of St. Ours and refused 
the discussion. Neither of the two ponies 
was willing to be the first to abandon the 
camp in which it was entrenched. The sen- 
ate wishing to clear the two churches thus 
transformed into citadels, announced that at 
Martimas, i. e. nine months later, a public 
discussion should take place. But as the 
Reformed found the delay too long, both 
parties remained for a whole week more 



1 Ruchat, ii. p. 139. 

2 - Major pars agri abolita superstitione a parte 
nostra star. Major et potior pars urbis a papistis. 
(Z\v. Epp. ii. p. 489.) 



under arms. Commerce was interrupted,—. 
the public offices were closed — messengers 
ran to and fro, — arrangements were proposed ; 
but the people were so stiffnecked, 1 that no 
one would give way. The city was in a 
state of siege. At last all were agreed about 
the discussion, and the ministers committed 
four theses to writing, which the canons im- 
mediately attempted to refute. 

Nevertheless they judged it a still better 
plan to elude them. Nothing alarmed the 
Romanists so much as discussion. "What 
need have we of any V said they. " Do not 
the writings of the two parties declare their 
sentiments ?" The conference was, there- 
fore, put off until the following year. Many 
of the Reformed, indignant at these delays, 
imprudently quitted the city ; and the coun- 
cils, charmed at this result, which they were 
far from expecting, hastily declared that the 
people should be free in the canton, but that 
in the city no one should attack the Mass. 
From that time the Reformed were compelled 
every Sunday to leave Soleure and repair to 
the village of Zuchsweil to hear the Word of 
God. Thus Popery, defeated in so many 
places, triumphed in Soleure. 

Zurich and the other reformed cantons at- 
tentively watched these successes of their 
adversaries, and lent a fearful ear to the 
threats of the Roman catholics, who ceased 
not from announcing the intervention of the 
Emperor ; when on a sudden a report was 
heard that nine hundred Spaniards had en- 
tered the Grisons ; that they were led by the 
Chatelain of Musso, recently invested with 
the title of marquis by Charles the Fifth ; 
that the chatelain's brother-in-law, Didier 
d'Embs, was also marching against the Swiss 
at the head of three thousand imperial lans- 
quenets ; and that the Emperor himself was 
ready to support them with all his forces. 
The Grisons uttered a cry of alarm. The 
Waldstettes remained motionless ; but all the 
reformed cantons assembled their troops, and 
eleven thousand men began their march. - 
The Emperor and the Duke of Milan having 
soon after declared that they would not sup- 
port the chatelain, this adventurer beheld his 
castle rased to the ground, and was compelled 
to retire to the banks of the Sesia, giving 
guarantees of future tranquillity ; while the 
Swiss soldiers returned to their homes, fired 
with indignation against the Five Cantons, 
who by their inactivity had infringed the 
Federal alliance. 3 " Our prompt and ener- 
getic resistance," said they, "has undoubted- 
ly baffled their perfidious designs ; but the 
reaction is only adjourned. Although the 
parchment of the Austrian alliance has been 
torn in pieces, the alliance itself still exists. 
The truth has freed us, but soon the imperial 
lansquenets will come and try to place ua 
again under the yoke of slavery." 

1 Tarn durae cervicis populus est. (Z\v. Epp, 
ii. p. 489.) 

2 Bull. Chron. ii. p. 357. 

3 Ward ein grosser Unwilt wieder sie. (Ibid, 
p. 461.) 



576 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Thus, in consequence of so many violent 
shocks, the two parties that divided Switz- 
erland had attained the highest degree of 
irritation. The gulf that separated them 
widened daily. The clouds — the forerun- 
ners of the tempest — drove swiftly along the 
mountains, and gathered threateningly above 
the valleys. Under these circumstances, 
Zwingle and his friends thought it their dut}^ 
to raise their voices, and if possible to avert 
the storm. Thus Nicholas de Flue had in 
former days thrown himself between the 
hostile parties. 

On the 5th September, 1530, the principal 
ministers of Zurich, Berne, Basle, and Stras- 
burg, — (Ecolampadius, Capito, Megander, 
Leo Juda, and Myconius, — were assembled 
at Zurich in Zwingle's house. Desirous of 
taking a solemn step with the Five Cantons, 
they drew up an address that was presented 
to the Confederates at the meeting of the 
Diet at Baden. However unfavourable the 
deputies were, as a body, to these heretical 
ministers, they nevertheless listened to this 
epistle, but not without signs of impatience 
and weariness. 1 " You are aware, gracious 
lords, that concord increases the power of 
states, and that discord overthrows them. 2 
You are yourselves a proof of the first of 
these truths. Setting out from a small be- 
ginning, you have, by a good understanding 
one with another, arrived at a great end. 
May God condescend to prevent you also 
from giving a striking proof of the second ! 
Whence comes disunion, if not from selfish- 
ness 1 and how can we destroy this fatal 
passion, except by receiving from God the 
love of the common weal 1 For this reason 
we conjure you to allow the Word of God 
to be freely preached among you, as did your 
pious ancestors. When has there ever ex- 
isted a government, even among the heathens, 
which saw not that the hand of God alone 
upholds a nation 1 Do not two drops of 
quicksilver unite so soon as you remove that 
which separates them ? Away then with 
that which separates you from our cities, 
that is, the absence of the Word of God ; 
and immediately the Almighty God will 
unite us, as our fathers were united. Then 
placed in your mountains, as in the centre 
of Christendom, you will be an example to 
it, its protection and its refuge ; and after 
having passed through this vale of tears, 
being the terror of the wicked and the con- 
solation of the faithful, you will at last be 
established in eternal happiness." 

Thus frankly did these men of God ad- 
dress their brothers, the Waldstettes. But 
their voice was not attended to. "The 
ministers' sermon is rather long," 3 said some 
of the deputies yawning and stretching their 



arms, while others pretended to see in it 
fresh cause of complaint against the cities. 

This proceeding of the ministers was use- 
less : the Waldstettes rejected the Word of 
God, which they had been entreated to 
admit; they rejected the hands that were 
extended towards them in the name of Jesus 
Christ. They called for the Pope and not 
for the Gospel. All hope of reconciliation 
appeared lost. 

Some persons, however, had at that time 
a glimpse of what might have saved Switz- 
erland and the Reformation, — the autonomy 
(self-government) of 'the Church, and its 
independence of political interests. Had 
they been wise enough to decline the secular 
power to secure the triumph of the Gospel, 
it is probable that harmony might have been 
gradually established in the Helvetic /Can- 
tons, and that the Gospel would have con- 
quered by its Divine strength. The power 
of the Word of God presented chances of 
success that were not afforded by pikes and 
muskets. The energy of faith, the influence 
of charity, would have proved a securer pro- 
tection to Christians against the burning 
piles of Waldstettes than diplomatists and 
men-at-arms. None of the Reformers un- 
derstood this so clearly as GEcolampadius. 
His handsome countenance, the serenity of 
his features, the mild expression of his eyes, 
his long and venerable beard, the spirituality 
of his expression, a certain dignity that in- 
spired confidence and respect, gave him 
rather the air of an apostle than of a re- 
former. It was the power of the inner word 
that he particularly extolled; perhaps he 
even went too far in spiritualism. But, 
however that may be, if any man could have 
saved Reform from the misfortunes that were 
about to befall it — that man was he. In 
separating from the Papacy, he desired not 
to set up the magistrate in its stead. " The 
magistrate who should take away from the 
churches the authority that belongs to them," 
wrote he to Zwingle, " would be more in- 
tolerable than Antichrist himself (t. e. the 
the Pope)." 1 " The hand of the magistrate 
strikes with the sword, but the hand of 
Christ heals. Christ has not said, — If thy 
brother will not hear thee, tell it to the 
magistrate, but — tell it to the Church. The 
functions of the State are distinct from those 
of the Church. The State is free to do 
many things which the purity of the Gospel 
condemns." 2 (Ecolampadius saw how im- 
portant it was that his convictions should 
prevail among the Reformed. This man, so 
mild and so spiritual, feared not to stand 
forth boldly in defence of doctrines then so 
novel. He expounded them before a synod 
assembly, and next developed them before 



1 Lecta est epistola nostra in comitiis Badensi- 
bus. (CEcol. to Bucer. 28th December, 1530.) 

2 Wie mit einhalligkeit kleine Ding gross wer- 
dend. (Zw. Opp. ii. p. 78.) 

3 Libellum supplicem ad quinque pagos bre- 
viorum vellent. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 511.) Fasti- 
diunr tarn sancta (CEcol.) 



^ntolerabilior enim Antichristo ipso magistra- 
te, qui Ecclesiis auctoritatem suam adimit. (Zw. 
Epp. ii. p. 51©.) 

2 Ipsorum functio alia est et ecclesiastica, mul- 
taque f'erre et facere potest quae puritas evangelica 
non agnoscit. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the senate of Basle. 1 It is a strange cir- 
cumstance that these ideas, for a moment at 
least, were acceptable to Zwingle ; 2 but they 
displeased an assembly of the brethren to 
whom he communicated them ; the politic 
Bucer, above all, feared that this independence 
of the Church would in some measure check 
the exercise of the civil power. 3 The exer- 
tions of (Ecolampadius to constitute the 
Church, were not, however, entirely unsuc- 
cessful. In February, 1531, a diet of four 
reformed cantons (Basle, Zurich, Berne, and 
St. Gall) was held at Basle, in which it was 
agreed, that whenever any difficulty should 
arise with regard to doctrine or worship, an 
assembly of divines and laymen should be 
convoked, which should examine what the 
Word of God said on the matter. 4 This 
resolution, by giving greater unity to the 
renovated Church, gave it also fresh strength. 

IV. But it was too late to tread in this 
path, which would have prevented so many 
disasters. The Reformation had already en- 
tered with all her sails set upon the stormy 
ocean of politics, and terrible misfortunes 
were gathering over her. The impulse com- 
municated to the Reform came from another 
than (Ecolampadius. Zwingle's proud and 
piercing eyes, — his harsh features,— his bold 
step, — all proclaimed in him a resolute mind 
and the man of action. Nurtured in the ex- 
ploits of the heroes of antiquity, he threw 
himself, to save Reform, in the footsteps of 
Demosthenes and Cato, rather than in those 
of St. John and St. Paul. His prompt and 
penetrating looks were turned to the right 
and to the left, — to the cabinets of kings and 
the councils of the people, whilst they should 
have been directed solely to God. We have 
already seen, that as early as 1527, Zwingle, 
observing how all the powers were rising 
against the Reformation, had conceived the 
plan of a co-bur ghsry or Christian State, 5 
which should unite all the friends of the 
Word of God in one holy and powerful 
league. This was so much the easier, as 
Zwingle's reformation had won over Stras- 
burg, Augsburgh, Ulm, Reutlingen, Lindau, 
Memmingen, and other towns of Upper 
Germany. Constance in December, 1527, 
Berne in June, 1528, St. Gall in November 
of the same year, Bienne in 1529, Mulhau- 
sen in February, Basle in March, SchafT- 
hausen in September, and Strasburg in De- 
cember, entered into this alliance. This 
political phase of Zwingle's character is in 
the eyes of some persons his highest claim 
to glory : we do not hesitate to acknowledge 
it as his greatest fault. The Reformer, de- 
serting the paths of the Apostles, allowed 



1 Orationis meae quam, fratrum nomine, coram 
Bcnatu habui. (Zvv. Epp. ii. p. .510.) 

2 Ut mihi magis ac magis arridet. (Ibid. p. 
518.) 

3 Ut non impediat alicubi magistratum Chris- 
tianum. (Bucer to Zw. p. 836.) 

4 J. J. Hottinger, iii. p. 554. 
6 Civitas Christiana. 



himself to be led astray by the perverse ex 
ample of Popery. The primitive Church 
never opposed their prosecutors but by th« 
dispositions of the Gospel of peace. Faith 
was the only sword by which it vanquished 
the mighty ones of the earth. Zwingle felt 
clearly that by entering into the ways of 
worldly politicians, he was leaving those of 
a minister of Christ: he therefore sought to 
justify himself. " No doubt, it is not by 
human strength," said he, "it is by the 
strength of God alone that the Word of the 
Lord should be upheld. But God often 
makes use of men as instruments to succour 
men. Let us therefore unite, and from the 
sources of the Rhine to Strasburg let us form 
but one people and one alliance." 1 

Zwingle played two parts at once— he 
was a reformer and a magistrate. But these 
are two characters that ought not more to be 
united than those of a minister and of a 
soldier. We will not blame the soldiers, 
we will not blame the magistrates ; in form 
ing leagues and drawing the sword, they act 
according to their point of view, although it 
is not the same as ours ; but we will de- 
cidedly blame the Christian minister, who 
becomes a diplomatist or a general. 

In October, 1529, as we have already 
observed, Zwingle repaired to Marburg, 
whither he had been invited by Philip of 
Hesse ; and while neither of them had been 
able to come to an understanding with 
Luther, the Landgrave and the Swiss Re- 
former, animated by the same bold and 
enterprising spirit, soon agreed together. 

The two reformers differed not less in 
their political than in their religious sys- 
tem. Luther, brought up in the cloister 
and in monastic submission, was imbued in 
youth with the writings of the fathers of the 
Church ; Zwingle, on the other hand, reared 
in the midst of Swiss liberty, had, during 
those early years which decide the course 
of all the others, imbibed the history of the 
ancient republics. Thus, while Luther was 
in favour of a passive obedience, Zwingle de- 
manded that the tyrants should be opposed. 

These two men were the faithful repre- 
sentatives of their respective nations. In 
the north of Germany, the princes and no- 
bility were the essential part of the nation, 
and the people — strangers to all political 
liberty — had only to obey. Thus, at the 
epoch of the Reformation, they were con- 
tented to follow the voice of their doctors 
and chiefs. In Switzerland, in the south 
of Germany, and on the Rhine, on the con- 
trary, many cities, after long and violent 
struggles, had won their civil liberty ; and 
hence we see in almost every place the peo- 
ple taking a decided part in the Reform of 
the Church. There was good in this ; but 
evil was close at hand. The Reformers, 
themselves men of the people, who dare*'' 



1 Dass von oben hinab hie dises Rhyns, bis ^en 
Strasbourg ein Volk und Bundniss wiirde Zw 
Opp. ii. p. 28.) 



573 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



not act upon princes, might be tempted to 
hurry away the people. It was easier for 
the Reformation to unite with republics than 
with kings. This facility nearly proved its 
ruin. The Gospel was thus to learn that its 
alliance is in heaven. 

There was, however, one prince with 
whom the reformed party of the free states 
desired to be in union : this was Philip of 
Hesse. It was he who in great measure 
prompted Zwingle's warlike projects. Zwin- 
gle desired to make him some return, and to 
introduce his new friend into the evangelical 
league. But Berne, watchful to avert any 
thing that might irritate the Emperor and its 
ancient confederates, rejected this proposal, 
and thus excited a lively discontent in the 
"Christian City." — "What!" cried they, 
" do the Bernese refuse an alliance that 
would be honourable for us, acceptable to 
Jesus Christ, and terrible to our adversa- 
ries T" — "The Bear," said the high-spirited 
Zwingle, " is jealous of the Lion (Zurich) ; 
but there will be an end to all these artifices, 
and victory will remain with the bold." It 
would appear, indeed, according to a letter 
in cipher, that the Bernese at last sided with 
Zwingle, requiring only that this alliance 
with a prince of the Empire should not be 
made public. 2 

Still (Ecolampadius had not given way, 
and his meekness contended, although 
modestly, with the boldness of his im- 
petuous friend. . He was convinced that 
faith was destined to triumph only by the 
cordial union of all believers. A valuable 
relief came to reanimate his exertions. The 
deputies of the Christian co-burghery, being 
assembled at Basle in 1530, the envoys from 
Strasburg endeavoured to reconcile Luther 
and Zwingle. (Ecolampadius wrote to Zwin- 
gle on the subject, begging him to hasten to 
Basle, 3 and not show himself too unyielding. 
" To say that the body and blood of Christ 
are really in the Lord's Supper, may appear 
to many too hard an expression," said he, 
" but is it not softened, when it is added — 
spiritually and not bodily ?" 4 

Zwingle was immovable. " It is to flatter 
Luther that you hold such language, and not 
to defend the truth. 5 Edere est credere.''' 6 
Nevertheless there were men present at the 
meeting, who were resolved upon energetic 
measures. Brotherly love was on the eve 
of triumphing : peace was to be obtained by 
union. The Elector of Saxony himself pro- 



1 Ipsis et nobis honestius, ob religionis et cari- 
tatis causam, Christo gratius, ob eonjunctas vires 
utilius, hosiibusque terribilius. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 
481.) 

2 Tantum recusaverunt aperte agere. (Ibid. p. 
487. The cipher 3 appears to indicate the Bernese. 

3 Si potes, mox advola. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 547.) 

4 Christi corpus et sanguinem adesse vero in 
ccenafortasse cuipiam durius sonat, sed mirigatur 
dum adjungitur animo non corpore. (Ibid.) 

5 Hrec omnia fieri pro Luthero neque pro veri- 
tate propugnandi causa. . (Ibid. p. 550.) 

6 To eat is to believe. (Ibid.) 



posed a concord of all Evangelical Chris- 
tians : the Landgrave invited the Swiss cities 
to accede to it. A report spread that Luther 
and Zwingle were about to make the same 
confession of faith. Zwingle, calling to 
mind the early professions of the Saxon 
Reformer, said one day at table before many 
witnesses, that Luther would not think so 
erroneously about the Eucharist, if he were 
not misled by Melancthon. 1 The union* of 
the whole Reform seemed about to be con- 
cluded : it would have vanquished by its 
own weapons. But Luther soon showed 
that Zwingle was mistaken in his expecta- 
tion. He required a written engagement by 
which Zwingle and GEcolampadius should 
adhere to his sentiments, and the negotia- 
tions were broken off in consequence. Con- 
cord having failed, there remained nothing 
| but war. (Ecolampadius must be silent, 
and Zwingle must act. 

And in^truth from that hour Zwingle ad- 
vanced more and more along that fatal path, 
into which he was led by his character, his 
patritism, and his early habits. Stunned 
by so many violent shocks, attacked by his 
enemies and by his brethren, he staggered 
and his head grew dizz) r . From this period 
the reformer almost entirely disappears, and 
w r e see in his place the politician, the great 
citizen, who, beholding a formidable coali- 
tion preparing its chains for every nation, 
stands up energetically against it. The 
Emperor had just formed a close alliance 
with the Pope. If his deadly schemes were 
not opposed, it would be all over, in Zwin- 
gle's opinion, with the Reformation, with 
religious and political liberty, and even with 
the Confederation itself. " The Emperor," 
said he, " is stirring up friend against friend, 
enemy against enemy : and then he endea- 
vours to raise out of this confusion the glory 
of the Papacy, and, above all, his own power. 
He excites the Chatelain of Musso against 
the Grisons — Duke George of Saxony against 
Duke John— the Bishop of Constance against 
the city — the Duke of Savoy against Berne 
— the Five Cantons against Zurich — and the 
Bishops of the Rhine against the Landgrave ; 
then, when the confusion shall have become 
general, he will fall upon Germany, will 
offer himself as a mediator, and ensnare 
princes and cities by fine speeches, until he 
has them all under his feet. Alas ! what 
discord, what disasters, under the pretence 
of re-establishing the Empire and restoring 
religion !" 2 Zwingle went farther. The 
reformer of a small town in Switzerland, 
rising to the most astonishing political con- 
ceptions, called for a European alliance 
against such fatal designs. The son of a 
peasant of the Tockenburg held up his head 
against the heir of so many crowns. " That 



1 Memini dudum Tiguri te dicentem cum con- 
vivio me exciperes, Lutherum non adeo perperam 
de Eucharisua sentire, nisi quod Melancthon ex 
alio eum cogeret. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 562.) 

2 Quas dissidia, quas turbas, quas mala quas 
clades ! (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 429 ) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



579 



man must either be a traitor or a coward," which is, perhaps, for a minister of God, the 
wrote he to a senator of Constance, "who is J greatest reproach. Everything was pre- 
content to stretch and yawn, when he ought , pared in his mind to bring about a revolu- 



to be collecting men and arms on every side, 
to show the Emperor that in vain he strives 
to re-establish the Romish faith, to enslave 
the free cities, and to subdue the Helvetians. 1 
He showed us only six months ago how he 



tion that would have changed the history 
of Europe. He knew what he desired to 
substitute in place of the power he wished 
to overthrow. He had already cast his eyes 
upon the prince who was to wear the imperial 



wo lid proceed. To-day he will take one I crown instead of Charles. It was his friend 



city in hand, to-morrow another ; and so, step 
by. step, until they are all reduced. Then 
their arms will be taken away, their trea- 
sures, their machines of war, and all their 

power Arouse Lindau, and all your 

neighbours ; if they do not awake, public 
liberty will perish under the pretext of reli- 
gion. We must place no confidence in the 
Friendship of tyrants. Demosthenes teaches 
us that there is nothing so hateful in their 
eyes as -tr ( v tuv rtot.tczv s?.sv9tpiav. 2 The Em- 
peror with one hand offers us bread, but in 
the other he conceals a stone." 3 And a few 
months later Zwingle wrote to his friends in 
Constance : " Be bold ; fear not the schemes 
of Charles. The razor will cut him who is 
sharpening it." 4 

Away, then, with delay ! Should they 
wait until Charles the Fifth claimed the an- 
cient castle of Hapsburg 1 The Papacy and 
the Empire, it was said at Zurich, are so 
confounded together, 5 that one cannot exist 
or perish without the other. Whoever re- 
jects Popery should reject the Empire, and 
whoever rejects the Emperor should reject 
the Pope. 

It appears that Zwingle's thoughts even 
went beyond a simple resistance. When 
once the Gospel had ceased to be his prin- 
cipal study, there was nothing that could 
arrest him. "A single individual," said 
he, " must not take it into his head to de- 
throne a tyrant; this would be a revolt, and 
the kingdom of God commands peace, 
righteousness, and joy. But if a whole 
people with common accord, or if the ma- 
jority at least, rejects him, without commit- 
ting any excess, it is God himself who 
acts," 6 Charles V. was at that time a tyrant 
in Zwingle's eyes ; and the reformer hoped 
that Europe, awakening at length from its 
long slumber, would be the hand of God to 
hurl him from his throne. 

Never since the time of Demosthenes and 
of the two Catos had the world seen a more 
energetic resistance to the power of its op- 
pressors. Zwingle in a political point of 
view is one of the greatest characters of 
modern times : we must pay him this honour, 

1 Romanam fidem, restituere, urbes liberas ca- 
pere, Helvetios in ordinem cogere. (Ibid. March, 
1530.) 

2 " The freedom of cities." These words are 
in Greek in the original. 

3 Caesar altera manu panem ostentat, altera la- 
pidem celat. (Zw. Epp. March, 1530.) 

4 Incidet in cotem aliquando novacula. Ibid. 
p. 544. 

5 Bapst und Keyserthumen habend sich der- 
massen in ninandern geflickt. (Bull. ii. p. 343.) 

6 So ist es mit Gott. (Zw. Opp. 

38 



the Landgrave. " Most gracious prince," 
wrote he on the 2d November 1529, "I 
write to you as a child to a father ; it is be- 
cause I hope that God has chosen you for 

great events I dare think, but I dare 

not speak of them. 1 However, we 

must bell the cat at last. 2 All that I 

can do with m3 r feeble means to manifest the 
truth, to save the Universal Church, to aug- 
ment your power and the power of those 
who love God — with God's help, I will do." 
Thus was this great man led astray. It is 
the will of God that there be spots even in 
those who shine brightest in the eyes of the 
world, and that only one upon earth shall 
say — " Which of you convinceth me of sin V 
We are now viewing the faults of the Refor- 
mation : they arise from the union of religion 
with politics. I could not take upon myself 
to pass them by; the recollection of the 
errors of our predecessors is perhaps the 
most useful legacy they have bequeathed 
to us. 

It appears already that at Marburg Zwingle 
and the Landgrave had drawn out the first 
sketch of a general alliance against Charles 
V. The Landgrave had undertaken to bring 
over the princes, Zwingle the free cities of 
Southern Germany and Switzerland. He 
went still further, and formed a plan of 
gaining over to this league the republics of 
Italy — the powerful Venice at least — that 
she might detain the Emperor beyond the 
Alps, and prevent him from leading all his 
forces to Germany. Zwingle, who had 
earnestly pleaded against all foreign alli- 
ances, and proclaimed on so many occasions 
that the only ally of the Swiss should be 
the arm of the Almighty, began now to look 
around for what he had condemned, and thus 
prepared the way for the terrible judgment 
that was about to strike his family, his 
country, and his Church. 

He had hardly returned from Marburg, 
and had made no official communication to 
the great council, when he obtained from the 
senate the nomination of an ambassador to 
Venice. Great men, after their first success, 
easily imagine that they can do everything. 
It was not a statesman who was charged 
with this mission, but one of Zwingle's 
friends, who had accompanied him into 
Germany, to the court of the future chief of 
the Empire — the Greek professor, Rodolph 
Collin, a bold and skilful man, and who 

1 Spero Deum to ad magnas res ... . quas qui 
dem cogitare sed non dicere licet. (Zw. Epp. ii. 
p. 666.) 

2 Sed fieri non potest quin tiutinnabulunt alv» 
quando feli adneclatur. (IbiJ.; 



580 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



knew Italian. Thus the Reform stretched 
its hands to the Doge and the Procurator 
of St. Marc. The Bible was not enough for 
it — it must have the Golden Book.- never did 
a greater humiliation befall God's work. 
The opinion which Protestants then enter- 
tained of Venice may, however, partly ex- 
cuse Zwingle. There was in that city more 
independeuce of the Pope, more freedom of 
thought, than in all the rest, of Italy. Luther 
himself about this time wrote to Gabriel 
Z willing, pastor at Torgau : "With what 
joy do I learn what you write to me con- 
cerning *lte Venetians. God be praised and 
glorified, for that they have received his 
Word I" 1 

Collin was admitted, on the 26th Decem- 
Der, to an audience with the Doge and 
senate, who looked with an air of astonish- 
ment at this schoolmaster, this strange am- 
bassador, without attendants, and without 
parade. They could not even understand 
his credentials, in so singular a style were 
they drawn up, and Collin was forced to 
explain their meaning. " I am come to 
you," said he, " in the name of the council 
of Zurich and of the cities of the christian 
co-burghery — free cities like Venice, and to 
which common interests should unite you. 
The power of the Emperor is formidable to 
the Republics; he is aiming at a universal 
monarchy in Europe ; if he succeeds, all the 
free states will perish. We must therefore 
check him." 2 The Doge replied that the 
Republic had just concluded an alliance 
with the Emperor, and betrayed the distrust 
that so mysterious a mission excited in the 
Venetian senate. But afterwards, in a pri- 
vate conference, 3 the Doge, wishing to pre- 
serve a retreat on both sides, added, that 
Venice gratefully received the message from 
Zurich, and that a Venetian regiment, armed 
and paid by the Republic itself, should be 
always ready to support the Evangelical 
Swiss. The chancellor, covered with his 
purple robe, attended Collin to the door, 
and, at the very gates of the ducal palace, 
confirmed the promise of support. The mo- 
ment the Reformation passed the magnificent 
porticos of St. Marc it was seized with 
giddiness ; it could but stagger onwards to 
the abyss. They dismissed poor Collin by 
placing in his hands a present of twenty 
crowns. The rumour of these negotiations 
soon spread abroad, and the less suspicious, 
Capito for example, shook their heads, and 
could see in this pretended agreement no- 
thing but the accustomed perfidy of Venice. 4 
This was not enough. The cause of the 
Reform was fated to drink the cup of degra- 



1 Lsn.tus audio de Veneris quae scribis, quod 
verbum Dei receperint, Deo gratia ac gloria. (7th 
March, 1528. L. Epp. iii. p. 289.) 

2 Formidandam rebus-publicis potentiam Cssa- 
ris, quae omnino ad Europe monarchiam vergit. 
(Zw. Epp. ii. p. 445.) 

3 Postea privatim alia respondisse. (Ibid.; 

4 Perfidiam adversus Caesarem, fidem videri 
voJunt. (Capito, Zw. Epp. ii. p. 445.) 



dation to the very dregs. Zwingle, seeing 
that his adversaries in the Empire increased 
daily in numbers and in power, gradually 
lost his ancient aversion for France ; and, 
although there was now a greater obstacle 
than before between him and Francis I.,— 
the blood of his brethren shed by that mon- 
arch, — he showed himself favourably dis- 
posed to a union that he had once so forcibly 
condemned. 

Lambert Maigret, a French general, who 
appears to have had some leaning to the 
Gospel — which is a slight excuse for Zwin- 
gle — entered into correspondence with the 
reformer, giving him to understand that the 
secret designs of Charles V. called for an 
alliance between the King of France and 
the Swiss Republics. " Apply yourself," 
said this diplomatist to him in 1530, " to a 
work so agreeable to our Creator, and which, 
by God's grace, will be very easy to your 
Mightiness." 1 Zwingle was at first aston- 
ished at these overtures. "The King of 
France," thought he, " cannot know which 
way to turn." 2 Twice he took no heed of 
this prayer ; but the envoy of Francis I. in- 
sisted that the reformer should communicate 
to him a plan of alliance. At the third at- 
tempt of the ambassador, the simple child 
of the Tockenburg mountains could no longer 
resist his advances. If Charles V. must fall, 
it cannot be without French assistance ; and 
why should not the Reformation contract an 
alliance with Francis I., the object of which 
would be to establish a power in the Empire 
that should in its turn oblige the King to 
tolerate the Reform in his own dominions ? 
Every thing seemed to meet the wishes of 
Zwingle ; the fall of the tyrant was at hand, 
and he would drag the Pope along with him. 
He communicated the general's overtures to 
the secret council, and Collin set out, com- 
missioned to bear the required project to the 
French ambassador. 3 " In ancient times," 
it ran, " no kings or people ever resisted the 
Roman Empire with such firmness as those 
of France and Switzerland. Let us not de- 
generate from the virtues of our ancestors. 
His most Christian Majesty — all whose 
wishes are, that the purity of the Gospel 
may remain undefiled 4 — engages therefore 
to conclude an alliance with the Christian 
co-burghery that should be in accordance 
with the Divine law, and that shall be sub- 
mitted to the censure of the evangelical the- 
ologians of Switzerland." Then followed 
an outline of the different articles of the 
treaty. 

Lanzerant, another of the king's envoys, 
replied the same day (27th February,) to 

1 Operi Creatori nostro acceptissimo, Domina- 
tion! tuse facillimo, media gratia Dei. (Zw. Epp, 
ii. p. 413.) 

2 Regem admodum desesperare et inopem con- 
cilii esse, ut nesciat quo se vertat. (Ibid. p. 414."* 

3 Bis negavi, at tertio misi, non sine conscientia 
Probulatarum. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 422.) 

4 Nihil enim aequi esse in votis Christiacissimi 
Regis, atque ut Evangelii puritas illibata perma- 
ncat. (Ibid. p. 417.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



581 



this astonishing project of alliance, about to 
be concluded between the reformed Swiss 
and the persecutor of the French Reformed, 
under reserve of the censure of the theologians. 

This was not what France 

desired : it was Lombardy, and not the Gos- 
pel that the king- wanted. For that purpose, 
he needed the support of all the Swiss. But 
• an alliance which ranged the Roman-catholic 
cantons against him, would not suit him. 
Being satisfied, therefore, for the present 
with knowing the sentiments of Zurich, the 
French envoys began to look coolly upon the 
Reformer's scheme. " The matters you have 
submitted to us are admirably drawn up," 
said Lanzerant to the Swiss commissioner, 
" but I can scarcely understand them, no 
doubt because of the weakness of my mind. 

We must not put 

any seed into the ground, unless the soil be I 
properly prepared for it." 

Thus, the Reform acquired nothing but ! 
shame from these propositions. Since it 
had forgotten these precepts of the Word j 
of God : " Be ye not unequally yoked to- j 
gether with unbelievers I" 1 how could it fail j 
to meet with striking reverses 1 Already 
Zwingle's friends began to abandon him. 
The Landgrave, who had pushed him into 
this diplomatic career, drew towards Luther, 
and sought to check the Swiss Reformer, I 
particularly after this saying of Erasmus had 
sounded in the- ears of the great: "They ask 
us to open our gates, crying aloud — the Gos- 
pel ! the Gospel ! 

Raise the cloak, and under its mysterious 
folds you will find — democracy." 

While the Reform, by its culpable pro- 
ceedings, was calling down the chastisement 
of Heaven, the Five Cantons, that were to 
be the instruments of its punishment, accel- 
erated with all their might those fatal days 
of anger and of vengeance. They were irri- 
tated at the progress of the Gospel through- 
out the Confederation, while the peace they 
had signed became every day more irksome 
to them. " We shall have no repose," said 
they, " until we have broken these bonds 
and regained our former liberty." 2 A gene- 
ral diet was convoked at Baden for the 8th 
January, 1531. The Five Cantons then 
declared that if justice was "not done to their 
grievances, particularly with respect to the 
abbey of St. Gall, they would no more ap- 
pear in diet. " Confederates of Glaris, 
Schaffhausen, Friburg, Soleure, and Appen- 
zell," cried they, "aid us in making our 
ancient alliances respected, or we will our- 
selves contrive the means of checking this 
guilty violence ; and may the Holy Trinity 
assist us in this work !" 3 

But they did not confine themselves to 
threats. The treaty of peace. had expressly 
forbidden all insulting language — " for fear," 



1 2 Cor. vi. 13. 

2 N.itt ruwen biss sy der banden ledig. (Bull. 
|l. p. 324.) 

3 Darzu helfe uns die helig dryfaltikeit. (Bull. 
p. 336.) 



it is said, "that by insults and calumnies, 
discord should again be excited, and greater 
troubles than the former should arise." Thus 
was concealed in the treaty itself the spark 
whence the conflagration was to proceed. 
In fact, to restrain the rude tongues of the 
Waldstettes was impossible. Two Zurich- 
ers, the aged prior Ravensbiihler, and the 
pensioner Gaspard Godli, who had - been 
compelled to renounce, the one his convent, 
and the other his pension, especially aroused 
the anger of* the people against their native 
city. They used to say every where in these 
valleys, and with impunity, that the Zurich- , 
ers were heretics ; that there was not one of 
them who did not indulge in unnatural sins, 
and who was not a robber at the very least; 1 
— that Zwingle was a thief, a murderer, and 
an arch-heretic ; and that, on one occasion 
at Paris (where he had never been,) he had 
committed a horrible offence, in which Leo 
Juda had been his pander. 2 " I shall have 
no rest," said a pensioner, " until I have 
thrust my sword up to the hilt in the heart 
of this impious wretch." Old commanders 
of troops, who were feared by all on account 
of their unruly character ; the satellites who 
followed in their train; insolent young peo- 
ple, sons of the first persons in the state, 
who thought every thing was fewful against 
miserable preachers, and their stupid flocks ; 
priests inflamed with hatred, and treading in 
the footsteps of these old captains and giddy 
young men, who seemed to take the pulpit 
of a church for the bench of a pot-house : all 
poured torrents of insults on the Reform and 
its adherents. " The towns-people," ex- 
claimed with one accord these drunken sol- 
diers and these fanatic priests, " are heretics, 
soul-stealers, conscience-slayers, and Zwin- 
gle — that horrible man, who commits infa- 
mous sins — is the Lutheran God." 3 ■ 

They went still further. Passing from 
words to deeds, the Five Cantons perse- 
cuted, the poor people among them who 
loved the Word of God, flung them into 
prison, imposed fines upon them, brutally 
tormented them, and mercilessly expelled 
them from their country. The people of 
Schwytz did even worse. Not fearing to 
announce their sinister designs, they ap- 
peared at a Landsgemeinde wearing pine- 
branches in their hats, in sign of war, and 
no one opposed them. " The Abbot of St. 
Gall," said they, " is a prince of the Em- 
pire, and holds his investiture from the Em- 
peror. Do they imagine that Charles V. will 
not avenge him ?" — " Have not these here- 
tics," said others, " dared to form a Chris* 
tian Fraternity, as if old Switzerland was a 
heathen country"?" Secret councils were 
continually held in one place or another. 4 

1 Es were hein Zurycher er hatte chuy und 
merchen gehygt. (Bull. p. 336.) 

2 Alls der zu Parys ein Esel gehygt ; und habe 
imm Leo Jud denselben eeliept. (Bull. ii. p. 336." 

3 Der lutherischen Gott. (Ibid. p. 337.) 

4 Radt schlagtend und tagentend heymlich v. c 
(Bull. ii. p. 336/) 



582 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



New alliances were sought with the Valais, 
the Pope, and the Emperor 1 — blamable al- 
liances, no doubt, but such as they might at 
least justify by the proverb : " Birds of a 
feather go together;" which Zurich and 
Venice could not say. 

The Valaisans at first refused their sup- 
port: they preferred remaining neuter ; but 
on a sudden their fanaticism was inflamed. 
A sheet of paper was found on an altar — 
such at least was the report circulated in their 
valleys, — in which Zurich and Berne were 
accused of preaching that to commit an of- 
fence against nature is a smaller crime than 
to hear Mass ! 2 Who had placed this mys- 
terious paper on the altar? Came it from 

man] Did it fall from heaven? 

They knew not; but however that might be, 
it was copied, circulated, and read every- 
where ; and the effects of this fable, invented 
by some villain, says Zwingle, 3 was such 
that Valais immediately granted the support 
it had at first refused! The Waldstettes, 
proud of their strength, then closed their 
ranks; their fierce eyes menaced the hereti- 
cal cantons ; and the winds bore from their 
mountains to their neighbours of the towns 
a formidable clang of arms. 

At the sight of these alarming manifesta- 
tions the evangelical cities were in commo- 
tion. They first assembled at Basle in 
February 1531, then at Zurich in March. 
"What is to be done?" said the deputies 
from Zurich, after setting forth their griev- 
ances; "how can we punish these infamous 
calumnies, and force these threatening arms 
to fall?" — "We understand," replied Berne, 
"that you would have recourse to violence ; 
but think of these secret and formidable alli- 
ances that are forming with the Pope, the 
Emperor, the King of France, with so many 
princes, in a word with all the priests' party, 
to accelerate our ruin; — think on the inno- 
cence of so many pious souls in the Five 
Cantons, who deplore these perfidious machi- 
nations; — think how eas)' it is to begin a 
Avar, but that no one can tell when it will 
end." 4 Sad foreboding ! which a catas- 
trophe, beyond all human foresight, accom- 
plished but too soon. "Let us therefore 
send a deputation to the Five Cantons," 
continued Berne; "let us call upon them to 
punish these infamous calumnies in accord- 
ance with the treaty ; and if they refuse, let 
us break off all intercourse with them." — 
" What will be the use of this mission *" 
asked Basle. " Do we not know the bru- 
tality of this people ? And is it not to be 
feared that the rough treatment to which our 
deputies will be exposed, may make the 



1 Niiwe friindschaften, by den Walliseren, dem 
Bapst, und den Keysserischen.' (Ibid.) 

2 Ut si quis rem obscasnam cum jumento sive 
hove habeat, minus pegcare quam si missam inau- 
diat. (Zw. Epp. p. 610.) 

3 Perfidorum ac sceleratorum hominum com- 
inentum. (Ibid.) 

4 Aber sin end und ussgang mbchte nieman 
jald w'ussen. (Bull. ii. p. 346.) 



I matter worse ? Let us rather convoke a 
1 general diet." Schaffhausen and St. Gall 
I having concurred in this opinion, Berne sum- 
moned a diet at Baden for the 10th April, at 
! which deputies from all the cantons were as- 
: sembled. 

Many of the principal men among the 
Waldstettes disapproved of the violence of 
j the retired soldiers and of the monks. They 
i saw that these continually repeated insults 
; would injure their cause. " The insults of 
' which you complain," said they to the diet, 
"afflict us no less than you. We shall know 
1 how to punish them, and we have already 
! done so. But there are violent men on both 
j sides. The other day a man of Basle having 
! met on the highroad a person who was 
! coming from Berne, and having learnt that 
' he was going to Lucerne : — ' To go from 
i Berne to Lucerne,' exclaimed he, 'is passing 
| from a father to an arrant knave !' " The 
I mediating cantons invited the two parties to 
: banish every cause of discord. 

But the war of the Chatelain of Musso 
having then broken out, Zwingle and Zurich, 
■ who saw in it the first act of a vast con- 
spiracy, destined to stifle the Reform in 
every place, called their allies together. 
" We must waver no longer," said Zwingle ; 
" the rupture of the alliance on the part of 
the Five Cantons, and the unheard of insults 
with which they load us, impose upon us 
the obligation of marching against our ene- 
mies, 1 before the Emperor, who is still de- 
tained by the Turks, shall have expelled the 
| Landgrave, seized upon Strasburg, and sub- 
jugated even ourselves." All the blood of 
the ancient Swiss seemed to boil in this 
man's veins ; and while Uri, Schwytz, and 
Unterwalden basely kissed the hand of Aus- 
tria, this Zuricher — the greatest Helvetian 
of the age — faithful to the memory of old 
Switzerland, but not so to still holier tradi- 
tions, followed in the glorious steps of 
StaufFacher and Winkelried. 

The warlike tone of Zurich alarmed its 
confederates. Basle proposed a summons, 
and then, in case of refusal, the rupture of 
the alliance. Schaffhausen and St. Gall 
were frightened at even this step : " The 
mountaineers, so proud, indomitable, and 
exasperated," said they, ".will accept with 
joy the dissolution of the Confederation, and 
then shall we be more advanced?" Such 
was the posture of affairs, when to the great 
astonishment of all, deputies from Uri and 
Schwytz made their appearance. They were 
coldly received ; the cup of honour was not 
offered to them ; and they had to walk, ac- 
cording to their own account, in the midst 
of the insulting cries of the people. They 
unsuccessfully endeavoured to excuse their 
conduct. "We have long been waiting," 
was the cold reply of the diet, " to see youT 
actions and your words agree." 2 The men 

1 Sy gwaltig ze Uberziehen. (Bull. ii. p. 366.) 

2 Und wortt und werk mit einandern gangen 
werind. (Bull. ii. p. 367.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATION. 



583 



of Schwytz and of Uri returned in sadness to 
their homes; and the assembly broke up, full 
of sorrow and distress. 

Zwingle beheld with pain the deputies of 
the evangelical towns separating without 
having come to any decision. He no longer 
desired only a reformation of the Church; 
he wished for a transformation in the Con- 
federacy ; and it was this latter reform that 
he was now preaching from the pulpit, ac- 
cording to what we learn from Bullinger. 1 
He was not the only person who desired it. 
For a long time the inhabitants of the most 
populous and powerful towns of Switzer- 
land had complained that the Waldstettes, 
whose contingent of men and money was 
much below theirs, had an equal share in 
the deliberations of the diet, and in the fruits 
of their victories. This had been the cause 
of division after the Burgundian War. The 
Five Cantons, by means of their adherents, 
had the majority. Now Zwingle thought 
that the reins of Switzerland should be 
placed in the hands of the great cities, and, 
above all, in those of the powerful cantons 
of Berne and Zurich. New times, in his 
opinion, called for new forms. It was not 
sufficient to dismiss from every public office 
the pensioners of foreign princes, and substi- 
tute pious men in their place ; the federal 
compact must be remodelled, and settled 
upon a more equitable basis. A national 
constituent assembly would doubtless have 
responded to his wishes. These discourses, 
which were rather those of a tribune of the 
people, than of a minister of Jesus Christ, 
hastened on the terrible catastrophe. 

And indeed the animated words of the 
patriot reformer passed from the church 
where they had been delivered into the coun- 
cils and the halls of the guilds, into the 
streets and the fields. The burning words 
that fell from the lips of this man kindled 
the hearts of his. fellow-citizens. The elec- 
tric spark, escaping with noise and commo- 
tion, was felt even in the most distant cot- 
tage* The ancient traditions of wisdom and 
prudence seemed forgotten. Public opinion 
declared itself energetically. On the 29th 
and 30th April, a number of horsemen rode 
hastily out of Zurich ; they were envoys 
from the council, commissioned to remind 
all the allied cities of the encroachment of 
the Five Cantons, and to call for a prompt 
and definitive decision. Reaching their seve- 
ral destinations, the messengers recapitulated 
the grievances. 2 . " Take care," said they in 
conclusion ; " great dangers are impending 
over all of us. The Emperor and King Fer- 
dinand are making vast preparations; they 
are about to enter Switzerland with large 
sums of money, and with a numerous 
army." 

Zurich joined actions to words. This state, 



* Trang gar hafFtig uff eine gemeine Reforma- 
tion gemeiner Eydgenoschaft. (Bull. ii. p. 36S.) 

2 They are to be found in Bullinger, ii. p. 36S 
-376. 



being resolved to make every exertion t<s 
establish the free preaching of the Gospel in 
those bailiwicks where it shared the sove- 
reignty with the Roman-catholic cantons, 
desired to interfere by force wherever nego- 
tiations could not prevail. The federal 
rights, it must be confessed, were trampled 
under foot at St. Gall, in Thurgovia, in the 
Rheinthal ; and Zurich substituted arbitrary 
decisions in their place, that excited the in- 
dignation of the Waldstettes to the highest 
degree. Thus the number of enemies to 
the Reform kept increasing ; the tone of the 
Five Cantons became daily more threaten- 
ing, and the inhabitants of the canton of 
Zurich, whom their business called into the 
mountains, were loaded with insults, and 
sometimes badly treated. These violent 
proceedings excited in turn the anger of the 
reformed cantons. Zwingle traversed Thur- 
govia, St. Gall, and the Tockenburg, every- 
where organizing synods, taking part in 
their proceedings, and preaching before 
excited and enthusiastic crowds. In all 
parts he met with confidence and respect. 
At St. Gall an immense crowd assembled 
under his windows, and a concert of voices 
and instruments expressed to the reformer 
the public gratitude in harmonious songs. 
"Let us not abandon ourselves," he re- 
peated continually, "and all will go well." 
It was resolved that a meeting should be. 
held at Arau on the 12th May, to deliberate 
on a posture of affairs that daily became 
more critical. This meeting was to be the 
beginning of sorrows. 

V. Zwingle's scheme with regard to the 
establishment of a new Helvetian constitu- 
tion did not prevail in the diet of Arau. 
Perhaps it was thought better to see the re- 
sult of the crisis. Perhaps a more Christian, 
a more federal view — the hope of procuring 
the unity of Switzerland by unity of faith — 
occupied men's minds more than the pre- 
eminence of the cities. In truth, if a certain 
number of cantons remained with the Pope, 
the unity of the Confederation was destroyed, 
it might be for ever. But if all the Con- 
federation was brought over to the same 
faith, the ancient Helvetic unity would be 
established on the strongest and surest foun- 
dation. Now was the time for acting — or 
never; and there must be no fear of employ- 
ing a violent remedy to restore the whole 
body to health. 

Nevertheless, the allies shrunk back at 
the thought of restoring religious liberty or 
political unity by means of arms ; and to 
escape from the difficulties in which the 
Confederation was placed, they sought a mid- 
dle course between war and peace. " There 
is no doubt," said the deputies from Berne, 
" that the behaviour of the cantons with re- 
gard to the Word of God fully authorizes an 
armed intervention; but the dangers that 
threaten us on the side of Italy and the 
Empire — the danger' of arousing the lion 
from his slumber — the general want aud 



584 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



misery that afflict our people — the rich har- 
vests thai will soon cover our fields, and 
that the war would infallibly destroy — the 
great number of pious men among- the 
Waldstettes, and whose innocent blood 
would flow along with that of the guilty : — 
all these motives enjoin us to leave the 
sword in the scabbard. Let us rather close 
our markets against the Five Cantons; let 
us refuse them corn, salt, wine, steel, and 
iron ; we shall thus impart authority to the 
friends of peace among them, and innocent 
blood will be spared." 1 The meeting sepa- 
rated forthwith to carry this intermediate 
proposition to the different Evangelical can- 
tons, and on the 15th May again assembled 
at Zurich. 

Convinced that the means apparently the 
most violent were nevertheless both the 
surest and the most humane, Zurich resisted 
the Bernese proposition with all its might. 
" By accepting this proposition," said they, 
"we sacrifice the advantages that we now 
possess, and we give the Five Cantons time 
to arm themselves, and to fall upon us first. 
Let us take care that the Emperor does not 
then attack us on one side, while our ancient 
confederates attack us on the other; a just 
war is not in opposition to the Word of 
God ; but this is contrary to it — taking the 
bread from the mouths of the innocent as 
well as the guilty; straitening by hunger the 
eick, the aged, pregnant women, children, 
and all who are deeply afflicted by the injus- 
tice of the Waldstettes. 2 We should beware 
of exciting by this means the anger of the 
poor, and transforming into enemies many 
who at the present time are our friends and 
our brothers!" 

We must acknowledge that this language, 
which was Zwingle's, contained much truth. 
But the other cantons, and Berne in parti- 
cular, were immoveable. " When we have 
once shed the blood of our brothers," said 
they, " we shall never be able to restore life 
to those who have lost it; while, from the 
moment the Waldstettes have given us 
satisfaction, we shall be able to put an end 
to all these severe measures. We are re- 
solved not to begin the war." There were 
no means of running counter to such a decla- 
ration. The Zurichers consented to refuse 
supplies to the Waldstettes ; but it was with 
hearts full of anguish, as if they had fore- 
seen all that this deplorable measure would 
cost them. 3 It was agreed that the severe 
step that was now about to be taken should 
not be suspended except by common con- 
sent, and that, as it would create great exas- 
peration, each one should hold himself pre- 
pared to repel the attacks of the enemy. Zu- 
rich and Berne were commissioned to notify 
this determination to the Five Cantons ; and 

1 Und dadurch unshuldiez Bliit erspart wurde. 
(Bull ii. p. 383.) 

2 Kranke alte shwangere wyber, kinder und 
sunst betrubte. (Bull. ii. p. 384.) 

3 Schmerzlich und kummersachlich. (Ibid. p. 
386.) 



Zurich, discharging its task with prompti- 
tude, immediately forwarded an order to 
every bailiwick to suspend all communica- 
tion with the Waldstettes, commanding them 
at the same time to abstain from ill-usage 
and hostile language. Thus the Reforma- 
tion, becoming imprudently mixed up with 
political combinations, marched from fault 
to fault; it pretended to preach the Gospel 
to the poor, and was now about to refuse 
them bread ! 

On the Sunday following — it was Whit- 
sunday — the resolution was published from 
the pulpits. Zwingle walked towards his, 
where an immense crowd was waiting for 
him. The piercing eye of this great man 
easily discovered the dangers of the measure 
in a political point of view, and his christian 
heart deeply felt all its cruelty. His soul 
was overburdened, his eyes downcast. If at 
this moment the true character of a minister 
of the Gospel had awoke within him; — if 
Zwingle with his powerful voice had called 
on the people to humiliation before God, to 
forgiveness of trespasses, and to prayer; 
safety might yet have dawned on "broken- 
hearted" Switzerland. But it was not so. 
More and more the Christian disappears in 
the Reformer, and the citizen alone re- 
mains ; but in that character he soars far 
above all, and his policy is undoubtedly the 
most skilful. He sees clearly that every 
delay may ruin Zurich; and after having 
made his way through the people, and closed 
the book of the Prince of Peace, he hesitates 
not to attack the resolution which he has 
just communicated to the people, and on the 
very festival of the Holy Ghost to preach 
war. " He who fears not to call his adver- 
sary a criminal," says he in his usual forcible 
language, " must be ready to follow the word 
with a blow. 1 If he does not strike, he will 
lie stricken. Men of Zurich ! you deny food 
to the Five Cantons, as to evil-doers : well ! 
let the blow follow the threat, rather than 
reduce poor innocent creatures to starvation. 
If, by not taking the offensive, you appear 
to believe that there is not sufficient reason 
for punishing the Waldstettes, and yet you 
refuse them food and drink, you will force 
them by this line of conduct to take up 
arms, to raise their hands, and to inflict 
punishment upon you. This is the fate 
that awaits you." 

These words of the eloquent reformer 
moved the whole assembly. Zwingle's 
politic mind already so influenced and mis- 
led all the people that there were few souls 
christian enough to feel how strange it was 
that on the very day when they were cele- 
brating the outpouring of the Spirit of peace 
and love upon the Christian Church, the 
mouth of a minister of God should utter a 
provocation to war. They looked at ih^ 
sermon only in a political point of view : 
" It is a seditious discourse ; it is an excite- 



1 Das er wortt und faust mitt einander gan lasse 
(Bull. ii. p. 388.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



585 



ment to civil war!" said some. "No," re- 
plied others, "it is the language that the 
safety of the state requires !" All Zurich was 
agitated. " Zurich has too much fire," said 
Berne. " Berne has too much cunning," 
replied Zurich. 1 Zwingle's gloomy pro- 
phecy was too soon to be fulfilled ! 

No sooner had the reformed cantons com- 
municated to the Waldstettes this pitiless 
decree than they hastened its execution; and 
Zurich showed the greatest strictness re- 
specting it. Not only the markets of Zurich 
and of Berne, but also those of the free baili- 
wicks, those of St. Gall, of the Tockenburg, 
of the district of Sargans and of the valley 
of the Rhine, a country partly under the 
sovereignty of the Waldstettes, were shut 
against the Five Cantons. A formidable 
power had suddenly encompassed with bar- 
renness, famine, and death, the noble founders 
of Helvetian liberty. Uri, Schwytz,.Unter- 
walden, Zug, and Lucerne, were, as it 
seemed, in the midst of a vast desert. Their 
own subjects, thought they at least, the com- 
munes that have taken the oath of allegiance 
to them, would range themselves on their 
side ! But no ; Bremgarten, and even Mel- 
lingen, refused all succour. Their last hope 
was in Wesen and the Gastal. Neither 
Berne nor Zurich have any thing to do 
there ; Schwytz and Glaris alone rule over 
them ; but the power of their enemies has 
penetrated everywhere. A majority of thir- 
teen votes had declared in favour of Zurich 
at the Landsgemeinde of Glaris ; and Glaris 
closed the gates of Wesen and of the Gastal 
against Schwytz. In vain did Berne itself 
cry out: " How can you compel subjects to 
refuse supplies to their lords'?" In vain did 
Schwytz raise its voice in indignation ; 
Zurich immediately sent to Wesen gun- 
powder and bullets. It is upon Zurich, 
therefore, that falls all the odium of a mea- 
sure which that city had at first so earnestly 
combated. At Arau, at Bremgarten, at Mel- 
lingen, in the free bailiwicks, were several 
carriages laden with provisions for the Wald- 
stettes. They were stopped, unloaded, and 
upset : with them were barricades erected on 
the roads leading to Lucerne, Schwytz, and 
Zug. Already a year of dearth had made 
provisions scarce in the Five Cantons ; — 
already had a frightful epidemic, the Sweat- 
ing Sickness, scattered everywhere despond- 
ency and death : but now the hand of man 
was joined to the hand of God ; the evil 
increased, and the poor inhabitants of these 
mountains beheld unheard of calamities ap- 
proach with hasty steps. No more bread for 
their children — no more wine to revive their 
exhausted strength — no more salt for their 
Hooks and herds ! Every thing failed them 
that man requires for subsistence. 2 One 



1 It was Zwingle who characterized the two 
cities :— • 

Berne : klage Zurbh ware zu hitzig : 

Zurich : Bern ware zu witzig. — (Stettler.) 

* Deshalb sy bald grossen mangel erlittend an 



could not see such things, and be a man, 
without a broken heart. In the confederate 
cities, and out of Switzerland, numerous 
voices were raised against this implacable 
measure. What good can result from it? 
Did not St. Paul write to the Romans : " If 
thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, 
give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt 
heap coals of fire on his head?" 1 And when 
the magistrates wished to convince certain 
refractory communes of the utility of the 
measure : " We desire no religious war," 
cried they. "If the Waldstettes will not 
believe in God, let them stick to the devil !" 

But it was especially in the Five Cantons 
that earnest complaints were heard. The 
most pacific individuals, and even the secret 
partisans of the Reform, seeing famine in- 
vade their habitations, felt the deepest indig- 
nation. The enemies of Zurich skilfully took 
advantage of this disposition ; they fostered 
these murmurs ; and soon the cry of anger 
and distress re-echoed from all the mountains. 
In vain did Berne represent to the Wald- 
stettes that it is more cruel to refuse men the 
nourishment of the soul than to cut off that 
of the body. " God," replied these moun- 
taineers in their despair, "God causes the 
fruits of the earth to grow freely for all 
men!" 2 They were not content with groan- 
ing in their cottages, and venting their indig- 
nation in councils ; they filled all Switzerland 
with complaints and menaces. 3 " They wish 
to employ famine to tear us from our ancient 
faith ; they wish to deprive our wives and 
our children of bread, that they may take 
from us the liberty we derive from our fore- 
fathers. When did such things ever take 
place in the bosom of the Confederation] 
Did we not see, in the last war, the Confed- 
erates with arms in their hands, and who 
were ready to draw the sword, eating to- 
gether from the same dish 1 They tear in 
pieces old friendships — they trample our 
ancient manners underfoot — they violate 
treaties — they break alliances. . . . We in- 
voke the charters of our ancestors ! Help ! 
help! . . . Wise men of our people, give 
us your advice, and all you .who know how- 
to handle the sling and the sword, come and 
maintain with us the sacred possessions, for 
which our fathers, delivered from the yoke 
of the stranger, united their arms and their 
hearts." 

At the same time the Five Cantons sent 
into Alsace, Brisgau, and Swabia, to obtain 
salt, wine, and bread; but the administration 
of the cities was implacable; the orders 
were everywhere given, and everywhere 
strictly executed. Zurich and the other 
allied cantons intercepted all communica- 
tion, and sent back to Germany the supplies 

allem dem das der Mensh gelaben soil. (Bull. ii. 
p. 396.) 

« Ibid. — Romans xii. 20. 

2 Hartmann von Hall Vyll to Albert of jMulinen, 
7th August. 

3 Klagtend sich allcht halben wyt und breiL 
(Bull. ii. p. 397.) 



586 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that had been forwarded to their brethren. 
These Five Cantons were like a vast for- 
tress, all the issues from which are closely 
guarded by watchful sentinels. The af- 
flicted Waldstettes, on beholding 1 themselves 
alone with famine between their lakes and 
their mountains, had recourse to the ob- 
servances of their worship. All sports, 
dances, and every kind of amusement were 
interdicted; 1 prayers were directed to be of- 
fered up ; and long processions covered the 
roads of Einsideln and other resorts of pil- 
grims. They assumed the belt, and staff, 
and arms of the brotherhood to which they 
each belonged ; each man carried a chaplet 
in his hands, and repeated paternosters ; the 
mountains and the valleys re-echoed with 
their plaintive hymns. But the Waldstettes 
did still more : they grasped their swords — 
they sharpened the points of their halberds — 
they brandished their weapons in the direc- 
tion of Zurich and of Berne, and exclaimed 
with rage : " They block up their roads, but 
we will open them with our right arms !"* 
No one replied to this cry of despair; but 
there is a just Judge in heaven to whom ven- 
geance belongs, and who will soon reply in 
a terrible manner, by punishing those mis- 
guided persons, who, forgetful of christian 
mercy, and making an impious mixture of 
political and religious matters, pretend to 
secure the triumph of the Gospel by famine 
and by armed men. 

Some attempts, however, were made to 
arrange matters ; but these very efforts proved 
a great humiliation for Switzerland and for 
the Reform. It was not the ministers of the 
Gospel, it was France — more than once an 
occasion of discord to Switzerland — that 
offered to restore peace. Every proceeding 
calculated to increase its influence among the 
cantons was of service to its policy. On the 
14th May, Maigret and Dangertin (the latter 
of whom had received the Gospel truth, and 
consequently did not dare return to France), 3 
after some allusions to the spirit which 
Zurich had shown in this affair — a spirit 
little in accordance with the Gospel — said 
to the council : " The king our master has 
sent you two gentlemen to consult on the 
means of preserving concord among you. If 
war and tumult invade Switzerland, all the 
society of the Helvetians will be destroyed,* 
and whichever party is the conqueror, he 
will be as much ruined as the other." Zu- 
rich having replied that if the Five Cantons 
would allow the free preaching of the Word 
of God, the reconciliation would be easy, 



1 Stelltent ab spielen, Tanzen. — Tschudi der 
Capeller krieg, 1531. This MS. is attributed to 
Egidius Tschudi, who must have written it in 
1533, in favour of Five Cantons, and was printed 
in the " Helvetia,'- vol. ii. p. 165. 

2 Trowtend auch die Straassen uff zu thun mit 
gwalt. (Bull. ii. p. 397.) 

3 Ep Rugeri ad Bulling., 12th November, 1560. 

4 Universa societas Helvetiorum dilabetur, si 
*umultus et bellum inter earn eruperit 'Zw. Epp. 
'i. p. 604.) 



the French secretly sounded the Waldstettes, 
whose answer was : " We will never permit 
the preaching of the Word of God, as the 
people of Zurich understand it." 1 

These more or less interested exertions of 
the foreigners having failed, a general diet 
became the only chance of safety that re- 
mained for Switzerland. One was accord- 
ingly convoked at Bremgarten. It was opened 
in presence of deputies from France, from 
the Duke of Milan, from the Countess of 
Neufchatel, from the Grisons, Valais, Thur- 
govia, and the district of Sargans ; and met 
on five different occasions, — on the 14th and 
20th June, on the 9th July, and the 10th and 
23d August. The chronicler Bullinger, who 
was pastor of Bremgarten, delivered an ora- 
tion at the opening, in which he earnestly 
exhorted the Confederates to union and 
peace. 

A gleam of hope for a moment cheered 
Switzerland. The blockade had become less 
strict; friendship and good neighbourhood 
had prevailed in many places over the de- 
crees of the state. Unusual roads had been 
opened across the wildest mountains to con- 
vey supplies to the Waldstettes. ^Provisions 
were concealed in bales of merchandise; and 
while Lucerne imprisoned and tortured its 
own citizens, who were found with the books 
of the Zurichers, 2 Berne punished but slightly 
the peasants who had been discovered bear- 
ing food for Unterwalden and Lucerne ; and 
Glaris shut its eyes on the frequent viola- 
tion of its orders. The voice of charity, that 
had been momentarily stifled, pleaded with 
fresh energy the cause of their confederates 
before the reformed cantons. 

But the Five Cantons were inflexible. 
" We will not listen to any proposition be* 
fore the raising of the blockade," said they. 
" We will not raise it," replied Berne and 
Zurich, "before the Gospel is allowed to be 
freely preached, not only in the common 
bailiwicks, but also in the Five Cantons." 
This was undoubtedly going too far, even 
according to the natural law and the prirv 
ciples of the Confederation. The council* 
of Zurich might consider it their duty tc 
have recourse to war for maintaining liberty 
of conscience in the common bailiwicks ; 
but it was unjust — it was a usurpation, to 
constrain the Five Cantons in a matter that 
concerned their own territory. Nevertheless 
the mediators succeeded, not without much 
trouble, in drawing up a plan of conciliation 
that seemed to harmonize with the wishes 
of both parties. The conference was broken 
up, and this project was hastily transmitted 
to the different states for their ratification. 

The diet met again a few days after ; but 
the Five Cantons persisted in their demand, 
without yielding in any one point. In vain 
did Zurich and Berne represent to them, that, 



1 Responderunt verbi Dei predicationem non 
laturos, quomodo nos intelligamus. (Zw. Epp. ii. 
p. 607.) 

2 Bull. ii. p. 30. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



587 



by persecuting- the Reformed, the cantons 
violated the treaty of peace ; in vain did the 
mediators exhaust their strength in warnings 
and entreaties. The parties appeared at one 
time to approximate, and then on a sudden 
they were more distaxit and more irritated 
than ever. The Waldstettes at last brake 
up the third conference by declaring, that 
far from opposing the Evangelical truth, they 
would maintain it, as it had been taught by 
the Redeemer, by his holy Apostles, by the 
F )ur Doctors, and by their holy mother, the 
Church — a declaration that seemed a bitter 
irony to the deputies from Zurich and Berne. 
Nevertheless Berne, turning towards Zurich 
as they were separating, observed : " Beware 
of too much violence, even should they at- 
tack you !" 

This exhortation was unnecessary. The 
strength of Zurich had passed away. The 
first appearance of the Reformation and of 
the Reformers had been greeted with joy. 
The people, who groaned under a twofold 
slavery, believed they saw the dawn of 
liberty. But their minds, abandoned for 
ages to superstition and ignorance, being 
unable immediately to realize the hopes they 
had conceived, a spirit of discontent soon 
spread among the masses. The change by 
which Zwingle, ceasing to be a man of the 
Gospel, became the man of the State, took 
away from the people the enthusiasm neces- 
sary to resist the terrible attacks they would 
have to sustain. The enemies of the Re- 
form had a fair chance against it, so soon as 
its friends abandoned the position that gave 
them strength. Besides, Christians could 
not have recourse to famine and to war to 
secure the triumph of the Gospel, without 
their consciences becoming troubled. The 
Zurichers " walked not in the Spirit, but i?i 
the flesh ,• now, the works of the fl,esh are. 
haired, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, sedi- 
tions.^ 1 The danger without was increasing, 
while within, hope, agreement, and courage 
were far from being augmented : men saw 
on the contrary the gradual disappearance of 
that harmony and lively faith which had 
been the strength of the Reform. The Re- 
formation had grasped the sword, and that 
very sword pierced its heart. 

Occasions of discord were multiplied in 
Zurich. By the advice of Zwingle, the num- 
ber of nobles was diminished in the two 
councils, because of their opposition to the 
Gospel ; and this measure spread discontent 
among the most honourable families of the 
canton. The millers and bakers were placed 
under certain regulations, which the dearth 
rendered necessary, and a great part of the 
townspeople attributed this proceeding to the 
sermons of the Reformer, and became irri- 
tated against him. Rodolph Lavater, bailiff 
of Kibourg, was appointed captain-general, 
and the officers who were of longer standing 
than he were offended. Many who had been 
formerly the most distinguished by their zeal 

1 Galatians, v. 19, 20. 



for the Reform, now openly opposed the 
cause they had supported. The ardour with 
which the ministers of peace demanded war, 
spread in every quarter a smothered dissatis- 
faction, and many persons ^ave vent to their 
indignation. This unnatural confusion of 
Church and State which had corrupted 
Christianity after the age of Constantine, 
was hurrying on the ruin of the Reforma- 
tion. The majority of the Great Council, 
ever ready to adopt important and salutary 
resolutions, was abolished. The old magis- 
trates, who were still at the head of affairs, 
allowed themselves to be carried away by 
feelings of jealousy against men whose non- 
official influence prevailed over theirs. All 
those who hated the doctrine of the Gospel, 
whether from love of the world or from love 
to the Pope, boldly raised their heads in 
Zurich. The partisans of the monks, the 
friends of foreign service, the malcontents 
of every class, coalesced in pointing out 
Zwingle as the author of all the sufferings 
of the people. 

Zwingle was heart-broken. He saw that 
Zurich and the Reformation were hastening to 
their ruin, and he could not check them. How 
could he do so, since, without suspecting it, 
he had been the principal accomplice in these 
disasters] What was to be dorve? Shall 
the pilot remain in the ship which he is no 
longer permitted to save 1 There was but 
one means of safety for Zurich and for 
Zwingle. He should have retired from the 
political stage, and fallen back on that king- 
dom which is not of this v)orld ; he should, 
like Moses, have kept his hands and hi3 
heart night and day raised towards heaven, 
and energetically preached repentance, faith, 
and peace. But religious and political mat- 
ters were united in the mind of this great 
man by such old and dear ties, that it was 
impossible for hitn to distinguish their line 
of separation. This confusion had become 
his dominant idea; the Christian and the 
citizen were for him one and the same cha- 
racter ; and hence it resulted, that all re- 
sources of the state — even cannons and 
arquebuses — were to be placed at the service 
of the Truth. When one peculiar idea thus 
seizes upon a man, we see a false conscience 
formed within him, which approves of many 
things condemned by the Word of God. 

This was now Zwingle's condition. War 
appeared to him legitimate and desirable ; 
and if that was refused, he had only to with- 
draw from public life ; he was for every 
thing or nothing. He therefore, on the 2Gth 
July, appeared before the Great Council, 
with dimmed eyes and disconsolate heart:"* 
" It is now eleven years," said he, " since I 
have been preaching the Gospel among you, 
and that I have warned you faithfully and 
paternally of the woes that are hanging over 
you; but no attention is paid to my words; 
the friends of foreign alliances, the enemies 
of the Gospel, are elected to the council, 
and while you refuse'to follow my advice, I 
am made responsible for every misfortune. 



588 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



I cannot accept such a position, and I ask 
for my dismissal." The reformer retired 
bathed in tears. 

The council shuddered as they heard these 
words. All the old feelings of respect which 
they had so long- entertained for Zwingle 
were revived ; to lose him now was to ruin 
Zurich. The burgomaster and the other 
magistrates received orders to persuade him 
to recall his fatal resolution. The conference 
took place on the same day ; Zwingle asked 
time for consideration. For three days and 
three nights he sought the road that he should 
follow. Seeing the dark storm that was 
collecting from all quarters, he considered 
whether be ought to quit Zurich and seek 
refuge on the lofty hills of the Tockenburg, 
where he had been reared, when his country 
and his Church were on the point of being 
assailed and beaten down by their enemies, 
like corn by the hailstorm. He groaned and 
cried to the Lord. He would have put away 
the cup of bitterness that was presented to 
his soul, but could not gather up the resolu- 
tion. At length the sacrifice was accom- 
plished, and the victim was placed shudder- 
ing upon the altar. Three days after the first 
conference, Zwingle reappeared in the coun- 
cil : " I will stay with you," said he, " and 
I will labour for the public safety — until 
death !" 

From this moment he displayed new zeal. 
On the one hand, he endeavoured to revive 
harmony and courage in Zurich ; on the other, 
he set about arousing and exciting the allied 
cities to increase and concentrate all the 
forces of the Reformation. Faithful to the 
political character he. imagined he had re- 
ceived from God himself — persuaded that it 
was in the doubts and want of energy of the 
Bernese that he must look for the cause of all 
the evil, the Reformer repaired to Bremgar- 
ten with Collin and Steiner, during the fourth 
conference of the diet, although he incurred 
great danger in the attempt. He arrived se- 
cretly by night, and having entered the house 
of his friend and disciple, Bullinger, he in- 
vited the deputies of Berne (J. J. de Watte- 
ville and Jur Hag) to meet him there with 
the greatest secresy, and prayed them in the 
most solemn tone earnestly to reflect upon 
the dangers of the Reform. " I fear," said 
he, " that in consequence of our unbelief, 
this business will not succeed. By refusing 
supplies to the Five Cantons, we have begun 
a work that will be fatal to us. What is to 
be done % Withdraw the prohibition 1 The 
cantoris will then be more insolent and 
haughty than ever. Enforce it ? They will 
take the offensive, and if their attack succeed, 
you will behold our fields red with the blood 
of the believers, the doctrine of truth cast 
down, the Church of Christ laid waste, all 
social relations overthrown, our adversaries 
more hardened and irritated against the Gos- 
pel, and crowds of priests and monks again 
fill our rural districts, streets, and temples. 

And yet," added Zwingle, after a 

few instants of emotion and silence, " that 



also will have an end." The Bernese were 
filled with agitation by the solemn voice of 
the reformer. " We see," replied they, " all 
that is to be feared for our common cause, 
and we will employ every care to prevent 
such great disasters." " I who write those 
things was present and heard them," adds 
Bullinger. 1 

It was feared that if the presence of Zwin- 
gle at Bremgarten became known to the de- 
puties of the Five Cantons, they would not 
restrain their violence. During this noctur- 
nal conference three of the town-councillors 
were stationed as sentinels in front of Bui- 
linger's house. Before daybreak, the re- 
former and his two friends, accompanied by 
Bullinger and the three councillors, passed 
through the deserted streets leading to the 
gate on the road to Zurich. Three different 
times Zwingle took leave of Bullinger, who 
was erelong to be his successor. His mind 
was filled with a presentiment of his ap- 
proaching death ; he could not tear himself 
from that young friend whose face he was 
never to see again; he blessed him amidst 
floods of tears. " O my dear Henry !" said 
he, " may God protect you ! Be faithful to 
our Lord Jesus Christ, and to his Church!" 
At length they separated ; but at that very 
moment, says Bullinger, a mysterious per- 
sonage, clad in a robe as white as snow, sud- 
denly appeared, and after frightening the 
soldiers who guarded the gate, plunged sud- 
denly into the water, and vanished. Bullin- 
ger, Zwingle, and their friends did not per- 
ceive it ; Bullinger himself sought for it all 
around, but to no purpose ; 2 still the sentinels 
persisted in the reality of this frightful appa- 
rition. Bullinger in great agitation returned 
in darkness and in silence to his house. His 
mind involuntarily compared the departure 
of Zwingle and the white phantom ; and he 
shuddered at the frightful omen which the 
thought of this spectre impressed upon his 
mind. 

Sufferings of another kind pursued Zwin- 
gle to Zurich. He had thought that by con- 
senting to remain at the head of affairs, he 
would recover all his ancient influence. But 
he was deceived : the people desired to see 
him there, and yet they would not follow 
him. The Zurich er$ daily became more and 
more indisposed towards the war which they 
had at first demanded, and identified them- 
selves with the passive system of Berne. 
Zwingle remained for some time stupified 
and motionless before this inert mass, which 
his most vigorous exertions could not move. 
But soon discovering in every quarter of the 
horizon the prophetic signs, precursors of the 
storm about to burst upon the ship of which 
he was the pilot, he uttered cries of anguish, 
and showed the signal of distress. " I see," 
exclaimed he one day to the people from the 



1 These words are in Latin : Haec ipse, qui haec 
scribo, ab iliis audivi, praesens colloquio. (Bull, 
ii. p. 49.) 

2 Ein menshen in em schneeweissen Kleid 
(Bull. ii. p. 49.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



589 



pulpit, whither he had gone to give utterance 
to his gloomy forebodings, — "I see that the 
most faithful warnings cannot save you : 
you will not punish the pensioners of the 

foreigner They have too firm a 

support among us ! A chain is prepared — 
behold it entire — it unrolls link after link, — 
soon they will bind me to it, and more than 

one pious Zuricher with me It is 

against me they are enraged ! I am ready ; 
I submit to the Lord's will. But these peo- 
ple shall never be my masters As 

for thee, O Zurich, they will give thee thy 
reward; they will strike thee on the head. 
Thou wiliest it. Thou refusest to punish 
them ; well ! it is they who will punish thee. 1 
But God will not the less preserve his Word, 
and their haughtiness shall come to an end." 
Such was Zwingle's cry of agony ; but the 
immobility of death alone replied. The 
hearts of the Zurichers were so hardened that 
the sharpest arrows of the Reformer could not 
pierce them, and they fell at his feet blunted 
and useless. 

But events were pressing on, and justified 
all his fears. The Five Cantons had rejected 
every proposition that had been made to them. 
"Why do you talk of punishing a few 
wrongs V they had replied to the mediators ; 
" it is a question of quite another kind. Do 
you not require that we should receive back 
among us the heretics whom we have ban- 
ished, and tolerate no other priests than those 
who preach conformably to the Word of 
God ] We know what that means. No — 
no — we will not abandon the religion of our 
fathers ; and if we must see our wives and 
our children deprived of food, our hands will 
know how to conquer what is refused to us : 
to that we pledge our bodies — our goods — 
our lives." It was with this threatening 
language that the deputies quitted the Diet 
of Bremgarten. They had proudly shaken 
the folds of their mantles, war had fallen 
from them. 

The terror was general, and the alarmed 
citizens beheld everywhere frightful portents, 
terrific signs, apparently foreboding the most 
horrible events. It was not only the white 
phantom that had appeared at Bremgarten at 
Zwingle's side : the most fearful omens, 
passing from mouth to mouth, filled the 
people with the most gloomy presentiments. 
The history of these phenomena, however 
strange it may appear, characterizes the pe- 
riod of which we write. 

On the 26th July, a widow chancing to be 
alone before her house in the village of Cas- 
telenschloss, suddenly beheld a frightful 
spectacle — blood springing from the earth 
all around her ! 2 She rushed in alarm into 
the cottage . . . ^but, oh horrible! blood is 
flowing everywhere — from the wainscot and 



from the stones; 1 — it falls in a stream from 
a basin on a shelf, and even the child's cra- 
dle overflows with it. The woman imagines 
that the invisible hand of an assassin has 
been at work, and rushes in distraction out 
of doors, crying murder ! murder ! 2 The 
villagers and the monks of a neighbouring 
convent assemble at the cry — they succeed 
in partly effacing the bloody stains ; but a 
little later in the day, the other inhabitants 
of the house, sitting down in terror to eat 
their evening meal under the projecting eaves, 
suddenly discover blood bubbling up in a 
pond — blood flowing from the loft — blood 
covering all the walls of the house ! Blood 
—blood — everywhere blood ! The bailiff of 
Schenberg and the pastor of Dalheim arrive 
— inquire into the matter — and immediately 
report it to the lords of Berne and to 
Zwingle. 

Scarcely had this horrible recital — the par- 
ticulars of which are faithfully preserved in 
Latin and in German — -filled all minds with 
the idea of a horrible butchery, than in the 
western quarter of the heavens there ap- 
peared a frightful comet, 3 whose immense 
train of a pale yellow colour turned towards 
the south. At the time of its setting, this 
apparition shone in the sky like the fire of a 
furnace. 4 One night — on the 15th August 
as it would appeal* 5 — Zwingle and George 
Miihler, formerly abbot of Wettingen, being 
together in the cemetery of the cathedral, both 
fixed their eyes upon this terrific meteor. 
" This ominous globe," said Zwingle, " is 
come to light the path that leads to my 
grave. It will be at the cost of my life and 
of many good men with me. Although I 
am rather shortsighted, I foresee great cala- 
mities in the future. 6 The Truth and the 
Church will mourn ; but Christ will never 
abandon us." It was not only at Zurich 
that this flaming star spread consternation. 
Vadianus being one night on an eminence 
in the neighbourhood of St. Gall, surrounded 
by his friends and disciples, after having ex- 
plained to them the names of the stars and 
the miracles of the Creator, stopped before 
this comet, which denounced the anger of 
God ; and the famous Theophrasius declared 
that it foreboded not only great bloodshed, 
but most especially the death of learned and 



1 Straafen willt sy nitt, des werdon sy dich 
straafen. {Bull. ii.p. 52.) 

a Ante et post earn purus sanguis ita acriter ex 
dura terra effluxit, ut ex vena incisa. (Zw. Epp. 
ii. p. 627. 



1 Sed etiam sanguis ex terra, lignis, et lapidibus 
effluxit. (Zw. Epp. ii. p. 627.) 

2 Ut eadem excurreret caedem clamitans. (Ibid.) 

3 Ein gar eschrocklicher comet. (Bull. ii. p. 
46.) It was Halley's comet, that returns about 
every 76 years. It appeared last in 1S35. 

4 Wieein fhuwr in einer ess. (Ibid.) Perhaps 
Bullinger alludes in this way to the phenomenon 
remarked by Appian, astronomer to Charles V.. 
who observed this comet at Ingoldstadt, and who 
says that the tail disappeared as the nucleus ap- 
proached the horizon. In 1456, its appearance 
had already excited great terror. 

5 Cometam jam tribus noctibus viderunt apud 
nos alii, ego una tantum, puto 15 Augusti. CZw. 
Epp. p. 634.) 

6 Ego eaoculus non unam calamitatem expecto. 
(Ibid p. 626.) 



590 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



illustrious men. This mysterious phenome- 
non prolonged its frightful visitation until 
the 3d September. 

When once the noise of these omens was 
spread abroad, men could no longer contain 
themselves. Their imaginations were ex- 
cited ; they heaped fright upon fright: each 
place had its terrors. Two banners waving 
in the clouds had been seen on the mountain 
of the Brunig ; at Zug a buckler had ap- 
peared in the heavens ; on the banks of the 
Reuss, reiterated explosions were heard 
during the night; on the lake of the Four 
Cantons, ships carrying aerial combatants 
cruised about in every direction. War — 
war ; — blood — blood ! — these were the gene- 
ral cries. 

In the midst of all this agitation, Zwingle 
alone seemed tranquil. He rejected none 
of these presentiments, but he contemplated 
them with calmness. " A heart that fears 
God," said he, " cares not for the threats of 
the world. To forward the designs of God, 
whatever may happen, — this is his task. A 
carrier who has a long road to go must make 
up his mind to wear his wagon and his gear 
during the journey. If he carry his mer- 
chandise to the appointed spot, that is enough 
for him. We are the wagon and the gear of 
God. There is not one of the articles that 
is not worn, twisted, or broken ; but our 
great Driver will not the less accomplish by 
our means his vast designs. Is it not to 
those who fall upon the field of battle that 
the noblest crown belongs 1 Take courage, 
then, in the midst of all these dangers, 
through which the cause of Jesus Christ 
must pass. Be of good cheer ! although 
we should never here below see its triumphs 
with our own eyes. The Judge of the com- 
bat beholds us, and it is he who confers the 
crown. Others will enjoy upon earth the 
fruits of our labours ; while we, already in 
heaven, shall enjoy an eternal reward." 

Thus spoke Zwingle, as he advanced 
calmly towards the threatening noise of the 
tempest, which, by its repeated flashes and 
sudden explosions, foreboded death. 

VI. The Five Cantons, assembled in diet 
at Lucerne, appeared full of determination, 
and war was decided upon. " We will call 
upon the cities to respect our alliances," said 
they, " and if they refuse, we will enter the 
common bailiwicks by force to procure pro- 
visions, and we will unite our banners in 
Zug to attack the enemy." The Waldstettes 
were not alone. The Nuncio, being soli- 
cited by his Lucerne friends, had required 
that auxiliary troops, paid by the Pope, 
should be put in motion towards Switzer- 
land, and he announced their „near arrival. 

These resolutions carried terror into Swit- 
zerland ; the mediating cantons met again at 
Arau, and drew up a plan that should leave 



1 Zw. Opp. Comment, in Jeremiam. This 
woy-a was composed the very vear of Zwingle's 
death. 



the religious question just as it had been 
settled by the treaty of 1529. Deputies im- 
mediately bore these propositions to the dif- 
ferent councils. Lucerne haughtily rejected 
them. "Tell those who sent you," was the 
reply, " that we do not acknowledge them 
as our schoolmasters. We would rather die 
than yield the least thing to the prejudice of* 
our faith." The mediators returned to Arau, 
trembling and discouraged. This useless 
attempt increased the disagreement among 
the Reformed, and gave the Waldstettes still 
greater confidence. Zurich, so decided for 
the reception of the Gospel, now became 
daily more irresolute ! The members of the 
council distrusted each other; the people 
felt no interest in this war ; and Zwingle, 
notwithstanding his unshaken faith in the 
justice of his cause, had no hope for the 
struggle that was about to take place. 
Berne, on its side, did not cease to entreat 
Zurich to avoid precipitation. " Do not let 
us expose ourselves to the reproach of too 
much haste, as in 1529," was the general 
remark in Zurich. "We have sure friends 
in the midst of the Waldstettes ; let us wait 
until they announce to us, as they have pro- 
mised, some real danger." 

It was soon believed that these tempo- 
rizers were right. In fact the alarming news 
ceased. That constant rumour of war, which 
incessantly came from the Waldstettes, dis- 
continued. There were no more alarms- 
no more fears ! Deceitful omen ! Over the 
mountains and valleys of Switzerland hangs 
that gloomy and mysterious silence, the 
forerunner of the tempest. 

Whilst they were sleeping at Zurich, the 
Waldstettes were preparing to conquer their 
rights by force of arms. The chiefs, closely 
united to each other by common interests 
and dangers, found a powerful support in 
the indignation of the people. In a diet of 
the Five Cantons, held at Brunnen on the 
banks of the Lake of Lucerne, opposite 
Grutli, the alliances of the Confederation 
were read ; and the deputies, having been 
summoned to declare by their votes whether 
they thought the war just and lawful, all 
hands were raised with a shudder. Imme- 
diately the Waldstettes had prepared their 
attack with the profoundest mystery. All 
the passes had been guarded — all communi- 
cation between Zurich and the Five Cantons 
had been rendered impossible. The friends 
upon whom the Zurichers had reckoned on 
the banks of the Lakes Lucerne and Zug, 
and who had promised them intelligence, 
were like prisoners in their mountains. The 
terrible avalanche was about to slip from the 
icy summits of the mountain, and to roll into 
the valleys, even to the gates of Zurich, 
overthrowing every thing in its passage, with- 
out the least forewarning of its fall. The 
mediators had returned discouraged to their 
cantons. A spirit of imprudence and of 
error — sad forerunner of the fall of republics 
as well as of kings — had spread over the 
whole citv of Zurich. The council had at 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



591 



first given the order to call out the militia ; 
then, deceived by the silence of the Wald- 
stettes, it had imprudently revoked the de- 
cree, and Lavater, the commander of the 
army, had retired in discontent to Rybourg, 
and indignantly thrown far from him that 
sword which they had commanded him to 
leave in the scabbard. Thus the winds were 
about to be unchained from the mountains ; 
the waters of the great deep, aroused by a 
terrible earthquake, were about to open ; and 
yet the vessel of the state, sadly abandoned, 
sported up and down with indifference over 
the frightful gulf, — its yards struck, its sails 
loose and motionless — without compass or 
crew — without pilot, watch, or helm. 

Whatever were the exertions of the Wald- 
stettes, they could not entirely stifle the ru- 
mour of war, which from chalet to chalet 
called all their citizens to arms. God per- 
mits a cry of alarm — a single one, it is true — 
to resound in the ears of the people of Zu- 
rich. On the 4th October, a little boy, who 
knew not what he was doing, succeeded in 
crossing the frontier of Zug, and presented 
himself with two loaves at the gate of the 
reformed monastery of Cappel, situated in 
the farthest limits of the canton of Zurich. 
He was led to the abbot, to whom the child 
gave the loaves without saying a word. The 
superior, with whom there chanced to be at 
this time a councillor from Zurich, Henry 
Peyer, sent by his government, turned pale 
at the sight. " If the Five Cantons intend 
entering by force of arms into the free baili- 
wicks," had said these two Zurichers to one 
of their friends in Zug, " you will send your 
son to us with one loaf; but you will give 
him two if they are marching at once upon 
the bailiwicks and upon Zurich." The ab- 
bot and the councillor wrote with all speed 
to Zurich. " Be upon your guard ! take up 
arms," said they; but no credit was attached 
to this information. The council were at 
that time occupied in taking measures to pre- 
vent the supplies that had arrived from Al- 
sace from entering the cantons. Zwingle 
himself, who had never ceased to announce 
war, did not believe it. " These pensioners 
are really clever fellows," said the Reformer. 
" Their preparations may be after all nothing 
but a French manoeuvre." 1 

He was deceived — they were a reality. 
Four days were to accomplish the ruin of 
Zurich. Let us retrace in succession the 
history of these disastrous moments. 

On Sunday, 8th October, a messenger ap- 
peared at Zurich, and demanded, in the name 
of the Five Cantoris, letters of perpetual al- 
liance. 2 The majority saw in this step no- 
thing but a trick ; but Zwingle began to dis- 
cern the thunderbolt in the black cloud that 
was drawing near. He was in the pulpit : 
it was the last time he was destined to ap- 



1 Dise ire Rustling mochte woll eine franzosische 
pratnk sein. (Bull, ii p. 86.) 

2 Die ewiore Bund abgefordert. (J. J. Hottin- 
ger, iii. p. 577.) According to Bullinger, this did 
not take place until Monday. 



pear in it ; and as if he had seen a formidable 
spectre of Rome rise frightfully above the 
Alps, calling upon him and upon his people 
to abandon the faith : " No, no !" cried he, 
"never will I deny my Redeemer !" 

At the same moment a messenger arrived 
in haste from Mulinen, commander of the 
Knights-hospitallers of St. John at Hytz- 
kilch. " On Friday, 6th October," said he 
to the councils of Zurich, " the people of 
! Lucerne planted their banner in the great 
j Square. 1 Two men that I sent to Lucerne 
; have been thrown into prison. To-morrow 
I morning, Monday, 9th October, the Five 
j Cantons will enter the bailiwicks. Already 
the country-people, frightened and fugitive, 
are running to us in crowds." — " It is an 
idle story," said the councils. 2 Neverthe- 
less they recalled the commander-in-chief, 
Lavater, who sent off a trusty man, nephew 
of James Winckler, with orders to repair to 
Cappel, and if possible as far as Zug, to re- 
connoitre the arrangements of the cantons. 
The Waldstettes were in reality assem- 
bling round the banner of Lucerne. The 
people of this canton ; the men of Schwytz, 
Uri, Zug, and Unterwalden ; refugees from 
Zurich and Berne, with a few Italians, form- 
1 ed the main body of the army, which had 
I been raised to invade the free bailiwicks. 
Two manifestoes were published — one ad- 
! dressed to the cantons, the other to foreign 
; princes and nations. 

The Five Cantons energetically set forth 
j the attacks made upon the treaties, the dis- 
| cord sown throughout the Confederation, and 
finally the refusal to sell them provisions — 
a refusal whose only aim was (according to 
; them) to excite the people against the magis- 
I trates, and to establish the Reform by force. 
" It is not true," added they, " that — as they 
cease not to cry out — we oppose the preach- 
ing of the truth and the reading of the Bible. 
As obedient members of the Church, we de- 
sire to receive all that our holy mother re- 
ceives. But we reject all the books and the 
innovations of Zwingle and his compa- 
nions." 3 

Hardly had the messengers charged with 
these manifestoes departed, before the first 
division of the army began to march, and ar- 
rived in the evening in the free bailiwicks. 
The soldiers having entered the deserted 
churches, and having seen the images of the 
saints removed and the altars broken, their 
anger was kindled ; they spread like a torrent 
over the whole country, pillaged every thing 
they met with, and were particularly enraged 
against the houses of the pastors, where they 
destroyed the furniture with oaths and male- 
dictions. At the same time the division that 
was to form the main army marched upon 
Zug, thence to move upon Zurich. 

'Ire paner in den Brunnen gesteckt. (Bull, 
ii. p. 86.) 

2 Eiu gepoch und progerey und unt daraufl 
setzend. (ibid.) 

3 Als wir vertruwen Gott und der Welt ant- 
vvurt zu geben. (Bull. ii. p. 101.) 



592 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Cappel, at three leagues from Zurich, and 
about a league from Zug, was the first place 
they would reach in the Zurich territory, after 
crossing the frontier of the Five Cantons. 
Near the Albis, between two hills of similar 
height, the Granges on the north, and the 
Ifelsberg on the south, in the midst of de- 
lightful pastures, stood the ancient and 
wealthy convent of the Cistertians, in whose 
church were the tombs of many ancient and 
noble families of these districts. The Abbot 
Wolfgang Joner, a just and pious man, a 
great friend of the arts and letters, and a dis- 
tinguished preacher, had reformed his con- 
vent in 1527. Full of compassion, rich in 
good works, particularly towards the poor 
of the canton of Zug and the free bailiwicks, 
he was held in great honour throughout the 
whole country. 1 He predicted what would 
be the termination of the war ; yet as soon as 
danger approached, he spared no labour to 
serve his country. 

It was on Sunday night that the abbot re- 
ceived positive intelligence of the prepara- 
tions at Zug. He paced up and down his 
cell with hasty steps; sleep fled from his 
eyes ; he drew near his lamp, and addressing 
his intimate friend, Peter Simmler, who suc- 
ceeded him, and who was then residing at 
Kylchberg, a village on the borders of the 
lake, and about a league from the town, he 
hastily wrote these words : " The great anx- 
iety and trouble which agitate me prevent 
me from busying myself with the manage- 
ment of the house, and induce me to write 
to you all that is preparing. The time is 

come the scourge of God appears. 2 

After many journeys and inquiries, 

we have learnt that the Five Cantons will 
march to-day (Monday) to seize upon Hitz- 
kylch, while the main army assembles its 
banners at Baar, between Zug and Cappel. 
Those from the valley of the Adige and the 
Italians will arrive to-day or to-morrow." 
This letter, through some unforeseen circum- 
stance, did not reach Zurich till the evening. 

Meanwhile the messenger whom Lavater 
had sent — the nephew of J. Winckler — creep- 
ing on his belly, gliding unperceived past 
the sentinels, and clinging to the shrubs 
that overhung the precipices, had succeeded 
in making his way where no road had been 
cleared. On arriving near Zug, he had dis- 
covered with alarm the banner and the mili- 
tia hastening from all sides at beat of drum : 
then traversing again these unknown passes, 
he had returned to Zurich with this informa- 
tion. 3 ' 

It was high time that the bandage should 
fall from the eyes of the Zurichers ; but the 
delusion was to endure to the last. The 
council which was called together met in 
small number. " The Five Cantons," said 

•That armen liiten vil guts und by aller 

Erbarkeit in grossern ansahen. (Bull. iii. p. 151.) 
Die Zyt.ist hie, das die nit Gottes sich wil er- 
zeigen. (Bull. p. 87.) 

3 Naben den Wachten, durch umwag und 
gestrupp. (Bull. iii. p. 87.) 



they, " are making a little noise to frighten 
us, and to make us raise the blockade." 1 
The Council, however, decided on sending 
Colonel Rodolph Dumysen and Ulric Funk 
to Cappel, to see what was going on ; and 
each one, tranquillized by this unmeaning 
step, retired to rest. 

They did not slumber long. Every hour 
brought fresh messengers of alarm to Zurich, 
'* The banners of the four cantons are assem- 
bled at Zug," said they. "They are only 
waiting for Uri. The people of the free baili- 
wicks are flocking to Cappel, and demanding 
arms Help ! help !" t 

Before the break of day the council was 
again assembled, and it ordered the convoca- 
tion of the Two Hundred. An old man, 
whose hair had grown gray in the battle-field 
and in the council of the state — the banneret 
John Schweizer — raising his head enfeebled 
by age, and darting the last beam as it were, 
from his eyes, exclaimed, "Now — at this 
very moment, in God's name, send an ad- 
vanced guard to Cappel, and let the army, 
promptly collecting round the banner, follow 
it immediately." He said no more; but the 
charm was not yet broken. "The peasants 
of the free baliwicks," said some, " we know 
to be hasty, and easily carried away. They 
make the matter greater than it really is. 
The wisest plan is to wait for the report of 
the councillors." In Zurich there was no 
longer either arm to defend or head to advise. 

It was seven in the morning, and the as- 
sembly was still sitting, when Rodolph 
Gwerb, pastor of RifTerschwyl, near Cappel, 
arrived in haste. " The people of the lord- 
ship of Knonau," said he, "are crowding 
round the convent, and loudly calling for 
chiefs and for aid. The enemy is approaching. 
Will our lords of Zurich (say they) abandon 
themselves, and us with them 1 Do they 
wish to give us up to slaughter]" The 
pastor, who had witnessed these mournful 
scenes, spoke with animation. The coun- 
cillors, whose infatuation was to be prolonged 
to the end, were offended at his message. 
"They want to make us act imprudently," 
replied they, turning in their arm-chairs. 

They had scarcely ceased speaking before 
a new messenger appears, wearing on his 
features the marks of the greatest terror : it 
was Schwyzer, landlord of the " Beech Tree" 
on Mount Albis. " My lords Dumysen and 
Funck," said he, "have sent me to you with 
all speed to announce to the council that the 
Five Cantons have seized upon Hytzkilch, 
and that they are now collecting all their 
troops at Baar. My lords remain in the 
bailiwicks to aid the frightened inhabitants." 

This time the most confident turned pale. 
Terror, so long restrained, passed like a flash 
of lightning through every heart. 2 Hytzkilch 
was in the power of the enemy, and the war 
was begun. 



1 Sy machtend alein ein geprog. (Bull. p. 103..» 

2 Dieser Bottschaft erschrack menklich iibet 
(Bull. iii. p. 104.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



593 



It was resolved to expedite to Cappel a 
flying- camp of six hundred men, with six 
guns ; but the command was intrusted to 
George Goldli, whose brother was in the 
army of the Five Cantons, and he was en- 
joined to keep on the defensive. Goldli and 
his troops had just left the city, when the 
captain -general Lavater, summoning- into the 
hall of the Smaller Council the old banneret 
Schweizer, William Toning-, captain of the 
krqueb usiers, J. Dennikon, captain of the ar- 
tillery, Zwing-le, and some others, said to 
them, "Let us deliberate promptly on the 
means of saving the canton and the city. Let 
the tocsin immediately call out all the citi- 
zens." The captain-general feared that the 
councils would shrink at this proceeding, 
and he wished to raise the Landsturm by the 
simple advice of the army and of Zwingle. 
" We cannot take it upon ourselves," said 
they; " the two councils are still sitting ; let 
us lay this proposition before them." They 
hasten towards the place of meeting ; but, 
fatal mischance! there were only a few 
members of the Smaller Council on the 
oenches. " The consent of the Two Hun- 
dred is necessary," said they. Again a new 
delay, and the enemy is on the march. Two 
hours after noon the Great Council met again, 
but only to make long and useless speeches.' 
At length the resolution was taken, and at 
seven in the evening the tocsin began to 
sound in all the country districts. Treason 
united with this dilatoriness, and persons 
who pretended to be envoys from Zurich 
stopped the Landsturm in many places, as 
being contrary to the opinion of the council. A 
great number of citizens went to sleep again. 

It was a fearful night. The thick dark- 
ness — a violent storm — -the alarm-bell ringing 
from every steeple — the people running to 
arms — the noise of swords and guns — the 
sound of trumpets and of drums, combined 
with the roaring of the tempest, the distrust, 
discontent, and even treason, which spread 
affliction in every quarter — the sobs of women 
and of children — the cries which accompanied 
many a heart-rending adieu — an earthquake 
which occurred about nine o'clock at night, as 
if nature herself had shuddered at the blood 
that was about to be spilt, and which violent- 
ly shook the mountains and valleys : 2 all in- 
creased the terrors of this fatal night, — a night 
to be followed by a still more fatal day. 

While these events were transpiring, the 
Zurichers, encamped on the heights of Cap- 
pel to the number of about one thousand 
men, fixed their eyes on Zug and upon 
the lake, attentively watching every move- 
ment. On a sudden, a little before night, 
they perceived a few barks filled with sol- 
diers coming from the side of Arth, and row- 
ing across the lake towards Zug. Their 
number increa ses — one boat follows another 

1 Ward so vil und lang darim gerad schlagt. 
(Bull. iii. p. 104.) 

2 Em startrer Erdbidem, der das Land, auch 
Berg und Thai gwahiglich ershiitt. (Tschudi, 
Helvetia, ii. p. 186 ^ 



I — soon they distinctly hear the bellowing of 
the bull (the horn) of Uri,i and they discern 
the banner. The barks draw near Zug ; they 
are moored to the shore, which is lined with, 
an immense crowd. The warriors of Uri 
and the arquebusiers of the Adige spring up 
and leap on shore, where they are received 
| with acclamations, and take up their quarters 
! for the night : behold the enemies assembled ! 
The council are informed with all speed. 

The agitation was still greater at Zurich 
than at Cappel : the confusion was increased 
by uncertainty. The enemy attacking them 
on different sides at once, they knew not 
where to carry assistance. Two hours after 
midnight five hundred men with four guns 
quitted the city for Bremgarten, and three or 
four hundred men with five guns for Waden- 
shwyl. They turned to the right and to the 
left, while the enemy was in front. 

Alarmed at its own weakness, the council 
resolved to apply without delay to the cities 
of the Christian co-burghery. " As this 
revolt," wrote they, "has no other origin 
than the Word of God, we entreat you once 
— twice — thrice, as loudly, as seriously, as 
firmly, and as earnestly, as our ancient alli- 
ances and our Christian co-burghery permit 
and command us to do — to set forth without 
delay with all your forces. Haste ! haste ! 
haste ! Act as promptly as possible 2 — the 
danger is yours as well as ours." Thus 
spake Zurich ; but it was already too late. 

At break of day the banner was raised be- 
fore the town-house ; instead of flaunting 
proudly in the wind, it hung dropping down 
the staff — a sad omen that filled many minds 
with fear. Lavater took up his station under 
the standard ; but a long period elapsed be- 
fore a few hundred soldiers could be got to- 
gether. 3 In the square and in all the city 
disorder and confusion prevailed. The 
troops, fatigued by a hasty march or by long 
waiting, "were faint and discouraged. 

At ten o'clock, only 700 men were under 
arms. The selfish, the lukewarm, the friends 
of Rome and of the foreign pensioners, had 
remained at home. A few old men who had 
more courage than strength — several mem- 
bers of the two councils who were devoted 
to the holy cause of God's Word — many 
ministers of the Church who desired to live 
and die with the Reform — the boldest of the 
townspeople and a certain number of pea- 
sants, especially those from the neighbour- 
hood of the city — such were the defenders, 
who, wanting that moral force so necessary 
for victory, incompletely armed, without uni- 
form, crowded in disorder around the banner 
of Zurich. 

The army should have numbered at least 
4000 men ; they waited still ; the usual oath 
had not been administered ; and yet courier 



1 Vil schiffen uft' Zag faren, und hort man luyen 
pen Uri Stier. (Bull. iii. p. 109.) 

2 Ylentz, ylentz, ylentz, uffs aller schnellist- 
(Bull. iii. p. 110.) 

3 Sammlet sich doch das volck gnnchsam. 
(Ibid. p. 112.) 



594 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



after courier arrived, breathless and in dis- 
order, announcing the terrible danger that 
threatened Zurich. All this disorderly crowd 
is agitated — they no longer wait for the com- 
mands of their chiefs, and many without 
taking the oath rush through the gates. — 
About 200 men thus set out in confusion. 
All those who remained prepared to depart. 

Then was Zwingle seen to issue from a 
house before which a caparisoned horse was 
stamping impatiently ; it was his own. His 
look was firm, but dimmed by sorrow. He 
parted from his wife, his children, and his 
numerous friends, without deceiving him- 
self, and with a bruised heart.' He obser- 
ved the thick waterspout, which, driven by 
a terrible wind, advanced whirling towards 
him. Alas! he had himself called up this 
hurricane by quitting the atmosphere of the 
Gospel of peace, and throwing himself into 
the midst of political passions. He was 
convinced that he would be the first victim. 
Fifteen days before the attack of the Wal- 
destettes, he had said from the pulpit: "I 
know what is the meaning of all this : — it 
is all about me. All this comes to pass — in 
order that I may die." 2 The council, ac- 
cording to the ancient custom, had called 
upon him to accompany the army as its chap- 
lain. Zwingle did not hesitate. He pre- 
pared himself without surprise and without 
anger, — with the calmness of a Christian 
who placed himself confidently in the hands 
of his God. If the cause of Reform was 
doomed to perish, he was ready to perish 
with it. Surrounded by his weeping wife 
and friends — by his children who clung to 
his garments to detain him, he quitted that 
house where he had tasted so much happi- 
ness. At the moment that his hand was 
upon his horse, just as he was about to 
mount, the animal violently started back 
several paces, and when he was at last in 
the saddle, it refused for a time to move, 
rearing and prancing backwards, like that 
horse which the greatest captain of modern 
times had mounted as he was about to cross 
the Niemen. Many in Zurich at that time 
thought with*(he soldier of the Grand Army 
when he saw Napoleon on the ground : " It 
is a bad omen ! a Roman would go back!" 3 
Zwingle having at last mastered his horse, 
gave the reins, applied the spur, started for- 
ward, and disappeared. 

At eleven o'clock the flag was struck, 
and all who remained in the square — about 
500 men — began their march along with it. 
The greater part were torn with difficulty 
from the arms of their families, and walked 
sad and silent, as if they were going to the 
scaffold instead of battle. There was no 
order — no plan ; the men were isolated and 

1 Anna Rheinhard par G. Meyr of Knonau. 
(Bull. iii. p. 33.) 

2 Ut ego tollar fiunt omnia. (De vita et obitu 
Zwinejlii, Myconius.) 

3 Segur : Hist, de Napoleon et de la Grande 
Armee, i. p. 142.) 



! scattered, some running before, some after 
the colours, their extreme confusion pre- 
! senting a fearful appearance; 1 so much so, 
I that those who remained behind — the wo- 
men, the children, and the old men, filled 
with gloomy forebodings, beat their breasts 
as they saw them pass, and many years 
after, the remembrance of this day of tumult 
and mourning drew this groan from Oswald 
Myconius : "Whenever I recall it to mind, 
it is as if a sword pierced my heart." Zwin- 
gle, armed according to the usage of the 
chaplains of the Confederation, rode mourn- 
fully behind this distracted multitude. My- 
conius, when he saw him, was nigh faint- 
ing. 2 Zwingle disappeared, and Oswald 
remained behind to weep. 

He did not shed tears alone ; in all quar- 
ters were heard lamentations, and every 
house was changed into a house of prayer. 3 
In the midst of this universal sorrow, one 
woman remained silent; her only cry was 
a bitter heart, her only language the mild 
and suppliant eye of faith : — this was Anna, 
Zwingle's wife. She had seen her husband 
depart — her son, her brother, a great num- 
ber of intimate friends and near relations, 
whose approaching death she foreboded. 
But her soul, strong as that of her husband, 
offered to God the sacrifice of her holiest 
affections. Gradually the defenders of Zu- 
rich precipitate their march, and the tumult 
dies away in the distance. 

VII. This night, which was so stormy 
in Zurich, had not been calmer at Cappel. 
They had received the most alarming re- 
ports one after another. It was necessary 
to take up a position that would allow the 
troops assembled round the convent to resist 
the enemy's attack until the arrival of the 
reinforcements that were expected from the 
city. They cast their eyes on a small hill, 
which lying to the north towards Zurich, 
and traversed by the highroad, presented an 
uneven but sufficiently extensive surface. 
A deep ditch that surrounded it on three 
sides defended the approaches ; but a small 
bridge, that was the only issue on the side 
of Zurich, rendered a precipitate retreat 
very dangerous. On the south-west was a 
wood of beech-trees; on the south, in the 
direction of Zug, was the highroad and a 
marshy valley. " Lead us to the Granges," 
cried all the soldiers. They were conducted 
thither. The artillery was stationed near 
some ruins. The line of battle was drawn 
up on the side of the monastery and of 
Zug, and sentinels were placed at the foot 
of the slope. 



1 Nullus ordo, nulla consilia, nullae mentes, 
tanta animorum dissonantia, tarn horrenda faciea 
ante et post signa sparsim currentium hominum. 
(De viia et ob. Zwinglii.) 

2 Quern ut vidi repentino dolore cordis vix con- 
sistebam. (Ibid.) 

3 Manebamus non certe sine jugibus suspiriis, 
non sine precibus, ad Deum. (Ibid.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



595 



Meantime, the signal is given at Zug and 
Baar : the drums beat: the soldiers of the 
Five Cantons took up their aims. A uni- 
versal feeling of joy animates them. The 
churches are opened, the bells ring, and the 
serried ranks of the cantons enter the cathe- 
dral of St. Oswald ; Mass is celebrated ; the 
Host is offered up for the sins of the peo- 
ple, and all the army begin their march at 
nine o'clock, with banners flying. The 
avoyer John Golder commands the contin- 
gent of Lucerne ; the landamman Jacques 
Troguer, that of Uri ; the landamman Rych- 
mut, a mortal enemy of the Reformation, 
that of Schwytz; the landamman Zellger, 
that of Unterwalden; and Oswald Dooss 
that of Zug. Eight thousand men march 
in order of battle ; all the picked men of the 
Five Cantons are there. Fresh and active 
after a quiet night, and having only one 
short league to cross before reaching the 
enemy, these haughty Waldestettes advance 
with a firm and regular step under the com- 
mand of their chiefs. 

On reaching the common meadow of 
Zug, they halt to take the oath : every hand 
is upraised to heaven, and all swear to 
avenge themselves. They were about to 
resume their march, when some aged men 
made signs to them to stop. " Comrades, " 
they said, "we have long ofTended God. 
Our blasphemies, our oaths, our wars, our 
revenge, our pride, our drunkenness, our 
adulteries, the gold of the stranger to whom 
our hands have been extended, and all the 
disorders in which we have indulged, have 
so provoked his anger, that if he should 
punish us to-day, we should only receive 
the desert of our crimes." The emotion 
of the chiefs had passed into the ranks. All 
the army bent the knee in the midst of the 
plain ; deep silence prevails, and every sol- 
dier, with bended head, crosses himself de- 
voutly, and repeats in a low voice five pa- 
ters, as many aves, and the credo. One 
might have said that they were for a time 
in the midst of a vast and stilly desert. Sud- 
denly the noise of an immense crowd is 
again heard. The army rises up. "Sol- 
diers," said the captains, " you know the 
cause of this war. Bear your wives and 
your children continually before your eyes." 

Then the chief usher (grand saulier) of 
Lucerne, wearing the colours of the canton, 
approaches the chiefs of the army : they 
place in his hands the declaration of war, 
dated on that very day, and sealed with the 
arms of Zug. lie then sets off on horse- 
back, preceded by a trumpeter, to carry this 
paper to the commander of the Zurichers. 

_ It was eleven in the morning. The Zu- 
richers soon discovered the enemy's army, 
and cast a sorrowful glance on the small 
force they were able to oppose. Every mi- 
nute the danger increased. All bent their 
knees, their eyes were raised to heaven, and 
every Zu richer uttered a cry from the bot- 
tom of his heart, praying for deliverence 
39 



from God. As soon as the prayer was end- 
ed, they got ready for battle. There were 
at that time about tweive hundred men un- 
der arms. 

At noon the trumpet of the Five Cantons 
sounded not far from the advanced posts. 
Goldli, having collected the members of the 
two councils who happened to be with the 
army, as well as the commissioned and non- 
commissioned officers, and having ranged 
them in a circle, ordered the secretary Rhein- 
ard to read the declaration of which the 
' Sautier of Lucerne was the bearer. Alter 
J the reading, Goldli opened a council of war. 
*' We are few in number, and the forces of 
! our adversaries are great," said Landolt, 
j bailiff of Marpac, "but I will here await 
I the enemy in the name of God." " Wait ! " 
cried the captain of the halberdiers, Ro- 
| dolph Zigler; "impossible! let us rather 
j take advantage of the ditch that cuts the 
road to effect our retreat, and let us every- 
where raise a levee en masse." This was 
j in truth the only means of safety. But 
j Rudi Gallmann, considering every step 
! backwards as an act of cowardice, cried out 
stamping his feet forcibly on the earth, and 
casting a fiery glance around him, "Here — 
here shall be my grave ! "' — " It is now too 
late to retire with honour," said other offi- 
cers. " This day is in the hands of God. 
Let us suffer whatever he lays upon us." 
It was put to the vote. 

The members of the council had scarcely 
raised their hands in token of assent, when 
a great noise was heard around them. "The 
captain! the captain!" cried a soldier from 
the outposts who arrived in haste. " Silence, 
silence!'' replied the ushers, driving him 
back; "they are holding a council!" — "It 
is no longer time to hold a council," replied 
the soldier. " Conduct me immediately to 
the captain.". ..." Our sentinels are falling 
back," cried he with an agitated voice, as 
he arrived before Goldli. " The enemy is 
there — they are advancing through the forest 
with all their forces and with great tumult." 
He had not ceased speaking, before the 
sentinels, who were in truth retiring on all 
sides, ran up, and the army of the Five 
Cantons was soon seen climbing the slope 
of Ifelsberg in face of the Granges, and 
pointing their guns. The leaders of the 
Waldstettes were examining the position, 
and seeking to discover by what means their 
army could reach that of Zurich. The 
Zurichers were asking themselves the same 
question. The nature of the ground pre- 
vented the Waldstettes from passing below 
the convent, but they could arrive by an- 
other quarter. Ulric Bruder, under bailiff 
of Hesen in the canton of Zurich, fixed his 
anxious look on the beech-wood. " It is 
thence that the enemy will fall upon us!" 
"Axes — axes!" immediately cried several 



1 Da, da mus min Rilchhof sin. (Bull. ii. p» 
118.) 



596 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



voices; "let us cut down the trees!" 1 — 
Goldli, the abbot, and several others, were I 
opposed to this : " If we stop up the wood, 
by throwing down the trees, we shall our- j 
selves be unable to work our guns in that j 
direction, " said they. — " Well! at least let j 
us place some arquebusiers in that quarter." i 
— "We are already so small a number," j 
replied the captain, " that it will be impru- 
dent to divide the forces." Neither wisdom 
nor courage were to save Zurich. They 
once more invoked the help of God, and 
waited in expectation. 

At one o'clock the Five Cantons fired the 
first gun : the ball passing over the convent, 
fell below the Granges ; a second passed 
over the line of battle ; a third struck a hedge 
close to the ruins. The Zurichers, seeing 
the batile was begun, replied with courage; 
but the slowness and awkwardness with 
which the artillery was served in those days 
prevented any great loss being inflicted on 
either side. When the enemy perceived 
Ihisj they ordered their advanced guard to 
descend from Ifelsberg and to reach the 
Granges through the meadow; and soon 
the whole army of the Cantons advanced 
in this direction, but with difficulty and over 
bad roads. Some arquebusiers of Zurich 
came and announced the disorder of the 
Cantons. " Brave Zurichers," cried Rudi 
Gallmann, ."if we attack them now, it is all 
over with them." At these words some of 
the soldiers prepared to enter the wood on 
the left, to fall upon the disheartened Wad- 
stettes. But Goldli perceiving this move- 
ment, cried out : "Where are you going? 
— do you not know that we have agreed not 
to separate ?" He then ordered the skir- 
mishers to be recalled, so that the wood re- 
mained entirely open to the enemy. They 
were satisfied with discharging a few ran- 
dom shots from time to time to prevent the 
Cantons from establishing themselves there. 
The firing of the artillery continued until 
three o'clock, and announced far and wide, 
even to Bremgarten and Zurich, that the 
battle had begun. 

In the meanwhile the great banner of 
Zurich and all those who surrounded it, 
among whom was Zwingle, came advancing 
in disorder towards the Albis. For a year 
past the gaiety of the reformer had entirely 
disappeared : he was grave, melancholy, 
easily moved, having a weight on his heart 
that seemed to crush it. Often would he 
throw himself weeping at the feet of his 
Master, and seek in prayer the strength of 
which he stood in need. No one had ever 
observed in him any irritation ; on the con- 
trary, he had received with mildness the 
counsels that had been offered, and had re- 
mained tenderly attached to men whose 
convictions were not the same as his own. 
He was now advancing mournfully along 

1 Ettliche schriiwend nach Aohsen das man das 
Waldi verhallte. (Bull. iii. p. 118.) 



the road to Cappel ; and John Maaler of 
Winterthour, who was riding a few paces 
behind him, heard his groans and sighs, in- 
termingled with fervent prayers. If any 
one spoke to him, he was found firm and 
strong in the peace that proceeds from faith 
but he did not conceal his conviction that he 
should never see his family or church again. 
Thus advanced the forces of Zurich. A 
woful march ! resembling rather a funeral 
procession than an army going to battle. 

As they approached they saw express 
after express galloping along the road from 
Cappel, begging the Zurichers to hasten to 
the defence of their brothers. 1 

At Adliswil, having passed the bridge 
under which flow the impetuous waters of 
the Sihl, and traversed the village through 
the midst of women, children, aud old men, 
who, standing before their cottages, looked 
with sadness on this disorderly troop, they 
began to ascend the Albis. They were about 
half way from Cappel when the first can- 
non-shot was heard. They stop, they listen : 
a second, a third succeeds. . . . There is no 
longer any doubt. The glory, the very ex- 
istence of the republic are endangered, and 
they are not present to defend it ! The blood 
curdles in their veins. On a sudden they 
arouse, and each one begins to run to the 
support of his brothers. But the road over 
the Albis was much steeper than it is in our 
days. The badly harnessed artillery could 
not ascend it ; the old men, the citizens, lit- 
tle habituated to marching, and covered with 
weighty armour, advanced with difficulty : 
and yet they formed the greater portion of 
the troops. They were seen stopping one 
after another, panting and exhausted, along 
the sides of the road near the thickets and 
ravines of the Albis, leaning against a beech 
or an ash tree, and looking with dispirited 
eyes to the summit of the mountain covered 
with thick pines. 

They resume their march, however ; the 
horsemen and the most intrepid of the foot- 
soldiers hasten onwards, and having reach- 
ed the " Beech Tree," on the top of the 
mountain, halt to take council. 

What a prospect then extended before 
their eyes ! Zurich, the lake and its smiling 
shores — those orchards, those fertile fields, 
those vine-clad hills, almost the whole of 
the canton. Alas! soon, perhaps, to be 
devastated by the Forest-bands. 

Scarcely had these noble-minded men be- 
gun to deliberate, when fresh messengers 
from Cappel appear before them and ex- 
claim, "Hasten forwards !" At these words 
many of the Zurichers prepared to gallop 
towards the enemy. 2 Toning, the captain 
of the arquebusiers, stopt them. K My good 
friends," cried he to them, "against such 
great forces what can we do alone ? Let 



1 Dan ein Manung ufF die ander, von Cappel 
kamm. (Bull. iii. p. 113.) 

2 UfF rossen haftig ylttend zum augriff. (BulL 
1 iii. p. 113.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



597 



us wait here until our people are assembled, 
and then let us fail upon the enemy with 
the whole army. — " Yes, if we had an 
army," bitterly replied the captain-general, 
who, in despair of saving the republic, 
thought only of dying with glory; "but we 
have only a banner and no soldiers." — 
" How can we stay calmly upon these 
heights," said Zwingle, " while we hear the 
shots that are fired at our fellow-citizens ? 
In the name of God I will march towards 
our warriors, prepared to die in order to save 
them." 1 — "And I too," added the aged 
banneret Schweizer. "As for you," con- 
tinued he, turning with a contemptuous 
look towards Toning, " wait till you are a 
little recovered." — "I am quite as much 
refreshed as you," replied Toning, the 
colour mantling on his face, " and you 
shall soon see whether I cannot fight." All 
hastened their steps towards the field of 
battle. 

The descent is rapid ; they plunge into 
the woods, pass through the village of Hu- 
sen, and at length arrive near the Granges. 
It was three o'clock when the banner cross- 
ed the narrow bridge that led thither; and 
there were so few soldiers round it that 
every one trembled as he beheld this vene- 
rated standard thus exposed to the attacks 
of so formidable an enemy. The army of 
the Cantons was at that moment deploying 
before the eyes of the new-comers. Zwingle 
gazed upon this terrible spectacle. Behold, 
then, these phalanxes of soldiers ! — a few 
minutes more, and the labours of eleven 
years will be destroyed perhaps for ever!.... 

A citizen of Zurich, one Leonard Bourk- 
hard, who was ill-disposed towards the re- 
former, said to him in a harsh tone, " Well, 
Master Ulric, what do you say about this 
business? Are the radishes salt enough ?... 
who will eat them now?" 2 "I," replied 
Zwingle, "and many a brave man who is 
here in the hands of God ; for we are his 
in life and in death." — "And I too — I will 
help eat them," resumed Bourkhard imme- 
diately, ashamed of his brutality, — "I will 
risk my life for them." And he did so, and 
many others with him, adds the chronicle. 

It was four o'clock; the sun was sinking 
rapidly; the Waldstettes did not advance, 
and the Zurichers began to think that the 
attack would be put off till the morrow. In 
fact, the chiefs of the Five Cantons seeing 
the great banner of Zurich arrive, the night 
near at hand, and the impossibility of cross- 
ing under the fire of the Zurichers the marsh 
and the ditch that separated the combatants, 
were looking for a place in which their 
troops might pass the night. " If, at this 
moment, any mediators had appeared," 



1 Ich will Kacht, in den namen Gotts, zu den 
biderben luten und willig mitt und under inen 
Bttrben. (Bull. iii. p. 123.) 

2 Sind die Ruben gesaltzen wer will sie auses- 
een. (J. J. Hott. iii. p. 383.; 



says Bullinger, "their proposals would 
have been accepted." 

The soldiers, observing the hesitation of 
their chiefs, began to murmur loudly. — 
" The big ones abandon us," said one. 
"The captains fear to bite the fox's tail," 
said another. " Not to attack them," cried 
they all, "is to ruin our cause." During 
this time a daring man was preparing- the 
1 skilful manoeuvre that was to decide the fate 
j of the day. A warrior of Uri, John Jauch, 
j formerly bailiff of Sargans, a good marks- 
man and experienced soldier, having taken 
a few men with him, moved towards the 
right of the army of the Five Cantons, crept 
into the midst of the clump of beech-trees 
that, by forming a semicircle to the east, 
unite the hill of Ifelsberg to that of the 
Granges, 1 found the wood empty, arrived 
to within a few paces of the Zurichers, and 
there, hidden behind the trees, remarked 
unperceived the smallness of their numbers, 
and their want of caution. Then, stealthily 
retiring, he went to the chiefs at the very 
moment the discontent was on the point of 
bursting out. " Now is the time to attack 
the enemy," cried he. '• Dear gossip," re- 
plied Troquer, captain-in-chief of Uri, "you 
I do not mean to say that we should set to 
' work at so late an hour ; besides, the men 
are preparing their quarters, and everybody 
knows what it cost our fathers at Naples 
and Marignan for having commenced the 
attack a little before night. And then it is 
Innocents' day, and our ancestors have 
never given battle on a feast-day." 2 — "Don't 
think about the Innocents of the calendar," 
replied Jauch, "but let us rather remember 
the innocents that we nave left in our cot- 
tages." Gaspard Goldli of Zurich, brother 
j of the commander of the Granges, added 
j his entreaties to those of the warrior of Uri. 
" We must either beat the Zurichers to- 
night," said he, " or be beaten by them to- 
morrow. Take your choice." 

All was unavailing; the chiefs were in- 
flexible, and the army prepared to take up 
its quarters. Then the warrior of Uri, under- 
standing like his fellow-countryman, Tell, 
that great evils require great remedies, drew 
his sword and cried : " Let all true con- 
federates follow me."* Then hastily leaping 
to his saddle, he spurred his horse into the 
forest; 4 and immediately arquebusiers, sol- 
diers from the Adige, and many other war- 
riors of the Five Cantons, especially from 
Unterwalden — in all about 300 men, rushed 
into the wood after him. At this sight 



1 This wood no longer connects the two hills. 
The present pastor of Xlappel told me that when 
first he went into that district the wood was much 
more extensive than it is at present. 

2 An einem solchen Tug Blut ze vergiessen. 
(Tschudi, Helv. ii. p. 189.) 

3 Welche redlicher Eidgnossen wart sind, die 
louffind una nach. (Bull.. iii. p. 125.) 

4 Sass y lends wiederum urTsin Ross. (Tschtv 
di, Helv. ii. p. 191.) 



.398 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Jauch no longer doubts of the victory of ' 
the Waldstettes. He dismounts and falls 
upon his knees, "for," says Tschudi, " he 
was a man who feared God." All his fol- 
lowers do the same, and together invoke the 
aid of God, of his holy mother, and of all 
the heavenly host. They then advance ; 
but soon the warrior of Uri, wishing to ex- 
pose no one but himself, halts his troops, 
and glides from tree to tree to the verge of 
the wood. Observing that the enemy was 
as incautious as ever, he rejoins his arque- 
busiers, leads them stealthily forward, and 
posts them silently behind the trees of the 
forest, 1 enjoining them to take their aim so 
as not to miss their men. During this time 
the chiefs of the Five Cantons, foreseeing 
that this rash man was about to bring on 
the action, decided against their will, and 
collected their soldiers around the banners. 

VIII. The Zurichers, fearing that the 
enemy would seize upon the road that led 
to their capital, were then directing part of 
their troops and their guns to a low hill by 
which it was commanded. At the very 
moment that the invisible arquebusiers sta- 
tioned among the beech trees were taking 
their aim, this detachment passed near the 
little wood. The deepest silence prevails in 
this solitude : each one posted there picks 
out the man he desires to bring down, and 
Jauch exclaims : "In the name of the Holy 
Trinity — of God the Father, the Son, and 
the Holy Ghost — of the Holy Mother of 
God, and of all the heavenly host — fire!" 
At the word the deadly balls issue from the 
wood, and a murderous carnage in the ranks 
of Zuiich follows this terrible discharge. — 
The battle, which had begun four hours 
ago, and which had never appeared to be 
a serious attack, now underwent an unfore- 
seen charge. The sword was not again to 
be returned to the scabbard until it had been 
bathed in torrents of blood. Those of the 
Zurichers who had not fallen at this first 
discharge, lie flat on the ground, so that 
the balls pass over their heads ; but they 
soon spring up, saying: " Shall we allow 
ourselves to be butchered ? No ! let us ra- 
ther attack the enemy !" Lavater seizes a 
lance, and rushing into the foremost rank 
exclaims: "Soldiers, uphold the honour of 
God and of our lords, and behave like brave 
men !" Zwingle, silent and collected, like 
nature before the bursting of the tempest, 
was- there also, halberd in hand, "Master 
Ulric," said Bernard Sprungli, "speak to 
the people and encourage them." "War- 
riors!" said Zwingle, "fear nothing. If 
we are this day to be defeated, still our 
cause is good. Commend yourselves to 
God!" 

The Zurichers quickly turn the artillery 



1 Zertheilt die Hagken hinter die Baum im 
Wald in grosser Siille. (Tschudi, Helv. ii. p. 
191.1 



they vere dragging to another quarter, and 
point it against the wood ; but their bullets, 
instead of striking the enemy, only reach 
the top of the trees, and tear off a few 
branches that fall upon the skirmishers. 1 

Rychmuth, the landamman of Schwyiz, 
came up at a gallop to recall the volunteers; 
but seeing the battle begun, he oidered the 
whole army to advance. Immediately the 
five banners moved forward. 

But already Jauch's skirmishers, rushing 
from among the trees, had fallen impetu- 
ously upon the Zurichers, charging with 
their long and pointed halberds. "Here- 
tics! sacrilegisls !" cried they, "we have 
you at last!" — "Man-sellers, idolaters, im- 
pious Papists!" replied the Zurichers, "is 
it really you?" At first a shower of stones 
fell from both parties and wounded several ; 
immediately they come to close quarters. — 
The resistance of the Zurichers was terri- 
ble. 2 Each struck with the sword or with 
the halberd : at last the soldiers of the Five 
Cantons were driven back in disorder. The 
Zurichers advanced, but in so doing lost the 
advantages of their position, and got entan- 
gled in the marsh. Some Roman Catholic 
historians pretend that this flight of their 
troops was a stratagem to draw the Zurichers 
into the snare. 8 

In the mean time the army of the Five 
Cantons hasten through the wood. Burn- 
ing with courage and with anger, they 
eagerly quicken their steps; from the midst 
of the beech-trees there resounded a con- 
fused and savage noise — a frightful mur- 
mur; the ground shook; one might have 
said that the forest was uttering a horrible 
roar, or that witches were holding their 
nocturnal revels. 4 In vain do the bravest 
of the Zurichers offer an intrepid resistance : 
the Waldstettes have the advantage in every 
quarter. " They are surrounding us," cried 
some. " Our men are fleeing," said others. 
A man from the canton of Zug, mingling 
with the Zurichers, and pretending to be 
of their party, exclaims : "Fly, fly, brave 
Zurichers, you are betrayed !" Thus every- 
thing is against Zurich. Even the hand of 
Him who is the disposer of battles, turns 
against this people. Thus was it also in 
times of old that God frequently chastised 
his own people of Israel by the Assyrian 
sword. A panic terror seizes upon the 
bravest, and 'the disorder spreads every- 
where with frightful rapidity. 

In the meanwhile the aged Schweizer 
had raised the great banner with 'a firm 



1 Denn das die Aest auf sie fielent. (Tschudi, 
p. 182.) 

2 Der angriff war hart und wahrt der Wieder- 
stand ein gure Wyl. (Ibid. p. 192.) 

3 Catholici autem, positis insidiis, retrocesse- 
runt, fugam simulantes. (Cochlceus, Acta Luth. 
p. 214. 

4 Der Boden erzittert; und nit anders war, 
denn als ob der Wald lut bruelete. 'Tschudi, p. 
123.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



599 



hand, and all the picked men of Zurich 
were drawn up around it; hut soon their 
ranks were thinned. John Kammli, charged 
with the defence of the standard, having 
observed the small number of combatants 
that remained upon the field of battle, 
said to the banneret :" Let us lower the 
banner, my lord, and save it, for our people 
are flying shamefully :" — " Warriors, re- 
main firm,'' replied the aged banneret, 
whom no danger had ever shaken. The 
disorder augmented — the number of fugi- 
tives increased every minute; the old man 
stood fast, amazed and immovable as an 
aged oak beaten by a frightful hurricane. 
He received unflinchingly the blows that 
fell upon him, and alone resisted the terrible 
storm. Kammli seized him by the arm: 
u My lord," said he again, " lower the ban- 
ner, or else we shall lose it: there is no 
more glory to be reaped here !" The ban- 
neret, who was. already mortally wounded, 
exclaimed : " Alas ! must the city of Zurich 
be so punished!" Then dragged off by 
Kammli, who held him by the arm, he re- 
treated as far as the ditch. The weight of 
years, and the wounds with which he was 
covered, did not permit him to cross it. He 
fell in the mire at the bottom, still holding 
the glorious standard, whose folds dropped 
on the other bank. 

The enemy ran up with loud shouts, being 
attracted by the colours of Zurich, as the 
bull by the gladiator's flag. Kammli seeing 
this, unhesitatingly leaps to the bottom of 
the ditch, and lays hold of the stiff and dy- 
ing hands of his chief, in order to preserve 
the precious ensign, which they tightly 
grasped. But it is in vain ; the hands of 
the aged Schweizer will not loose the stand- 
ard. " My lord banneret!" cried this faith- 
ful servant, "it is no longer in your power 
to defend it." The hands of the banneret, 
already stiffened in death, still refuse; upon 
which Kammli violently tears away the 
sacred standard, leaps upon the other bank, 
and rushes with his treasure far from the 
steps of the enemy. The last Zurichers at 
this moment reach the ditch — they fall one 
after another upon the expiring banneret, 
and thus hasten his death. 

Kammli, however, having received a 
wound from a gun-shot, his march was re- 
tarded, and soon the Waldstettes surround 
him with their swords. The Zuricher, hold- 
ing the banner in one hand, and his sword 
in the other, -defends himself bravely. One 
of the Waldstettes catches hold of the staff 
— another seizes the flag itself and tears it. 
Kammli with one blow of his sword cuts 
down the former, and striking around him, 
calls out : " To the rescue, brave Zurichers ! 
save the honour and the banner of our lords." 
The assailants increase in number, and the 
warrior is about to fall, when Adam NsefT 
oFWollenwyd rushes up sword in hand, 
and the head of the Waldstette who had 
torn the colours rolls upon the plain, and his 



blood gushes out upon the flag of Zurich. 
Dumysen, member of the Smaller Council, 
supports Na?ff with his halberd, and both 
deal such lusty blows, that they succeed in 
disengaging the .standard-bearer. He, al- 
though dangerously wounded, springs for- 
ward, holding the blood-stained folds of the 
banner in one hand, which he carries off 
hastily, dragging the staff behind him. — 
With fierce look and fiery eye, he thus 
passes sword in hand through the midst of 
friends and enemies : he crosses plains, 
woods, and marshes, everywhere leaving 
traces of his blood, which flows from nu- 
merous wounds. Two of his enemies, one 
from Schwytz, the other from Zug — were 
particularly eager in his pursuit. " Heretic ! 
villain!" cried they, "surrender and give 
us the banner." — "You shall have my life 
first," replied the Zuricher. Then the two 
hostile soldiers, who were embarrassed by 
their curiasses, stopped a moment to take 
them off. Kammli took advantage of this 
to get in advance : he ran ; Huber, Dumy- 
sen, and Danrzler of Naenikon were at his 
side. They all four thus arrived near Husen, 
half-way up the Albis. They had still to 
climb the steepest part of the mountain. 
Huber falls covered with wounds. Dumy- 
sen, the colonel-general, who had fought as 
a private soldier, almost reaches the church 
of Husen, and there he falls lifeless: and 
two of his* sons, in the flower of youth, soon 
lie stretched on the battle-field that has drunk 
their father's blood. Kammli takes a few 
steps further; but halts erelong, exhausted 
and panting, near a hedge that he would 
have to clear, and discovers his two ene- 
mies, and other Waldstettes running from 
all sides, like birds of prey, towards the 
wavering standard of Zurich. The strength 
of Kammli sinks rapidly, his eyes grow 
dim, thick darkness surrounds him : a 
hand of lead fastens him to the ground. 
Then, mustering all his expiring strength, 
he flings the standard on the other side 
of the hedge, exclaiming: "Is there any 
brave Zuricher near me? Let him pre- 
serve the banner and the honour of our 
lords! As for me, I can do no more!" 
Then casting a last look to heaven, he adds : 
"May God be my helper!" He fell ex- 
hausted by this last effort. Dantzler, who 
came up, flung away his sword, sprung 
over the hedge, seized the banner, ami 
cried, " With the aid of God, I will carry it 
off." He then rapidly climbed the Albis, and 
at last placed the ancient standard of Zu- 
rich in safely. God, on whom these war- 
riors fixed all their hopes, had heard their 
prayers, but the noblest blood of the republic 
had been spilt. 

The enemy were victorious at all points. 
The soldiers of the Five Cantons, and par- 
ticularly those of Unterwalden, long hard- 
ened .n the wars of the Milanese, showed 
themselves more merciless towards their 
confederates than they had ever been tu- 



600 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



wards foreigners. At the beginning of 
the battle, Goldli had taken flight, and soon 
after he quitted Zurich for ever. Lava- 
ter, the captain-general, after having fought 
valiantly, had fallen into the ditch. He was 
dragged out by a soldier, and had escaped. 

The most distinguished men of Zurich 
fell one after another under the blows of 
the Waldsteltes. 1 Budi Gallmann found 
the glorious tomb he had wished for, and 
his two brothers stretched beside him left 
their father's house desolate. Toning, cap- 
tain of the arquebusiers, died for his country 
as he had foretold. All the pride of the 
population of Zurich, seven members of the 
Smaller Council, nineteen members of the 
Two Hundred, sixty-five citizens of the 
town, four hundred and seventeen from the 
rural districts : the father in the midst of 
his children, — the brother surrounded by 
his brothers, — lay on the field. 

Gerold Meyer of Knonau, son of Anna 
Zwingle, at that time twenty-two years of 
age, and already a member of the council 
of Two Hundred, — a husband and a father, 
— had rushed into the foremost ranks with 
all the impetuosity of youth. "Surrender, 
and your life shall be spared," cried some 
of the warriors of the Five Cantons, who 
desired to save him. " It is better for me 
to die with honour than to yield with dis- 
grace," replied the son of Anna, and im- 
mediately struck by a mortal blow, he fell 
and expired not far from the castle of his 
ancestors. 

The ministers were those who paid pro- 
portionally the greatest tribute on this bloody 
day. The sword that was at work on the 
heights of Cappel thirsted for their blood : 
twenty-five of them fell beneath its stroke. 
The Waldstettes trembled with rage when 
they discovered one of these heretical preach- 
ers, and sacrificed him with enthusiasm, as 
a chosen victim to the Virgin and the saints. 
There has, perhaps, never been any battle 
in which so many men of the Word of God 
have bitten the dust. Almost everywhere 
the pastors had marched at the head of their 
flocks. One might have said that Cap- 
pel was an assembly of Christian churches 
rather than an army of Swiss companies. 
The Abbot Joner, receiving a mortal wound 
near the ditch, expired in sight of his own 
monastery. The people of Zug, in pursuit 
of the enemy, uttered a cry of anguish as 
they passed his body, remembering all the 
goocj he had done them. 2 Schmidt of Kup- 
rach, stationed on the field of battle in the 
midst of his parishioners, fell surrounded by 
forty of their bodies. 3 Geroldseck, John 

1 Opiimi et docti viri, quos necessitas traxerat 
in commune periculum patriae et ecclesise verita- 
tisque defensandae, quam et suo sanguine redeme- 
runt. (rell. Vit. MS. p. 6.) 

2 Es klagtend inn insonders die Ziiger. (Bull, 
lii. p. 151.) 

3 Uffder Walstett warder funden, under and by 
sinen Kussnachern. (Ibid. p. 147.) 



Haller, and many other pastors, at the head 
of their flocks, suddenly met in a terrible 
and unforeseen manner the Lord whom 
they had preached. 

But the death of one individual far sur- 
passed all others. Zwingle was at the post 
of danger, the helmet on his head, tne sword 
hanging at his side, the battle axe in his 
hand. 1 Scarcely had the action begun, 
when, stooping to console a dying man, 
says J. J. Hottinger, a stone hurled by the 
vigorous arm of a Waldstette struck him on 
the head and closed his lips. Yet Zwingle 
arose, when two other blows which struck 
him successively on the leg, 2 threw him 
down again. Twice more he stands up; 
but a fourth time he receives a thrust from 
a lance, he staggars, and sinking beneath so 
many wounds, falls on his knees. Does 
not the darkness that is spreading around 
him announce a still thicker darkness that 
is about to cover the Church 1 Zwingle 
turns away from such sad thoughts ; once 
more he uplifts that head which had been 
so bold, and gazing with calm eye upon the 
trickling blood, exclaims : " What evil is 
this? They can indeed kill the body, but 
they cannot kill the soul !" 3 These were 
his last words. 

He had scarcely uttered them ere he fell 
backwards. There under a tree (Zwingle's 
Pear-tree) in a meadow, he remained lying 
on his back, with clasped hands and eyes 
upturned to heaven. 4 

While the bravest were pursuing the scat- 
tered soldiers of Zurich, the stragglers of 
the Five Cantons had pounced like hungry 
ravens on the field of battle. Torch in 
hand, these wretches prowled among the 
dead, casting looks of irritation around them, 
and lighting up the features of their expi- 
ring victims by the dull glimmering of these 
funereal torches. They turned over the 
bodies of the wounded and the dead ; they 
tortured and they stripped them. 5 If they 
found any who were still sensible, they cried 
out, "Call upon the saints and confess to 
your priests!" If the Zurichers, faithful 
to their creed, rejected these cruel invita- 
tions, these men, who were as cowardly as 
they were fanatical, pierced them with their 
lances, or dashed out their brains with the 
butt-ends of their arquebuses. The Roman 
Catholic historian, Salat of Lucerne, makes 



1 The chaplains of the Swiss troops still wear a 
sword. Zwingle did not make use of his arms. 

2 Hatt auch in den Schenklen yween Stiche. 
(Tschudi, Helv. ii. p. 194.) 

3 In genua prolapsum dixisse : " Ecquid hoc 
infortunii ? Age ! corpus quidem occidere pos- 
sunt, animam non possunt." (Osw. JMycomus, 
Vit. Zw.) 

4 Was er nach lebend, lag an dem Ruggen und 
hat seine beide hand zamen gethan, wie die be- 
tenden, sach mit synem augen obsich in hvmel. 
(B. iii. p. 136.) 

5 Ein gross pliinderen, ein ersuchen und usgies- 
sen der todien und der wunden. (Bull. iii. p. 
135.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



601 



a boast of his. " They were left to die like 
infide- dogs, or were slain with the sword, 
or the spear, that they might go so much 
the quicker to the devil, with whose help they 
had fought so desperately." 1 If any of the 
soldiers of the Five Cantons had recognised 
a Zuricher against whom they had any 
grudge, with dry eyes, disdainful mouth, 
and features changed by anger, they drew 
near the unhappy creature, writhing in the 
agonies of death, and said: "Well! has 
your heretical faith preserved you? Ah 
ha! it was pretty clearly seen to-day who 

had the true faith To-day we have 

dragged your Gospel in the mud, and you 
too, even you are covered with your own 
.blood. God, the Virgin, and the saints 
have punished you." Scarcely had they ut- 
tered these words before they plunged their 
swords into their enemy's bosom. "Mass 
or death !" was their watchword. 

Thus triumphed the Waldestettes ; but 
the pious Zurichers who expired on the 
field of battle called to mind that they had 
for God one who has said : " If ye endure 
chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
sons ; for what son is he whom the father 
chasteneth notV — Tliough he slay me, yet 
will I trust in him" It is in the furnace of 
trial that the God of the Gospel conceals 
the pure gold of his most precious blessings. 
This punishment was necessary to turn 
aside the Church of Zurich from the "broad 
ways" of the world, and lead it back to the 
s% narrow ways" of the Spirit and the life. 
In a political history, a defeat like that of 
Cappel would be styled a great misfortune; 
but in a history of the Church of Jesus 
Christ, such a blow, inflicted by the hand 
of the Father himself, ought rather to be 
called a great blessing. 

Meanwhile Zwingle lay extended under 
the tree, near the road by which the mass 
of the people was passing. The shouts of 
the victors, the groans of the dying, those 
flickering torches borne from corpse to 
corpse, Zurich humbled, the cause of Re- 
form lost, — all cried aloud to him that God 
punishes his servants when they have re- 
course to the arm of man. If the German 
Reformer had been able to approach Zwin- 
gle at this solemn moment, and pronounce 
these oft-repeated words : " Christians fight 
not with sword and arquebus, but with suf- 
ferings and the cross," 2 Zwingle would 
have stretched out his dying hand, and said, 
"Amen!" 

Two of the soldiers who were prowling 
over the field of battle, having come near 
the Reformer without recognising him, 
" Do you wish for a priest to confess your- 
self?" asked they. Zwingle, without speak- 

1 Damit sie desto eher zum Teufel, damit sie 
mit alien vieren fechtend, gefuhrt wiirdend. (Sa- 
lat.) 

2 Christen sind nicht die fiir sich selbst mit dem 
Sohwerdt oder Biichsen streiten, sondern mit dem 
Kreuz und Leyden (Luih. Opp.) 



ing, (for he had not strength,) made signs 
in the negative. " If you cannot speak," 
replied the soldiers, "at least think in thy 
heart of the Mother of God, and call upon 
the saints!" Zwingle again shook his 
head, and kept his eyes sull fixed on hea- 
ven. 1 Upon this the irritated soldiers began 
to curse him. " No doubt," said they, " you 
are one of the heretics of this city!" One 
of them, being curious to know who it. was, 
stooped down and turned Zwingle's head 
in the direction of a fire that had been 
lighted near the spot. 2 The soldier imme- 
diately let him fall to the ground. " I 
think," said he, surprised and amazed, " I 
think it is Zwingle! At this moment Cap- 
tain Fockinger of Unterwaiden, a veteran 
and a pensioner, drew near : he had heard the 
last words of the soldier. "Zwingle!" 
exclaimed he 5 "that vile heretic Zwingle! 
that rascal, that traitor!" Then raising his 
sword, so long sold to the stranger, he 
struck the dying Christian on the throat, 
exclaiming in a violent passion, "Die, ob- 
stinate heretic!" Yielding under this last 
blow, the Reformer gave up the ghost : he 
was doomed to perish by the sword of a 
mercenary. " Precious in the sight of the 
Lord is the death of his saints." The sol- 
diers ran to other victims. All did not show 
the same barbarity. The night was cold ; 
a thick hoar-frost covered the fields and the 
bodies of the dying. The Protestant histo- 
rian, Bullinger, informs us that some Wald- 
stettes gently raised the wounded in their 
arms, bound up their wounds, and carried 
them to the fires lighted on the field of bat- 
tle. "Ah!" cried they, "why have the 
Swiss thus slaughtered one another!" 

The main body of the army had remain- 
ed on the field of battle near the standards. 
The soldiers conversed around the fires, in- 
terrupted from time to time by the cries of 
the dying. During this time the chiefs as- 
sembled in the convent sent messengers to 
carry the news of their signal victory to 
the confederate cantons, and to the Roman 
Catholic powers of Germany. 

At length the day appeared. The Wald- 
stettes spread over the field of battle, run- 
ning here and there, slopping, contempla- 
ting, struck with surprise at the sight of 
their most formidable enemies stretched 
lifeless on the plain ; but sometimes also 
shedding tears as they gazed on corpses 
which reminded them of old and sacred 
ties of friendship. At length they reached 
the pear-tree under which Zwingle lay 
dead, and an immense crowd collected 
around it. His countenance still beamed 
with expression and with life. " He has 
the look," said Bartholomew Stocker of 
Zug, who had loved him, " he has the look 



1 Und sach uber sich in Hymel. (Bull. iii. p. 
136.) 

2 Veyn Fuwr besach. (Tschudi, Hclv. ii. p 
194.) 



602 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of a living" rather than of a dead man. 1 
Such he was when he kindled the people 
by the fire of his eloquence." All eves 
were fixed upon the corpse. John Schon- 
brunner, formerly canon of Zurich, who 
had retired to Zug at the epoch of the Re- 
formation, could not restrain his tears ; 
"Whatever may have been thy creed," 
said he, " I know, Zwingle, that thou hast 
been a loyal confederate! May thy soul 
rest with God!" 

But the pensioners of the foreigner, on 
whom Zwingle had never ceased to make 
war, required that the body of the heretic 
should be dismembered, and a portion sent 
to each of the Five Cantons. " Peace be 
to the dead ! and God alone be their Jud^e!" 
exclaimed the avoyer Golder and the land- 
arnman Thoss of Zug. Cries of fury an- 
swered their appeal, and compelled them 
to retire. Immediately the drums beat to 
muster ; the dead body was tried, and it 
was decreed that it should be quartered for 
treason against the Confederation, and then 
burnt for heresy. The executioner of Lu- 
cerne carried out the sentence. Flames 
consumed Zwingle's disjointed members; 
the ashes of swine were mingled with his : 
and a lawless multitude rushing upon his 
remains, flung them to the four winds of 
heaven. 2 

Zwingle was dead. A great light had 
been extinguished in the Church of God. 
Mighty by the Word as were the other re- 
formers, he had been more so than they in 
action ; but this very power had been his 
weakness, and he had fallen under the 
weight of his own strength. Zwingle was 
not forty-eight years old when he died. If 
the might of God always accompanied the 
might of man, what would he not have 
done for the Reformation in Switzerland, 
and even in the Empire! But he had 
wielded an arm that God had forbidden ; 
the helmet had covered his head, and he 
had grasped the halberd. His more devoted 
friends were themselves astonished, and 
exclaimed : we know not what to say ! . . . 
a bishop in arms!" 8 The bolt had fur- 
rowed the cloud, the blow had reached the 
reformer, and his body was no more than a 
handful of dust in the palm of a soldier. 

IX. Frightful darkness hung over Zurich 
during the night that followed the afflicting 
day of Cappel. It was seven in the even- 
ing when the first news of the disaster ar- 
rived Vague but alarming reports 



1 Nieht einem Todten sondern einem Leben- 
den gleich. (Zwingli for dass Volk von J. J. 
Hottinger.) 

2 Tschudi Helvet. ii. p. 195. " Cadaver Zwin- 

glii in quatuor partes secatur, in ignem con- 

jicitur, in cinerem resolvitur." (Mvc. de Vit. 
Zw.) 

3 Ego nihil certe apud me possum statuere, 
maxime de Episcopo in armis. (Zuickius Eco- 
lampadio, 8th November, 1531, Zurich MS.) 



spread at first with the rapidity of lightning. 
It was known that a terrible blow had been 
inflicted, but not of what kind ; but soon a 
few wounded men, who arrived from the 
field of battle, cleared up the frightful mys- 
tery. " Then," said Bullinger, whom we 
shall allow to speak, "there arose suddenly 
a loud and horrible cry of lamentation and 
tears, bewailing and- groaning." The con- 
sternation was so much the greater that no 
one had expected this disaster. "There is 
not enough for a breakfast," had said some 
haughty worldly men; "With one blow 
we shall be masters of the Five Chalets" 
had said another; and an old soldier added 
with disdainful sneer, "We shall soon have 
scattered these five dunghills." The Chris- 
tian portion, convinced that Zurich was 
fighting in a good cause, had not doubted 
that victory would be on the side of truth. 
. . . Thus their first stupefaction was suc- 
ceeded by a violent out-burst of rage. With 
blind fury the mob accused all their chiefs, 
and loaded with insults even those who 
had defended their country at the price of 
their blood. An immense crowd — agitated, 
pale, and bewildered, filled all the streets of 
the city. They meet, they question and 
reply; they question again, and the answer 
cannot be heard, for the shouts of the people 
interrupted or drowned the voice ot the 
speakers. The councillors who had re- 
mained in Zurich, repaired in haste to the 
town-hall. The people, who had already 
assembled there in crowds, looked on with 
threatening eves. Accusations of treason 
burst from every mouth, and the patricians 
were pointed out to the general indignation. 
They must have victims. " Before going 
to fight against the enemy on the frontiers," 
said the mob, "we should defend ourselves 
against those who are within our walls." — 
Sorrow and fear excited the minds of all. 
That savage instinct of the populace, which 
in great calamities leads them, like a wild 
beast, to thirst for blood, was violently 
aroused. A hand from the midst of the 
crowd points out the council-hall, and a 
harsh and piercing voice exclaims: "Let 
us chop off the heads of some of the men 
who sit in these halls, and let their blood 
ascend to heaven, to beg for mercy in be- 
half of those whom they have slain." 

But this fury is nothing in comparison 
with that which breaks out against the 
ministers, against Zwingle, and all those 
Christians who were the cause (say they) 
of the ruin of the country. Fortunately the 
sword of the Waldstettes had withdrawn 
them from the rage of their fellow-citizens; 
nevertheless, there still remained some who 
could pav for the others. Leo Juda, whom 
Zwingle's death was about to raise to the 
head of religious affairs, had scarcely re- 
covered from a serious illness ; it is on him 
they rush. They threaten, thev pursue him ; 
a few worthy citizens carry him off and 
hide him in their houses. The rage of 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



60? 



these madmen is not appeased : they con- 
tinue shouting that atonement must be made 
for the slaughter at Cappel, by a still more 
frightful slaughter within the very walls of 
the city. But God placed a curb in the 
mouths of these infuriated beasts of prey, 
and subdued them. 

On a sudden, grief succeeded to rage, 
and sobs choked the utterance of the most 
furious. All those whose relatives had 
marched to Cappel, imagine that they are 
among the number of the victims. Old 
men, women, and children, go forth in the 
darkness by the glimmering light of torches, 
with haggard eyes and hurried steps; and 
as soon as some wounded man arrives, they 
question him with trembling voice about 
those whom they are seeking. To some 
they reply: "I saw him fall close by my 
side. — He was surrounded by so many ene- 
mies," they say to others, " that there was 
no chance of safety for him." ' At these 
words the distracted family drop their 
torches, and fill the air with shrieks and 
groans. 

Anna Zwingle had heard from her. house 
the repeated discharges of artillery. As 
wife and mother, she had passed in expec- 
tation many long hours of anguish, offering 
fervent prayers to heaven. At length the 
most terrible accounts, one after another, 
burst upon her. 

In the midst of those whose cries of des- 
pair re-echoed along the road to Cappel, 
was Oswald Myconius, who inquired with 
anxiety what had become of his friend. 
Soon he hears one of the unfortunates who 
had escaped from the massacre, relating to 
those around him that Zwingle had fallen! 2 
. . . Zwingle is no more! Zwingle is dead ! 
The cry is repeated : it runs through Zu- 
rich with the rapidity of lightning, and at 
length reaches the unhappy widow. Anna 
falls on her knees. But the loss of her hus- 
band is not enough : God has inflicted other 
blows. Messengers following each other at 
short intervals announce to her the death 
of her son Gerold of Knonau, of her brother 
the bailiff of Reinhardt, of her son-in-law 
Antony Wirz, of John Lustchi the husband 
of her dear sister, as well as of all her most 
intimate friends. This woman remains 
alone — alone with her God; alone with her 
young children, who, as they see her tears, 
weep also, and throw themselves disconso- 
late into their mother's arms. 

On a sudden the alarm-bell rings. The 
council, distracted by the most contrary opin- 
ions, has at last resolved to summon all the 
citizens towards the Albis. But the sound 
of the tocsin re-echoing through the dark- 

1 Dermassen umbgaben mit. Tygenden, dass 
kein HofTnung der renting uberig. (Bull. iv. p. 
163.) 

2 Ul igitur mane videram exeuntem, ita sub 
noctem audio nnntium pugnatum quidem acriter, 
tamen infeliciter, et Zwinglium nobis periisse. 
;Mvc. Vit. Zw.) 



ness, the lamentable stories of the wounded, 
and the distressful groans of bereaved fami- 
lies, still further increased the tumult. A 
numerous and disorderly troop of citizens 
rushed along the road to Cappel. Among 
them is the Valaisan, Thomas Plater. Here 
he meets with a man that has but one hand,' 
— there with others who supported their 
wounded and bleeding heads with both 
hands; — further still is a soldier whose 
bowels protrude from his body. In front of 
these unhappy creatures peasants are walk- 
ing with lighted torches, for the night is very 
dark. Plater wishes to return ; but he can- 
not, for sentinels placed on the bridge over 
the Sihl allow persons to quit Zurich, but 
permit no one to re-enter. 

On the morrow the news of the disgrace- 
ful treatment of Zwingle's corpse aroused 
all the anger of Zurich ; and his friends, 
uplifting their tear-bedimmed eyes, exclaim- 
ed, " These men may fall upon his body ; 
they may kindle their piles, and brand his 
innocent life but he lives — this in- 
vincible hero lives in eternity, and leaves 
behind him an immortal monument of glory 
that no flames can destroy. 2 God, for whose 
honour he has laboured, even at the price 
of his blood, will make his memory eter- 
nal." " And I," adds Leo Juda, " I, upon 
whom he has heaped so many blessings, 
will endeavour, after so many others, to de- 
fend his renown and to extol his virtues." 
Thus Zurich consecrated to Zwingle a fune- 
ral oration of tears and sighs, of gratitude 
and cries of anguish. Never was there a 
funeral speech more eloquent! 

Zurich rallied her forces. John Steiner 
had collected on the Albis some scattered 
fragments of the army for the defence of the 
pass : they bivouacked around their fires on 
the summit of the mountain, and all were 
in disorder. Plater, benumbed with cold, 
(it is himself who gives us the account,) 
had drawn off his boots to warm his feet at 
the watch-fire. On a sudden an alarm is 
given, the troop is hastily drawn up, and, 
while Plater is getting ready, a trumpeter, 
who had escaped from the battle, seizes his 
halberd. Plater takes it back, and stations 
himself in the ranks; before him stands the 
trumpeter, without hat or shoes, and armed 
with a long pole. Such is the army of 
Zurich. 

The chief captain Lavater rejoined the 
army at daybreak. Gradually the allies 
came up; 1200 Grisons, under the orders 
of the captain-general Frey of Zurick, 1500 
Thurgovians, 600 Tockenburgers, and other- 
auxiliaries besides, soon formed an army of 
12.000 men. All, even children, ran to 
arms. The council gave orders that these 



1 Ettlich kamen, hatten nur eine hand. (Li- 
bensbeschreibung Plateri. p. 297.) 

2 Vivit adhunc, et aeternum vi vit fortissimus 
heros. (Leonis Judae exhort, ad Chr. Sect. En- 
chiridio Psalm. Zwinglii praemissa.) 



604 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



young folks, 1 should be sent back to share 
in the domestic duties with the women. 

Another reverse ere long augmented the 
desolation of the Reformed party. While the 
troops of Berne, Zurich, Basle, and Bienne, 
amounting to 24,000 men, were assembling 
at Bremgarten, the Five Cantons intrenched 
themselves at Baar, near Zug. But Zwin- 
gle was wanting to the Reformed army, and 
he would have been the only man capable 
of inspiring them with courage. A gust of 
wind having thrown down a few fir-trees in 
the forest where the Zurichers were en- 
camped, and caused the death of some of 
their soldiers, they failed not to see in this 
the signal for fresh reverses. 

Nevertheless, Frey called loudly for bat- 
tle ; but the Bernese commandant Diesbach 
refused. Upon this the Zurich captain set 
off in the night of the 23d October at the 
head of 4000 men of Zurich, Schaffhausen, 
Basle, and St. Gall ; and, while the Bernese j 
were sleeping quietly, he turned th§ Wald- 
stettes, drove their outposts beyond the Sihl, 
and took his station on the heights that over- 
look the Goubel. His imprudent soldiers, 
believing victory to be certain, proudly 
waved their banners, and then sunk into a 
heavy sleep. The Waldstettes had observed 
all. On the 24th October, at two in the 
morning, by a bright moonlight, they quit- 
ted their camp in profound silence, leaving 
their fires burning, and wearing their white 
shirts over their dresses that they might re- 
cognise one another in the obscurity. Their 
watchword was " Mary, the mother of 
God." They glided stealthily into a pine 
forest, near which the Preformed troops were 
encamped. The men stationed at the ad- 
vanced guard of the Zurichers having per- 
ceived the enemy, ran up to the fires to 
arouse their friends, but they had scarcely 
reached the third fire before the Waldstettes 
appeared, uttering a frightful shout. 2 "Har. 
. .Har. . .Har. . .Har!. . . .Where are these 

impious heretics ? Har. . .Har. . .Har 

. . .Har ?" The army of the cities at first 
made a vigorous resistance, and many of 
the white-shirts fell covered with blood ; 
but this did not continue long. The bravest, 
with the valiant Frey at their head, having 
bitten the dust, the rout became general, and 
800 men were left on the field of battle. 

In the midst of these afflictions the Ber- 
nese remained stubborn and motionless. — 
Francis Kolb, who, notwithstanding his ad- 
vanced age, had accompanied the Bernese 
contingent as chaplain, reproached in a ser- 
mon the negligence and cowardice of his 
party. "Your ancestors," said he, "would 
have swam across the Rhine, and you — this 
little stream stops you ! They went to battle 
for a word, and you even the Gospel cannot 
move. For us it only remains to commit 

1 Jungen fasels — young brood. (Bull. Chr. iii. 
p. 176.) 

2 Mit einem grossen grusamen geschrey. — 
Bull. iii. p. 201.) 



our cause to God." Many voices were 
raised against the imprudent old man, but 
others took up his defence ; and the captain, 
Jacques May, being as indignant as the aged 
chaplain at the delays of his fellow-citizens, 
drew his sword, and thrusting it into the 
folds of the Bernese banner, pricked the 
bear that was represented on it, and cried out 
in the presence of the whole army, "You 
knave, will you not show your claws?" 1 — 
But the bear remained motionless. 

The whole of the Reformation was com- 
promised. Scarcely had Ferdinand received 
intelligence of the death of the arch-heretic 
Zwingle, and of the defeat at Cappel, than 
with an exclamation of joy, he forwarded 
these good news to his brother the Emperor 
Charles the Fifth. " This is the first of the 
victories destined to restore the faith," he 
had written. After the defeat at the Goubel, 
he wrote again, saying that if the Emperor 
were not so near at hand, he would not 
hesitate, however weak he might be, to rush 
forward in person, sword in hand, to ter- 
minate so righteous an enterprise. " Re- 
member," said he, "that you are the first 
prince in Christendom, and that you will 
never have a better opportunity of covering 
yourself with glory. Assist the cantons 
with your troops; the German sects will 
perish, when they are no longer supported 
by heretical Switzerland." 2 "The more I 
reflect," replied Charles, "the more I am 
pleased with your advice. The imperial 
dignity with which I am invested, the protec- 
tion that I owe to Christendom and to public 
order, in a word, the safety of the house of 
Austria, — everything appeals to me!" 

Already about two thousand Italian sol- 
diers, sent by the Pope and commanded by 
the Genoese De l'Isola, had unfolded their 
seven standards, and united near Zug with 
the army of the Five Cantons. Auxiliary 
troops, diplomatic negotiations, and even 
missionaries to convert the heretics, were 
not spared. The Bishop of Veroli arrived 
in Switzerland in order to bring back the 
Lutherans to the Roman faith by means of 
his friends and of his money. 3 The Roman 
politicians hailed the victory at Cappel as 
the signal of the restoration of the Papal 
authority, not only in Switzerland, but 
throughout the whole of Christendom. 4 — ■ 
At last this presumptuous Reformation was 
about to be repressed. Instead of the great 
deliverance of which Zwingle had dreamt, 
the imperial eagle let loose by the Papacy 
was about to pounce on all Europe, and 



1 Betz, Betz. willt dan nicht kretzen ! (Bull, 
iii. p. 215.) 

2 Que se perdo deslar i camiuo para remediar 
las quiebras de nuestra fe y ser Va. Md. Sen n de 
Allemana. (Ferdinand to Charles V. 11th No- 
vember, 1531.) 

3 Con propositadi rimover Lutheriani dalla loro 
mala opinione, con mezzo di alcuni suoi amici e 
con denari. (Report of Basadonna, Archbishop 
of Venice.) 

4 Ranke, Deutshe Geschichte, iii. p. 867. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



605 



strangle it in its talons. The cause of liberty 
had perished on the Albis. 

But the hopes of the Papists were vain : 
the cause of the Gospel, although humbled 
at this moment, was destined finally to gain 
a glorious victory. A cloud may hide the 
sun for a time : but the cloud passes and the 
sun re-appears. Jesus Christ is always the 
same, and the gates of hell, which triumph- 
ed on the field of Cappel, cannot prevail 
against his Church. 

Nevertheless everything seemed advancing 
towards a grand catastrophe. TheTocken- 
burgers made peace and retired. The Thur- 
govians followed them ; and next the people 
of Gaster. The evangelical army was thus 
gradually disbanded. The severity of the 
season was joined to these dissensions. Con- 
tinual storms of wind and rain drove the 
soldiers to their homes. 

Upon this the Five Cantons with the un- 
disciplined bands of the Italian general Isola 
threw themselves on the left bank of the lake 
of Zurich. The alarm-bell was rung on 
every side ; the peasants retired in crowds 
into the city, with their weeping wives, their 
frightened children, and their cattle that fill- 
ed the air with sullen lowings. A report too 
was circulated that the enemy intended lay- 
ing siege to Zurich. The country-people 
in alarm declared that if the city refused to 
treat, they would treat on their own account. 

The peace party prevailed in the council ; 
deputies were elected to negotiate. " Above 
all things, preserve the Gospel, and then our 
honour, as far as may be possible!" Such 
were their instructions. On the 16th No- 
vember, the deputies from Zurich arrived 
in a meadow situated near the frontier, on 
the banks of the Sihl, in which the repre- 
sentatives of the Five Cantons awaited them. 
They proceeded to the deliberations. " In 
the name of the most honourable, holy, and 
divine Trinity," began the treaty, "Firstly, 
we the people of Zurich bind ourselves and 
agree to leave our trusty and well-beloved 
confederates of the Five Cantons, their well- 
beloved co-burghers of the Valais, and all 
their adherents lay and ecclesiastic, in their 
true 1 and indubitable Christian faith, re- 
nouncing all evil intention, tricks, and stra- 
tagems. And, on our side, we of the Five 
Canions, agree to leave our confederates of 
Zurich and their allies in possession of their 
faith." 2 At the same time, Rapperswyl, 
Gaster, Wesen, Bremgarten, Mellingen, and 
the common bailiwicks, were abandoned to 
the Five Cantons, 

Zurich had preserved its faith; and that 
was all. The treaty having been read and 
approved of, the plenipotentiaries got off 
their horses, fell upon their knees, and called 
upon the name of God. 3 . Then the new 

1 By ihren wahren ungez wyfflten Christen- 
liehen glauben. (Tschudi. p. 247.) 



2 By ihren Glauben. (Ibid.) 

3 Knuwet menchlich wider und battet. 
til. p. 253.) 



(Bull. 



captain-general of the Zurichers, Escher, a 
hasty and eloquent old man, rising up, said 
as he turned towards the Waldstettes: "God 
be praised that I can again call you my well- 
beloved confederates!" and approaching 
them, he shook hands successively with 
Golder, Hug, Troger, Rychmut, Marquart, 
Zellig>er, and Toss, the terrible victors at 
Cappel. All eyes were filled with tears. 1 
Each took with trembling hand the bottle 
suspended at his side, and offered a draught 
to one of the chiefs of the opposite party. 
Shortly after a similar treaty was concluded 
with Berne. 

X. The restoration of Popery immediately 
commenced in Switzerland, and Rome 
showed herself everywhere proud, exacting, 
and ambitious. 

After the battle of Cappel, the Romish 
minority at Glaris had resumed the upper- 
hand. It marched with Schwytz against 
Wesen and the district of the Gaster. On 
the eve of the invasion, at midnight, twelve 
deputies came and threw themselves at the 
feet of the Schwytzer chiefs, who were satis- 
fied with confiscating the national banners 
of these two districts, with suppressing their 
tribunals, annulling their ancient liberties, 
and condemning some to banishment, and 
others to pay a heavy fine. Next the mass, 
the altars, and images were everywhere re- 
established, and exist until the present day. 3 
Such was the pardon of Schwytz! 

It was especially on Bremgarten, Mellin- 
gen, and the free bailiwicks that the Cantons 
proposed to inflict a terrible vengeance. 
Berne having recalled its army, Mutschli, 
the avoyerof Bremgarten, followed Diesbach 
as far as Arau. In vain did the former re- 
mind the Bernese that it was only according 
to the orders of Berne and Zurich that 
Bremgarten had blockaded the Five Can- 
tons. " Bend to circumstances," replied 
the general. On this the wretched Mutschli, 
turning away from the pitiless Bernese, ex- 
claimed, " The prophet Jeremiah has well 
said, — Cursed be he that trusteth in man /" 
The Swiss and Italian bands entered furious- 
ly into these flourishingdistricts, brandishing 
their weapons, inflicting heavy fines on all 
the inhabitants, compelling the Gospel mi- 
nisters to flee, and restoring everywhere at 
the point of the sword, mass, idols, and 
altars. 

On the other side of the lake the misfor- 
tune was still greater. On the 18th Novem 
ber, while the Reformed of Rapperschwy. 
were sleeping peacefully in reliance on the 
treaties, an army from Schwytz silently 
passed the wooden bridge nearly 2000 feet 
long which crosses the lake, and was ad- 
mitted into the city by the Romish party. 



1 Und luffend ihnen alien die Augen iiber. 
(Tschudi, p. 245.) 

2 Es wurdent mass,- altar und gotren vieder uflf 
gericht. (Bull. hi. p. 277/ 



606 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



On a sudden the Reformed awoke at the 
loud pealing of the bells, and the tumultu- 
ous voices of the Catholics: the greater part 
quitted the city. One of them, however, by 
name Michael Wohlgemuth, barricaded his 
house, placed arquebuss s at every window, 
and repelled the attack. The exasperated 
enemy brought up some heavy pieces of 
artillery, beseiged this extemporaneous cita- 
del in regular form, and Wohlgemuth was 
soon taken and put to death in the midst of 
horrible tortures. 

Nowhere had the struggle been more vio- 
lent than at Soleure: the two parties were 
drawn up in battle-array on each side of the 
Aar, and the Romanists had already dis- 
charged one ball against the opposite bank, 
another was about to follow, when the avo- j 
yer Wenge, throwing himself on the mouth 
of the cannon, cried out earnestly : " Fel- I 
low-citizens, let there be no bloodshed, or \ 
else let me be your first victim!" The as- j 
tonished multitude dropped their arms ; but ; 
seventy Evangelical families were obliged to 
emigrate, and Soleure returned under the j 
Papal yoke. 

The deserted cells of St. Gall, Muri, En- 
sideln, Wettingen, Rheinau, St. Catherine, 
Hermetshwyll and Gnadenthall witnessed 
the triumphant return of Benedictines, Fran- | 
ciscans, Dominicians, and all the Romish 
militia ; priests and monks, intoxicated with 
their victory, overran country and town, and 
prepared for new conquests. 

The wind of adversity was blowing with 
jfury : the Evangelical Churches fell one! 
after another, like the pines in the forest 
whose fall before the battle of the Goubel 
had raised such gloomy presentiments. The 
Five Cantons, full of gratitude to the Virgin, ! 
made a solemn pilgrimage to her temple at j 
Ensideln. The chaplains celebrated anew j 
their mysteries in this desolated sanctuary; I 
the abbot, who had no monks, sent a num- \ 
her of youths into Swabia to be trained up 
in the rules of the order, and this famous 
chappel, which Zwingle's voice had con- 
verted into a sanctuary for the Word, be- ; 
came for Switzerland, what it has remained I 
until this day, the centre of the power and j 
of the intrigues of the Papacy. 

But this was not enongh. At the very 
time that these flourishing churches were ! 
falling to the ground, the reform witnessed 
the extinction of its brightest lights. A blow I 
from a stone had slain the energetic Zwin- 
gle on' the field of battle, and the rebound 
reached the pacific GEcolampadius at Basle, 
in the midst of a life that was wholly evan- j 
gelical. The death of his friend, the severe 
judgments with which they pursued his 
memory, the terror that had suddenly taken 
the place of the hopes he had entertained of 
the future — all these sorrows rent the heart 
of GEcolampadius, and soon his head and 
his life inclined sadly to the tomb. "Alas!" 
cried he, " that Zwingle, whom I have so 



long regarded as my right arm, has fallen 
under the blows of cruel enemies!" 1 He 
recovered, however, sufficient energy to de- 
fend the memory of his brother. " It was 
not," said he, "on the heads of the most 
guilty that the wrath of Pilate and the tower 
of Siloam fell. The judgment began in the 
house of God; our presumption has been 
punished ; let our trust be placed now on 
the Lord alone, and this will be an inesti- 
mable sain." (Ecolampadius declined the 
call of Zurich to take the place of Zwingle. 
" Mv post is here," said he, as he looked at 
Basl'e. 

He was not destined to hold it long. — 
Illness fell upon him in addition to so many 
afflictions ; the plague was in the city ; a 



violent inflammation attacked him, 3 



i ad 



ere long a tranquil scene succeeded the tu- 
mult of Cappel. A peaceful death calmed 
the agitated hearts of the faithful, and re- 
placed by sweet, tranquil, and heavenly 
emotions, the terror and distress with which 
a terrible disaster had filled them. 

On hearing of the danger of (Ecolampa- 
dius, all the city was plunged into mourn- 
ing ; a crowd. of men of every age and of 
every rank rushed to his house. " Rejoice," 
said the reformer with a meek look, " 1 am 
going to a place of everlasting joy." He 
then commemorated the death of our Lord 
with. his wife, his relations, and domestics, 
who shed floods of tears. " This supper," 
said the dying man, "is a sign of my real 
faith in Jesus Christ my Redeemer." 

On the morrow he sent for his colleagues : 
" My brethren," said he, " the Lord is there ; 
he calls me away. Oh ! my brethren, what 
a black cloud is appearing on the horizon — 
what a tempest is approaching! Be stead- 
fast: the Lord will preserve his own." He 
then held out his hand, and ail these faithful 
ministers clasped it with veneration. 

On the 23d November, he called his 
children around him, the eldest of whom 
was barely three years old. " Eusebius 
Irene, Alethea," said he to them, as he took 
their little hands, " love God who is your 
Father." Their mother having promised 
for them, the children retired with the bless- 
ing of the dying servant of God. The 
night that followed this scene was his last. 
All the pastors were around his bed: — 
" What is the news?" asked (Ecolampadius 
of a friend who came in. "Nothing," was 
the reply. "Well," said the faithful disci- 
ple of Jesus, " I will tell you something 
new." His friends awaited in astonishment. 
" In a short time I shall be with the Lord 
Jesus." One of his friends now asking 
him if he was incommoded by the light, he 



1 Zwinglium nostrum, quern pro manu altera 
nunc multo tempore habui. (Zurich MS.) 

2 Ater carbunculus quovis carbunculo in domo 
Dei splendidiorem perditit. (J. J. Hettinger, iii, 
p. 634.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



607 



replied, putting his hand on his heart : j 
"There is light enough here." The day I 
began to break ; he repeated in a feeble 
voice the 51st Psalm : Have mercy upon me, I 
O Lord, according to thy loving kindness, j 
Then remaining silent, as if he wished to | 
recover strength, he said, " Lord Jesus, help j 
me !" The ten pastors fell on their knees 
around his bed with uplifted hands; at this 
moment the sun rose, and darted his earliest 
rays on a scene of sorrow so great and so 
afflicting with which the Church of God 
was again stricken. 1 

The death of this servant of the Lord was 
like his life, full of light and peace. CEco- 
lampadius was in an especial degree the 
Christian spiritualist and biblical divine.— 
The importance he attached to the study of 
the books of the Old Testament imprinted 
one of its most essential characters on the 
reformed theology. 2 Considered as a man 
of action, his moderation and meekness 
placed him in the second rank. Had he 
been able to exert more of this peaceful 
spirit over Zwingle, great misfortunes might 
perhaps have been avoided. But like all 
men of meek disposition, his peaceful cha- 
racter yielded too much to the energetic will 
of the minister of Zurich ; and he thus re- 
nounced, in part at least, the legitimate in- 
fluence that he might have exercised over 
the reformer of Switzerland and of the 
Church. 

Zwingle and CEcolampadius had fallen. 
There was a great void and great sorrow in 
the Church of Christ. Dissensions disap- 
peared before these two tombs, and nothing 
could be seen but tears. Luther himself 
was moved. On receiving the news of 
these two deaths, he called to mind the 
days he had passed with Zwingle and 
CEcolampadius at Marburg; and the blow 
inflicted on him by their sudden decease 
was such, that many years after he said to 
Bullinger: "Their death filled me with 
such intense sorrow, that I was near dying 
myself." 3 

The youthful Henry Bullinger, threatened 
with the scaffold, had been compelled to flee 
from Bremgarten, his native town, with his 
aged father, his colleagues, and sixty of the 
principal inhabitants, who abandoned their 
houses to the pillage of the Waldstettes. 4 
Three days after this, he was preaching in 

1 De Joannis (Ecolampadis obitu, per Simonem 
Gryneum. (Epp. GDcol. et Zwinglii, libri iv.) 

2 See his Commentaries on Isaiah (1525), 1st 
chapter; on Ezekie'l (1527) ; Haggai, Zachariah, 
Malaehi (1527) ; Daniel (1530) ; and the commen- 
taries published after his death, with interpreta- 
tions on Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Hosea. Joel, Amos, 
Obadiah, Jonah, and the 1st and 2d chapters of 
Micah. 

8 De cujus morte dolorem concepi ita ut 

sorum casus me pene exanimaverit. (L. Epp. v 
p. 112.) 

4 Ne a quinque pneis aut obtruncarer aut com- 
buerem. (Bull, ad Myc. November 1531.) 



the cathedral of Zurich : "No! Zwingle is 
not dead !" exclaimed Myconius ; " or, like 
the phcenix, he has risen again from his 
ashes." Bullinger was unanimously chosen 
to succeed the great reformer. He adopted 
Zwingle's orphan children, Wilhelm, iie- 
gula, and Ulric, and endeavoured to supply 
the place of their father. This young man, 
scarcely twenty-eight years of -age, and who 
presided forty years with wisdom and bless- 
ing over this church, was every where greeted 
as the apostle of Switzerland. 1 

Yet as the sea roars long after the violent 
tempest has subsided, so the people of Zu- 
rich were still in commotion. Many were 
agitated from on high. They came to 
themselves; they acknowledged their error; 
the weapons of their wad'are had been 
carnal ; they were now of a contrite and 
humble spirit; they arose a"ud went to their 
Father and confessed their sin. In 'those 
days there was a great mourning in Zurich. 
Some, however, stood up with pride, pro- 
tested by the mouth of their ministers against 
the work of the diplomatists, and boldly 
stigmatized the shameful compact. " If the 
shepherds sleep, the dogs must bark," ex- 
claimed Leo Juda in the cathedral of Zurich. 
"My duty is to give warning of the evil 
they are about to do my Master's house." 2 

Nothing could equal the sonaw of this 
city, except the exultation of the Wald- 
stettes. The noise of drums and fifes, the 
firing of guns, the ringing of bells, had long 
resounded on the banks of their lakes, and 
even to their highest valleys. Now the noise 
was less, but the effect greater. The Five 
Cantons, in close alliance with Friburgand 
Soleure, formed a perpetual league for the 
defence of the ancient Christian faith with 
the Bishop of Sion and the tithings of the 
Valais ; and henceforward carried their 
measures in the federal affairs with bold- 
ness. But a deep conviction was formed 
at that period in the hearts of the Swiss 
Reformed. " Faith comes from God," 
said they ; " its fortune does not depend on 
the life or death of a man. Let our adver- 
saries boast of our ruin, we will boast only 
in the Cross." 3 "God reigns," wrote Berne 
to Zurich, " and he will not permit the bark 
to founder." This conviction was of more 
avail than the victory of Cappel. 

Thus the Reformation, that had deviated 
from the right path, was driven back by the 
very violence of the blow into its primitive 
course, having no other power than the 
Word of God. An inconceivable infatuation 
had taken possession of the friends of the 
Bible. They had forgotten that our warfare 
is not carnal ; and they had appealed to arms 
and to battle. But God reigns: he punishes 

i Haller ad Bulling. 1536. 

2 Teh mus hellen. (Bull. iii. p. 321.) 

3 Gloriantibus aHversariis ruinam. nos in orucfl 
gloriemur. (Ad G^colamp. 29th November, 1531 
Zurich MS.; 



608 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



the churches and the people who turn aside 
from his ways. We have thus taken a few 
stones, and piled them as a monument on 
the battle-field of Cappel, in order to remind 
the Church of the great lesson which this 
terrible catastrophe teaches. As we bid 
farewell to this sad scene, we inscribe on 
these monumental stones, on the one side, 
these words from God's Book : ''Some trust 
in chariots, and some in horses: hit we will 
remember the name of the Lord our God. 
They are brought down and fallen : but we are 
risen and stand upright." And on the other, 
this declaration of the Head of the Church : 
"My kingdom is not of this world." If, 
from the ashes of the martyrs at Cappel, a 
voice could be heard, it woald be these very 
words of the Bible that these noble confes- 
sors would address, after three centuries, to 
theChristians of our days. That the Church 
has no other king than Jesus Christ; that 
she ought not to meddle with the policy of 
the world, derive from it her inspiration, 
and call for its swords, its prisons, its trea- 
sures ; that she will conquer by the spiritual 
powers which God has deposited in her 
bosom, and, above all, by the reign of her 
adorable Head ; that she must not expect 
upon earth thrones and mortal triumphs; 
but that her march is like that of her King, 
from the manger to the cross, and from the 
cross to the crown : — such is the lesson to 
be read on the blood-stained page that has 



crept into our simple and evangelical narra- 
tive.' 

But if God teaches his people great les- 
sons, he also gives them great deliverances. 
The bolt had fallen from heaven. The 
Reformation seemed to be no more than a 
lifeless body cumbering the ground, and 
whose dissevered limbs were about to be 
reduced to ashes. But God raises up the 
dead. New and more glorious destinies 
were awaiting the Gospel of Jesus Christ 
at the foot of the Alps. At the south- 
western extremity of Switzerland, in a 
great valley which the white giant of the 
mountains points out from afar ; on the 
banks of the Leman lake, at the spot where 
the Rhone, clear and blue as the sky above 
it, rolls its majestic waters ; on a small hill 
that the foot of Cpesar had once trod, and 
on which the steps of another conqueror, 
of a Gaul, of a Picardine 2 were destined 
ere long to leave their ineffaceable and glo- 
rious traces, stood an ancient city, as yet 
covered with the dense shadows of Popery ; 
but which God was about to raise to be a 
beacon to the Church, and a bulwark to 
Christendom. 

1 Zwingle's Pear Tree having perished, a large 
rock has been placed over the spot where this 
illustrious reformer died ; and on it are engraved 
suitable inscriptions ; different, however, from 
those in the text. 

3 John Calvin of Noyon. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



GOd 



BOOK XVII. 



ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION. 



Introduction — Work of the Sixteenth Century — Unity and diversity — Necessity of considering the 
entire Religious History of England— Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain — Formation 
of Ecclesiastical Catholicism in the Roman Empire — Spiritual Christianity received by Britain — 
Slavery and conversion of Succatt — His Mission to Ireland — Anglo-Saxons re-establish Paganism 
in England — Columba at Iona — Evangelical Teaching — Presbytery and Episcopacy in Great Britain 
— Continental Missions of the Britons — An Omission — Pope Gregory the Great — Desires to reduce 
Britain — Policy of Gregory and Augustine — Arrival of the Mission — Appreciation — Britain 
superior to Rome — Dionoth at Bangor — First and second Romish Aggressions — Anguish of the 
Britons — Pride of Rome — Rome has recourse to the Sword — Massacre — Saint Peter scourges an 
Archbishop — Oswald — His Victory — Corman — Mission of Oswald and Aidan — Death of Oswald — 
Character of Oswy — Death of Aidan — Wilfrid at Rome — At Oswald's Court — Finan and Colman — 
Independence of the Church attacked — Oswy's Conquests and Troubles — Synodus Pharensis — Cedda 
— Degeneration — The Disputation — Peter, the Gatekeeper — Triumph of Rome — Grief of the Britons 
— Popedom organized in England — Papal Exultation — Archbishop Theodore — Cedda re-ordained — 
Discord in the Church — Disgrace and Treachery of Wilfrid — His End — Scotland attacked — Adamnan 
—Iona resists — A King converted by Architects — The Monk Egbert at Iona — His History — 
Monkish Visions — Fall of Iona — Clement — Struggle between a Scotchman and an Englishman — 
Word of God only — Clement's Success — His Condemnation — Virgil and the Antipodes — John Scotus 
and Philosophical Religion — Alfred and the Bible — Darkness and Popery — William the Conqueror 
— Wulston at Edward's Tomb — Struggle between William and Hildebrand — The Pope yields — 
Caesaropapia — Anselm's Firmness — Becket's Austerity — The King scourged — John becomes the 
Pope's Vassal — Collision between Popery and Liberty — The Vassal King ravages bis Kingdom — 
Religion of the Senses and Superstition — Reaction — Grostete — Principles of Reform — Contest with 
the Pope — Sewal — Progress of the Nation — Opposition to the Papacy — Conversion of Bradwardir^e 
— Grace is Supreme — Edward III. — Statutes of Provisors and Praemunire — The Mendicant Friars 
— Their Disorders and Popular Indignation — Wickliffe — His Success — Speeches of the Peers against 
the Papal Tribute — Agreement of Bruges — Courtenay and Lancaster — Wickliffe before the Convo- 
cation — Altercation between Lancaster and Courtenay — Riot — Three Briefs against Wickliffe — 
Wickliffe at Lambeth — Mission of the Poor Priests — Their Preachings and Persecutions — Wickliffe 
and the Four Regents — The Bible — Wickliffe's Translation — Effects of its Publication — Opposition 
of the Clergy — Wickliffe's Fourth Phasis : — Transubstantiation — Excommunication — Wickliffe's 
Firmness — Wat Tyler — The Synod — The Condemned Propositions — Wickliffe's Petition — Wickliffe 
before the Primate at Oxford — Wickliffe summoned to Rome — His Answer — The Trialogue — His 
Death — And Character — His Teaching — His Ecclesiastical Views — A Prophecy — The Wickliffites 
— Call for Reform — Richard II. — The First Martyr — Lord Cobham — Appears before Henry V. — 
Before the Archbishop — His Confession and Death — The Lollards — Learning at Florence — The 
Tudors — Erasmus visits England — Sir Thomas More — Dean Colet — Erasmus and young Henry — 
Prince Arthur and Catherine — Marriage and Death — Catherine betrothed to Henry — Accession of 
Henry VIII. — Enthusiasm of the Learned — Erasmus recalled to England— Cromwell before the 
Pope — Catherine proposed to Henry — Their Marriage and Court — Tournaments — Henry's Danger 
— The Pope excites to War — Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's — The Flemish Campaign — Marriage of 
Louis XII. and Princess Mary — Letter from Anne Boleyn — Marriage of Brandon and Mary — ■ 
Oxford — Sir Thomas More at Court — Attack upon the Monasteries — Colet's Household — He 
preaches Reform — The Greeks and Trojans — Wolsey — His first Commission — His Complaisance and 
Dioceses — Cardinal, Chancellor, and Legate — Ostentation and Necromancy — His Spies and Enmity 
— Pretensions of the Clergy — The Wolves — Richard Hun — A Murder — Verdict of the Jury — Hun 
Condemned, and his Character Vindicated — The Gravesend Passage-boat — A Festival Disturbed — 
Brown Tortured — Visit from his Wife — A Martyr — Character of Erasmus— 1516 and 1517 — Erasmus 
goes to Basle. 



Those heavenly powers which had lain 
dormant in the church since the first ages 
of Christianity, awoke from their slumber 
in the sixteenth century, and this awaken- 
ing called the modern times into existence. 
The church was created anew, and from 
that regeneration have flowed the great 
developments of literature and science, of 
morality, liberty, and industry, which at 
present characterize the nations of Chris- 
tendom. None of these things would have 
existed without the Reformation. When- 
ever society enters upon a new era, it 
requires the baptism of faith. In the six- 
teenth century, God gave to man this con- 
secration from on high by leading him 



back from mere outward profession and 
the mechanism of works to an inward and 
lively faith. 

This transformation was not effected 
without struggles — struggles which pre- 
sented at first a remarkable unity. On the 
day of battle one and the same feeling ani- 
mated every bosom : after the victory they 
became divided. Unity of faith indeed re- 
mained, but the difference of nationalities 
brought into the church a diversity of 
forms. Of this we are about to witness 
a striking example. The Reformation, 
which had begun its triumphal march in 
Germany, Switzerland, France, and several 
other parts of the continent, was destined 



614 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to receive new strength by the conversion 
of a celebrated country, long known as the 
Isle of Saints. This island was to add its 
banner to the trophy of Protestantism, but 
that banner preserved its distinctive co- 
lours. When England became reformed, a 
puissant individualism joined its might to 
the great unity. 

If we search for the characteristics of 
the British Reformation, we shall find that, 
beyond any other, they were social, na- 
tional, and truly human. There is no 
people among whom the Reformation has 
produced to the same degree that morality 
and order, that liberty, public spirit, and 
activity, which are the very essence of a 
nation's greatness. Just as the papacy has 
degraded the Spanish peninsula, has the 
gospel exalted the British islands. Hence 
the study upon which we are entering pos- 
sesses an interest peculiar to itself. 

In order that this study may be useful, 
it should have a character of universality. 
To confine the history of a people within 
the space of a few years, or even of a cen- 
tury, would deprive that history of both 
truth and life. We might indeed have 
traditions, chronicles, and legends, but 
there would be no history. History is a 
wonderful organization, no part of which 
can be retrenched. To understand the pre- 
sent, we must know the past. Society, 
like man himself, has its infancy, youth, 
maturity, and old age. Ancient or Pagan 
society, which had spent its infancy in the 
East in the midst of the antihellenic races, 
had its youth in the animated epoch of the 
Greeks, its manhood in the stern period of 
Roman greatness, and its old age under 
the decline of the empire. Modern so- 
ciety has passed through analogous stages : 
at the time of the Reformation it attained 
that of the full-grown man. We shall 
now proceed to trace the destinies of the 
church in England, from the earliest times 
of Christianity. These long and distant 
preparations are one of the distinctive char- 
acteristics of its reformation. 

Before the sixteenth century this church 
had passed through two great phases. 

The firs-t was that of its formation — the 
second that of its corruption. 

In its formation it was oriento-aposto- 
lical. _ 

In its corruption it was successively na- 
tional-papistical and royal-papistical. 

After these two degrees of decline came 
the last and great phasis of the Reforma- 
tion. 

In the second century of the Christian 
era vessels were frequently sailing to the 
savage shores of Britain from the ports of 
Asia Minor, Greece, Alexandria, or the 
Greek colonies in Gaul. Among the mer- 
chants busied in calculating the profits they 
could make upon the produce of the East 
with which their ships were laden, would 
occasionally be found a few pious men 
from the banks of the Meander or the 



Hermus, conversing peacefully with one 
another about the birth, life, death, and 
resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, and re- 
joicing at the prospect of saving by these 
glad tidings the pagans towards whom they 
were steering. It would appear that some 
British prisoners of war, having learnt to 
know Christ during their captivity, bore 
also to their fellow-countrymen the know- 
ledge of this Saviour. It may be, too, that 
some Christian soldiers, the Corneliuses 
of those imperial armies whose advanced 
posts reached the southern parts of Scot- 
land, desirous of more lasting conquest, 
may have read to the people whom they 
had subdued, the writings of Matthew, 
John, and Paul. It is of little consequence 
to know whether one of these first con- 
verts was, according to tradition, a prince 
named Lucius. It is certain that the tid- 
ings of the Son of man, crucified and 
raised again, under Tiberius, spread 
through these islands more rapidly than 
the dominion of the emperors, and that 
before the end of the second century many 
churches worshipped Christ beyond the 
walls t»f Adrian ; in those mountains, for- 
ests, and western isles, which for centuries 
past the Druids had filled with their mys- 
teries and their sacrifices, and on which 
even the Roman eagles had never stooped. 1 
These churches were formed after the 
eastern type : the Britons would have re- 
fused to receive the type of that Roman 
whose yoke they detested. 

The first thing which the British Chris- 
tians received from the capital of the em- 
pire was persecution. But Diocletian, by 
striking the disciples of Jesus Christ in 
Britain, only increased their number. 2 
Many Christians from the southern part 
of the island took refuge in Scotland, 
where they raised their humble roofs, and 
under the name of Culdees prayed for the 
salvation of their protectors. When the sur- 
rounding pagans saw the holiness of these 
men of God, they abandoned in great num- 
bers their sacred oaks, their mysterious 
caverns, and their blood-stained altars, and 
obeyed the gentle voice of the Gospel. 
After the death of these pious refugees, 
their cells were transformed into houses of 
prayer. 3 In 305 Constantius Chlorus suc- 
ceeded to the throne of the Ctesars, and put 
an end to the persecution. 

The Christianity which was brought to 
these people by merchants, soldiers, or mis- 
sionaries, although not the ecclesiastical 



1 Britannorum inaeeessa Romanis loca Christo 
vero subdita. (Tertullian contra Judeeos, lib. vii.) 
This work, from its bearing no traces of Montan- 
ism, seems to belong to the first part of Tertul- 
lian's life. See also Origen in Lucani, cap. L 
homil. 6. 

a Lactantius, de mortibns persecutorum, cap. xii. 

3 Multi ex Brittonibus Christian! sasvitiain Dio- 

cletiani timentes ad eos confagerant ut vita 

funcTornm cellse in templa commutarentur. Bu- 
chanan, iv. c. xxxv. 




BURNING OF LORD COBHAM. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



615 



Catholicism already creeping into life in 
the Roman Empire, was not the primitive 
evangelism of the apostles. The East and 
the South could only give to the North of 
what they possessed. The mere human 
period had succeeded to the creative and 
miraculous period of the church. After 
the extraordinary manifestations of the 
Holy Ghost, which had produced the apos- 
tolic age, the church had been left to the 
inward power of the word and of the Com- 
forter. But Christians did not generally 
c omprehend the spiritual life to which they 
were called. God had been pleased to 
give them a divine religion ; and this they 
gradually assimilated more and more to 
the religions of human origin. Instead of 
saying, in the spirit of the Gospel, the 
word of God first, and through it the doc- 
trine and the life — the doctrine and the 
life, and through them the forms ; they 
said, forms first, and salvation by these 
forms. They ascribed to bishops a power 
which belongs only to Holy Scripture. In- 
stead of ministers of the word, they de- 
sired to have priests ; instead of an inward 
sacrifice, a sacrifice offered on the altar ; 
and costly temples instead of a living 
church. They began to seek in men, in 
ceremonies, and in holy places, what they 
could find only in the Word and in the 
lively faith of the children of God. In 
this manner evangelical religion gave place 
to Catholicism, and by gradual degenera- 
tion in after-years Catholicism gave birth to 
popery. 

This grievous transformation took place 
more particularly in the East, in Africa, 
and in Italy. Britain was at first? com- 
paratively exempt. At the very time that 
the savage Picts and Scots, rushing from 
their heathen homes, were devastating the 
country, spreading terror on all sides, and 
reducing the people to slavery, we discover 
here and there some humble Christian re- 
ceiving salvation not by a clerical sacra- 
mentalism, but by the work of the Holy 
Ghost in the heart. At the end of the 
fourth century we meet with an illustrious 
example of such conversions. 

On the picturesque banks of the Clyde, 
not far from Glasgow, in the Christian vil- 
lage of Bonavern, now Kilpatrick, a little 
boy, of tender heart, lively temperament, 
and indefatigable activity, passed the ear- 
lier days of his life. He was born about 
the year 372 a. d., of a British family, and 
was named Suceat.^ His father, Calpur- 
nius, deacon of the church of Bonavern, a 
simple-hearted pious man, and his mother, 
Conchessa, sister to the celebrated Martin, 
archbishop of Tours, 2 and a woman supe- 
rior to the majority of her sex, had endea- 



In baptismo haud Patricium sed Suceat a pa- 
-entibus fuisse dictum. Usser. Brit. Eccl. Antiq. 
p. 428.- 

Martini Turonuni archiepiseopi consanguin- 
e<nn. Ibid. r 

40 



voured to instil into his heart the doctrines 
of Christianity ; but Suceat did not under- 
stand them. lie was fond of pleasure, and 
delighted to be the leader of his youthful 
companions. In the midst of his frivoli- 
ties, he committed a serious fault. 

Some few years later, his parents having 
quitted Scotland and settled in Armories 
(Bretagne), a terrible calamity befell them. 
One day as Suceat was playing near the 
seashore with two of his sisters, some Irish 
pirates, commanded by O'Neal, carried 
them all three off to their boats, and sold 
them in Ireland to the petty chieftain of 
some pagan clan. Suceat was sent into 
the fields to keep swine. 1 It was while 
alone in these solitary pastures, without 
priest and without temple, that the young 
slave called to mind the Divine lessons 
which his pious mother had so often read 
to him. The fault which he had committed 
pressed heavily night and day upon his 
soul: he groaned in heart, and wept. He 
turned repenting towards that meek Sa- 
viour of whom Conchessa had so often 
spoken ; he fell at His knees in that hea- 
then land, and imagined he felt the arms 
of a father uplifting the prodigal son. 
Suceat was then born from on high, but 
by an agent so spiritual, so internal, that 
he knew not " whence it cometh or wither 
it goeth." The gospel was written with 
the finger of God on the tablets of his 
heart. " I was sixteen years old," said 
he, " and knew not the true God ; but in 
that strange land the Lord opened my un- 
believing eyes, and, although late, I called 
my sins to mind, and was converted with 
my whole heart to the Lord my God, who 
regarded my low estate, had pity on my 
youth and ignorance, and consoled me as a 
father consoles his children." 2 

Such words as these from the* lips of a 
swineherd in the green pastures of Ireland 
set clearly before us the Christianity which 
in the fourth and fifth centuries converted 
many souls in the British isles. In after- 
years, _ Rome established the dominion of 
the priest and salvation by forms, indepen- 
dently of the dispositions of the heart ; 
but the primitive religion of these cele- 
brated islands was that living Christianity 
whose substance is the grace of Jesus 
Christ, and whose power Is the grace of 
the Holy Ghost. The herdsman from the 
banks of the Clyde was then undergoing 
those experiences which so many evangeli- 
cal Christians in those countries" have sub- 
sequently undergone. "The love of God 
increased more and more in me," said he, 
" with faith and the fear of His name. The 
Spirit urged me to such a degree that [ 



1 Cuius porcorum pastor erat. Usser. Brit. 
Eccl. Antiq. p. 431. 

Et ibi Bouiinus aperuit sensum incredulitatis 
meae, ut vel sero remo rar'em delicta mea, et at 
converterer toto corde ad Doininuui Deuui ineum. 
Patr. Confess. Usser. 431. 



61G 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



poured forth as many as a hundred pray- 1 
ers in one day. And even during the 
tight, in the forests and on the mountains | 
where I kept my flock, the rain, and snow, I 
and frost, and sufferings which I endured, 
excited me to seek after God. At that ' 
time, I felt not the indifference which now ; 
I feel: the Spirit fermented in my heart/' 1 j 
Evangelical faith even then existed in the ] 
British islands in the person of this slave, 
and of some few Christians born again, 
like him, from on high. 

Twice a captive and twice rescued, Sue- 
cat, after returning to his family, felt an 
irresistible appeal in his heart. It was his 
duty to carry the gospel to those Irish 
pagans among whom he had found Jesus 
Christ. His parents and his friends en- 
deavoured in vain to detain him ; the same 
ardent desire pursued him in his dreams. 
During the silent watches of the night he 
fancied he heard voices calling to him 
from the dark forests of Erin : " Come, 
holy child, and walk once more among 
us." He awoke in tears, his breast filled 
with the keenest emotion. 2 He tore him- 
self from the arms of his parents, and 
rushed forth — not as heretofore with his 
play-fellows, when he would climb the 
summit of some lofty hill — but with a 
heart fall of charity in Christ. He de- 
parted : "It was not done of my own 
strength," said he ; " it was God who over- 
came all." 

Succat, afterwards known as Saint Pa- 
trick, and to which name, as to that of 
Saint Peter and other servants of God, 
many superstitions have been attached, re- 1 
turned to Ireland, but without visiting 
Rome, as an historian of the twelfth cen- 
tury has asserted. 3 Ever active, prompt, 
and ingenious, he collected the pagan 
tribes in the fields by beat of drum, and 
then narrated to them in their own tongue 
the history of the Son of God. Erelong 
his simple recitals exercised a divine power 
over their rude hearts, and many souls 
were converted, not by external sacraments 
or by the worship of images, but by the 
preaching of the word of God. The son 
of a chieftain, whom Patrick calls Benig- 
nus, learnt from him to proclaim the Gos- 
pel, and was destined to succeed him. The 
court bard, Dubrach Mac Valubair, no 
longer sang druidical hymns, but canticles 
addressed to Jesus Christ. Patrick was 
not entirely free from the errors of the 
time ; perhaps he believed in pious mira- 
cles ; but generally speaking we meet with 
nothing but the gospel in the earlier days 
of the British church. The time no doubt 
will come when Ireland will again feel the 



1 Utetiam in sylvis et monte manebain, et ante 
lucem excitaba'r ad orationem per nivem, per gelu, 

per pluviam quia tunc Spiritus in me fervebat. 

Patr. Confess. Usser. 432. 

" Yalde conipunetus sum corde et sic experge- 
faetus. Patr. Confess. Usser. 433. 

• Jocelinus, Vita in Acta Sanctorum. 



power of the Holy Ghost, which had once 
converted it by the ministrations of a Scotch- 
man. 

Shortly before the evangelization of Pa- 
trick in Ireland, a Briton named Pelagius, 
having visited Italy, Africa, and Palestine, 
began to teach a strange doctrine. Desir- 
ous of making head against the moral in- 
difference into which most of the Christians 
in those countries had fallen, and which 
would appear to have been in strong con- 
trast with the British austerity, he denied 
the doctrine of original sin, extolled free- 
will, and maintained that, if a man made 
use of all the powers of his nature, he 
would attain perfection. We do not find 
that he taught these opinions in his own 
country ; but from the continent, where he 
disseminated them, they soon reached Bri- 
tain. The British churches refused to re- 
ceive this " perverse doctrine," their histo- 
rian tells us, " and to blaspheme the grace 
of Jesus Christ." 1 They do not appear to 
have held the strict doctrine of Saint Au- 
gustine : they believed indeed that man 
has need of an inward change, and that 
this the divine power alone can effect ; but 
like the churches of Asia, from which they 
had sprung, they seem to have conceded 
something to our natural strength in the 
work of conversion ; and Pelagius, with a 
good intention it would appear, went still 
further. However that may be, these 
churches, strangers to the controversy, 
were unacquainted with all its subtleties. 
Two Gaulish bishops, Germanus and Lu- 
pus, came to their aid, and those who had 
been perverted returned into the way of 
truth.* 

Shortly after this, events of great import- 
ance took place in Great Britain, and the 
light of faith disappeared in profound night 
In 449, Hengist and Horsa, with their 
Saxon followers, being invited by the 
wretched inhabitants to aid them against 
the cruel ravages of the Picts and Scots, 
soon turned their swords against the people 
they had come to assist. Christianity was 
driven back with the Britons into the moun- 
tains of Wales and the wild moors of Nor- 
thumberland and Cornwall. Many British 
families remained in the midst of the con- 
querors, but without exercising any re- 
ligious influence over them. While the con- 
quering races, settled at Paris. Ravenna, 
or Toledo, gradually laid aside their pa- 
ganism and savage manners, the barbarous 
customs of the Saxons prevailed unmode- 
rated throughout the kingdoms of the Hep- 
tarchy, and in every quarter temples to 
Thor rose above the churches in which 
Jesus Christ had been worshipped. Gaul 
and the south of Europe, which still ex- 



1 Verum Britanni cum neque suscipere dogma 
perversum, gratiam Christi blaspbemando nulla- 
tenus vellent. Beda, Hist. Angl., lib. i. cap. xvii. 
et xxi. 

a Depravati viam correctionis agnoscerent. 
Beda, Hist. Angl. lib. i. cap. xvii. et xxl. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



or 



hibited to the eyes of the barbarians the 
last vestiges of Roman grandeur, alone 
had the power of inspiring some degree of 
respect in the formidable Germans, and of 
transforming their faith. From this period 
the Greeks and Latins, and even the con- 
verted Goths, looked at this island with 
unutterable dread. The soil, said they, is 
covered with serpents ; the air is thick with 
deadly exhalations ; the souls of the de- 
parted are transported thither at midnight 
from the shores of Gaul. Ferrymen, and 
sons of Erebus and Night, admit these in- 
visible shades into their boats, and listen, 
with a shudder, to their mysterious whis- 
perings! England, whence light was one 
day to be shed over the habitable globe, 
was then the trysting-place of the dead. 
And yet the Christianity of the British 
isles was not to be annihilated by these bar- 
barian invasions ; it possessed a strength 
which rendered it capable of energetic re- 
sistance. 

In one of the churches formed by Sue- 
cat's preaching, there arose about two cen- 
turies after him a pious man named 
Columba, son of Feidlimyd, the son of 
Fergus. Valuing the cross of Christ more 
highly than the royal blood that flowed in his 
veins, he resolved to devote himself to the 
King of heaven. Shall he not repay to the 
country of Suceat what Succat had im- 
parted to his ? "I will go," said he, "and 
preach the word of God in Scotland ;' n for 
the word of God and not an ecclesiastical 
liierarchism was then the converting 
agency. The grandson of Fergus commu- 
nicated the zeal which animated him to the 
hearts of several fellow-christians. They 
repaired to the seashore, and cutting down 
the pliant branches of the osier, constructed 
a frail bark, which they covered with the 
skins of beasts. In this rude boat they em- 
barked in the year 565, and after being 
driven to and fro on the ocean, the little 
missionary band reached the waters of the 
Hebrides. Columba landed near the bar- 
ren rocks of Mull to the south of the ba- 
saltic caverns of Staffa. and fixed his abode 
in a small island, afterwards known as 
Iona or Icolmkill, " the island of Columba's 
cell." Some Christian Culdees, driven out 
by the dissensions of the Picts and Scots, 
had already found a refuge in the same re- 
tired spot. Here the missionaries erected 
a chapel, whose walls, it is said, still exist 
among the stately ruins of a later age. 2 
Some authors have placed Columba in the 
first rank after the apostles. 3 True, we do 
not find in him the faith of a Paul or a 
John ; but he lived as in the sight of God ; 
he mortified the flesh, and slept on the 



Prsedicaturus verbum Dei. Usser. Antiq. p. 
359. 

I visited Iona in 1845 with Dr. Patrick M'Far- 
lan, and saw these ruins. One portion of the 
building seems to be of primitive architecture. 
3 JSuili post aposlolos secundus. Notker. 



ground with a stone for his pillow. Amid' thia 
solemn scenery, and among customs so 
rude, the form of the missionary, illumined 
by a light from heaven, shone with love, 
and manifested the joy and serenity of his 
heart. 1 Although subject to the same pas- 
sions as ourselves, he wrestled against his 
weakness, and would not have one moment 
lost for the glory of Gocl. He prayed and 
read, he wrote and taught, he preached and 
redeemed the time. With indefatigable 
activity he went from house to house, and 
from kingdom to kingdom. The king of the 
Picts was converted, as were also many of 
his people ; precious manuscripts were con- 
veyed to Iona ; a school of theology was 
founded there, in which the word was 
studied ; and many received through faith 
the salvation which is in Christ Jesus. 
Erelong a missionary spirit breathed over 
this ocean rock, so justly named " the light 
of the western world." 

The Judaical sacerdotalism which was 
beginning to extend in the Christian church 
found no support in Iona. They had forms, 
but not to them did they look for life. It 
was the Holy Ghost, Columba maintained, 
that made a servant of God. When the 
youth of Caledonia assembled round the 
elders on these savage shores, or in their 
humble chapel, these ministers of the Lord 
would say to them : " The Holy Scriptures 
are the only rule of faith. 2 Throw aside 
all merit of works, and look for salvation 
to the grace of God alone. 3 Beware of a 
religion which consists of outward obser- 
vances : it is better to keep your heart 
pure before God than to abstain from 
meats. 4 One alone is your head, Jesus 
Christ. Bishops and presbyters are equal ; 5 
they should be the husbands of one wife, 
and have their children in subjection." 6 

The sages of Iona knew nothing of tran- 
substantiation or of the withdrawal of the 
cup in the Lord's Supper, or of auricular 
confession, or of prayers to the dead, or 
tapers, or incense ; they celebrated Easter 
on a different day from Rome ; 7 ' synodal 
assemblies regulated the affairs of the 
church, and the papal supremacy was un- 



1 Qui de prosapia regali claruit, 
Sed morum gratia magis emicuit. 

Usser. Antiq. p. 360. 

2 Prolatis Sanctae Scripturae testimoniis. Adomn. 
I. i. c. 22. 

3 Bishop Munter, Altbritische Kirche. Stud, uud 
Krit. vi. 745. 

4 Meliores sunt ergo qui non magno opere jeju- 
nant, cor intrinsecus nitiduin coram Deo sollicite 
servantes. GHldas in ejusd. Synod. Append. 

■ In Hibernia episcopi et presbyteri unum sunt. 
Ekkehardi liber. Arx. Geschichte von S. Gal. i. 
267. 

8 Patrem habui Calpornium diaconum filium 
quondam Potiti Presbyteri. Patricii Confessio. 
Even as late as the twelfth century we meet with 
married Irish Bishops. Bernard, Vita Malaciri», 
cap. x. 

1 In die quidem dominica alia tamen quam di- 
cebat hebdomade celebrant. Beda, lib. iii. cap. iv 



618 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



known. 1 The sun of the gospel shone upon 
these wild and distant shores. In after- 
years, it was the privilege of Great Britain 
to recover with a purer lustre the same sun 
and the same gospel. 

Iona, governed by a simple elder, 2 had 
become a missionary college. It has been 
sometimes called a monastery, but the 
dwelling of the grandson of Fergus in no- 
wise resembled the popish convents. When 
its youthful inmates desired to spread the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ, they thought 
not of going elsewhere in quest of episco- 
pal ordination. Kneeling in the chapel of 
lcolmkill, they were set apart by the lay- 
ing on of the hands of the elders: they 
were called bishops, but remained obedient 
to the elder or presbyter of Iona. They 
even consecrated other bishops : thus Finan 
laid hands upon Diuma, bishop of Middle- 
sex. These British Christians attached great 
importance to the ministry ; but not to one 
form in preference to another. Presbytery 
and episcopacy were with them, as with 
the primitive church, almost identical. 3 
Somewhat later we find that neither the 
venerable Bede, nor Lanfranc, nor Anselm 
— the two last were bishops of Canterbury 
— made any objection to the ordination of 
British bishops by plain presbyters. 4 The 
religious and moral element that belongs 
to Christianity still predominated ; the sa- 
cerdotal element, which characterizes hu- 
man religions, whether among the Brah- 
mins or elsewhere, was beginning to show 
itself, but in Great Britain at least it held 
a very subordinate station. Christianity 
was still a religion and not a caste. They 
did not require of the servant of God, as a 
warrant of his capacity, a long list of 
names succeeding one another like the 
beads of a rosary ; they entertained serious, 
noble, and holy ideas of the ministry ; its 
authority proceeded wholly from Jesus 
Christ its head. 

The missionary fire, -which the grandson 
of Fergus had kindled in a solitary island, 
soon spread over Great Britain. Not in 
Iona alone, but at Bangor and other places, 



1 Augustinus novam religiouem docet dum 

ad unius episcopi romani dominatum omnia revo- 
cat. Buchan. lib. v. cap. xxxvi. 

2 Habere autem solet ipsa insula rectorem sem- 
per abbatem presbyterum eujus juri et ononis 
proyincia et ipsi etiarn episcopi, ordine inusitato, 
debeant essi subjecti, juxta exemplum primi doc- 
toris ilius qui non episcopus sed presbyter exstitit 
et monachus. Beda, Hist. Eccl., iii. cap. iv. 

3 Idem est ergo- presbyter qui episcopus, et an- 
tequam diaboli instinctu studia in religione fierent 

, communi presbyterorum concilio Ecclesiae 

gubernabantur. Indiifereuter de episcopo quasi 
de presbytero est loquuntus (Paulus)....sciant epis- 
copi se, magis consuetudine quam dispositionis 
dominicae veritate, presbyteris esse majores. Hie- 
ronymus ad Titum, i. 5. 

4 Bishop Munter makes this remark in hi? dis- 
sertation On the Ancient British Church, about 
the primitive identity of bishops and priests, and 
episcopal consecration. Stud, und Krit. an. 1833. 



the spirit of evangelization burst out. A 
fondness for travelling had already become 
a second nature in this people. 1 Men of 
God, burning with zeal, resolved to carry 
the evangelical torch to the continent — to 
the vast wildernesses sprinkled here and 
there with barbarous and heathen tribes. 
They did not set forth as antagonists of 
Rome, for at that epoch there was no place 
for such antagonism ; but Iona and Bangor, 
less illustrious than Rome in the history of 
nations, possessed a more lively faith than 
the city of the Caesars ; and that faith, — 
unerring sign of the presence of Jesus 
Christ, — gave those whom it inspired a 
right to evangelize the world, which Rome 
could not gainsay. 

The missionary bishops 2 of Britain accord- 
ingly set forth and traversed the Low Coun- 
tries, Gaul, Switzerland, Germany, and 
even Italy. 3 The free church of the Scots 
and Britons did more for the conversion 
of central Europe than the half-enslaved 
church of the Romans. These missiona- 
ries were not haughty and insolent like the 
priests of Italy ; but supported themselves 
by the work of their hands. Columbanus 
(whom we must not confound with Colum- 
ba), 4 " feeling in his heart the burning of 
the fire which the Lord had kindled upon 
earth," 5 quitted Bangor in 590 with twelve 
other missionaries, and carried the gospel 
to the Burgundians, Franks, and Swiss. 
He continued to preach it amidst frequent 
persecutions, left his disciple Gall in Hel- 
vetia, and retired to Bobbio, where he died, 
honouring Christian Rome, but placing the 
church of Jerusalem above it, 6 — exhorting 
it to beware of corruption, and declaring 
that the power would remain with it so 
long only as it retained the true doctrine 
{recta ratio). Thus was Britain faithful in 
planting the standard of Christ in the heart 
of Europe. We might almost imagine this 
unknown people to be a new Israel, and 
lcolmkill and Bangor to have inherited the 
virtues of Zion. 

Yet they should have done more : they 
should have preached — not only to the 
continental heathens, to those in the north 
of Scotland and the distant Ireland, but 



1 Natio Scotorum quibus consuetudo peregri- 
nandi jam pgene in naturam conversa.est. Vita 
S. Galli, I 47. 

2 They were called episcopi regionarii because 
they had no settled diocese. 

3 Antiquo tempore doctissimi solebant magistri 
de Hibernia Britanniam, Galliam, Italiam venire, 
et multos per ecclesias fecisse profectus. Alcuin, 
Epp. ccxxi. 

4 Thierry, in his Hist, de la Conquete de I'An- 
gleterre, makes Columba and Columbanus one 
personage. Columba preached the Gospel fn 
Scotland about 560, and died 597; Columbanus 
preached among the Burgundians in 600, and 
died in 615. 

6 Ignitum igne Domini desiderium. Mabillon^ 
Acta, p. 9. 

s Salva loci dominicae resurrectionis singulari 
prcerogativa. Colum. Vita, g 10. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



619 



also to the still pagan Saxons of England. 
It is true that they made several attempts ; 
but while the Britons considered their con- 
querors as the enemies of God and man, 
and shuddered while they pronounced their 
name, 1 the Saxons refused to be converted 
by the voice of their slaves. By neglecting 
this field, the Britons left room for other 
workmen, and thus it was that England 
yielded to a foreign power, beneath whose 
heavy yoke it long groaned in vain. 

It is matter of fact that the spiritual life 
had waned in Italian Catholicism ; and in 
proportion as the heavenly spirit had be- 
come weak, the lust of dominion had grown 
strong. The Roman metropolitans and 
their delegates soon became impatient to 
mould all Christendom to their peculiar 
forms. 

About the end of the sixth century an 
eminent man filled the see of Rome. 
Gregory was born of senatorial family, and 
already on the high road to honour, when 
he suddenly renounced the world, and trans- 
formed the palace of his fathers into a con- 
vent. But his ambition had only changed 
its object. In his views, the whole church 
should submit to the ecclesiastical jurisdic- 
tion of Rome. True, he rejected the title 
of universal bishop assumed by the patri- 
arch of Constantinople ; but if he desired 
not the name, he was not the less eager for 
the substance. 2 On the borders of the 
West, in the island of Great Britain, was a 
Christian church independent of Rome : 
this must be conquered, and a favourable 
opportunity soon occurred. 

Before his elevation to the primacy, and 
while he was as yet only the monk Gre- 
gory, he chanced one day to cross a market 
in Rome where certain foreign dealers were 
exposing their wares for sale. Among them 
he perceived some fair-haired youthful 
slaves, whose noble bearing attracted his 
attention. On drawing near them, he 
learned that the Anglo-Saxon nation to 
which they belonged had refused to receive 
the gospel from the Britons. When he 
afterwards became bishop of Rome, this 
crafty and energetic pontiff, " the last of 
the good and the first of the bad," as he 
has been called, determined to convert 
these proud conquerors, and make use of 
them in subduing the British church to 
the papacy, as he had already made use 
of the Frank monarchs to reduce the 
Gauls. Rome has often shown herself 
more eager to bring Christians rather than 
idolators to the pope. 3 Was it thus with 
Gregory ? We must leave the question 
unanswered. 



1 Nefandi nominis Saxoni Deo hoininibusque 
invisi. Gildas, De excidio Britannise. 

2 He says (Epp. lib. ix. ep. xii.) : De Constan- 
tinopolitana ecclesia quis earn dubitet apostolical 
sedi esse subjectam ? 

3 We know the history of Tahiti and of other 
modern missions of the Romish church. 



Ethelbert, king of Kent, having married 
a Christian princess of Frank descent, the 
Roman bishop thought the conjuncture fa- 
vourable for his design, and despatched a 
mission under the direction of one of his 
friends named Augustine, a. d. 596. At 
first the missionaries recoiled from the 
task appointed them ; but Gregory was 
firm. Desirous of gaining the assistance 
of the Frank kings, Theodoric and Theode- 
bert, he affected to consider them as the 
lords paramount of England, and com- 
mended to them the conversion of their 
subjects. 1 Nor was this all. He claimed 
also the support of the powerful Brune- 
hilda, grandmother to these two kings, and 
equally notorious for her treachery, her ir- 
regularities, and her crimes ; and did not 
scruple to extol the good works and godly 
fear of this modern Jezebel. 2 Under such 
auepices the Romish mission arrived in 
England. The pope had made a skilful 
choice of his delegate. Augustine pos- 
sessed even to a greater extent than Gre- 
gory himself a mixture of ambition and 
devotedness, of superstition and piety, of 
cunning and zeal. He thought that faith 
and holiness were less essential to the 
church than authority and power ; and 
that its prerogative was not so much to 
save sculs as to collect all the human race 
under the sceptre of Rome. 3 Gregory him- 
self was distressed at Augustine's spiritual 
pride, and often exhorted him to humility. 

Success of that kind which popery desires 
soon crowned the labours of its servants. 
The forty-one missionaries having landed in 
the isle of Thanet, in the year 597, the king 
of Kent consented to receive them, but in 
the open air, for fear of magic. They drew 
up in such a manner as to produce an effect 
on the rude islanders. The procession was 
opened by a monk bearing a huge cross on 
which the figure of Christ was represented : 
his colleagues followed, chanting their Latin 
hymns, and thus they approached the oak 
appointed for the place of conference. They 
inspired sufficient confidence in Ethelbert 
to gain permission to celebrate their worship 
in an old ruinous chapel at Durovern (Can- 
terbury), where British Christians had in 
former times adored the Saviour Christ. 
The king and thousands of his subjects 
received not long after, with certain forms, 
and certain Christian doctrines, the errors 
of the Roman pontiffs — as purgatory, for 
instance, which Gregory was advocating 
with the aid of the most absurd fables. 4 
Augustine baptized ten thousand pagans 
in one day. As yet Rome had only set her 



1 Subjectos vestros. Opp. Gregorii, torn. i\ r . 
p. 334. 

a Prona in bonis operibus in omnipotentis 

Dei timore. Ibid. torn. ii. p. 835. 

3 We find the same idea in Wiseman, Lect. ix., 
On the principal doctrines and practices of the 
Catholic Church. Lond..lS36. 

4 Moepfner, De origine dogmatis de purgatorio. 
I Halle, 1792. 



620 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



foot in Great Britain ; she did not fail ere 
long to establish her kingdom there. 

We should be unwilling to undervalue 
the religious element now placed before the 
Anglo-Saxons, and we can readily believe 
that many of the missionaries sent from 
Italy desired to work a Christian work. 
We think, too, that the Middle Ages ought 
to be appreciated with more equitable sen- 
timents than have always been found in the 
persons who have written on that period. 
Man's conscience lived, spoke, and groaned 
during the long dominion of popery ; and 
like a plant growing among thorns, it often 
succeeded in forcing a passage through the 
obstacles of traditionalism and hierarchy, 
to blossom in the quickening sun of God's 
grace. The Christian element is even 
strongly marked in some of the most emi- 
nent men of the theocracy — in Anselm for 
instance. 

Yet as it is our task to relate the history 
of the struggles which took place between 
primitive Christianity and Roman-catholic- 
ism, we cannot forbear pointing out the 
superiority of the former in a religious 
light, while we acknowledge the superiority 
of the latter in a political point of view. 
We believe (and we shall presently have a 
proof of it) 1 that a visit to Ion a would have 
taught the Anglo-Saxons much more than 
their frequent pilgrimages to the banks of 
the Tiber. Doubtless, as has been remarked, 
these pilgrims contemplated at Rome " the 
noble monuments of antiquity," but there 
existed at that time in the British islands 
— and it has been too often overlooked — a 
Christianity which, if not perfectly pure, 
was at least better than that of popery. 
The British church, which at the beginning 
of the seventh century carried faith and 
civilisation into Burgundy, the Yosges 
mountains, and Switzerland, might well 
have spread them both over Britain. The 
influence of the arts, whose civilizing influ- 
ence we are far from depreciating, would 
have come later. 

But so far was the Christianity of the 
Britons from converting the Saxon heptar- 
chy, that it was, alas ! the Romanism of 
the heptarchy which was. destined to con- 
quer Britain. These struggles between 
the Roman and British churches, which fill 
all the seventh century, are of the highest 
importance to the English church, for they 
establish clearly its primitive liberty. They 
possess also great interest for the other 
churches of the West, as showing in the 
most striking characters the usurping acts 
l>y which the papacy eventually reduced 
them beneath its yoke. 

Augustine, appointed archbishop not 
only of the Saxons, but of the free Britons, 
Avas settled by papal ordinance, first at 
London and afterwards at Canterbury. 
Being at the head of a hierarchy composed 



Land 



In the history of Oswald, king of Northumber- 



of twelve bishops, he soon attempted to 
bring all the Christians of Britain under 
the Roman jurisdiction. At that time there 
existed at Bangor, 1 in North Wales, a large 
Christian society, amounting to nearly 
three thousand individuals, collected toge- 
ther' to work with their own hands, 2 to 
study, and to pray, and from whose bosom 
numerous missionaries (Columbanus was 
among the number) had from time to time 
gone forth. The president of this church 
was Dionoth, a faithful teacher, ready to 
serve all men in charity, yet firmly con- 
vinced that no one should have supremacy 
in the Lord's vineyard. Although one of 
the most influential men in the British 
church, he was somewhat timid and hesi- 
tating ; he would yield to a certain point 
for the love of peace ; but would never flinch 
from his duty. He was another apostle 
John, full of mildness, and yet condemning 
the Diotrephes, who love to have pre-eminence 
among the brethren. Augustine thus ad- 
dressed him : "Acknowledge the authority 
of the Bishop of Rome." These are the 
first words of the papacy to the ancient 
Christians of Britain. " We desire to love 
all men/' meekly replied the venerable 
Briton : "and what we do for you, we will 
do for him also whom you call the pope. 
But he is not entitled to call himself the 
father of fathers, and the only submission 
we can render him is that which we owe to 
every Christian." 3 This was not what Au- 
gustine asked. 

He was not discouraged by this first 
check. Proud of the pallium which Rome 
had sent him, and relying on the swords of 
the Anglo-Saxons, he convoked in 601 a 
general assembly of British and Saxon 
bishops. The meeting took place in the 
open air, beneath a venerable oak, near 
Wigornia (Worcester or Hereford), and 
here occurred the second Romish aggres- 
sion. Dionoth resisted with firmness the 
extravagant pretensions of Augustine, who 
again summoned him to recognise the au- 
thority of Rome. 4 Another Briton protested 
against the presumption of the Romans, 
who ascribed to their consecration a virtue 
which they refused to that of Iona or of 
the Asiatic churches. 5 " The Britons," 
exclaimed a third, " cannot submit either 
to the haughtiness of the Romans or the 
tyranny of the Saxons." 6 To no purpose 
did the archbishop lavish his arguments, 



1 Bann-cor, the choir on the steep hill. Carlisle, 
Top. Diet. Wales. 

2 Ars unicuique dabatur, ut ex opere mannnm 
quotidiano se posset in victu necessario continere. 
Preuves de l'hist. de Bre^agne, ii. 25. 

3 Istam obedientiam nos sumus parati dare et 
solvere ei etcuique Christiano continuo. Wilkins, 
Cone. M. Brit. i. 2Q. 

4 Dionothus de non approbenda apud eos Ro- 
manorura auctoritate disputabat. Ibid. 24. 

* Ordinationesqne more asiatico eisdem eontu- 
lissse. Wilkins, Cone. M. Brit. 24. 

6 In communionem admittere vel Rornanorunj 
fastuni vel Saxonum tyrannidem. Ibid. 26. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



621 



prayers, censures, and miracles even ; the 
Britons were firm. Some of them who had 
eaten with the Saxons while they were as 
yet heathens, refused to do so now that 
they had submitted to the pope. 1 The 
Scotch were particularly inflexible ; for one 
of their number, by name Dagam, would 
not only take no food at the same table with 
the Romans, but not even under the same 
roof. 2 Thus did Augustine fail a second 
time, and the independence of Britain ap- 
peared secure. 

And yet the formidable power of the 
popes, aided by the sword of the conquerors, 
alarmed the Britons. They imagined they 
saw a mysterious decree once more yoking 
the nations of the earth to the triumphal 
car of Rome, and many left Wigornia un- 
easy and sad at heart. How is it possible 
to save a cause, when even its defenders 
begin to despair? It was not long before 
they were summoned to a new council. 
" What is to be done ?" they exclaimed 
with sorrowful forebodings. Popery was 
not yet thoroughly known : it was hardly 
formed. The half-enlightened consciences 
of these believers were a prey to the most 
violent agitation. They asked themselves 
whether, in rejecting this new power, they 
might not be rejecting God himself. A 
pious Christian, who led a solitary li*r, had 
acquired a great reputation in the surround- 
ing district. Some of the Britons visited 
him, and inquired whether they should 
resist Augustine or follow him. 3 " If he 
is a man of God follow him/' replied the 
hermit. " And how shall we know that?" 
" If he is meek and humble of heart, he 
bears Christ's yoke ; but if he is violent and 
proud, he is not of God." — " What sign 
shall we have of his humility ?" " If he 
rises from his seat when \ou enter the 
room." Thus spoke the oracle of Britain: 
it would have been better to have consulted 
the Holy Scriptures. 

But humility is not a virtue that flour- 
ishes among Romish pontiffs and legates : 
they love to remain seated Avhile others 
court and Worship them. The British 
bishops entered the council-hall, and the 
archbishop, desirous of indicating his su- 
periority, proudly kept his seat. 4 Aston- 
ished at this sight, the Britons would hear 
no more of the authority of Rome. For 
the third time they said No — they knew 
no other mauler but Christ. Augustine, who 
expected to see these bishops prostrate 



1 According to the apostolic precept, 1 Cor. v. 
9-11. 

3 Dagauius ad nos veniens, non solum cibuni 
nobiscuui, sed nee in eodem hospitio quo veseba- 
mur. sumeTe noluit. Beda, lib. ii. cap. iv. 

3 Ad quendarn virutn sanctum - et prudentem qui 
apud eoa anaehoreticam ducere vitam solebat, 
consulentes an ad praedicationem Augustini suas 
desercrc traditiones deberunt. Beda, Hist. Eccl. 
lib. ii. cap. ii. 

* Faetraraque est ut venientibus illis sederet Au- 
gustinus in sella. Beda, HisL Eccl. lib. ii. cap. ii. 



their churches at his feet, was surprised 
and indignant. He had reckoned on the 
immediate submission of Britain, and the 
pope had now to learn that his missionary 

had deceived him Animated by that 

insolent spirit which is found too often in 
the ministers of the Romish church, Agus- 
tine exclaimed: "If you will not receive 
brethren who bring you peace, you shall 
receive enemies who will bring you- war. 
If you will not unite with us in showing 
the Saxons the way of life, you shall re- 
ceive from them the stroke of death." 1 
Having thus spoken, the haughty arch- 
bishop withdrew, and occupied his last 
days in preparing the accomplishment of 
his ill-omened prophecy. 2 Argument had 
failed : now for the sword ! 

Shortly after the death of Augustine, 
Edelfrid, one of the Anglo-Saxon kings, 
and who was still a heathen, collected a 
numerous army, and advanced towards 
Bangor, the centre of British Christianity. 
Alarm spread through those feeble churches. 
They wept and prayed. The sword of Edel- 
frid drew nearer. To whom can they ap- 
ply, or where shall they find help? The 
magnitude of the danger seemed to recall 
the Britons to their pristine piety : not to 
men, but to the Lord himself will they turn 
their thoughts. Twelve hundred and fifty 
servants of the living God, calling to mind 
what are the arms of Christian warfare, 
after preparing themselves by fasting, met 
together in a retired spot to send up their 
prayers to God. 3 A British chief, named 
Brocmail, moved by tender compassion, 
stationed himself near them with a few 
soldiers ; but the cruel Edelfrid, observing 
from a distance this band of kneeling Chris- 
tians, demanded : " Who are these people, 
and what are they doing?" On being in- 
formed, he added : " They are fighting then 
against us, although unarmed ;" and imme- 
diately he ordered his soldiers to fall upon 
the prostrate crowd. Twelve hundred of 
them were slain. 4 They prayed and they 
died. The Saxons forthwith proceeded to 
Bangor, the chief seat of Christian learn- 
ing, and razed it to the ground. Romanism 
was triumphant in England. The news 
of these massacres filled the country with 
weeping and great mourning; but the 
priests of Romish consecration (and the 
venerable Bede shared their sentiments) 
beheld in this cruel slaughter the accom- 



1 Si pacem cum fructibus acciperi nollent, bel- 
lum ab hostibus forent accepturi Ibid. 

2 Ipsum Augustinum hujus belli non modo con- 
scium sed et impuhorem exstitisse. Wilkius adds, 
that the expression found in Bede, concerning the 
death of Augustine, is a parenthesis Quisled in by 
Romanist writers, and not found in the Saxun 
manuscripts. Cone. Brit. p. 26. 

3 Ad memoratam aeiem, peracto jejunio tridu- 
ano, cum aliis orandi causa convenerant. Beda, 
lib. ii. cap. ii. 

4 Extinctos in ea pugna ferunt de bis quid ad 
orandum venerunt viros circiter uiillo dueeatoa 
Ibid. 



622 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



plishment of the prophecy of the holy pon- 
tiff Augustine -, 1 and a national tradition 
among the Welsh for many ages pointed 
to him as the instigator of this cowardly 
butchery. Thus did Rome loose the savage 
pagan against the primitive church of 
Britain, and fastened it all dripping with 
"blood to her triumphal car. A great mys- 
tery of iniquity was accomplishing. 

But while the Saxon sword appeared to 
Have swept every thing from before the pa- 
pacy, the ground trembled under its feet, 
and seemed about to swallow it up. 
The hierarchical rather than Christian con- 
versions effected by the priests of Rome 
were so unreal that a vast number of neo- 
phytes suddenly returned to the worship 
of their idols. Eadbald, king of Kent, was 
himself among the number of apostates. 
Such reversions to paganism are not unfre- 
quent in the history of the Romish mis- 
sions. The Bishops fled into Gaul : Melli- 
tus and Justus had already reached the 
continent in safety, and Lawrence, Augus- 
tine's successor, was about to follow them. 
While lying in the church, where he had 
desired to pass the night before leaving 
England, he groaned in spirit as he saw 
the work founded by Augustine perishing 
in his hands. He saved it by a miracle. 
The next morning he presented himself be- 
fore the king with his clothes all disordered 
and his body covered with wounds. " Saint 
Peter," he said, " appeared to me during 
the night and scourged me severely because 
I was about to forsake his flock." 2 The 
scourge was a means of moral persuasion 
which Peter had forgotten in his epistles. 
Did Lawrence cause these blows to be in- 
flicted by others — or did he inflict them 
himself — or is the whole account an idle 
dream ? We should prefer adopting the 
latter hypothesis. The superstitious prince, 
excited at the news of this supernatural 
intervention, eagerly acknowledged the 
authority of the pope, the vicar of an 
apostle who so mercilessly scourged those 
who had the misfortune to displease him. 
If the dominion of Rome had then disap- 
peared from England, it is probable that the 
Britons, regaining their courage, and fa- 
voured in other respects by the wants 
which would have been felt by the Saxons, 
would have recovered from their defeat, 
and would have imparted their free Chris- 
tianity to their conquerors. But now the 
Roman bishop seemed to remain Master of 
England, and the faith of the Britons to be 
crushed for ever. But it was not so. A 
young man, sprung from the energetic race 
of the conquerors, was about to become 
the champion of truth and liberty, and 
almost the whole island to be freed from 



the Roman yoke. Oswald, an Anglo-Saxon 
prince, son of the heathen and cruel Edel- 
frid, had been compelled by family reverses 
to take refuge in Scotland, when very 
young, accompanied by his brother Oswy 
and several other youthful chiefs. He had 
acquired the language of the country, been 
instructed in the truth of Holy Writ, con- 
verted by the grace of God, and baptized 
into the Scottish church. 1 He loved to sit 
at the feet of the elders of Iona and listen 
to their words. They showed him Jesus 
Christ going from place to place doing 
good, and he desired to do so likewise ; they 
told him that Christ was the only head of 
the church, and he promised never to ac- 
knowledge any other. Being a single- 
hearted generous man, he was especially 
animated with tender compassion towards 
the poor, and would take off his own cloak to 
cover the nakedness of one of his brethren. 
Often, while mingling in the quiet assem- 
blies of the Scottish Christians, he had de- 
sired to go as a missionary to the Anglo- 
Saxons. It was not long before he conceived 
the bold design of leading the people of 
Northumberland to the Saviour ; but being 
a prince as well as a Christian, he deter- 
mined to begin by reconquering the throne 
of his father. There was in this young 
Englishman the love of a disciple and the 
courage of a hero. At the head of an 
army, small indeed, but strong by faith in 
Christ, 2 he entered Northumberland, knelt 
with his troops in prayer on the field of 
battle, and gained a signal victory over a 
powerful enemy, 634, a. d. 

To recover the kingdom of his ancestors 
was only a part of his task. Oswald de- 
sired to give his people the benefits of the 
true faith. 3 The Christianity taught in 
625 to King Edwin and the Northumbrians 
by Pendin of York had disappeared amid 
the ravages of the pagan armies. Oswald 
requested a missionary from the Scots who 
had given him an asylum, and they accord- 
ingly sent one of the brethren named Cor- 
man, a pious but uncultivated and austere 
man. He soon returned dispirited to Iona: 
" The people to whom you sent me," he 
told the elders of the island, " are so obsti- 
nate that we must renounce all idea of 
changing their manners." As Aidan, one 
of their number, listened to this report, he 
said to himself: " If thy love had been 
offered to this people, oh, my Saviour, 

many hearts would have been touched! 

I will go and make Thee known — Thee 
who breaketh not the bruised reed !" Then, 
turning to the missionary with a look of 
mild reproach, he added : " Brother, you 



1 Sic completum est presagium sancti pontificis 
Augustini. Ibid. 

* Apparuit ei beatissimus apostolorum princeps, 
ot multo ilium tempore secretse noctis flagellis 
acrioribus afficiens. Beda, lib. ii. cap. vi. 



1 Cum magna nobilium juventute apud Scotos 
sive Pictos exulabant, ibique ad doctrinam Scot- 
torum cathecbisati et baptismatis gratia sunt re- 
create. Beda, lib. iii. cap. i. 

3 Superveniente cum parvo exercitu, sed fide 
Christi munito. Ibid. 

3 Desiderans totam cui prseesse coepit gentem 
fidei Cbristianae gratia imbui. Ibid. cap. iii. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



623 



have been too severe towards hearers so 
dull of heart. You should have given 
them spiritual milk to drink until they were 
able to receive more solid food." All eyes 
were fixed on the man who spoke so wisely. 
" Aidan is worthy of the episcopate/' ex- 
claimed the brethren of Iona ; and, like 
Timothy, he was consecrated by the laying 
on of the hands of the company of elders. 1 

Oswald received Aidan as an angel from 
heaven, and as the missionary was igno- 
rant of the Saxon language, the king ac- 
companied him everywhere, standing by his 
side, and interpreting his gentle discour- 
ses. 2 The people crowded joyfully around 
Oswald, Aidan, and other missionaries from 
Scotland and Ireland, listening eagerly to 
the Word of God? The king preached by 
his works still more than by his words. 
One day during Easter, as he was about to 
take his seat at table, he was informed that 
a crowd of his subjects, driven by hunger, 
had collected before his palace gates. . In- 
stantly he ordered the food prepared for 
himself to be carried out and distributed 
among them, and taking the silver vessels 
which stood before him, he broke, them in 
pieces and commanded his servants to di- 
vide them among the poor. He also intro- 
duced the knowledge of the Saviour to the 
people of Wessex, whither he had gone to 
marry the king's daughter; and after a 
reign of nine years, he died at the head of 
his army while repelling an invasion of the 
idolatrous Mercians, headed by the cruel 
Penda (5th August 642 a.d.) As he fell 
he exclaimed : " Lord, have mercy on the 
souls of my people !" This youthful prince 
has left a name dear to the churches of 
Great Britain. 

His death did not interrupt the labours 
of the missionaries. Their meekness and 
the recollection of Oswald endeared them 
to all. As soon as the villagers caught 
eight of one on the high-road, they would 
throng round him, begging him to teach 
them the Word of life} The faith which 
the terrible Edelfrid thought he had washed 
away in the blood of the worshippers of 
God, was re-appearing in every direction ; 
and Rome, which once already, in the days 
of Honorius had been forced to leave Bri- 
tain, might be perhaps a second time com- 
pelled to flee to its ships from before the 
face of a people who asserted their liberty. 

Then uprose the papacy. If victory re- 



1 Aydanus accepto gradu episcopatus, quo tem- 
pore eodeui nionasterib Segenius abbas et pres- 
byter prasbuit. Beda, lib. iii. cap. v. When Bede 
tells us that a plain priest was president, he ex- 
cludes the idea that there were bishops in the 
assembly. See 1 Timothy iv. 14. 

2 E vangel isante antistite, ipse Rex suis ducibus 
ac ministris interpres verbi existeret coelestis. 
Beda, lib. iii. cap. iii. 

3 Confluebant ad audiendum verhum Dei populi 
gaudentes. Ibid. 

* Mox congregati in unum vicani, vcrhuin 
vitas ab illo expetere curabant. Beda, lib. iii. 
cap. xxvi. 



mained with the Britons, their church, be- 
coming entirely free, might even in these 
early times head a strong opposition against 
the papal monarchy. If, on the contrary, 
the last champions of liberty are defeated, 
centuries of slavery awaited the Christian 
church. We shall have to witness the 
struggle that took place ere long in the 
very palace of the Northumbrian kings. 

Oswald was succeeded by his brother 
Oswy, a prince instructed in the free doc- 
trine of the Britons, but whose religion 
was all external. His heart overflowed 
with ambition, and he shrank from no 
crime that might increase his power. The 
throne of Deira was filled by his relative 
Oswin, an amiable king, much beloved by 
his people. Oswy, conceiving a deadly jea- 
lousy towards him, marched against him at 
the head of an army, and Oswin, desirous 
of avoiding bloodshed, took shelter with a 
chief whom he had loaded with favours. 
But the latter offered to lead Oswy's sol- 
diers to his hiding place ; and at dead of 
night the fugitive king was basely assassin- 
ated, one only of his servants figliting in his 
defence. The gentle Aidan died of sorrow 
at his cruel fate. 1 Such was the first ex- 
ploit of that monarch who surrendered 
England to the papacy. Various circum- 
stances tended to draw Oswy nearer to 
Rome. He looked upon the Christian reli- 
gion as a means of combining the Christian 
princes against the heathen Penda, and 
such a religion, in which expediency pre- 
dominated, was not very unlike popery. 
And further, Oswy's wife, the proud Ean- 
feld, was of the Romish communion. The 
private chaplain of this bigotted princess 
was a priest named Romanus, a man wor- 
thy of the name. He zealously maintained 
the rites of the Latin church, and accord- 
ingly the festival of Easter was celebrated 
at court twice in the year ; for while the 
king, following the eastern rule, was joy- 
fully commemorating the resurrection of 
our Lord, the queen, who adopted the Ro- 
man ritual, was keeping Palm Sunday with 
fasting and humiliation. 2 Eanfeld and Ro- 
manus would often converse together on 
the means of winning over Northumberland 
to the papacy. But the first step was to 
increase the number of its partisans, and 
the opportunity soon occurred. 

A young Northumbrian, named Wilfrid, 
was one -day admitted to an audience of 
the queen. He was a comely man, of ex- 
tensive knowledge, keen wit, and enter- 
prising character, of indefatigable activity, 
and insatiable ambition. 3 In this inter- 



1 Aydanus duodecimo post occisionem regis 
que m amabat die, de seculo ablatus. Beda, lib. 
iii. cap. xiv. 

3 Cum rex pascha dominieum solutis jejuniis 
faceret, tunc regina cum suis persistans adhuc 
in jejunio diem Palmarum celebraret. Ibid, 
cap. xxv. 

3 Acris erat ingenii gratia venusti vultus, 

alacritate actionis. Beda, lib. v. p. loo. 



624 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



view he remarked to Eanfeld: " The way 
which the Scutch teach us is not perfect ; 
I will go to Rome and learn in the very 
temples of the apostles." She approved of 
his project, and with her assistance and di- 
rections he set out for Italy. Alas ! he was 
destined at no very distant day to chain the 
whole British church to the Roman see. 
After a short stay at Lyons, where the 
bishop, delighted at his talents, would 
have desired to keep him, he arrived at 
Rome, and immediately became on the most 
friendly footing with Archdeacon Boniface, 
the pope's favourite councillor. He soon 
discovered that the priests of France and 
Italy possessed more power both in eccle- 
siastical and secular matters than the hum- 
ble missionaries of Iona ; and his thirst for 
honours was inflamed at the court of the 
pontiffs. If he should succeed in making 
England submit to the papacy, there was 
no dignity to which he might not aspire. 
Henceforward this was his only thought, 
and he had hardly returned to Northum- 
berland before Eanfeld eagerly summoned 
him to court. A fanatical queen, from 
whom he might hope every thing — a king 
with no religious convictions, and enslaved 
by political interests — a pious and zealous 
prince, Alfred, the king's son, who was de- 
sirous of imitating his noble uncle Oswald, 
and converting the pagans, but who had 
neither the discernment nor the piety of 
the illustrious disciple of Iona : such were 
the materials Wilfrid had to work upon. 
He saw clearly that if Rome had gained her 
first victory by the sword of Edelfrid, she 
could only expect to gain a second by craft 
and management. He came to an under- 
standing on the subject with the queen and 
Romanus, and having been placed about 
the person of the young prince, by adroit 
flattery he soon gained over Alfred's mind. 
Then finding himself secure of two members 
of the royal family, he turned all his atten- 
tion to Oswy. 

The elders of Iona could not shut their 
eyes to the dangers which threatened North- 
umberland. They had sent Finan to supply 
Aidan's place, and this bishop, consecrated 
by the presbyters of Iona, had witnessed 
the progress of popery at the court : at 
first humble and inoffensive, and then in- 
creasing year by year in ambition and au- 
dacity. He had openly opposed the pontiff's 
agents, and his frequent contests had con- 
firmed him in the truth. 1 He was dead, 
and the presbyters of the Western Isles, 
seeing more clearly than ever the wants of 
Northumbria, had sent thither Bishop Col- 
man, a simple-minded but stout-hearted 
man. — one determined to oppose a front of 
adamant to the wiles of the seducers. 

Yet Eanfeld, Wilfrid, and Romanus were 
skillfully digging the mine that was to de- 

1 Apertura veritatis adversarium reddidit, says 
the Romanist Bede, lib. v. p. 135. 



stroy the apostolic church of Britain. At 
first Wilfrid prepared his attack by adroit 
insinuations ; and next declared himself 
openly in the king's presence. If Oswy 
withdrew into his domestic circle, he there 
found the bigoted Eanfeld, who zealously 
continued in the work of the Roman mis- 
sionary. No opportunities were neglected : 
| in the midst of the diversions of the court, 
at table, and even during the chase, discus- 
sions were perpetually raised on the contro- 
, verted doctrines. Men's minds became ex- 
cited ; the Romanists already assumed the 
x air of conquerors ; and the Britons often 
withdrew full of anxiety and fear. The 
! king, placed between his wife and his faith, 
and wearied by these disputes, inclined first 
! to one side, and then to the other, as if he 
; would soon fall altogether. 

The papacy had more powerful motives 
than ever for coveting Northumberland. 
Oswy had not only usurped the throne of 
: Deira, but after the death of the cruel Pen- 
I da, who fell in battle in 654, he had con- 
| quered his states with the exception of a 
J portion governed by his son-in-law Peada, 
J the son of Penda. But Peada himself hav- 
1 ing fallen in a conspiracy said to have been 
j got up by his wife, the daughter of Oswy, 
the latter completed the conquest of Mercia, 
and thus united the greatest part of Eng- 
land under his sceptre. Kent alone at that 
time acknowledged the jurisdiction of 
Rome ; in every other province, free min- 
isters, protected by the kings of Northum- 
berland, preached the gospel. This won- 
j derfully simplified the question. If Rome 
! gained over Oswy, she would gain England: 
| if she failed, she' must sooner or later leave 
that island altogether. 

This was not all. The blood of Oswyn, 
the premature death of Aidan, and other 
things besides, troubled the king's breast. 
He desired to appease the Deity he had 
offended, and not knowing that Chi^ist is 
the door, as Holy Scripture tells us, he 
sought among men for a doorkeeper who 
would open to him the kingdom of heaven. 
He was far from being the last of those 
kings whom the necessity of expiating their 
crimes impelled towards Romish practices. 
The crafty Wilfrid, keeping alive both the 
hopes and fears of the prince, often spoke 
to him of Rome, and of the grace to be 
found there. He thought that the fruit was 
ripe, and that now he had only to shake 
the tree. " We must have a public dispu- 
tation, in which the question may be settled 
once for all," said the queen and her advis- 
ers ; "but Rome must take her part in it 
with as much pomp as her adversaries. 
Let us oppose bishop to bishop." A Saxon 
bishop named Agilbert, a friend of Wil- 
frid's, who had won the affection of the 
young prince Alfred, was invited by Ean- 
feld to the conference, and he arrived 
in Northumberland attended by a priest 
i named Agathon. Alas ! poor British church, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



625 



the earthen vessel is about to be clashed 
against the vase of iron. Britain must yield 
before the invading march of Rome. 

On the coast of Yorkshire, at the farther 
extremity of a quiet bay, was situated the 
monastery of Strenseshalh, or Whitby, of 
which Hilda, the pious daughter of King I 
Edwin, was abbess. She, too was desirous | 
of seeing a termination of the violent dis- j 
putes which had agitated the church since I 
Wilfrid's return. On the shores of the i 
North Sea 1 the struggle was to be decided j 
between Britain and Rome, between the I 
"East and the West, or, as they said then, 
between Saint John and Saint Peter. It 
was not a mere question about Easter, or 
certain rules of discipline, but of the great 
doctrine of the freedom of the church under 
Jesus Christ, or its enslavement under the 
papacy. Rome, ever domineering, desired 
for the second time to hold England in its 
grasp, not by means of the sword, but by 
her dogmas. With her usual cunning she 
concealed her enormous pretensions under 
secondary questions, and many superficial 
thinkers were deceived by this manoeuvre. 

The meeting took place in the convent of 
Whitby. The king and his son entered 
first; then, on the one side, Colman, with 
the bishops and elders of the Britons ; and 
on the other, Bishop Agilbert, Agathon, 
Wilfrid, Romanus, a deacon named James, 
and several other priests of the Latin con- 
fession. Last of all came Hilda with her 
attendants, among whom was an English 
Bishop named Cedda, one of the most ac- 
tive missionaries of the age. 3 He had at 
first preached the Gospel in the midland 
districts, whence he turned his footsteps 
towards the Anglo-Saxons of the East, and 
after converting a great number of these 
pagans, he had returned to Finan, and 
although an Englishman, had received 
Episcopal consecration from a bishop who 
had been himself ordained by the elders of 
Iona. Then proceeding westwards, the in- 
defatigable evangelist founded churches, 
and appointed elders and deacons wherever 
he went. 3 By birth an Englishman, by 
ordination a Scotchman, everywhere treated 
with respect and consideration, he appeared 
to be set apart as mediator in this solemn 
conference. His intervention could not, 
however, retard the victory of Rome. Alas ! 
the primitive evangelism had gradually 
given way to an ecclesiasticism, coarse and 
rude in one place, subtle and insinuating 



'This conference is generally known as'the 
Synodus Pharensis (from Strencpshalh, sinus Pha- 
rij. " Hodie Whitbie dicitur (White bay), et est 
vilia in Eboracensi littore satis, nota." Wilkins, 
Concil. p. 37, note. 

" Presbyteri Cedda et Adda et Berti et Duina, 
quorum ultimus natione Scotus, cseterifuere Angli. 
Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxi. 

3 Qui aocepto gradu episcopatus et majore auc- 
toritate cajptum opus explens, fecit per locaeccle- 
sia^, presbyteros ; et diaconos ordinavit. Beda, 
lib. iii. cap. xxii. 



in another. Whenever the priests were 
called upon to justify certain doctrines oi 
ceremonies, instead of referring solely to 
the word of God, that fountain of all light, 
they maintained that thus St. James did at 
Jerusalem, St. Mark at Alexandria, St. 
John at Ephesus, or St. Peter at Rome. 
They gave the name of apostolical canons to 
rules which the apostles had never known. 
They even went further than this : at 
Rome and in the East, ecclesiasticism rep- 
resented itself to be a law of God, and from 
a state of weakness it thus became a state of 
sin. Some marks of this error were already 
beginning to appear in the Christianity of 
the Britons. 

King Oswy was the first to speak : ' As 
servants of one and the same God, we 
hope all to enjoy the same inheritance in 
heaven ; why then should we not have the 
same rule of life here below ? Let us in- 
quire which is the true one, and follow it." 

" Those who sent me hither as bishop," 

said Colman, " and who gave me the rule 
which I observe, are the belo„ved of God. 
Let us beware how we despise their teach- 
ing, for it is the teaching of Columba, of 
the blessed evangelist John, 1 and of the 
churches over which that apostle presided." 

" As for us," boldly rejoined Wilfrid, for 
to him as to the most skillful had bishop 
Agilbert intrusted the defence of their 
cause, " our custom is that of Rome, where 
the holy apostles Peter and Paul taught ; 
we found it in Italy and Gaul, nay, it is 
spread over every nation. Shall the Picts 
and Britons, cast on these two islands, on 
the very confines of the ocean, dare to con- 
tend against the whole world ? a However 
holy your Columba may have been, will 
you prefer him to the prince of the apostles 
to whom Christ said, Thou art Peter, and 1 
will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom 
of heaven ?" 

Wilfrid spoke with animation, and his 
words being skillfully adapted to his audi- 
ence, began to make them waver. He had 
artfully substituted Columba for the apos- 
tle John, from whom the British church 
claimed descent, and opposed to St. Peter a 
plain elder of Iona. Oswy, whose idol was 
power, could not hesitate between paltry 
bishops and that pope of Rome who com- 
manded the whole world. Already imagin- 
ing he saw Peter at the gates of paradise, 
with the keys in his hand, he exclaimed 
with emotion : " Is it true, Colman, that 
these words were addressed by our Lord to 
St. Peter Y* " It is true." " Can you prove 
that similar powers were given to your Co- 
lumba?" The bishop replied, " We cannot ;" 
but he might have told the king: "John, 
whose doctrine we follow, and indeed every 

1 Ipsum est quod beatus evangelists Johannes, 
discipulus specialiter Domiuo dilectus. Beda, 
lib. iii. cap. xxv. 

a Pictos dico ac Brittones, cum quibus de duabus 
ultimis oceani insulis, contra totum orbeui stulto 
labore pugnant. Ibid. 



62G 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



disciple, lias received in the same sense as St. 
Peter the power to remit sins, to bind and 
to loose on earth and in heaven." 1 But the 
knowledge of the Holy Scriptures was fad- 
ing awa} 7 in Iona, and the unsuspecting 
Colman had not observed Wilfrid's strata- 
gem in substituting Columba for Saint 
John. Upon this Oswy, delighted to yield 
to the continual solicitations of the queen, 
and above all, to find some one who would 
admit him into the kingdom of heaven, ex- 
claimed, " Peter is the doorkeeper, I will 
obey him, lest when I appear at the gate 
there should be no one to open it to me." 2 
The spectators, carried away by this royal 
confession, hastened to give in their sub- 
mission to the vicar of St. Peter. 

Thus did Rome triumph at the Whitby 
conference. Oswy forgot that the Lord had 
said : I am lie that openeth, and no man 
shutteth ; and shutteth, and no man ojjeneth. 3 
It was by ascribing to Peter the servant, 
what belongs to Jesus Christ the master, 
that the papacy reduced Britain. Oswy 
stretched out his hands, Rome riveted the 
chains, and the liberty which Oswald had 
given his church seemed at the last gasp. 

Colman saw with grief and consternation 
Oswy and his subjects bending their knees 
before the foreign priests. He did not, 
however, despair of the ultimate triumph 
of the truth. The apostolic faith could 
still find shelter in the old sanctuaries of the 
British church in Scotland and Ireland. 
Immovable in the doctrine he had received, 
ar?.d resolute to uphold Christian liberty, 
Colman withdrew with those who would 
not bend beneath the yoke of Rome, and 
returned to Scotland. Thirty Anglo-Saxons 
and a great number of Britons, shouk off 
the dust of their feet against the tents of 
the Romish priests. The hatred of popery 
became more intense day by day among the 
remainder of the Britons. Determined to 
repel its erroneous dogmas and its illegiti- 
mate dominion, they maintained their com- 
munion with the Eastern Church, which 
was more ancient than that of Rome. They 
shuddered as they saw the red dragon of 
the Celts gradually retiring towards the 
western sea from before the white dragon 
of the Saxons. They ascribed their mis- 
fortunes to a horrible conspirac} 7 planned 
by the iniquitous ambition of the foreign 
monks, and the bards in their chants cursed 
the negligent ministers who defended not 
the flock of the Lord against the wolves of 
Rome. 4 But vain were their lamentations ! 

The Romish priests, aided by the queen, 
lost no time. Wilfrid, whom Oswy desired 
to reward for his triumph, was named 
bishop of Northumberland, and he imme- 
diately visited Paris to receive episcopal 
conseciation in due form. He soon re- 



1 John xx. 23; Matth. xviii. 18. 
Ne forte me adveniente ad fores regni ccelo- 
rutn, noa sit qui reserat. Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxv. 

* John x. 9 ; Rev. iii. 7. 

* Horae Britannicae, b. ii. p. 277. 



turned, and proceeded with singular activity 
to establish the Romish doctrine in all the 
churches. 1 Bishop of a diocese extending 
from Edinburgh to Northampton, enriched 
with the goods which had belonged to 
divers monasteries, surrounded by a nu- 
merous train, served upon gold and silver 
plate, Wilfrid congratulated himself on 
having espoused the cause of the papacy ; 
he offended every one who approached him 
by his insolence, and taught England how 
wide was the difference between the hum- 
ble ministers of Iona and a Romish priest. 
At the same time Oswy, coming to an un- 
derstanding with the king of Kent, sent 
another priest named Wighard to Rome to 
learn the pope's intentions respecting the 
church in England, and to receive conse- 
cration as archbishop of Canterbury. There 
was no episcopal ordination in England 
worthy of a priest ! In the meanwhile 
Oswy, with all the zeal of a new convert; 
ceased not to repeat that "the Roman 
Church was the catholic and apostolic 
church," and thought night and day on the 
means of converting his subjects, hoping 
thus (says a pope) to redeem his own soul.* 

The arrival of this news at Rome created 
a great sensation. Yitalian, who then 
filled the episcopal chair, and was as inso- 
lent to his bishops as he was fawning and 
servile to the emperor, exclaimed with 
transport: " Who would not be overjoyed I 3 
a king converted to the true apostolic faith, 
a people that believes at last in Christ the 
Almighty God !" For many long years this 
people had believed in Christ, but they 
were now beginning to believe in the pope, 
and the pope will soon make them forget 
Jesus the Saviour. Vitalian wrote to Os- 
wy, and sent him — not copies of the Holy 
Scriptures (which were already becoming 
scarce at Rome), but — relics of the saints 
Peter, John, Lawrence, Gregory, and Pan- 
cratius ; and being in an especial manner 
desirous of rewarding Queen Eanfeld, to 
whom with Wilfred belonged the glory of 
this work, he offered her a cross, made, as 
he assured her, out of the chains of St. 
Peter and St, Paul. 4 " Delay not," said 
the pope in conclusion, " to reduce all your 
island under Jesus Christ" — or in other 
words, under the bishop of Rome. 

The essential thing, however, was to 
send an archbishop from Rome to Britain ; 
but Wighard was dead, and no one seemed 
willing to undertake so long a journey. 5 



1 Ipse perplura catholicae observationis rnodera- 
mina ecclesiis Angloruni sua doctrina contulit. 
Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxviii. 

2 Omnes subjectos suos meditatur die ac nocte 
ad fidein catholicam atque apostolicam pro suae 
aniiuae redemptione converti. Ibid. cap. xxix. 

3 Quis eniiu audiens haec suavia non lastetur? 
Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxix. 

4 Conjugi, nostras spirituali filiae, crucem -. 

Ibid. 

* Minime voluimus nunc reperire pro longinqui- 
tate itineris. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



627 



There was not much zeal in the city of 
the pontiffs : and the pope was compelled 
to look out for a stranger. There happened 
at that time to be in Rome a man of great 
reputation for learning, who had come from 
the east, and adopted the rites and doc- 
trines of the Latins in exchange for the 
knowledge he had brought them. He was 
pointed out to Vitalian as well qualified to 
be the metropolitan of England. Theodore, 
for such was his name, belonging by birth 
to the churches of Asia Minor, would be 
listened to by the Britons in preference to 
any other, when he solicited them to aban- 
don their oriental customs. The Roman 
pontiff, however, fearful perhaps that he 
might yet entertain some leaven of his for- 
mer Cheek doctrines, gave him as com- 
panion, or rather as overseer, a zealous 
African monk named Adrian. 1 

Theodore began the great crusade against 
British Christianity ; and, endeavouring to 
show the sincerity of his conversion by his 
zeal, he traversed all England in company 
with Adrian, 2 everywhere imposing on the 
people that ecclesiastical supremacy to 
which Rome is indebted for her political 
supremacy. The superiority of character 
which distinguished Saint Peter, Theodore 
transformed into a superiority of office. 
For the jurisdiction of Christ and his word, 
he substituted that of the bishop of Rome 
and of his decrees. He insisted on the 
necessity of ordination by bishops who, in 
an unbroken chain, could trace back their 
authority to the apostles themselves. The 
British still maintained the validity of 
their consecration ; but the number was 
small of those who understood that pre- 
tended successors of the apostles, who 
sometimes carry Satan in their hearts, are 
not true ministers of Christ ; that the one 
thing needful for the church is, that the 
apostles themselves (and not their succes- 
sors only) should dwell in its bosom by 
their word, by their teaching, and by the 
Divine Comforter who shall be with it for 
ever and ever. 

The grand defection now began: the best 
were sometimes the first to yield. When 
Theodore met Cedda, who had been conse- 
crated by a bishop who had himself received 
ordination fiom the elders of Iona, he said 
to him : " You have not been regularly or- 
dained. " Cedda, instead of standing up 
boldly for the truth, gave way to a carnal 
modesty, and replied: "I never thought 
myself worthy of the episcopate, and am 
ready to lay it down." " No," said Theo- 
dore, " you shall remain a bishop, but I 
will consecrate you anew according to the 
catholic ritual." 3 The British minister 



1 Ut diligenter attenderet, ne quid ille contra- 
riurn veritaii, fidei. Grascoruta more, in ecclesiam 
tui-prgeesset introduceret. Ibid. lib. iv. cap. i. 

3 Peragrata insula tota, rectum vivendi ordinem 
' Beeminabat. Beda, lib. iv. cap. ii. 

' Cum Ceadda Episcopuru argueret non fuisse 



submitted. Rome, triumphant, felt her- 
self strong enough to deny the imposition 
of hands of the elders of Iona, which she 
had hitherto recognised. The most stead- 
fast believers took refuge in Scotland. 

In this manner a church in some respects 
deficient, but still a church in which the 
religious element held the foremost place, 
was succeeded by another in which the 
clerical element predominated. This was 
soon apparent: questions of authority and 
precedence, hitherto unknown among the 
British Christians, were now of daily occur- 
rence. Wilfrid, who had fixed his resi- 
dence at York, thought that no one de- 
served better than he to be primate of all 
England ; and Theodore on his part was 
irritated at the haughty tone assumed by 
this bishop. During the life of Oswy, 
peace was maintained, for Wilfrid was his 
favourite ; but erelong that prince fell ill ; 
and, terrified by the near approach of 
death, he vowed that if he recovered he 
would make a pilgrimage to Rome and 
there end his days. 1 " If you will be my 
guide to the city of the apostles," he said 
to Wilfrid, " I will give you a large sum 
of money." But his vow was of no avail ; 
Oswy died in the spring of the year 
670, a. d. 

The Witan set aside prince Alfred, and 
raised his youngest brother Egfrid to the 
throne. The new monarch, who had often 
been offended by Wilfrid's insolence, de- 
nounced this haughty prelate to the arch- 
bishop. Nothing could be more agreeable 
to Theodore. He assembled a council at 
Hertford, before which the chief of his con- 
verts were first summoned, and presenting 
to them, not the holy scripture but the 
canons of the Romish church, 2 he received 
their solemn oaths : such was the religion 
then taught in England. But this was not 
all. " The diocese of our brother Wilfrid 
is so extensive," said the primate, " that 
there is room in it for four bishops." 
They were appointed accordingly. Wilfrid 
indignantly appealed from the primate and 
the king to the pope. " Who converted 

England, who, if not I? and it is thus 

I am rewarded !" Not allowing him- 
self to be checked by the difficulties of the 
journey, he set out for Rome attended by 
a few monks, and Pope Agathon assem- 
bling a council (679), the Englishman pre- 
sented his complaint, and the pontiff de- 
clared the destitution to be illegal. Wilfrid 
immediately returned to England, and 
haughtily presented the pope's decree to 
the king. But Egfrid, who was not of a 
disposition to tolerate these transalpine 
manners, far from restoring the see, cast 



rite consecratum, ipse (Theodoras) ordinationem 
ejus denuo catbolica ratione eonsiiinmavit. Ibid. 

1 Ut si ab infirmitnte salvaretur, etium Roman 
venire, ibiqne ad loca saucta vita in tin ire. Beda, 
lib. iv. cap. ii. 

3 Quibus statim protuli eundem librum cationum, 
Ibid. cap. v. 



>28 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the prelate into prison, and did not release 
him until the end of the year, and then 
only on condition that he would imme- 
diately quit Northumbria. 

Wilfrid — for we must follow even to the 
end of his life that remarkable man, who 
exercised so great an influence over the 
destinies of the English Church — Wilfrid 
was determined to be a bishop at any cost. 
The kingdom of Sussex was still pagan ; 
and the deposed prelate, whose indefa- 
tigable activity we cannot but acknowledge, 
funned the resolution of winning a bishop- 
ric, as other men plan the conquest of a 
kingdom. He arrived in Sussex during a 
period of famine, and having brought with 
him a number of nets, he taught the people 
the art of fishing, and thus gained their 
affections. Their king Edilwalch had been 
baptized; his subjects now followed his 
example, and Wilfrid was placed at the 
head of the church. But he soon mani- 
fested the disposition by which he was ani- 
mated : he furnished supplies of men and 
money to Ceadwalla, king of Wessex, and 
this cruel chieftain made a fierce inroad 
into Sussex, laying it waste, and putting 
to death Edilwalch, the prelate's benefac- 
tor. The career of the turbulent bishop 
was not ended. King Egfrid died, and was 
succeded by his brother Alfred, whom Wil- 
frid brought up, a prince fond of learning 
and religion, and emulous of the glory of 
his uncle Oswald. The ambitious Wilfrid 
hastened to claim his see of York, by ac- 
quiescing in the partition ; it was restored 
to him, and he forthwith began to plunder 
others to enrich himself. A council begged 
him to submit to the decrees of the church 
of England; he refused, and having lost 
the esteem of the king, his former pupil, 
he undertook, notwithstanding his ad- 
vanced years, a third journey to Rome. 
Knowing how popes are won, he threw 
himself at the pontiff's feet, exclaiming that 
" the suppliant bishop Wilfrid, the humble 
slave of the servant of God, implored the 
favour of our most blessed lord, the pope 
universal." The bishop could not restore 
his creature to his see, and the short re- 
mainder of Wilfrid's life was spent in the 
midst of the riches his cupidity had so un- 
worthily accumulated, 

Yet he had accomplished the task of his 
life : all England was subservient to the 
papacy. The names of Oswy and Wilfrid 
should be inscribed in letters of mourning 
in the annals of great Britain. Posterity 
has erred in permitting them to sink into 
oblivion ; for they were two of the most 
influential and energetic men that ever 
flourished in England. Still this very for- 
getfulness is not wanting in generosity. 
The grave in which the liberty of the 
church lay buried for nine centuries is the 
only monument — a mournful one indeed — 
that should perpetuate their memory. 

But Scotland was still free, and to secure 



the definitive triumph of Rome it was ne- 
cessary to invade that virgin soil, over 
which the standard of the faith had floated 
for so many years. 

Adamnan was then at the head of the 
church of Iona, the first elder of that reli- 
gious house. He was virtuous and learned, 
but weak and somewhat vain, and his reli- 
gion had little spirituality. To gain him 
was in the eyes of Rome to gain Scotland . 
A singular circumstance favoured the plans 
of those who desired to draw him into the 
papal communion. One day during a vio- 
lent tempest, a ship coming from the Holy 
Land, and on board of which was a Gaulish 
bishop named Arculf, was wrecked in the 
neighbourhood of Iona. 1 Arculf eagerly 
sought an asylum among the pious inha- 
bitants of that island. Adamnan never grew 
tired of hearing the stranger's description 
of Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Golgotha, 
of the sun-burnt plains over which our 
Lord had wandered, and the cleft stone 
which still lay before the door of the sepul- 
chre. 2 The elder of Iona, who prided him- 
self on his learning, noted down Arculf 's 
conversation, and from it composed a de- 
scription of the Holy Land. As soon as 
his book was completed, the desire of 
making these wondrous things more widely 
known, combined with a little vanity, and 
perhaps other motives, urged him to visit 
the court of Northumberland, where he 
presented his work to the pious King Al- 
fred, 3 who, being fond of learning and of 
the Christian traditions, caused a number 
of copies of it to be made. 

Nor was this all : the Romish clergy 
perceived the advantage they might derive 
from this imprudent journey. They 
crowded round the elder ; they showed 
him all the pomp of their worship, and said 
to him : " Will you and your friends, who 
live at the very extremity of the world, set 
yourselves in opposition to the observances 
of the universal church ?" 4 The nobles of 
the court flattered the author's self-love, 
and invited him to their festivities, while 
the king loaded him with presents. The 
presbyter of Britain became a priest of 
Rome, and Adamnan returned to Iona to 
betray his church to his new masters. But 
it was all to no purpose : Iona would not 
give way. 5 He then went to hide his 
shame in Ireland, where, having brought a 
few individuals to the Romish uniformity, 
he took courage and revisited Scotland. 



1 Vi tempestatis in occidentalia Britanniae lit- 
tora delatus est. Beda, lib. v. cap. xvi. 

a Lapis qui ad ostium rnonumenti positus erat, 
fissus est. Ibid. cap. xvii. 

3 Porrexit autem librum tunc Adamnanus Al- 
frido regi. Beda, lib. v. cap. xvi. 

4 ~Ne contra universalem ecclesiaa morem, cum 
suis paucissimis et in extremo mundi angulo po- 
sitis, vivere praesumeret. Ibid. 

6 Curavit suos ad cum veritatis calcem produ- 
cere, nee voluit. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



629 



But that country, still inflexible, repelled 
him with indignation. 1 

When Rome found herself unable to 
conquer by the Priest, she had recourse to 
the prince, and her eyes were turned to 
Naitam, king of the Picts. "How much 
more glorious it would be for you/' urged 
the Latin priests, " to belong to the power- 
erful church of the universal pontiff of 
Rome, than to a congregation superintended 
by miserable elders ! The Romish church 
is a monarchy, and ought to be the church 
of every monarch. The Roman ceremo- 
nial accords with the pomp of royalty, and 
its temples are palaces." The prince was 
convinced by the last argument. He des- 
patched messengers to Ceolfrid, the abbot 
of an English convent, begging him to 
send him architects capable of building a 
church after the Roman pattern 2 — of stone 
and not of wood. Architects, majestic 
porches, lofty columns, vaulted roofs, gilded 
altars, have often proved the most influen- 
tial of Rome's missionaries. The builder's 
art, though in its earliest and simplest 
days, was more powerful than the Bible. 
Naitam, who, by submitting to the pope, 
thought himself the equal of Clovis and 
Clotaire, assembled the nobles of his court 
and the pastors of his church, and thus ad- 
dressed them : " I recommend all the clergy 
of my kingdom to receive the tonsure of 
Saint Peter." 3 Then without delay (as 
Bede informs us) this important revolution 
was accomplished by royal authority. 4 He 
aent agents and letters into every province, 
and caused all the ministers and monks to 
receive the circular tonsure according to 
the Roman fashion. 5 It was the mark 
that popery stamped, not on the forehead, 
but on the crown. A royal proclamation 
and a few clips of the scissors placed the 
Scotch, like a flock of sheep, beneath the 
crook of the shepherd of the Tiber. 

lona still held out. The orders of the 
Pictish king, the example of his subjects, 
the sight of that Italian power which was 
devouring the earth, had shaken some few 
minds ; but the church still resisted the in- 
novation. Iona was the last citadel of lib- 
erty in the western world, and popery was 
tilled with anger at that miserable band 
which in its remote corner refused to bend 
before it. Human means appeared insuffi- 
cient to conquer this rock : something more 

1 Nee tamen perScere quod conabatur posset. 
Ibid. The conversions of which Abbot Ceolfrid 
speaks in chap. xxii. are probably those effected 
in Ireland, the word Scotia being at this period 
frequently applied to that country. - ' 

3 Architectos sibi mitti petiit qui juxta morem 
Rouaanorum ecclesiaui facerent. Beda, lib. v.cap. 
xxii. • 

3 Et hanc accipere tonsuram, omnes qui in meo 
regno sunt clericos decerno. Ibid. 

4 Nee mora, qua? dixerat regia auctor-itate per- 
fecit. Ibid. 

' Per universas Pictorum provincias tonde- 

bantur otnnes in coronam tuinistri altaris ac mon- 
achi. Ibid. 



was needed, visions and miracles for exam- 
ple ; and these Rome always finds when 
she wants them.. One day towards the 
end of the seventh century, an English 
monk, named Egbert, arriving from Ireland, 
appeared before the elders of Iona, who re- 
ceived him with their accustomed hospital- 
ity. He was a man in whom enthusiastic 
devotion was combined with great gentle- 
ness of heart, and soon won upon the minds 
of these simple believers. He spoke to 
them of an external unity, urging that 
a universality manifested under different 
forms was unsuited to the church of Christ. 
He advocated the special form of Rome, and 
the truly catholic element which the Chris- 
tians of Iona had thus far possessed, sub- 
stituted a sectarian element. He attacked 
the traditions of the British church, 1 and 
lavishly distributing the rich presents con- 
fided to him by the lords of Ireland and of 
England, 2 he soon had reason to acknow- 
ledge the truth of the saying of the wise 
man : A gift i? as a precious stone in the 
eyes of him that hath it: whithersoever it 
turneth, it prospereth. 

Some pious souls, however, still held out 
in Iona. The enthusiastic Egbert — for such 
he appears to have been rather than an 
impostor — had recourse to other means. 
He represented himself to be a messenger 
from heaven: the saints themselves, said 
he, have commissioned me to convert Iona ; 
and then he told the following history to the 
elders who stood around him. " About 
thirty years ago, I entered the monastery 
of Rathmelfig in Ireland, when a terrible 
pestilence fell upon it, and of all the breth- 
ren the monk Edelhun and myself were 
left alone. Attacked by the plague, and 
fearing my last hour was come, I rose from 
my bed and crept into the chapel. 3 There 
my whole body trembled at the recollection 
of my sins, and my face was bathed with 
tears. ' God,' I exclaimed, ' suffer me 
not to die* until I have redeemed my debt to 
thee by an abundance of good works." 4 I 
returned staggering to the infirmary, got 
into bed, and fell aaleep. When I awoke, 
I saw Edelhun with his eyes fixed on mine. 
' Brother Egbert,' said he, ' it has been re- 
vealed to me in a vision that thou shalt re- 
ceive what thou hast asked.' On the fol- 
lowing night Edelhun died and I recovered. 

" Many years passed away : my repen- 
tance and my vigils did not satisfy me, and 
wishing to pay my debt, I resolved to go 
with a company of monks and preach the 



1 Sedulis exhortationibus inveteratam illam tra- 
ditionem parentum eorum. Beda, lib. v. cap 
xxiii. 

3 Pietate largiendi de his quae a divitibus ac- 
ceperat, multum profuit. Ibid. cap. xxvii. 

d Cum se existimaret esse morituruin. egressus 
est tempore matutino de cubiculo, et rosidens so- 
lus Ibid. lib. iii. cap. xxs T ii. 

* Precabatur ne adhuc mori deberet priusquam 
vel prajteritas negligentias aperfectim ex tempore 
castigaret, vel in bonis se operibus abundantias 
exerceret. Ibid. 



030 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



gospel to the heathens of Germany. But 
during the night a blessed saint from 
heaven appeared to one of the brethren 
and said : ' Tell Egbert he must go to the 
monasteries of Columba, for their ploughs 
d not plough straight, and he must put 
them into the right furrow.' 1 I forbade 
this brother to speak of his vision, and went 
on board a ship bound for Germany. We 
were waiting for a favorable wind, when, 
of a sudden, in the middle of the night, a 
frightful tempest burst upon the vessel, and 
drove us on the shoals. ' For my sake this 
tempest is upon us/ I exclaimed in terror ; 
' God speaks to me as he did to Jonah ;' 
and I ran to take refuge in my cell. At last 
I determined to obey the command which 
the holy man had brought me. I left Ire- 
land, and came among you, in order to pay 
my debt by converting you. And now," 
continued Egbert, "make answer to the 
voice of heaven, and submit to Rome." 

A ship thrown on shore by a storm was a 
frequent occurrence on those coasts, and the 
dream of a monk, absorbed in the plans of 
his brother, was nothing very unnatural. 
But in those times of darkness, every thing 
appeared miraculous ; phantoms and appa- 
ritions had more weight than the word of 
God. Instead of detecting the emptiness 
of these visions by the falseness of the reli- 
gion they were brought to support, the 
elders of Iona listened seriously to Egbert's 
narrative. The primitive faith planted on 
the rock of Icolmkill was now like a pine- 
tree tossed by the winds : but one gust, and 
it would be uprooted and blown into the 
sea. Egbert, perceiving the elders to be 
shaken, redoubled his prayers, and even 
had recourse to threats. " All the west," 
said he, "bends the knee to Rome: alone 
against all, 'what can you do ?" The Scotch 
still resisted : obscure and unknown, the 
last British Christians contended in behalf 
of expiring liberty. At length bewildered — 
they stumbled and fell. The scissors were 
brought ; they received the Latin tonsure 2 
they were the pope's. 

Thus fell Scotland. Yet there still re- 
mained some sparks of grace, and the 
mountains of Caledonia long concealed the 
hidden fire which after many ages burst 
forth with such power and might. Here 
and there a few independent spirits were to 
be found who testified against the tyranny 
of Rome. In the time of Bede they might be 
seen. " halting in their paths," (to use the 
words of the Romish historian,) refusing to 
join in the holidays of the pontifical adhe- 
rents, and pushing away the hands that 
were eager to shave their crowns. 3 But 

1 Quia aratra eorura non recte ineedunt; oportet 
autern eum ad rectum hsec tramitem revocare. 
Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxvii. 

3 Adrituin tonsurae canonicum sub figura coro- 
nae perpetuae. Beda, lib. v. cap. xxiii. 

3 Sicut e contra Brittones, inveterati et claudi- 
?antes a seinitis su's, et capita ferre sine corona 
praetendunL Ibid. 



the leaders of the state and of the church 
had laid down their arms. The contest was 
over, after lasting more than a century. 
British Christianity had in some degree 
prepared its own fall, by substituting too 
often the form for the faith. The foreign 
superstition took advantage of this weak- 
ness, and triumphed in these islands by 
means of royal decrees, church ornaments, 
monkish phantoms, and conventual appa- 
ritions. At the beginning of the eighth 
century the British Church became the 
serf of Rome ; but an internal struggle was 
commencing, which did not cease until the 
period of the Reformation. 

The independent Christians of Scotland, 
who subordinated the authority of man to 
that of God, were filled with sorrow as they 
beheld these backslidings ; and it was this 
no doubt which induced many to leave 
their homes and fight in the very heart of 
Europe in behalf of that Christian liberty 
which has just expired among themselves. 

At the commencement of the eighth cen- 
tury a great idea took possession of a pious 
doctor of the Scottish church named Cle- 
ment. 1 The work of God is the very es- 
sence of Christianity, thought he, and this 
work must be defended against all the en- 
croachments of man. To human tradition- 
alism he opposed the sole authority of the 
word of God ; to clerical materialism, a 
church which is the assembly of the saints ; 
and to Pelagianism, the sovereignty of 
grace. He was a man of decided charactei 
and firm faith, but without fanaticism : his 
heart was open to the holiest emotions of 
our nature ; he was a husband and a father. 
He quitted Scotland and travelled among 
the Franks, every where scattering the 
seeds of the faith. It happened unfortu- 
nately that a man of kindred energy, Win- 
ifrid or Boniface of Wessex, was planting 
the pontifical Christianity in the same re- 
gions. This great missionary, who pos- 
sessed in an essential degree the faculty of 
organization, aimed at external unity above 
all things, and when he had taken the oath 
of fidelity to Gregory II., he had received 
from that pope a collection of the Roman 
laws. Boniface, henceforth a docile disci- 
ple or rather a fanatical champion of Rome, 
supported on the one hand by the pontiff, 
and on the other by Charles Martel, had 
preached to the people of Germany, among 
some undoubted Christian truths, — the 
doctrine of tithes and of papal supremacy. 
The Englishman and the Scotchman, repre- 
sentatives of two great S}*stems, were about 
to engage in deadly combat in the heart of 
Europe — in a combat whose consequences 
might be incalculable. 

Alarmed at the progress made by Cle- 
ment's evangelical doctrines, Boniface, 
archbishop of the German churches, un- 



1 Alter qui dicitur Clemens, genere Scotite eit, 
Bonifacii epistola ad Papam, Labbei concLLa ad 
ann. 745. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



63 



dertook to oppose them. At first he con- 
fronted the Scotchman with the laws of the 
Roman church ; but the latter denied the 
authority of these ecclesiastical canons, and 
refuted their contents. 1 Boniface then put 
forward the decisions of various councils ; 
but Clement replied that if the decisions of 
the councils are contrary to holy Scripture, 
they have no authority over Christians. 2 
The archbishop, astonished at such auda- 
city, next had recourse to the writings of 
the most illustrious fathers of the Latin 
church, quoting Jerome, Augustine, and 
Gregory ; but the Scotchman told him, that 
instead of submitting to the word of men, 
he would obey the word of God alone. 3 
Boniface with indignation now introduced 
the Catholic church, which, by its priests 
and bishops all united to the pope, forms 
an invincible unity ; but to his great sur- 
prise his opponent maintained that there 
only, where the Holy Spirit dwells, can be 
found the spouse of Jesus Christ. 4 Vainly 
did the archbishop express his horror ; 
Clement was not to be turned aside from 
his great idea, either by the clamours of 
the followers of Rome, or by the imprudent 
attacks made on the papacy by other Chris- 
tian ministers. 

Rome had, indeed, other adversaries. A 
Gallic bishop named Adalbert, with whom 
Boniface affected to associate Clement, one 
day saw the archbishop complacently ex- 
hibiting to the people some relics of St. 
Peter which he had brought from Rome ; 
and being desirous of showing the ridicu- 
lous character of these Romish practices, 
he distributed among the bystanders his 
own hair and nails, praying them to pay 
these the same honours as Boniface claimed 
for the relics of the papacy. Clement 
smiled, like many others, at Adalbert's 
singular argument ; but it was not ^with 
such arms that he was wont to fight. Gifted 
with profound discernment, he had re- 
marked that the authority of man substi- 
tuted for the authority of God was the 
source of all the errors of Romanism. At 
the same time he maintained on predestin- 
ation what the archbishop called " horrible 
doctrines, contrary to the Catholic faith." 5 
Clement's character inclines us to believe 
that he was favourable to the doctrine of 
predestination. A century later the pious 
Gottschalk was persecuted by one of Boni- 
face's successors for holding this very doc- 
trine of Augustine's. Thus then did a 
Scotchman, the representative of the an- 



1 Canones ecclesiarum Christi abnegat et refu- 
ta.t. Bonifacii epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia 
ad arm. 745. 

a Synodalia jura spernens. Ibid. 

s Tractatus et sermones sanctorum patrum, 
Hieronymi, Augustini, Gregorii recusat. Ibid. 

4 Clemens contra catholicam contendit eccle- 
siani. Ibid. 

' Multa alia horribilia de prsedestinatione Dei, 
contraria fidei catholicoe affirmat. Bonifacii epis- 
tola ad Paoam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745. 
41 



cient faith of his country, withstand almost 
unaided in the centre of Europe the inva- 
sion of the Romans. But he was not long 
alone : the great, especially, more enlight- 
ened than the common people, thronged 
around him. If Clement had succeeded, a 
Christian church would have been founded 
on the continent independent of the pa- 
pacy. 

Boniface was confounded. He wished 
to do in central Europe what his fellow- 
countryman Wilfrid had done in England ; 
and at the very moment he fancied he was 
advancing from triumph to triumph, vic- 
tory escaped from his hands, he turned 
against this new enemy, and applying to 
Charles Martel's sons, Pepin and Carlo- 
man, he obtained their consent to the as- 
sembling of a council before which he sum- 
moned Clement to appear. 

The bishops, counts, and other notabili- 
ties having met at Soissons on the 2d March 
744, Boniface accused the Scotchman of 
despising the laws of Rome, the councils, 
and the fathers ; attacked his marriage, 
which he called an adulterous union, and 
called in question some secondary points 
of doctrine. Clement was accordingly ex- 
communicated by Boniface, at once his 
adversary, accuser, and judge, and thrown 
into prison, with the approbation of the 
pope and the king of the Franks. 1 

The Scotchman's cause was everywhere 
taken up ; accusations were brought against 
the German primate, his persecuting spirit 
was severely condemned, and his exertions 
for the triumph of the papacy were resisted. 2 
Carloman yielded to the unanimous move- 
ment. The prison doors were opened, and 
Clement had hardly crossed the threshold 
before he began to protest boldly against 
human authority in matters of faith : the 
word of God is the only rule. Upon this 
Boniface applied to Rome for the heretic's 
condemnation, and accompanied his request 
by a silver cup and a garment of delicate 
texture. 3 The pope decided in synod that 
if Clement did not retract his errors, he 
should be delivered up to everlasting dam- 
nation, and then requested Boniface to send 
him to Rome under a sure guard. We here 
lose all traces of the Scotchman, but it is 
easy to conjecture what must have been his 
fate. 

Clement was not the only Briton who 
became distinguished in this contest. Two 
fellow-countrymen, Sampson and Virgil, 
who preached in central Europe, were in 
like manner persecuted by the Church of 
Rome. Virgil, anticipating Galileo, dared 
maintain that there were other men and 



1 Sacerdotio privans, reduci facit in custodiam. 
Concilium Romanum. Ibid. 

a Propta istas enim, persccutiones et inimicitias 
et maledictiones multorum populorum patior. 
Ibid. 

3 Poculum argenteum etsindonem unnni. Ge- 
muli Ep. Bonifacii epistola ad Papain, Labbei 
concilia ad ann. 745. 



632 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Another world beneath our feet. 1 He was I 
denounced by Boniface for this heresy, and 
condemned by the pope, as were other Bri- 
tons for the apostolical simplicity of their 
lives. In 813, certain Scotchmen who 
called themselves bishops, says a canon, 
having appeared before a council of the 
Roman church at Chalons, were rejected 
by the French prelates, because, like St. 
Paul, they worked with their own hands. 
Those enlightened and faithful men were 
superior to their time : Boniface and his 
ecclesiastical materialism were better fitted 
for an age in which clerical forms were re- 
garded as the substance of religion. 

Even Great Britain, although its light 
was not so pure, was not altogether plunged 
in darkness. The Anglo-Saxons imprinted 
on their church certain characteristics 
which distinguished it from that of Rome ; 
several books of the Bible were translated 
into their tongue, and daring spirits on the 
one hand, with some pious souls on the 
other, laboured in a direction hostile to 
popery. 

At first we see the dawning of that phi- 
losophic rationalism, which gives out a cer- 
tain degree of brightness, but which can 
neither conquer error nor still less establish 
truth. In the ninth century there was a 
learned scholar in Ireland, who afterwards 
settled at the court of Charles the Bald. 
He was a strange mysterious man, of pro- 
found thought, and as much raised above 
the doctors of his age by the boldness of 
his ideas, as Charlemagne above the prin- 
ces of his day by the force of his will. John 
Scot Erigena — that is, a native of Ireland 
and not of Ayr, as some have supposed — 
was a meteor in the theological heavens. 
With a great philosophic genius he com- 
bined a cheerful jesting disposition. One 
day, while seated at table opposite to Charles 
the Bald, the latter archly inquired of him : 
" What is the distance between a Scot and 
a sot?" "The width of the table," was 
his ready answer, which drew a smile from 
the king. While the doctrine of Bede, 
Boniface, and even Alcuin was traditional, 
servile, and in one word, Romanist, that of 
Scot was mystical, philosophic, free, and 
daring. He sought for the truth not in the 
word or in the Church, but in himself: — 
" The knowledge of ourselves is the true 
source of religious wisdom. Every creature 
is a theophany — a manifestation of God ; 
since revelation presupposes the existence 
of truth, it is this truth, which is above re- 
velation, with which man must set himself 
in immediate relation, leaving him at liberty 
to show afterwards its harmony with scrip- 
ture, and the other theophanies. We must 
first employ reason, and then authority. 
Authority proceeds from reason, and not 



1 Perversa doctrina quod alius mundus et 

alii homines sub terra sint. Zacharise papae Ep. 
ad Bonif. Labbei eoncilia, vL p. 152. 



reason from authority." 1 Yet this bflld 
thinker, when on his knees, could give 
way to aspirations full of piety : " Lord 
Jesus," exclaimed he, " I ask no other 
happiness of Thee, but to understand, un- 
mixed with deceitful theories, the wurd 
that Thou hast inspired by thy Holy Spirit! 
Show thyself to those who ask for Thee 
alone !" But while Scot rejected on the 
one hand certain traditional errors, and in 
particular the doctrine of transubstantia- 
tion, which was creeping into the church, 
he was near falling as regards God and the 
world into other errors savouring of pan- 
theism. 2 The philosophic rationalism of 
the contemporary of Charles the Bald — the 
strange product of one of the obscurest pe- 
riods of history (850) — was destined after 
the lapse of many centuries to be taught 
once more in Great Britain as a modern 
invention of the most enlightened age. 

While Scot was thus plumbing the depths 
of philosophy, others were examining their 
Bibles ; and if thick darkness had not 
spread over the first glimpses of the dawn, 
perhaps the Church of Great Britain might 
even then have begun to labor for the rege- 
neration of Christendom. A youthful prince, 
thirsting for intellectual enjoyments, for 
domestic happiness, and for the word of 
God, and who sought, by frequent prayer, 
for deliverance from the bondage of sin, 
had ascended the throne of Wessex, in the 
year 871. Alfred being convinced that 
Christianity alone could rightly mould a 
nation, assembled round him the most 
learned men from all parts of Europe, and 
was anxious that the English, like the He- 
brews, Greeks, and Latins, should possess 
the holy Scripture in their own language. 
He is the real patron of the biblical work, 
— a title far more glorious than that of 
founder of the university of Oxford. After 
having fought more than fifty battles by 
land and sea, he died while translating the 
Psalms of David for his subjects. 3 

After this gleam of light thick darkness 
once more settled upon Great Britain. Xine 
Anglo-Saxon kings ended their days in 
monasteries ; there was a seminary in Rome 
from which every year fresh scholars bore 
to England the new forms of popery ; the 
celibacy of priests, that cement of the 
Romish hierarchy, was established by a 
bull about the close of the tenth century ; 
convents were multiplied, considerable pos- 
sessions were bestowed on the Church, 
and the tax of Peter's pence, laid at the 
pontiff's feet, proclaimed the triumph of 
the papal system. But a reaction soon took 



1 Prius ratione utendum ac deinde auetoritate. 
Auetoritas ex vera ratione processit, ratio vero 
nequaquam ex auetoritate. De div. pra?desrin. 

2 Deum in omnibus esse. De divisione Datura?. 
b.74. 

3 A portion of the law of God translated by Al 
fred may be found in Wilkins, Concilia, i. p. 1S6, 
et seq. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



C33 



place: England collected her forces for a 
war against the papacy — a war at one time 
secular and at another spiritual. William 
of Normandy, Edward III., Wickliffe, and 
the Reformation, are the four ascending 
steps of Protestantism in England. 

A proud, enterprising, and far-sighted 
prince, the illegitimate son of a peasant 
girl of Falaise and Robert the Devil, duke 
of Normandy, began a contest with the pa- 
pacy which lasted until the Reformation. 
William the Conqueror, having defeated 
the Saxons at Hastings in 1060, a. d., took 
possession of England, under the benedic- 
tion of the Roman pontiff. But the con- 
quered country was destined to conquer its 
master. William, who had invaded Eng- 
land in the pope's name, had no sooner 
touched the soil of his new kingdom, than 
he learned to resist Rome, as if the an- 
cient liberty of the British Church had re- 
vived in him. Being firmly resolved to 
allow no foreign prince or prelate to pos- 
sess in his dominions a jurisdiction inde- 
pendent of his own, he made preparations 
for a conquest far more difficult than that of 
the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. The Papacy it- 
self furnished him with weapons. The Ro- 
man legates prevailed on the king to dispos- 
sess the English episcopacy in a mass, and 
this was exactly what he wished. To resist 
the papacy, William desired to be sure of 
the submission of the priests of England. 
Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury, was re- 
moved, and Lanfranc of Pavia, who had 
been summoned from Bee in Normandy to 
fill his place, was commissioned by the 
Conqueror to bend the clergy to obedience. 
This prelate, who was regular in his life, 
abundant in almsgiving, a learned dispu- 
tant, a prudent politician, and a skilful 
mediator, finding that he had to choose be- 
tween his master King William and his 
friend the pontiff Hildebrand, gave the 
prince the preference. He refused to go to 
Rome, notwithstanding the threats of the 
pope, and applied himself resolutely to the 
work the king had ! intrusted to him. The 
Saxons sometimes resisted the Normans, as 
the Britons had resisted the Saxons ; but 
the second struggle was less glorious than 
the first. A synod at which the king was 
present having met in the abbey of West- 
minster, William commanded Wulston, 
bishop of Worcester, to give up his crosier 
to him. The old man rose, animated with 
holy fervour: " king/' he said, " from a 
better man than you, I received it, and to 
him only will I return it." 1 Unhappily 
this "better man" was not Jesus Christ. 
Then approaching the tomb of Edward the 
Confessor, he continued: "0 my master, it 
was you who compelled me to assume this 
office ; but now behold a new king and a 
new primate who promulgate new laws. 



Not unto them, master, but unto you, do 
I resign my crosier and the care of my 
flock." With these words Wulston laid his 
pastoral staff on Edward's tomb. On the 
sepulchre of the confessor perished the 
liberty of the Anglo-Saxon hierarchy. The 
deprived Saxon bishops were consigned to 
fortresses or shut up in convents. 

The Conqueror being thus assured of the 
obedience of the bishops, put forward the 
supremacy of the sword in opposition to 
that of the pope. He nominated directly 
to all vacant ecclesiastical offices, filled hi3 
treasury with the riches of the churches, 
required that all priests should make oath 
to him, forbade them to excommunicate his 
officers without his consent, not even for 
incest, and declared that all synodal deci- 
sions must be countersigned by him. " I 
claim," said he to the archbishop one day, 
raising his arms towards heaven, " I claim 
to hold in this hand all the pastoral staffs 
in my kingdom." 1 Lanfranc was aston- 
ished at this daring speech, but prudently 
kept silent, 2 for a time at least. Episcopacy 
connived at the royal pretensions. 

Will Hildebrand, the most inflexible of 
popes bend before William ? The king was 
earnest in his desire to enslave the Church 
to the State ; the pope to enslave the State 
to the church: the collision of these two 
mighty champions threatened to be terrible. 
But the haughtiest of pontiffs was seen to 
yield as soon as he felt the mail-clad hand 
of the conqueror, and to shrink unresist- 
ingly before it. The pope filled all Chris- 
tendom with confusion, that he might 
deprive princes of the right of investiture 
to ecclesiastical dignities : William would 
not permit him to interfere with that ques- 
tion in England, and Hildebrand submitted. 
The king went even farther : the pope, 
wishing to enslave the clergy, deprived the 
priests of their lawful wives ; William got 
a decree past by the council of Winchester 
in 1076 to the effect that the married priests 
living in castles and towns should not be 
compelled to put away their wives. 3 This 
was too much : Hildebrand summoned 
Lanfranc to Rome, but William forbade 
him to go. " Never did king, not even a 
pagan," exclaimed Gregory, " attempt 
against the holy see what this man dues 
not fear to carry out !" 4 To console him- 
self, he demanded payment of the Peter's 
pence, and an oath of fidelity. William 
sent the money, but refused the homage ; 
and when Hildebrand saw the tribute which 
the king had paid, he said bitterly . " What 



' Divino aniuri ardore repente inflammatus, 
regi inquit : Melior te his me ornavit cui et red- 
dam. Wilkins, Concilia, L 367. 



1 Respondit rex et dixit se velle omnes baeulos 
pastorales Anglise in manu sua tenere. Script, 
Anglic. Lond. 1652, fol. p. 1327. 

2 Lanfranc ad h?ec miratu? est, sed propter ma- 
jores ecclesise Christi utilitates, quas sine rego 
perficere non potuit, ad tempus siluit. Ibid. 

3 Sacerdotes vero in castellis vel in vicis habi- 
tantes habentes uxores, non cogantur ut diinitant. 
Wilkins, Concilia, i. p. 367. 

4 Nemo enim omnium regum, etiam paganorura, 
Greg. lib. vii. Ep. i. ad Hubert. 



034 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



value can I set on money which is contri- ! 
buted with so little honour I" 1 William for- 
bade his clergy to recognise the pope, or to 
publish a bull without the royal approba- 
tion, which did not prevent Hildebrand 
from styling him " the pearl of princes. " 2 
" It is true," said he to his legate, " that 
the English king does not behave in certain 
matters so religiously as we could desire.... 

Yet beware of exasperating him Wc 

shall win him over to God and St. Peter 
more surely by mildness and reason than 
by strictness or severity." 3 In this manner 
the pope acted like the archbishop — siluit: 
he was silent. It is for feeble governments 
that Rome reserves her energies. 

The Nornian kings, desirous of strength- 
ening their work, constructed Gothic cathe- 
drals in the room of wooden churches, in 
which they installed their soldier-bishops, 
as if they were strong fortresses. Instead 
of the moral power and the humble crook 
of the shepherd, they gave them secular 
power and a staff. The religious episco- 
pate was succeeded by a political one. "Wil- 
liam Rufus went even to greater lengths 
than his father. Taking advantage of the 
schism which divided the papacy, he did 
without a pope for ten years, leaving ab- 
beys, bishoprics, and even Canterbury va- 
cant, and scandalously squandering their 
revenues. Ceesaropapia (which transforms 
a king into a pope) having thus attained 
its greatest excess, a sacerdotal reaction 
could not fail to take place. 

The papacy is about to rise up again in 
England, and royalty to decline — two move- 
ments which are always found combined in 
Great Britain. 

We are now entering upon a new phase 
of history. Romanism is on the point of 
triumphing by the exertions of learned 
men, energetic prelates, and princes in 
whom extreme imprudence was joined with 
extreme servility. This is the era of the 
dominion of popery, and we shall see it un- 
scrupulously employing the despotism by 
which it is characterized. 

A malady having occasioned some degree 
of remorse in the king, he consented to fill 
up the vacancy in the arch-episcopal see. 
And now Anselm first appears in England. 
He was born in an Alpine valley, at the 
town of Aosta in Piedmont. Imbibing the 
instructions of his pious mother Ermen- 
berga, and believing that God's throne was 
placed on the summit of the gigantic moun- 
tains he saw rising round him, the child 
Anselm climbed them in his dreams, and 
received the bread of heaven from the hands 
of the Lord. Unhappily in after-years he 
recognised another throne in the church of 



1 Pecunias sine honore tributas, quanti pretii, 
b. abeam. Ibid. 

- Gemma principum esse meruisti. Ibid. Ep. 
sxiii. ad Gulielm. 

* Facilius lenitatis dulcedine ac rationis osten- 
eione, quam austeritate vel rigore justitiaa. Ibid. 
Ep. v. ad Hugonem. 



Christ, and bowed his head before the chair 
of St. Peter. This was the man wham 
William II. summoned in 1093 to fill the 
primacy of Canterbury. Anselm, who was 
then sixty years old, and engaged in teach- 
ing at Bee, refused at first : the character 
of Rufus terrified him. " The church of 
England," said he, " is a plough that ought 
to be drawn by two oxen of equal strength. 
How can you yoke together an old and 
timid sheep like me and that wild bull ?" 
At length he accepted, and concealing a 
mind of great power under an appearance 
of humility, he had hardly arrived in Eng- 
land before he recognised Pope Urban II., 
demanded the estates of his see which the 
treasury had seized upon, refused to pay 
the king the sums he demanded, contested 
the right of investiture against Henry I., 
forbade all ecclesiastics to take the feudal 
oath, and determined that the priests should 
i forthwith put away their wives. Scholas- 
ticism, of which Anselm was the first rep- 
resentative, freed the church from the yoke 
of royalty, but only to chain it to the papal 
chair. The fetters were about to be riveted 
by a still more energetic hand ; and what 
this great theologian had begun, a great 
worldling was to carry on. 

At the hunting parties of Henry II., a 
man attracted the attention of his sovereign 
by his air of frankness, agreeable manners, 
witty conversation, and exuberant vivaci- 
ty. This was Thomas Becket, the son of 
an Anglo-Saxon and a Syrian woman. 
Being both priest and soldier, he was ap- 
pointed at the same time by the king pre 
bend of Hastings and governor of the 
Tower. When nominated chancellor of 
England, he showed himself no less expert 
than Wilfrid in misappropriating the wealth 
of the minors in his charge, and of the ab- 
beys and bishoprics, and indulged in the 
most extravagant luxury. Henry, the first 
of the Plantagenets, a man of undecided 
character, having noticed Becket's zeal in 
upholding the prerogatives of the crown, 
appointed him archbishop of Canterbury. 
" Xow, sire," remarked the primate with a 
smile, "when I shall have to choose be- 
tween God's favour and yours, remember 
it is yours that I shall sacrifice." 

Becket, who, as keeper of the seals, had 
been the most magnificent of courtiers, af- 
fected as archbishop to be the most venera- 
ble of saints. He sent back the seals to 
the king, assumed the robe of a monk, wore 
sackcloth filled with vermin, lived on the 
plainest food, every day knelt down to wash 
the feet of the poor, paced the cloisters of 
his cathedral with tearful eyes, and spent 
hours in prayer before the altar. As cham- 
pion of the priests, even in their crimes, he 
took under his protection one who to the 
crime of seduction had added the murder 
of his victim's father. 

The judges having represented to Henry, 

that during the first eight years of his 

1 reign a hundred murders had been com« 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



635 



mitted by ecclesiastics, the king in 1164 
summoned a council at Clarendon, in which 
certain regulations or constitutions were 
drawn up, with the object of preventing the 
encroachments of the hierarchy. Becket 
at first refused to sign them, but at length 
consented, and then withdrew into solitary 
retirement to mourn over his fault. Pope 
Alexander III. released him from his oath ; 
and then began a fierce and long struggle 
between the king and the primate. Four 
knights of the court, catching up a hasty 
expression of their master's, barbarously 
murdered the archbishop at the foot of the 
altar in his own cathedral church (a. d. 
1170). The people looked upon Becket as 
a saint : immense crowds came to pray at 
his tomb, at which many miracles were 
worked. 1 "Even from his grave/' said 
Becket's partisans, "he renders his testi- 
mony in behalf of the papacy." 

Henry now passed from the one extreme 
to the other. He entered Canterbury bare- 
footed, and prostrated himself before the 
martyr's tomb : the bishops, priests, and 
monks, to the number of eighty, passed be- 
fore him, each bearing a scourge, and 
struck three or five blows according to their 
rank, on the naked shoulders of the king. 
In former ages, so the priestly fable ran, 
Saint Peter had scourged an archbishop of 
Canterbury : now Rome in sober reality, 
scourges the back of royalty, and nothing 
can henceforward check her victorious ca- 
reer. A Plantagenet surrendered England 
to the pope, and the pope gave him author- 
ity to subdue Ireland. 8 

Rome, who had set her foot on the neck 
of a king, was destined under one of the 
sons of Henry II. to set it on the neck of 
England. John being unwilling to acknow- 
ledge an archbishop of Canterbury illegally 
nominated by Pope Innocent III., the lat- 
ter, more daring than Hildebrand, laid the 
kingdom under an interdict. Upon this 
Jolin ordered all the prelates and abbots 
to leave England, and sent a monk to 
Spain as ambassador to Mahomet-el-Nasir, 
offering to turn Mahometan and to become 
his vassal. But as Philip Augustus was 
preparing to dethrone him, John made up 
his mind to become a vassal of Innocent, 
and not of Mahomet — which was about the 
same thing to him. On the 15th May, 
1213, he laid his crown at the legate's 
feet, declared that he surrendered his king- 
dom of England to the pope, and made 
oath to him as to his lord paramount. 3 



1 In loco passionis et ubi sepultus est, paraly- 
tici curantur, caeci vident surdi audiunt. Johan. 
Salisb. Epp. 286. 

3 Significasti si quidem nobis, fili carrissime, te 
Hibernian insulum ad subdendum ilium populum 
velle intrare, nos itaque gratem et acceptuin kabe- 
mus ut pro dilantandis ecclesise terminis insulam 
ingrediaris. Adrian IV., Bulla 1154 in Rymer, 
Acta Public a. 

3 Resignavit coronam suam in manus domini 
papae. Matth. Paris, 198 et 207. 



A national protest then boldly claimed 
the ancient liberties of the people. Forty- 
five barons, armed in complete mail, and 
mounted on their noble war-horses, sur- 
rounded by their knights and servants and 
about two thousand soldiers, met at Brack- 
ley during the festival of Easter in 1215, 
and sent a deputation to Oxford, where the 
court then resided. " Here," said they to 
the king, " is the charter which consecrates 
the liberties confirmed by Henry II., and 
which you also have solemnly sworn to 

observe." " Why do they not demand 

my crown also ?" said the king in a furious 
passion, and then with an oath, 1 he added : 
" I will not grant them liberties which will 
make me a slave." This is the usual 
language of weak and absolute kings. 
Neither would the nation submit to be 
enslaved. The barons occupied London, 
and on the 15th June 1215, the king signed 
the famous Magna Charta at Runnymede. 
The political protestantism of the thirteenth 
century would have done but little, how- 
ever, for the greatness of the nation, with- 
out the religious protestantism of the six- 
teenth. 

This was the first time that the papacy 
came into collision with modern liberty. 
It shuddered in alarm, and the shock was 
violent. Innocent swore (as was bis cus- 
tom), and then declared the great charter 
null and void, forbade the king under pain 
of anathema to respect the liberties which 
he had confirmed, 2 ascribed the conduct of 
the barons to the instigation of Satan, and 
ordered them to make apology to the king, 
and to send a deputation to Rome to learn 
from the mouth of the pope himself what 
should be the government of England. This 
was the way in which the papacy welcomed 
the first manifestations of liberty among 
the nations, and made known the model 
system under which it claimed to govern 
the whole world. 

The priests of England supported the 
anathemas pronounced by their chief. 
They indulged in a thousand jeers and 
sarcasms against John about the charter 
I he had accepted: — "This is the twenty- 
fifth king of England — not a king, not even 
a kingling — but the disgrace of kings — a 
king without a kingdom — the fifth wheel 
of a waggon — the last of kings, and the 
disgrace of his people ! — I would not give a 

straw for him Fuisti rex nunc fee, (once 

a king but now a clown.)" John, unable 
to support his disgrace, groaned and 
gnashed his teeth and rolled his eyes, tore 
sticks from the hedges and gnawed them 
like a maniac, or dashed them into frag- 
ments on the ground. 3 

The barons, unmoved alike bv the inso- 



1 Cum juramento furibunds. Ibid. 213. 

2 Sub intimatione anathernatis prohibentes ne 
dictus rex earn observare praesumat. Matth. Pa- 
ris. 224. 

3 Arreptos baculos et stipites more furiosi mino 
corrodere, nunc corrosos, conl'ringere. Ibid. -J.2. 



636 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



lence of the pope and the despair of the 
king, replied that they would maintain the 
charter. Innocent excommunicated them. 
"Is it the pope's business to regulate tem- 
poral matters?" asked they. "By what 
right do vile usurers and foul simoniacs 
domineer over our country and excommu- 
nicate the whole world ?" 

The pope soon triumphed throughout 
England. His vassal John, having hired 
seme bands of adventurers from the con- 
tinent, traversed at their head the whole 
country from the Channel to the Forth. 
These mercenaries carried desolation in 
their track : they extorted money, made 
prisoners, burnt the barons' castles, laid 
waste their parks, and dishonoured their 
wives and daughters. 1 The king would 
sleep in a house, and the next morning set 
fire to it. Blood-stained assassins scoured 
the country during the night, the sword in 
one hand and the torch in the other, mark- 
ing their progress by murder and conflagra- 
tion. 2 Such was the enthronization of 
popery in England. At this sight the ba- 
rons, overcome by emotion, denounced 
both the king and the pope : "Alas ! poor 
country \" they exclaimed. " Wretched 
England !... .And thou, pope, a curse 
light upon thee !" 3 

The curse was not long delayed. As the 
king was returning from some more than 
usually successful foray, and as the royal 
waggons were crossing the sands of the 
Wash, the tide rose and all sank in the 
abyss. 4 This accident filled John with 
terror : it seemed to him that the earth was 
about to open and swallow him up ■ he fled 
to a convent, where he drank copiously of 
aider, and died of drunkenness and fright. 5 

Such was the end of the pope's vassal — 
nf his armed missionary in Great Britain. 
Never had so vile a prince been the in- 
voluntary occasion to his people of such 
great benefits. From his reign England 
may date her enthusiasm for liberty and 
her dread of popery. 

During this time a great transformation 
had been accomplished. Magnificent 
churches and the marvels of religious art, 
with ceremonies and a multitude of prayers 
and chantings dazzled the eyes, charmed 
the ears, and captivated the senses ; but 
testified also to the absence of every strong 
moral and Christian disposition, and the 
predominance of worldliness in the church. 
At the same time the adoration of images 
and relics, saints, angels, and Mary the 



1 Uxores et filias suasludibrio expositas. Matth. 
Paris, 231. 

2 Discurrebant siearii caade humana cruentati, 
noctivagi, incendiarii, strictis ensibus. Ibid. 

3 Sic barones lacryniantes et lanientantes regem 
et papain nialedixerunt. Ibid. 234. 

4 Aperta est in mediis fluctibus terra et voragi- 
nis abyssus, quae absorbuerunt universa cum 
horninibus et equis. Ibid. 242. 

s Novi ciceris potatione niniis repletus. Ibid. 
1216. 



mother of God, the worships of latria, dou- 
lia, and hyperdoulia, 1 the real Mediatoi 
transported from the throne of mercy to 
the seat of vengeance, at once indicated 
and kept up among the people that ignor- 
ance of truth and absence of grace which 
characterize popery. All these errors 
tended to bring about a reaction : and in 
fact the march of the Reformation may now 
be said to begin. 

England had been brought low by the 
papacy: it rose up again by resisting 
Rome. Grostete, Bradwardine, and Ed- 
ward III. prepared the way for Wickliffe, 
and Wickliffe for the Reformation. 

In the reign of Henry III., son of John, 
while the king was conniving at the usur- 
pations of Rome, and the pope ridiculing 
the complaints of the barons, a pious and 
energetic man, of comprehensive under- 
standing, was occupied in the study of the 
Holy Scriptures in their original languages, 
and bowing to their sovereign authority. 
Robert Grostete (Greathead or Capito) was 
born of poor parents in the county of Lin- 
colnshire, and being raised to the see of 
Lincoln in 1235, when he was sixty years 
of age, he boldly undertook to reform his 
diocese, one of the largest in England. Nor 
was this all. At the very time when the 
Roman pontiff, who had hitherto been con- 
tent to be called the vicar of Saint Peter, 
proclaimed himself the vicar of God, 2 and 
was ordering the English bishops to find 
benefices for three hundred Romans} Gros- 
tete was declaring, that " to follow a pope 
who rebels against the will of Christ, is to 
separate from Christ and his body ; and if 
ever the time should come when all men 
follow an erring pontiff, then will be the 
great apostasy. Then will true Christians 
refuse to obey, and Rome will be the cause 
of an unprecedented schism." 4 Thus did 
he predict the Reformation. Disgusted at 
the avarice of the monks and priests, he 
visited Rome to demand a reform. " Bro- 
ther," said Innocent IV. to him with some 
irritation, " Is thine eye evil because lam 
good?" The English bishop exclaimed 
with a sigh : " money, money ! how great 
is thy power — especially in this court of 
Rome !" 

A year had scarcely elapsed before Inno- 
cent commanded the bishop to give a ca- 
nonry in Lincoln cathedral to his infant 
nephew. Grostete replied : " After the sin 
of Lucifer there is none more opposed to 
the gospel than that which ruins souls by 
giving them a faithless minister. Bad pas- 



1 The Romish church distinguishes three kinds 
of worship: latria, that paid to &odj doulia, to 
saints ; and hyperdoulia, to the Virgin Mary. 

2 Non puri hominis sed veri Dei vicem gerit in 
terris. Innocent III. Epp. lib. vi. i. 335. 

3 Ut trecentis Romanis in primis beneficiis va- 
cantibus providerent. Matfch. Paris, aun. 1240. 

4 Absit et quod haec sedes et in ea praesiden- 

tes causa sint schismatis apparentis. Ortinnua 
Gratius, ed. Brown, fol. 251. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



637 



tors are the cause of unbelief, heresy, and 
disorder. Those who introduce them into 
the church are little better than antichrists, 
and their culpability is in proportion to 
their dignity. Although the chief of the 
angels should order me to commit such a 
sin, I would refuse. My obedience forbids 
me to obey ; and therefore I rebel." 1 

Thus spoke a bishop to his pontiff: his 
obedience to the word of God forbade him 
to obey the pope. This was the principle 
of the Reformation. " Who is this old 
driveller that in his dotage dares to judge 
of my conduct?" exclaimed Innocent, whose 
wrath was appeased by the intervention of 
certain cardinals. Grostete on his dying 
bed professed still more clearly the princi- 
ples of the reformers ; he declared that a 
heresy was "an opinion conceived by carnal 
motives, contrary to Scripture, openly taught 
and obstinately defended," thus asserting 
the authority of Scripture instead of the 
authority of the church. He died in peace, 
and the public voice proclaimed him "a 
searcher of the Scriptures, an adversary of 
the pope, and a despiser of the Romans." 2 
Innocent, desiring to take vengeance on 
his bones, meditated the exhumation of his 
body, when one night (says Matthew of 
Paris) the bishop appeared before him. 
Drawing near the pontiff's bed, he sruck 
him with his crosier, and thus addressed 
him with terrible voice and threatening 
look : 3 " Wretch ! the Lord doth not permit 
thee to have any power over me. Woe be 
to thee !" The vision disappeared, and the 
pope, uttering a cry as if he had been 
struck by some sharp weapon, lay senseless 
on his couch. Never after did he pass a 
quiet night, and pursued by the phantoms 
of his troubled imagination, he expired 
while the palace re-echoed with his lament- 
able groans. 

Grostete was not single in his opposition 
to the pope. Sewal, archbishop of York, 
did the same, and " the more the pope 
cursed him, the more the people blessed 
him." 4 —" Moderate your tyranny," said the 
archbishop to the pontiff, "for the Lord 
said to Peter Feed my sheep, and not shear 
them, flay them, or devour them." 5 The 
pope smiled and let the bishop speak, be- 
cause the king allowed the pope to act. 
The power of England, which was con- 
stantly increasing, was soon able to give 
more force to these protests. 



1 Obedienter non obedio sed contradico et re- 
bello. Matth. Paris, ad. ann. 1252. 

3 Scripturarum sedulus perscrutator diversarum, 
Romanorum malleus et contemptor. Matth. Paris, 
vol. ii. p. 876, fol. Lond. 1640. Sixteen of his 
writings (Sermones et epistolae) will be found in 
Brown, app. add Fascicnlum. 

3 Nocte apparuit ei episcopus vultu severo, in- 
tuitu austero, ae voce terribili. Ibid. 883. 

4 Quanto niagis a papa maledicebatur, tanto 
plus a populo benediceflatur. Ibid, ad ann. 1257. 

5 Pasce eves meas, non tonde, non excoria, non 
eviscera, vel devorando consume. Ibid, ad ann. 
1258. 



The nation was indeed growing in great- 
j ness. The madness of John, which had 
| caused the English people to lose their 
I continental possessions, had given them 
| more unity and power. The Norman kings, 
I being compelled to renounce entirely the 
i country which had been their cradle, had 
j at length made up their minds to look 
upon England as their home. Two races, 
I so long hostile, melted one into the other. 
| Free institutions were formed ; the lawi 
were studied ; and colleges were founded 
The languages began to assume a regulai 
form, and the ships of England were 
already formidable at sea. For more than 
a century the most brilliant victories at- 
tended the British armies. A king of 
France was brought captive to London : an 
English king was crowned at Paris. Even 
Spain and Italy felt the valour of these 
proud islanders. The English people took 
their station in the foremost rank. Now 
the character of a nation is never raised by 
halves. When the mighty ones of the earth 
were seen to fall before her, England could 
no longer crawl at the feet of an Italian 
priest. 

At no period did her laws attack the pa- 
pacy with so much energy. At the begin- 
ning of the fourteenth century an English- 
man having brought to London one of the 
pope's bulls — a bull of an entirely spiritual 
character, it was an excommunicato a — 
was prosecuted as a traitor to the cro vn, 
and would have been hanged, had not the 
sentence, at the chancellor's intercession, 
been changed to perpetual banishment. 1 
The common law was the weapon the gov- 
ernment then opposed to the papal bulls. 
Shortly afterwards, in 1307, King Edward 
ordered the sheriffs to resist the arrogant 
pretensions of the Romish agents. But it 
is to two great men in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, equally illustrious, the one in the 
state, and the other in the church, that 
England is indebted for the development 
of the protestant element in England. 

In 1346, an English army, 34,000 strong, 
met face to face at Crecy a French army 
of 100,000 fighting men. Two individuals 
of very different characters were in the 
English host. One of them was King Ed- 
ward III., a brave and ambitious prince, 
who, being resolved to recover for the royal 
authority all its powers, and for England 
all her glory, had undertaken the conquest 
of France. The other was his chaplain 
Bradwardine, a man of so humble a charac- 
ter that his meekness was often taken for 
stupidity. And thus it was that on his 
receiving the pallium at Avignon from the 
hands of the pope on his elevation to the 
see of Canterbury, a jester mounted on an 
ass rode into the hail and petitioned the 
pontiff to make him primate instead of 
that imbecile priest. 

I : 

| ' Fuller's Church History, cent. xiv. p. 90, fol. 
I Lond. 1655. 



638 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Bradwardine was one of the most pious 
men of the age, and to his prayers his 
sovereign's victories were ascribed. He was 
also one of the greatest geniuses of his 
time, and occupied the first rank among 
astronomers, philosophers, and mathema- 
ticians. 1 The pride of science had at first 
alienated him from the doctrine of the cross. 
But one day while in the house of God and 
listening to the reading of the Holy Scrip- 
tures, these words struck his ear : It is not 
of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, 
hut of God that showeth mercy. His un- 
grateful heart, he tells us, at first rejected 
this humiliating doctrine with aversion. 
Yet the word of God had laid its powerful 
hold upon him ; he was converted to the 
truths he had despised, and immediately 
began to set forth the doctrines of eternal 
grace at Merton College, Oxford. He had 
drunk so deep at the fountain of Scripture 
that the traditions of men concerned him 
but little, and he was so absorbed in ado- 
ration in spirit and in truth, that he re- 
marked not outward superstitions. His lec- 
tures were eagerly listened to and circu- 
lated through all Europe. The grace of 
God was their very essence, as it was of the 
Reformation. With sorrow Bradwardine 
beheld Pelagianism every where substitut- 
ing a mere religion of externals for inward 
Christianity, and on his knees he struggled 
for the salvation of the church. " As in 
the times of old four hundred and fifty 
prophets of Baal strove against a single 
prophet of God ; so now, Lord" he ex- 
claimed, " the number of those who strive 
with Pelagius against thy free grace cannot 
be counted. 2 They pretend not to receive 
grace freely, but to buy it. 3 The will of 
men (they say) should precede, and thine 
should follow : theirs is the mistress, and 

thine the servant. 4 Alas ! nearly the 

whole world is walking in error in the 
steps of Pelagius. 5 Arise, Lord, and 
judge thy cause." And the Lord did arise, 
but not until after the death of this pious 
archbishop — in the days of Wickliffe, who, 
when a youth, listened to the lectures at 
Merton College — and especially in the 
days of Luther and of Calvin. His con- 
temporaries gave him the name of the pro- 
found doctor. 

If Bradwardine walked truthfully in the 
path of faith, his illustrious patron Edward 
advanced triumphantly in the field of policy. 



1 His Arithmetic and Geometry have been 
published; but I am not aware if that is the case 
with his Astronomical Tables. 

2 Quot, Donrine, hodie com Pelagio pro libero 
arbitrio contra gratuitam gratiam tuam pugnant ? 
De causa Dei adversus Pelagium, libri tres, Lond. 
1618. 

3 Nequaquam gratuita sed vendita. De causa 
Dei adversus Pelagium, libri tres, Lond. 1618. 

4 Suam voluntatem preeire ut dominam, tuam 
subsequi ut ancillam. Ibid. 

s Totus peene mundus post Pelagium abiit in 
errorem. Ibid. 



Pope Clement IV. having decreed that 
the first two vacancies in the Anglican 
church should be conferred on two of his 
cardinals : " France is becoming English," 
said the courtiers to the king; "and by 
way of compensation, England is becoming 
Italian." Edward, desirous of guarantee- 
ing the religious liberties of England, 
passed with the consent of parliament in 
1350 the statute of Provisors, which made 
void every ecclesiastical appointment con- 
trary to the rights of the king, the chapters, 
or the patrons. Thus the privileges of the 
chapters and the liberty of the English Ca- 
tholics, as well as the independence of the 
crown, were protected against the invasion 
of foreigners ; and imprisonment or banish- 
ment for life was denounced upon all offen- 
ders against the law. 

This bold step alarmed the pontiff. Ac- 
cordingly, three years after, the king hav- 
ing nominated one of his secretaries to the 
see of Durham — a man without any of the 
qualities becoming a bishop — the pope rea- 
dily confirmed the appointment. "When 
some one expressed his astonishment at 
this, the pope made answer : " If the king 
of England had nominated an ass, I would 
have accepted him." This may remind us 
of the ass of Avignon ; and it would seem 
that this humble animal at that time played 
a significant part in the elections to the 
papacy. But be that as it may, the pope 
withdrew his pretensions. " Empires have 
their term," observes an historian at thia 
place ; " when once they have reached it, 
they halt, they retrograde, they fall." 1 

The term seemed to be drawing nearer 
every day. In the reign of Edward III., 
between 1343 and 1353, again in 1364, and 
finally under Richard II. in 1393, those 
stringent laAvs were passed which inter- 
dicted all appeal to the court of Rome, all 
bulls from the Roman bishop, all excom- 
munications, &c, in a word, every act in- 
fringing on the rights of the crown ; and 
declared that whoever should bring such 
documents into England, or receive, publish, 
or execute them, should be put out of the 
king's protection, deprived of their proper- 
ty, attached in their persons, and brought 
before the king in council to undergo their 
trial according to the terms of the act. 
Such was the statute of Praemunire. 2 

Great was the indignation of the Romans 
at the news of this law : " If the statute of 
mortmain put the pope into a sweat," says 
Fuller, " this of praemunire gave him a fit 
of fever." One pope called it an " execra- 



1 Habent imperia suos terminos ; hue cum vene- 
rint, sistunt, retrocedunt, ruunt. Fuller's Hist, 
cent. xiv. p. 116. 

2 The most natural meaning of the word prae- 
munire (given more particularly to the act of 
1393) seems to be that suggested by Fuller, cent. 
xiv. (p. 148) : to fence and fortify the regal 
power from foreign assault. See the whole bill, 
ibid., p. 145-147. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



639 



ble statute," — " a horrible crime." 1 Such 
are the terms applied by the pontiffs to all 
that thwarts their ambition. 

Of the two wars carried on by Edward — 
the one against the king of France, and 
the other against popery — the latter was 
the most righteous and important. The 
benefits which this prince had hoped to 
derive from his brilliant victories at Crecy 
and Poitiers dwindled away almost entirely 
before his death ; while his struggles with 
the papacy, founded as they were on truth, 
have exerted even to our own days an in- 
disputable influence on the destinies of 
Great Britain. Yet the prayers and the 
conquests of Bradwardine, who proclaimed 
in that fallen age the doctrine of grace, 
produced effects still greater, not only for 
the salvation of many souls, but for the 
liberty, moral force, and greatness of Eng- 
land. 

Thu3 in the first half of the fourteenth 
century, nearly two hundred years before 
the Reformation, England appeared weary 
of the yoke of Rome. Bradwardine was 
no more ; but a man who had been his dis- 
ciple was about to succeed him, and with- 
out attaining to the highest functions, to 
exhibit in his person the past and future 
tendencies of the church of Christ in Great 
Britain. The English Reformation did not 
begin with Henry VIII. : the revival of the 
sixteenth century is but a link in the chain 
commencing with the apostles and reaching 
to us. 

The resistance of Edward III. to the pa- 
pacy without had not suppressed the papacy 
within. The mendicant friars, and parti- 
cularly the Franciscans, those fanatical 
soldiers of the pope, were endeavouring by 
pious frauds to monopolize the wealth of 
the country. " Every year," said they, 
" Saint Francis descends from heaven to 
purgatory, and delivers the souls of all 
those who were buried in the dress of his 
order." These friars used to kidnap chil- 
dren from their parents and shut them up 
in monasteries. They affected to be poor, 
and with a wallet on their back, begged 
with a piteous air from both high and low ; 
but at the same time they dwelt in palaces, 
heaped up treasures, dressed in costly gar- 
ments, and wasted their time in luxurious 
entertainments. 2 The least of them looked 
upon themselves as lords, and those who 
wore the doctor's cap considered themselves 
kings. While they diverted themselves, 
eating and drinking at their well-spread 
tables, they used to send ignorant, unedu- 
cated persons in their place to preach 
fables and legends to amuse and plunder 

1 Execrabile statutum foedum et turpe faci- 

nus. Martin V. to the Duke of Bedford, Fuller, 
cent. xiv. p. 148. 

2 When they have overmuch riches, both in 
great waste houses and precious clothes, in great 
feasts and many jewels and treasures. Wickliffe's 
Tracts and Treatises, edited by the Wickliffe 
Society, p. 224. 



the people. 1 If any rich man talked of 
giving alms to the poor and not to the 
monks, they exclaimed loudly against such 
impiety, and declared with threatening 
voice : " If you do so we will leave the 
country, and return accompanied by a le- 
gion of glittering helmets." 2 Public indig- 
nation was at its height. " The monks and 
priests of Rome," was the cry, " are eating 
us away like a cancer. God must deliver 

us or the people will perish Woe be tu 

them ! the cup of wrath will run over. 
Men of holy church shall be despised as 
carrion, as dogs shall they be cast out in 
open places." 3 

The arrogance of Rome made the cup 
run over. Pope Urban V., heedless of the 
laurels won by the conqueror at Crecy and 
Poitiers, summoned Edward III. to recog- 
nise him as legitimate sovereign of Eng- 
land, and to pay as feudal tribute -the 
annual rent of one thousand marcs. In 
case of refusal the king was to appear be- 
fore him at Rome. For thirty-three years 
the popes had never mentioned the tribute 
accorded by John to Innocent III., and 
which had always been paid very irregu- 
larly. The conqueror of the Valois was 
irritated by this insolence on the part of an 
Italian bishop, and called on God to avenge 
England. From Oxford came forth the 
avenger. 

John Wickliffe, born in 1324, in a little 
village in' Yorkshire, was one of the stu- 
dents who attended the lectures of the pious 
Bradwardine at Merton College. He was 
in the flower of his age, and produced a 
great sensation in the university. In 1348, 
a terrible pestilence, which is said to have 
carried off half the human race, appeared 
in England after successively devastating 
Asia and the continent of Europe. This 
visitation of the Almighty sounded like the 
trumpet of the judgment-day in the heart 
of Wickliffe. Alarmed at the thoughts of 
eternity, the young man — for he was then 
only twenty-four years of old — passed days 
and nights in his cell groaning and sigh- 
ing, and calling upon God to show him the 
path he ought to follow. 4 He found it in 
the Holy Scriptures, and resolved to make 
it known to others. He commenced with 
prudence ; but being elected in 1361 warden 
of Balliol, and in 1365 warden of Canter- 
bury College also, he began to set forth the 
doctrine of faith in a more energetic man- 
ner. His biblical and philosophical studies, 
his knowledge of theology, his penetrating 
mind, the purity of his manners, and his 
unbending courage, rendered him the object 
of general admiration. A profound teacher, 
like his master, and an eloquent preacher, 
he demonstrated to the learned during the 



1 Ibid. 240. 

3 Come again with bright heads. Ibid. 

3 Wickliffe, The Last age of the Church. 

4 Long debating and deliberating with himself, 
with many secret sighs. Foxe, Acts and Monu- 
ments, i. p. 485, fol. Lond. 1684. 



640 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



course of the week what he intended to 
preach, and on Sunday he preached to the 
people what he had previously demonstra- 
ted. His disputations gave strength to his 
sermons, and his sermons shed light upon 
his disputations. He accused the clergy 
of having banished the Holy Scriptures, 
and required that the authority of the word 
of God should be re-established in the 
church. Loud acclamations crowned these 
discussions, and the crowd of vulgar minds 
trembled with indignation when they heard 
these shouts of applause. 

Wickliffe was forty years old when the 
papal arrogance stirred England to its 
depths. Being at once an able politician 
and a fervent Christian, he vigorously de- 
fended the rights of the crown against the 
Romish aggression, and by his arguments 
not only enlightened his fellow-countrymen 
generally, but stirred up the zeal of several 
members of both houses of parliament. 

The parliament assembled, and never per- 
haps had it been summoned on a question 
which excited to so high a degree the emo- 
tions of England, and indeed of Christen- 
dom. The debates in the House of Lords 
were especially remarkable ; all the argu- 
ments of Wickliffe were reproduced. 
" Feudal tribute is due," said one, " only to 
him who can grant feudal protection in re- 
turn. Now how can the pope wage war to 
protect his fiefs?" — "Is it as vassal of the 
crown or as feudal superior," asked another, 
" that the pope demands part of our pro- 
perty? Urban V. will not accept the first 

of these titles Well and good ! but the 

English people will not acknowledge the 
second." — " Why," said a third, " was this 
tribute originally granted ? To pay the 

pope for absolving John His demand, 

then, is mere simony, a kind of clerical 
swindling, which the lords spiritual and 
temporal should indignantly oppose." — 
" No," said another speaker, " England 
belongs not to the pope. The pope is but a 
man, subject to sin ; but Christ is the Lord 
of lords, and this kingdom is held directly 
and solely of Christ alone." 1 Thus spoke 
the lords inspired by Wickliffe. Parlia- 
ment decided unanimously that no prince 
had the right to alienate the sovereignty of 
the kingdom without the consent of the 
other two estates, and that if the pontiff 
should attempt to proceed against the king 
of England as his vassal, the nation should 
rise in a body to maintain the indepen- 
dence of the crown. 

To no purpose did this generous resolu- 
tion excite the wrath of the partisans of 
Rome ; to no purpose did they assert that, 
by the canon law, the king ought to be de- 



1 These opinions are reported by Wickliffe, in a 
treatise preserved in the Selden 31 SS. and printed 
by Mr. J. Lewis, in his History of "Wickliffe, App. 
No. 30, p. 349. He was present during the de- 
bate ; qnam audivi in quodam concilio a dominis 
secularibus. 



prived of his fief, and that England now 
belonged to the pope : " No," replied 
Wickliffe, " the canon law has no force 
when it is opposed to the word of God." 
Edward III. made Wickliffe one cf his 
chaplains, and the papacy has ceased from 
that hour to lay claim — in explicit terms at 
least — to the sovereignty of England. 

When the pope gave up his temporal he 
was desirous, at least, of keeping up his 
ecclesiastical pretensions, and to procure 
the repeal of the statutes of Praemunire and 
Provisors. It was accordingly resolved to 
hold a conference at Brugos to treat of this 
question, and Wickliffe, who had been cre- 
ated doctor of theology two years before, 
proceeded thither with the other commis- 
sioners in April, 1374. They came to an 
arrangement in 1375 that the king should 
bind himself to repeal the penalties de- 
nounced against the pontifical agents, and 
that the pope should confirm the king's 
ecclesiastical presentations. 1 But the 
nation was not pleased with this compro- 
mise. " The clerks sent from Rome," said 
the Commons, " are more dangerous for 
the kingdom than Jews or Saracens ; every 
papal agent resident in England, and every 
Englishman living at the court of Rome, 
should be punished with death." Such 
was the language of the Good Parliament 
In tbe fourteenth century the English nation 
called a parliament good which did not 
yield to the papacy. 

Wickliffe, after his return to England, 
was presented to the rectory of Lutterworth, 
and from that time a practical activity was 
added to his academic influence. At Ox- 
ford he spoke as a master to the young the- 
ologians ; in his parish he addressed the 
people as a preacher and as a pastor. "The 
Gospel," said he, " is the only source of 
religion. The Roman pontiff is a mere cut- 
purse, 2 and, far from having the right to 
reprimand the whole world, he may be 
lawfully reproved by his inferiors, and 
even by laymen." 

The papacy grew alarmed. Courtenay, 
son of the Earl of Devonshire, an imperious 
but grave priest, and full of zeal for what 
he believed to be the truth, had recently 
been appointed to the see of London. In 
parliament he had resisted Wickliffe's 
patron, John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, 
third son of Edward III., and head of the 
house of that name. The bishop, observ- 
ing that the doctrines of the reformer were 
spreading among the people, both high and 
low, charged him with heresy, and sum- 
moned him to appear before the convocation 
assembled in St. Paul's Cathedral. 

On the 19th February, 1377, an immense 
crowd, heated with fanaticism, thronged 
the approaches to the church and filled its 



1 Rymer, vii, p. 33, 83-88 

3 The proud worldly priest of Rome, and the 
most cursed of clippers and purse-kervers. Lewiflf 
I History of Wickliffe, p. 37. Oxford, 1820. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



641 



aisles, while the citizens favourable to the 
Reform remained concealed in their houses. 
Wickliffe moved forward, preceded by 
Lord Percy, marshal of England, and sup- 
ported by the Duke of Lancaster, who de- 
fended him from purely political motives. 
He was followed by four bachelors of 
divinity, his counsel, and passed through 
the hostile multitude, who looked upon 
Lancaster as the enemy of their liberties, 
and upon himself as the enemy of the 
church. " Let not the sight of these 
bishops make you shrink a hair's breadth 
in your profession of faith," said the prince 
to the doctor. " They are unlearned ; and 
as for this concourse of people, fear nothing, 
we are here to defend you." 1 When the 
reformer had crossed the threshold of the 
cathedral, the crowd within appeared like a 
solid wall ; and, notwithstanding the efforts 
of the earl-marshal, Wickliffe and Lancaster 
could not advance. The people swayed to 
and fro, hands were raised in violence, and 
loud hootings re-echoed through the build- 
ing. At length Percy made an opening in 
the dense multitude, and Wickliffe passed 
on. 

The haughty Courtenay, who had been 
commissioned by the archbishop to preside 
over the assembly, watched these strange 
movements with anxiety, and beheld with 
displeasure the learned doctor accompanied 
by the two most powerful men in England. 
He said nothing to the Duke of Lancaster, 
who at that time administered the kingdom, 
but turning towards Percy observed sharply: 
" If I had known, my lord, that you 
claimed to be master in this church, -I 
would have taken measures to prevent your 
entrance." Lancaster coldly rejoined : 
" He shall keep such mastery here, though 
you say nay." Percy now turned to Wick- 
liffe, who had remained standing, and said : 
" Sit down and rest yourself." At this 
Courtenay gave way to his anger, and ex- 
claimed in a loud tone: " He must not sit 
down ; criminals stand before their judges." 
Lancaster, indignant that a learned doctor 
of England should be refused a favour to 
which his age alone entitled him (for he 
was between fifty and sixty) made answer 
to the bishop : " My lord, you are very ar- 
rogant ; take care ... .or I may bring down 
your pride, and not yours only, but that of 
all the prelacy in England." 2 ' — " Do me all 
the harm you can," was Courtenay's 
haughty reply. The prince rejoined with 
some emotion : " You are insolent, my lord. 
You think, no doubt, you can trust on your 
family but your relations will have trou- 
ble enough to protect themselves." To this 
the bishop nobly replied : " My confidence 
is not in my parents nor in any man ; but 
only in God, in whom I trust, and by whose 
assistance I will be bold to speak the truth." 
Lancaster, who saw hypocrisy only in these 

x Fox?, Acts, i. p. 4S7, fol. Lond. 1684. 
s Fuller, Church Hist. cent. xiv. p. 135. 



words, turned to one of his attendants, and 
whispered in his ear, but so loud as to be 
heard by the bystanders : " I would rather 
pluck the bishop by the hair of his head out 
of his chair, than take this at his hands." 
Every impartial reader must confess that 
the prelate spoke with greater dignity than 
the prince. Lancaster had hardly uttered 
these imprudent words before the bishop's 
partisans fell upon him and Percy, and even 
upon Wickliffe, who alone had remained 
calm. 1 The two noblemen resisted, their 
friends and servants defended them, the 
uproar became extreme, and there was no 
hope of restoring tranquillity. The two 
lords escaped with difficulty, and the assem- 
bly broke up in great confusion. 

On the following day the earl-marshal 
having called upon parliament to appre- 
hend the disturbers of the public peace, 
the clerical party, uniting with the enemies 
of Lancaster, filled the streets with their 
clamour ; and while the duke and the earl 
escaped by the Thames, the mob collected 
before Percy's house broke down the doors, 
searched every chamber, and thrust their 
swords into every dark corner. When they 
found that he had escaped, the rioters, 
imagining that he was concealed in Lan- 
caster's palace, rushed to the Savoy, at that 
time the most magnificent building in the 
kingdom. They killed a priest who endea- 
voured to stay them, tore down the ducal 
arms, and hung them on a gallows, like 
those of a traitor. They would have gone 
still farther if the bishop had not very 
opportunely reminded them that they were 
in Lent. As for Wickliffe, he was dismissed 
with an injunction against preaching his 
doctrines. 

But this decision of the priests was not 
ratified by the people of England. Public 
opinion declared in favour of Wickliffe. 
"If he is guilty," said they, "why is he 
not punished ? If he is innocent, why is 
he ordered to be silent? If he is the 
weakest in power, he is the strongest in 
truth !" And so indeed he was, and never 
had he spoken with such energy. He 
openly attacked the pretended apostolical 
chair, and declared that the two antipopes 
who sat at Rome and Avignon together 
made one antichrist. Being now in oppo- 
sition to the pope, Wickliffe was soon to 
confess that Christ alone was king of the 
church ; and that it is not possible for a 
man to be excommunicated unless first and 
principally he be excommunicated by him- 
self. 2 

Rome could not close her ears. Wick- 
liffe's enemies sent thither nineteen propo- 
sitions which they ascribed to him, and in 
1 the month of June 1377, just as Richard 
I II., son of the Black Prince, a child eleven 
| years old, was ascending the throne, three 
I letters from Gregory XL, addressed to the 

1 Fell furiously on the lords. Ibid. 136. 
I a Vaughan's Wickliffe, Appendix, vol. i. p. 434 



642 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



king, the archbishop of Canterbury, and 
the university of Oxford, denounced Wick- 
liffe as a heretic, and called upon them to 
proceed against him as against a common 
thief. The archbishop issued the citation : 
the crown and the university were silent. 

On the appointed day, Wickliffe, unac- 
companied by either Lancaster or Percy, 
proceeded to the archiepiscopal chapel at 
Lambeth. " Men expected he should be 
devoured," says an historian ; " being 
brought into the lion's den." 1 But the 
burgesses had taken the prince's place. 
The assault of Rome had aroused the friends 
of liberty and truth in England. " The 
pope's briefs," said they, " ought to have 
no effect in the realm without the king's 
consent. Every man is master in his own 
house." 

The archbishop had scarcely opened the 
sitting, when Sir Louis Clifford entered the 
chapel, and forbade the court, on the part 
of the queen-mother, to proceed against the 
reformer. The bishops were struck with a 
panic-fear ; " they bent their heads," says 
a Roman-catholic historian, " like a reed 
before the wind." 2 Wickliffe retired after 
handing in a protest. " In the first place," 
said he, " I resolve with my whole heart, 
and by the grace of God, to be a sincere 
Christian ; and while my life shall last, to 
profess and defend the law of Christ so far 
as I have power." 3 Wickliffe's enemies 
attacked this protest, and one of them 
eagerly maintained that whatever the pope 
ordered should be looked upon as right. 
"What!" answered the reformer; "the 
pope may then exclude from the canon of 
the Scriptures any book that displeases 
him, and alter the Bible at pleasure ?" 
Wickliffe thought that Rome, unsettling 
the grounds of infallibility, had transferred 
it from the Scriptures to the pope, and was 
desirous of restoring it to its true place, 
and re-establishing authority in the church 
on a truly divine foundation. 

A great change was now taking place in 
the reformer. Busying himself less about 
the kingdom of England, he occupied him- 
self more about the kingdom of Christ. In 
him the political phasis was followed by 
the religious. To carry the glad tidings 
of the gospel into the remotest hamlets, 
was now the great idea which possessed 
Wickliffe. If begging friars (said he) stfroll 
over the country, preaching the legends 
of saints and the history of the Trojan war, 
we must do for God's glory what they do to 
fill their wallets, and form a vast itinerant 
evangelization to convert souls to Jesus 
Christ. Turning to the most pious of his 
disciples, he said to them : "Go and preach, 



: Fuller's Church Hist. cent. xiv. p. 137. 

1 Walsingham, Hist. Angliae Major, p. 203. 

3 Propono et volo esse ex integro Christianus, 
ot quiirndiu manserit in me halitus, profitens verbo 
ej opere legem Christi. Vaughan's Wickliffe, i. 
p. 426. 



it is the sublimest work ; but imitate not 
the priests whom we see after the sermon 
sitting in the alehouses, or at the gaming- 
table, or wasting their time in hunting. 
After your sermon is ended, do you visit the 
sick, the aged, the poor, the blind, and the 
lame, and succour them according to your 
ability." Such was the new practical 
theology which Wickliffe inaugurated — it 
was that of Christ himself. 

The " poor priests," as they were called, 
set off barefoot, a staff in their hands, 
clothed in a coarse robe, living on alms, 
and satisfied with the plainest food. They 
stopped in the fields near some village, in 
the churchyards, in the market-places of 
the towns, and sometimes in the churches 
even. 1 The people, among whom they 
were favourites, thronged around them, as 
the men of Northumbria had done at Aid- 
an's preaching. They spoke with a popu- 
lar eloquence that entirely won over those 
who listened to them. Of these mission- 
aries none was more beloved than John 
Ashton. He might be seen wandering 
over the country in every direction, or 
seated at some cottage hearth, or alone in 
some retired crossway, preaching to an at- 
tentive crowd. Missions of this kind have 
constantly revived in England at the great 
epochs of the church. 

The "poor priests" were not content 
with mere polemics: they preached the 
great mystery of godliness. " An angel 
could have made no propitiation for man," 
one day exclaimed their master Wickliffe ; 
"for the nature which has sinned is not 
that of the angels. The mediator must 
needs be a man ; but every man being in- 
debted to God for everything that he is able 
to do, this man must needs have infinite 
merit, and be at the same time God." 2 

The clergy became alarmed, and a law 
was passed commanding every king's offi- 
cer to commit the preachers and their fol- 
lowers to prison. 3 In consequence of this 
as soon as the humble missionary began to 
preach, the monks set themselves in mo- 
tion. They watched him from the win-, 
dows of their cells, at the street-corners, or 
from behind a hedge, and then hastened 
off to procure assistance. But when the 
constables approached, a body of stout bold 
men stood forth, with arms in their hands, 
who surrounded the preacher, and zealously 
protected him against the attacks of the 
clergy. Carnal weapons were thus ming- 
led with the preachings of the word of 
peace. The poor priests returned to their 
master : Wickliffe comforted them, advised 
with them, and then they departed once 
more. Every day this evangelization 
reached some new spot, and the light was 
thus penetrating into every quarter of 



1 A private statute made by the clergy. Foxe, 
Acts, i. p. 503. 

2 Exposition of the Decalogue. 

3 Foxe, Acts, i. p. 503. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



643 



England, when the reformer was suddenly 
stopped in his work. 

Wiekliffe was at Oxford in the year 1379, 
busied in the discharge of his duties as 
professor of divinity, when he fell danger- 
ously ill. His was not a strong constitu- 
tion : and work, age, and above all, perse- 
cution had weakened him. Great was the 
joy in the monasteries ; but for that joy to 
be complete, the heretic must recant. Every 
effort was made to bring this about in his 
last moments. 

The four regents, who represented the 
four religious orders, accompanied by four 
aldermen, hastened to the bedside of the 
dying man, hoping to frighten him by 
threatening him with the vengeance of 
Heaven. They found him calm and serene. 
" You have death on your lips," said they ; 
" be touched by your faults, and retract in 
our presence all that you have said to our 
injury." Wiekliffe remained silent, and 
the monks flattered themselves with an easy 
victory. But the nearer the reformer ap- 
proached eternity, the greater was his hor- 
ror of monkery. The consolation he had 
found in Jesus Christ had given him fresh 
energy. He begged his servant to raise him 
on his couch. Then, feeble and pale, and 
scarcely able to support himself, he turned 
towards the friars, who were waiting for 
his recantation, and opening his livid lips, 
and fixing on them a piercing look, he said 
with emphasis: " I shall not die, but live ; 
and again declare the evil deeds of the fri- 
ars." We might almost picture to our- 
selves the spirit of Elijah threatening the 
priests of Baal. The regents and their 
companions looked at each other with aston- 
ishment. They left the room in confusion, 
and the reformer recovered to put the finish- 
ing touch to the most important of his works 
against the monks and against the pope. 1 

Wickliffe's ministry had followed a pro- 
gressive course. At first he had attacked 
the papacy ; next he preached the gospel 
to the poor ; he could take one more step 
and put the people in permanent possession 
of the word of God. This was the third 
phase of his activity. 

Scholasticism had banished the Scrip- 
tures into a mysterious obscurity. It is 
true that Bede had translated the gospel 
of St. John ; that the learned men at Al- 
fred's court had translated the four evan- 
gelists ; that Elfric in the reign of Ethelred 
had translated some books of the Old Tes- 
tament ; that an Anglo-Norman priest had 
paraphrased the ' Gospels and the Acts ; 
that Richard Rolle, " the hermit of Ham- 
pole," and some pious clerks in the four- 
teenth century, had produced a version of 
the Psalms, the Gospels, and Epistles : but 
these rare volumes were hidden, like theo- 
logical curiosities, in the libraries of a few 
convents. It was then a maxim that the read- 
ing of the Bible was injurious to the laity ; 



1 Petrie's Church History, i. p. 504. 



and accordingly the priests forbade it, just 
as the Brahmins forbid the Shasters to the 
Hindoos. Oral tradition alone preserved 
among the people the histories of the Holy 
Scriptures, mingled with legends of the 
saints. The time appeared ripe for the 
publication of a Bible. The increase of 
population, the attention the English were 
beginning to devote to their own language, 
the development which the system of repre- 
sentative government had received, the 
awakening of the human mind — all these 
circumstances favoured the reformer's de- 
sign. 

Wiekliffe was ignorant indeed of Greek 
and Hebrew ; but was it nothing to shake 
off the dust which for ages had covered the 
Latin Bible, and to translate it into Eng- 
lish ? He was a good Latin scholar, of 
sound understanding, and great penetra- 
tion ; but above all he loved the Bible, he 
understood it, and desired to communicate 
this treasure to others. Let us imagine him 
in his quiet study : on his table is the Vul- 
gate text, corrected after the best manu- 
scripts ; and lying open around him are the 
commentaries of the doctors of the church, 
especially those of St. Jerome and Nicho- 
las Lyrensis. Between ten and fifteen 
years he steadily prosecuted his task ; 
learned men aided him with their advice, 
and one of them, Nicholas Hereford, ap- 
pears to have translated a few chapters for 
him. At last in 1380, it was completed. 
This was a great event in the religious his 
tory of England, who, outstripping the na 
tions on the continent, took her station in 
the forsmost rank in the great work of dis 
seminating the Scriptures. 

As soon as the translation was finished, 
the labour of the copyists began, and the 
Bible was erelong widely circulated either 
wholly or in portions. The reception of 
the work surpassed Wickliffe's expectations. 
The Holy Scriptures exercised a reviving 
influence over men's hearts ; minds were 
enlightened ; souls were converted ; the 
voices of the " poor priests " had done lit- 
tle in comparison with this voice ; some- 
thing new had entered into the world. Citi- 
zens, soldiers, and the lower classes wel- 
comed this new era with acclamations ; the 
high-born curiously examined the unknown 
book ; and even Anne of Luxemburg, wife 
of Richard II., having learnt English, be- 
gan to read the Gospel diligently. She did 
more than this : she made them known to 
Arundel, archbishop of York and chancel- 
lor, and afterwards a persecutor, but who 
now, struck at the sight of a foreign lady — 
of a queen, humbly devoting her leisure to 
the study of such virtuous books, 1 com- 
menced reading them himself, and rebuked 
the prelates who neglected this holy pur- 
suit. " You could not meet two persons on 
the highway," says a cotemporary writer, 
" but one of them was Wickliffe's disciple." 

JToxe, Acts, i. p. 578. 



644 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Yet all in England did not equally re- 
joice : the lower clergy opposed this enthu- 
siasm with complaints and maledictions. 
" Master John Wickliffe, by translating the 
gospel into English," said the monks, " has 
rendered it more acceptable and more in- 
telligible to laymen and even to women, than 
it had hitherto been to learned and intelli- 
gent clerks ! The gospel pearl is every 

where cast out and trodden under foot of 
swine." 1 New contests arose for the re- 
former. Wherever he bent his steps he was 
violently attacked. " It is heresy," cried the 
monks, " to speak of'Holy Scripture in Eng- 
lish." 2 " Since the church has approved of 
the four Gospels, she would have been just as 
able to reject them and admit others ! The 
church sanctions and condemns what she 

pleases Learn to believe in the church 

rather than in the gospel." These clam- 
ours did not alarm Wickliffe. " Many na- 
tions have had the Bible in their own lan- 
guage. The Bible is the faith of the church. 
Though the pope and all his clerks should 
disappear from the face of the earth," said 
he, *' our faith would not fail, for it is 
founded on Jesus alone, our Master and 
our God." But Wickliffe did not stand 
alone : in the palace as in the cottage, and 
even in parliament the rights of Holy 
Scripture fuund defenders. A motion hav- 
ing been made in the Upper House (1319) 
to seize all the copies of the Bible, the Duke 
of Lancaster exclaimed: " Are we then the 
very dregs of humanity, that we cannot pos- 
sess the laws of our religion in our own 
tongue ?" 3 

Having given his fellow-countrymen the 
Bible, Wickliffe began to reflect on its con- 
tents. This was a new step in his onward 
path. There comes a moment when the 
Christian, saved by a lively faith, feels the 
need of giving an account to himself of 
this faith, and this originates the science 
of theology. This is a natural movement ; 
if the child, who at first possesses sen- 
sations and affections only, feels the want, 
as he grows up, of reflection and know- 
ledge, why should it not be the same 
with the Christian ? Politics — home mis- 
sions — Holy Scripture — had engaged Wick- 
liffe in succession : theology had its turn, 
and this was the fourth phase of his life. 
Yet he did not penetrate to the same de- 
gree as the men of the sixteenth century 
into the depths of the Christian doctrine ; 
and he .attached himself in a more especial 
manner to those ecclesiastical dogmas which 
were more closely connected with the pre- 
sumptuous hierarchy and the simoniacal 
gains of Rome, — such as transubstantiation. 
The Anglo-Saxon church had not professed 

1 Evangelica margarita spargitur et a porcis 
conculcatur. Knyghton, De eventibus Anglise, p. 
264. 

2 It is heresy to speak of the Holy Scripture in 
English. Wickliffe's Wicket, p. 4. Oxford, 1612, 
quarto. 

* Weber, Akatholische Kirchen, i. p. 81. . 



this doctrine. " The host is the body of 
Christ, not bodily, but spiritually," said 
Elfric in the tenth century, in a letter ad- 
dressed to the Archbishop of York ; but 
Lanfranc, the opponent of Berengarius, had 
taught England that at the word of a priest 
God quitted heaven and descended on the 
altar. Wickliffe undertook to overthrow 
the pedestal on which the pride of the 
priesthood was founded. " The eucharist 
is naturally bread and wine," he taught at 
Oxford in 1381 ; " but by virtue of the 
sacramental words it contains in every part 
of the real body and blood of Christ." He 
did not stop here. " The consecrated wa- 
fer which we see on the "altar," said he " is 
not Christ, nor any part of him, but his 
efficient sign." 1 He oscillated between those 
two shades of doctrine ; but to the first he 
more habitually attached himself. He de- 
nied the sacrifice of the mass offered by the 
priest, because it was substituted for the 
sacrifice of the cross offered up by Jesus 
Christ; and- rejected transubstantiation, 
because it nullified the spiritual and living 
presence of the Lord. 

When Wickliffe's enemies heard these 
propositions, they appeared horror-stricken, 
and yet in secret they were delighted at 
the prospect of destroying him. They met 
together, examined twelve theses he had 
published, and pronounced against him 
suspension from all teaching, imprison- 
ment, and the greater excommunication. 
At the same time his friends became 
alarmed, their zeal cooled, and many of 
them forsook him. The Duke of Lancas- 
ter, in particular, could not follow him into 
this new sphere. That prince had no ob- 
jection to an ecclesiastical opposition which 
might aid the political power, and for that 
purpose he had tried to enlist the reform- 
er's talents and courage ; but he feared a 
dogmatic opposition that might compro- 
mise him. The sky w r as heavy with clouds; 
Wickliffe was alone. 

The storm soon burst upon him. One 
day, while seated in his doctoral chair in 
the Augustine school, and calmly explain- 
ing the nature of the eucharist, an officer 
entered the hall, and read the sentence of 
condemnation. It was the design of his 
enemies to humble the professor in the eyes 
of his disciples. Lancaster immediately 
became alarmed, and hastening to his old 
friend begged him — ordered him even — to 
trouble himself no more about this matter. 
Attacked on every side, Wickliffe for a 
time remained silent. Shall he sacrifice 
the truth to save his reputation — his repose 
— perhaps his life ? Shall expediency get 
the better of faith. — Lancaster prevail over 
Wickliffe ? No : his courage was invinci- 
ble. " Since the year of our Lord 1000," 
said he, "all the doctors have been in error 
about the sacrament of the altar — except, 



1 Efficax ejus signuui. Conclusio I ^ Yaughau, 
i ii. p. 436, App. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



645 



perhaps, it may be Berengarius. How 
canst thou, priest, who art but a man, 
make thy Maker? What! the thing that 
groweth in the fields — that ear which thou 
pluckest to-day, shall be God to-morrow ! 

As you cannot make the works which 

He made, how shall ye make Him who 
made the works V Woe to the adulterous 
generation that believeth the testimony of 
Innocent rather than of the Gospel." 2 
Wickliffe called upon his adversaries to 
refute the opinions they had condemned, 
and finding that they threatened him with 
a civil penalty (imprisonment), he appealed 
to the king. 

The time was not favourable for such an 
appeal. A fatal circumstance increased 
WicklifiVs danger. Wat Tyler and a dis- 
solute priest named Ball, taking advantage 
of the illwill excited by the rapacity and 
brutality of the royal tax-gatherers, had 
occupied London with 100,000 men. John 
Ball kept up the spirits of the insurgents, 
not by expositions of the gospel, like Wick- 
lifiVs poor priests, but by fiery comments 
on the distich they had chosen for their 
device : — 

When Adam delved and Eve span, 
"Who was then the gentleman ? 

There were many who felt no scruple in 
ascribing these disorders to the reformer, 
who was quite innocent of them ; and Cour- 
tenay, bishop of London, having been trans- 
lated to the see of Canterbury, lost no time 
in convoking a synod to pronounce on this 
matter of WicklifiVs. They met in the 
middle of May, about two o'clock in the 
afternoon, and were proceeding to pro- 
nounce sentence when an earthquake, 
which shook the city of London and all 
Britain, so alarmed the members of the 
council that they unanimously demanded 
the adjournment of a decision which ap- 
peared so manifestly rebuked by God. But 
the archbishop skilfully turned this strange 
phenomenon to his own purposes : " Know 
you not," said he, " that the noxious va- 
pours which catch fire in the bosom of the 
earth, and give rise to these phenomena 
which alarm you, lose all their force when 
they burst forth ? Well, in like manner, 
by rejecting the wicked from our commu- 
nity, we shall put an end to the convulsions 
of the church." The bishops regained their 
courage ; and one of the primate's officers 
read ten propositions, said to be WicklifiVs, 
but ascribing to him certain errors of which 
he was quite innocent. The following most 
excited the anger of the priests : " God must 
obey the devil. 3 After Urban VI. we must 
receive no one as pope, but live according to 



1 Wycleff's Wyckett, Tracts, pp. 276, 279. 

9 Vae generationi adultera? quae plus credit tes- 
timonio Innocentii quam sensui Evangelii. Con- 
fessio, Vaughan, ii. 453, App. 

3 -Quod Deus debet obedire diabolo. Mansi, 
xxvi. p. 695. Wickliffe denied having written or 
spoken the sentiment here ascribed to him. 



the manner of the Greeks." The ten pro- 
positions were condemned as heretical, and 
the archbishop enjoined all persons to shun, 
as they would a venomous serpent, all who 
should preach the aforesaid errors. " If 
we permit this heretic to appeal continu- 
ally to the passions of the people," said the 
primate to the king, " our destruction is 
inevitable. We must silence these lollards 
— these psalm-singers." 1 The king gave 
authority " to confine in the prisons of the 
state any who should maintain the con- 
demned propositions." 

Day by day the circle contracted around 
Wickliffe. The prudent Repington, the 
learned Hereford, and even the eloquent 
Ashton, the firmest of the three, departed 
from him. The veteran champion of the 
truth which had once gathered a whole 
nation round it, had reached the days when 
" strong men shall bow themselves," and 
now, when harassed by persecution, he 
found himself alone. But boldly he up- 
lifted his hoary head and exclaimed : " The 
doctrine of the gospel shall never perish ; 
and if the earth once quaked, it was be- 
cause they condemned Jesus Christ." 

He did not stop here. In proportion as 
his physical strength decreased, his moral 
strength increased. Instead of parrying 
the blows aimed at him, he resolved on 
dealing more terrible ones still. He knew 
that if the king and the nobility were for 
the priests, the lower house and the citi- 
zens were for liberty and truth. He there- 
fore presented a bold petition to the Com- 
mons in the month of November 1382. 
" Since Jesus Christ shed his blood to free 
his church, I demand its freedom. I de- 
mand that every one may leave those 
gloomy walls [the convents], within which 
a tyrannical law prevails, and embrace a 
simple and peaceful life under the open 
vault of heaven. I demand that the poor 
inhabitants of our towns and villages be 
not constrained to furnish a worldly priest, 
often a vicious man and a heretic, with the 
means of satisfying his ostentation, his 
gluttony, and his licentiousness — of buy- 
ing a showy horse, costly saddles, bridles 
with tinkling bells, rich garments, and soft 
furs, while they see their wives, children, 
and neighbours, dying of hunger." 2 The 
House of Commons, recollecting that they 
had not given their consent to the perse- 
cuting statute drawn up by the clergy and 
approved by the king and the lords, de- 
manded its repeal. Was the Reformation 
about to begin by the will of the people ? 

Courtenay, indignant at this intervention 
of the Commons, and ever stimulated by a 
zeal for his church, which would have been 
better directed towards the word of God, 
visited Oxford in November 1382, and 
having gathered round him a number of 

'From lollen to sing; as beggards (beggars) 
from beggen. 

2 A complaint of John "Wycleff. Tracts and 
Treatises edited by the Wickliffe Society, p. 26$. 



646 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



bishops, doctors, priests, students, and lay- 
men, summoned Wickliffe before him. 
Forty years ago the reformer had come up 
to the university : Oxford had become his 
home.... and now it was turning against 
him ! "Weakened by labours, by trials, by 
that ardent soul which preyed upon his 
feeble body, he might have refused to ap- 
pear. But Wickliffe, who never feared the 
face of man, came before them with a good 
conscience. We may conjecture that there 
were among the crowd some disciples who 
felt their hearts burn at the sight of their 
master ; but no outward sign indicated 
their emotion. The solemn silence of a 
court of justice had succeeded the shouts 
of enthusiastic youths. Yet Wickliffe did 
not despair : he raised his venerable head, 
and turned to Courtenay with that confi- 
dent look which had made the regents of 
Oxford shrink away. Growing wroth 
against the priests of Baal, he reproached 
them with disseminating error in order to 
sell their masses. Then he stopped, and 
uttered these simple and energetic words : 
" The truth shall prevail I" 1 Having thus 
spoken he prepared to leave the court : his 
enemies dared not say a word ; and, like 
his divine master at Nazareth, he passed 
through the midst of them, and no man 
ventured to stop him. He then withdrew 
to his cure at Lutterworth. 

He had not yet reached the harbour. He 
was living peacefully among his books and 
his parishioners, and the priests seemed 
inclined to leave him alone, when another 
blow was aimed at him. A papal brief 
summoned him to Rome, to appear before 
that tribunal which had so often shed the 
blood of its adversaries. His bodily infir- 
mities convinced him that he could not 
obey this .summons. But if Wickliffe re- 
fused to hear Urbau, Urban could not choose 
but hear Wickliffe. The church was at 
that time divided between two chiefs : 
France. Scotland, Savoy, Lorraine, Castile, 
and Aragon acknowledged Clement VII. ; 
while Italy, England, Germany, Sweden, 
Poland, and Hungary acknowledged Urban 
YI. "Wickliffe shall tell us who is the true 
head of the church universal. And while 
the two popes were excommunicating and 
abusing each other, and selling heaven and 
earth for their own gain, the reformer was 
confessing that incorruptible Word which 
establishes real unity in the church. "I 
believe," said he, "that the gospel of Christ 
in the whole body of God's law. I believe 
that Christ, who gave it to us, is very God 
and very man, and that this gospel revela- 
tion is, accordingly, superior to all other 
parts of Holy Scripture. 2 I believe that 

1 Finaliter Veritas vincet eos. Vaughan, Ap- 
pendix, ii. p. 453. 

2 This is the reading of the Bodleian manuscript 
— "and be [by] this it passes all other laws.'' In 
Foxe, "Wickliffe appears to ascribe to Christ him- 
self this superiority over all Scripture — a distinc- 
tion hardly in the mind of thereformer or of his age. 



the bishop of Rome is bound more than all 
other men to submit to it, for the greatness 
among Christ's disciples did not consist in 
worldly dignity or honours, but in the ex- 
act following of Christ in his life and man- 
ners. No faithful man ought to follow the 
pope, but in such points as he hath fol- 
lowed Jesus Christ. The pope ought to 
leave unto the secular power all temporal 
dominion and rule: and thereunto effec- 
tually more and more exhort his whole 

clergy If I could labour according to 

my desire in mine own person, I wuuld 
surely present myself before the bishop of 
Rome, but the Lord hath otherwise visited 
me to the contrary, and hath taught me 
rather to obey God than men." 

Urban, who at that moment chanced to 
be very busied in his contest with Clement, 
did not think it prudent to begin another 
with Wickliffe, and so let the matter rest 
there. From this time the doctor passed 
the remainder of his days in peace in the 
company of three personages, two of whom 
were his particular friends, and the third 
his constant adversary : these were Aletheia, 
Phroaesis, and Pseudes. Aletheia (truth) 
proposed questions ; Pseudes (falsehood) 
urged objections ; and Phronesis (under- 
standing) laid down the sound doctrine. 
These three characters carried on a con- 
versation [trialogue) in which great truths 
were boldly professed. The opposition 
between the pope and Christ — between the 
canons of Romanism and the Bible — was 
painted in striking colours. This is one 
of the primary truths which the church 
must never forget. " The church has fal- 
len," said one of the interlocutors in the 
work in question, " because she has aban- 
doned the gospel, and preferred the laws 
of the pope. Although there should be a 
hundred popes in the world at once, and 
all the friars living should be transformed 
into cardinals, we must withhold our con- 
fidence unless so far as they are founded in 
Holy Scripture.'" 2 

These words were the last flicker of the 
torch. Wickliffe looked upon his end as 
near, and entertained no idea that it would 
come in peace. A dungeon on one of the 
seven hills, or a burning pile in London, 
was all he expected. '"Why do you talk 
of seeking the crown of martyrdom afar V 
asked he. " Preach the gospel of Christ to 
haughty prelates, and martyrdom will not 
fail you. What ! I should live and be si- 
lent ? never ! Let the blow fall, I await 

its coming/' 3 

The stroke was spared him. The war 
between two wicked priests, Urban and 



1 An Epistle of J. Wickliffe to Pope Urban VI. 
Foxe, Acts, i. p. 507, fol. Lond. 1684: also Lewis 
(Wickliffe), p. 333, Append. 

a Ideo si essent centum papa3, et omnes fratres 
essent versi in eardinales, non deberet concedi sen- 
tential suas in materia fidei. nisi de quanto se fun- 
daverint in Scrip tura. Trialogus, lib. iv. cap. vii. 

3 Vaughan's Life of Wickliffe, ii. p. 215, 257. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



647 



Clement, left the disciples of our Lord in 
peace. And besides, was it worth while 
cutting short a life that was drawing to a 
close ? Wickliffe, therefore, continued 
tranquilly to preach Jesus Christ; and on 
the 29th ^December 1384, as he was in his 
church at Lutterworth,- in the midst of his 
flock, at the very moment that he* stood 
before the altar, and was elevating the host 
with trembling hands, he fell upon the 
pavement struck with paralysis. He was 
carried to his house by the affectionate 
friends around him, and after lingering 
forty-eight hours, resigned his soul to God 
on the last day of the year. 

Thus was removed from the church one 
of the boldest witnesses to the truth. The 
seriousness of his language, the holiness 
of his life, and the energy of his faith, had 
intimidated the popedom. Travellers re- 
late that if a lion is met in the desert, it is 
sufficient to look steadily at him, and the 
beast turns away roaring from the eye of 
man. Wickliffe had fixed the eye of a 
Christian on the papacy, and the affrighted 
papacy had left him in peace. Hunted 
down unceasingly while living, he died in 
quiet, at the very moment when by faith 
he was eating the flesh and drinking the 
blood which gave eternal life. A glorious 
end to a glorious life. 

The Reformation of England had begun. 

Wickliffe is the greatest English refor- 
mer : he was in truth the first reformer of 
Christendom, and to him, under God, Bri- 
tain is indebted for the houour of being 
the foremost in the attack upon the theo- 
cratic system of Gregory VII. The work 
of the Waldenses, excellent as it was, can- 
not be compared to his. If Luther and 
Calvin are the fathers of the Reformation, 
Wickliffe is its grandfather. 

Wickliffe, like most great men, possessed 
qualities which are not generally found 
together. While his understanding was 
eminently speculative — his treatise on the 
Reality of Universal Ideas 1 made a sensa- 
tion in philosophy — he possessed that prac- 
tical and active mind which characterizes 
the Anglo-Saxon race. As a divine, he 
was at once scriptural and spiritual, 
soundly orthodox, and possessed of an 
inward and lively faith. With a boldness 
that impelled him to rush into the midst 
of danger, he combined a logical and con- 
sistent mind, which constantly led him 
forward in knowledge, and caused him to 
maintain with perseverance the truths he 
had once proclaimed. First of all, as a 
Christian, he had devoted his strength to 
' the cause of the church ; but he was at the 
same time a citizen, and the realm, his nation, 
and his king, had also a great share in his 
unwearied activity. He was a man complete. 

If the man is admirable, his teaching is 
no less so. Scripture, which is the rule 
of truth, should be (according to his views) 

* De universalibus realibus. 
43 



the rule of reformation, and we must reject 
every doctrine and every precept which 
does not rest on that foundation. 1 To be- 
lieve in the power of man in the work of 
regeneration is the great heresy of Rome, 
and from that error has come the ruin of 
the church. Conversion proceeds from the 
grace of God alone, and the system which 
ascribes it partly to man and partly to God 
is worse than Pelagianism. 2 Christ is 
everything in Christianity; whosoever 
abandons that fountain which is ever ready 
to impart life, and turns to muddy and 
stagnant waters, is a madman. 3 Faith is 
a gift of God ; it puts aside all merit, and 
should banish all fear from the mind. 4 The 
one thing needful in the Christian life and 
in the Lord's Supper is not a vain formal- 
ism and superstitious rites, but communion 
with Christ according to the power of the 
spiritual life. 5 Let Christians submit not 
to the word of a priest but to the word of 
God. In the primitive church there were 
but two orders, the deacon and the priest : 
the presbyter and the bishop were one. 6 
The sublimest calling which man can at- 
tain on earth is that of preaching the word 
of God. The true church is the assembly 
of the righteous for whom Christ shed his 
blood. So long as Christ is in heaven, in 
Him the church possesses the best pope. 
It is possible for a pope to be condemned 
at the last day because of his sins. Would 
men compel us to recognise as our head " a 
devil of hell V' 7 Such were the essential 
points of Wickliffe's doctrine. It was the 
echo of the doctrine of the apostles — the 
prelude to that of the reformers. 

In many respects Wickliffe is the Luther 
of England ; but the times of revival had 
not yet come, and the English reform rr 
could not gain such striking victories over 
Rome as the German reformer. While 
Luther was surrounded by an ever-increas- 
ing number of scholars and princes, who 
confessed the same faith as himself, Wick- 
liffe shone almost alone in the firmament 
of the church. The boldness with which he 
substituted a living spirituality for a super- 
stitious formalism, caused those to shrink 
back in affright who had gone with him 
against friars, priests, and popes. Erelong 
the Roman pontiff ordered him to be thrown 
into prison, and the monks threatened his 



1 Auctoritas Seripturge sacra?, qua; est lex Chris- 
ti, infinitum excedit quain libet scripturam aliam. 
Dialog. [Trialogus] lib. iii. cap. xxx. ; see in par- 
ticular cap. xxxi. 

3 Ibid, de pnedestinatione, de peccato, de gra- 
tia, &c. 

3 Ibid. lib. iii. cap. xxx. 

* Fideui a Deo infusam sine aliqua trepidatione 
fidei contraria. Ibid. lib. iii. cap. ii. 

s Secundum rationem spiritualis et virtualis 
existential Ibid. lib. iv. cap. viii. 

6 Fuifc idem presbyter atque episcopus. Ibid, 
lib. iv. cap. xv. 

1 Yaugban's Life of Wickliffe. ii. p. 307. The 
Christian public is much-indebted to Dr. Vaughan 
for his biography of this reformer. 



648 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



life 5 1 but God protected him, and he re- 
mained calm amidst the machinations of 
his adversaries. " Antichrist/' said he, 
" can only kill the body." Having one foot 
in the grave already, he foretold that, from 
the very bosom of monkery, would some day 
proceed the regeneration of the church. 
" If the friars, whom God condescends to 
teach, shall be converted to the primitive 
religion of Christ," said he, "we shall see 
them abandoning their unbelief, returning 
freely, with or without the permission of 
Antichrist, to the primitive religion of the 
Lord, and building up the church, as did 
St. Paul." 2 

Thus did Wickliffe's piercing glance dis- 
cover, at the distance of nearly a century 
and a half, the young monk Luther in the 
Augustine convent at Erfurth, converted by 
the epistle to the Romans, and returning to 
the spirit of St. Paul and the religion of 
Jesus Christ. Time was hastening on to 
the fulfilment of this prophecy. " The ris- 
ing sun of the Reformation," for so has 
Wickliffe been called, had appeared above 
the horizon, and its beams were no more to 
be extinguished. In vain will thick clouds 
veil it at times ; the distant hill-tops of 
Eastern Europe will soon reflect its rays ; 3 
and its piercing light, increasing in bright- 
ness, will pour over all the world, at the 
hour of the church's renovation, floods of 
knowledge and of life. 

Wickliffe's death manifested the power 
of his teaching. The master being removed, 
his disciples set their hands to the plough, 
and England was almost won over to the 
reformer's doctrines. The Wickliffites re- 
cognised a ministry independent of Rome, 
and deriving authority from the word of 
God alone. " Every minister," said they, 
" can administer the sacraments and confer 
the cure of souls as well as the pope." To 
the licentious wealth of the clergy they op- 
posed a Christian poverty, and to the degen- 
erate asceticism of the mendicant orders, a 
spiritual and free life. The townsfolk 
crowded around these humble preachers ; 
the soldiers listened to them, armed with 
sword and buckler to defend them ; 4 the 
nobility took down the images from their 
baronial chapels ; 5 and even the royal fam- 
ily was partly won over to the Reforma- 
tion. England was like a tree cut down to 
the ground, from whose roots fresh buds are 
shooting out on every side, erelong to cover 
all ths earth beneath their shade. 6 



1 Multitude) fratruui mortem tuam multipliciter 
machinantur. Dialog., lib. iv. cap. iv. ' 

2 Alrqui fratres quos Deus docere dignatur 

relicta sua perfidia redibunt libere ad religio- 

nem Ohristi priinsevam, et tunc gedificabunt eccle- 
siam, sicut Paulue. Ibid., lib. iv. cap. xxx. 

3 John Huss in Bohemia. 

4 Assistere solent gladio et pelta stipati ad 
eorum defensionem. Knyghton, lib. v. p. 2660. 

5 Milites cum ducibus et comitibus erant prasci- 
pue eis adha?rentes. Ibid. 

6 Quasi germinantes multiplicati sunt nimis et 



This augmented the courage of "Wick- 
liffe's disciples, and in many places the 
people took the initiative in the reform. 
The walls of St. Paul's and other cathe- 
drals were hung with placards aimed at the 
priests and friars, and the abuses of which 
they were the defenders ; and in 1395 the 
friends of the Gospel petitioned parliament 
for a general reform. " The essence of the 
worship which comes from Rome," said 
they, "consists in signs and ceremonies, and 
not in the efficacy of the Holy Ghost ; and 
therefore it is not that which Christ has 
ordained. Temporal things are distinct 
from spiritual things : a king and a bishop 
ought not to be one and the same person." 1 
And then from not clearly understanding 
the principle of the separation of the func- 
tions which they proclaimed, they called 
upon parliament to " abolish celibacy, tran- 
substantiation, prayers for the dead, offer- 
I ings to images, auricular confession, war, 
I the arts unnecessary to life, the practice of 
| blessing oil, salt, wax, incense, stones, mi- 
i tres, and pilgrims' staffs. All these pertain 
I to necromancy and not to theology." Em- 
: boldened by the absence of the king in Ire- 
! land, thej' fixed their Twelve Conclusions on 
: the gates of St. Paul's and Westminster Ab- 
| bey. This became the signal for persecu- 
tion. 

As soon as Arundel, archbishop of York, 
and Braybrooke, bishop of London, had 
read these propositions, they hastily crossed 
St. George's Channel, and conjured the 
| king to return to England. The prince 
! hesitated not to comply, for his wife, the 
| pious Anne of Luxemburg, was dead. 
j Richard, during childhood and youth, had 
! been committed in succession to the charge 
of several guardians, and like children (says 
an historian,) whose nurses have been often 
changed he thrived none the better for it. 
He did good or evil, according to the influ- 
ence of those around him, and had no de- 
cided inclinations except for ostentation 
and licentiousness. The clergy were not 
mistaken in calculating on such a prince. 
On his return to London he forbade the 
parliament to take the Wicklifiite petition 
into consideration ; and having summoned 
before him the most distinguished of its 
supporters, such as Story, Clifford, Latimer, 
and Montacute, he threatened them with 
death if they continued to defend their 
abominable opinions. Thus was the work 
of the reformer about to be destroyed. 

But Richard had hardly withdrawn his 
hand from the gospel, when God (says the 
annalist) withdrew his hand from him. 2 
His cousin, Henry of Hereford, son of the 
famous duke of Lancaster, and who had 



impleverunt ubique orbem regni. Ibid. These 
" Conclusiones" are reprinted by Lewis (Wickliffe) 
p. 337. 

1 Rex et episcopus in una persona, &c. knygh- 
ton, lib. v. p. 2660. 

3 Poxe, Acts, i. p. 584, fol. Lond. 1684 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



649 



been banished from England, suddenly 
sailed from the continent, landed in York- 
shire, gathered all the malcontents around 
him, and was acknowledged king. The 
unhappy Richard, after being formally de- 
posed, was confined in Pontefract castle, 
where he soon terminated his earthly 
career. 

The son of Wickliffe's old defender was 
now king : a reform of the church seemed 
imminent ; but the primate Arundel had 
foreseen the danger. This cunning priest 
and skilful polician had observed which 
way the wind blew, and deserted Richard 
in good time. Taking Lancaster by the 
hand, he put the crown on his head, saying 
to him : "To consolidate your throne, con- 
ciliate the clergy, and sacrifice the Lol- 
lards/' — " I will be the protector of the 
church," replied Henry IV., and that hour 
the power of the priests was greater than 
the power of the nobility. Rome has ever 
been adroit in profiting by revolutions. 

Lancaster, in his eagerness to show his 
gratitude to the priests, ordered that every 
incorrigible heretic should be burned alive, 
to terrify his companions. 1 Practice fol- 
lowed close upon the theory. A pious 
priest named William Sawtre had presumed 
to say : "Instead of adoring the cross on 
which Christ suffered, I adore Christ who 
suffered on it." 2 He was dragged to St. 
Paul's ; his hair was shaved off; a layman's 
cap was placed on his head ; and the pri- 
mate handed him over to the mercy of the 
earl-marshal of England. This mercy was 
shown him — he was burnt alive at Smith- 
field in the beginning of March, 1401. 
Sawtre was the first martyr to protest- 
antism. 

Encouraged by this act of faith — this j 
auto da fe — the clergy drew up the articles 
known as the " Constitutions of Arundel/' 
which forbade the reading of the Bible, 
and styled the pope, "not a mere man, but 
a true God." 3 The Lollards' tower, in the 
archiepiscopal palace of Lambeth, was soon 
filled with pretended heretics, many of 
whom carved on the walls of their dun- 
geons the expression of their sorrow and 
their hopes : Jesus amor mens, wrote one of 
them. 4 

To crush the lowly was not enough : the 
Gospel must be driven from the more ex- 
alted stations. The priests, who were sin- 
cere in their belief, regarded those noble- 
men as misleaders who set the word of God 
above the laws of Rome, and accordingly 
they girded themselves for the work. A 
feAv miles from Rochester stood Cowling 



1 Ibid. p. 586. This is the statute known as 2 
Henry IV. c. 15, the first actual Jaw in England 
against heresy. 

8 Ibid. p. 5S9. 

* Not of pure man but of true God, here in 
earth. Ibid. p. 596. 

4 •' Jesus is my love." These words are still to 
be read in the tower. 



Castle, in the midst of the fertile pastures 
watered by the Medway, 

The fair Medwaya that with wanton pride 
Forms silver mazes with her crooked tide. 1 

In the beginning of the fifteenth century it 
was inhabited by Sir John Oldcastle, Lord 
Cobham, a man in high favour with the 
king. The "poor priests" thronged to 
Cowling in quest of Wickliffe's writings, 
of which Cobham had caused numerous 
copies to be made, and whence they were 
circulated through the dioceses of Canter- 
bury, Rochester, London, and Hertford. 
Cobham attended their preaching, and if 
any enemies ventured to interrupt them, he 
threatened them- with his sword. 2 "I 
would sooner risk my life," said he, " than 
submit to such unjust decrees as dishonour 
the everlasting Testament." The king 
would not permit the clergy to lay hands 
on his favourite. 

But Henry V. having succeeded his fa- 
ther in 1413, and passed from the houses of 
ill-fame he had hitherto frequented, to the 
foot of the altars and the head of the 
armies, the archbishop immediately de- 
nounced Cobham to him, and he was sum- 
moned to appear before the king. Sir John 
had understood Wickliffe's doctrine, and 
experienced in his own person the might 
of the divine Word. " As touching the 
pope and his spirituality," he said to the 
king " I owe them neither suit nor service, 
forasmuch as I know him by the Scriptures 
to be the great antichrist." 3 Henry thrust 
aside Cobham's hands as he presented his 
'confession of faith : "I will not receive this 
paper, lay it before your judges." When 
he saw his profession refused, Cobham had 
recourse to the only arm which he knew 
of out of the gospel. The differences which 
we now settle by pamphlets were then very 
commonly settled by the sword : " I offer 
in defence of my faith to fight for life or 
death with any man living, Christian or 
pagan, always excepting your majesty." 4 
Cobham was led to the Tower. 

On the 23d September, 1413, he was 
taken before the ecclesiastical tribunal 
then sitting at St. Paul's. " W"e must be- 
lieve," said the primate to him, " what the 
holy church of Rome teaches, without de- 
manding Christ's authority." — " Believe I" 
shouted the priests, " believe !" — " I am 
willing to believe all that God desires," 
said Sir John : " but that the pope should 
have authority- to teach what is contrary to 
Scripture — that I can never believe." He 
was led back to the Tower. The word of 
God was to have its martyr. 



• Blackmore. 

3 Eorum proedicationibus nefariis interfuit, et 
contradictores, si quos repererat, minis et terrori- 
bus et gladii secularis potentia conipescuit. Ry- 
mer, Foedera, torn. iv. pars 2, p. 50. 

3 Foxe, Acts, vol. i. p. 636, foL 

4 Ibid. p. 637 



650 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



On Monday, 25th September, a crowd of j 
priests, canons, friars, clerks, and indul- j 
gence-sellers, thronged the large hall of the J 
Dominican convent, and attacked Lord 
Cobham with abusive language. These 
insults, the importance of the moment for 
the Reformation of England, the catastro- 
phe that must needs close the scene : 
all agitated his soul to its very depths. 
"When the archbishop called upon him to 
confess his offence, he fell on his knees, 
and lifting up his hands to heaven, ex- 
claimed : " I confess to Thee, God ! and 
acknowledge that in my frail youth I seri- 
ously offended Thee by my pride, anger, 
intemperance, and impurity : for these of- 
fences I implore thy mercy V Then stand- 
ing up, his face still wet with tears, he 
said : " I ask not your absolution : it is 
God's only that I need." 1 The clergy did 
not despair, however, of reducing this high- 
spirited gentleman : they knew that spi- 
ritual strength is not always conjoined with 
bodily vigour, and they hoped to vanquish 
by priestly sophisms the man who dared j 
challenge the papal champions to single j 
combat. " Sir John/' said the primate at 
last, " you have said some very strange 
things : we have spent much time in endea- 
vours to convince you, but all to no effect. 
The day passeth away : you must either 
submit yourself to the ordinance of the 
most holy church " — " I will none other- 
wise believe than what I have told you. 
Do with me what you will." — " Well then, 
we must needs do the law," the archbishop 
made answer. 

Arundel stood up ; all the priests and 
people rose with him and uncovered their 
heads. Then holding the sentence of death 
in his hand, he read it with a loud clear 
voice. " It is well," said Sir John ; " though 
you condemn my body, you can do no harm 
to my soul, by the grace of my eternal 
God." He was again led back to the 
Tower, whence he escaped one night, and 
took refuge in Wales. He was retaken in 
December, 1417, carried to London, dragged 
on a hurdle to Saint Giles's fields, and 
there suspended by chains over a slow 
fire, and cruelly burned to death. Thus 
died a Christian, illustrious after the fashion 
of his age — a champion of the word of 
God. The London prisons were filled with 
Wickliffites, and it was decreed that they 
should be hung on the king's account, and 
burned for God's. 2 

The intimidated Lollards were compelled 
to hide themselves in the humblest ranks of 
the people, and to hold their meetings in 
secret. The work of redemption was pro- 
ceeding noiselessly among the elect of God. 
Of these Lollards, there were many who had 



1 Quod nullam absolutionem in hac parte peteret 
a nobis, sed a solo Deo. Rymer, Foedera, p. 51. 

* Incendio propter Deum, suspendio propter re- 
gem. Thorn. Waldensis in proemio. Raynald, 
auu. 1114. No. 16. 



been redeemed by Jesus Christ ; but in ge- 
neral they knew not, to the same extent as 
the evangelical Christians of the sixteenth 
century, the quickening and justifying 
power of faith. They were plain, meek, 
and often timid folks, attracted by the word 
of God, affected at the condemnation it 
pronounces against the errors of Rome, and 
desirous of living according to its command- 
ments. God had assigned them a part — 
and an important part too — in the great 
transformation of Christianity. Their hum- 
ble piety, their passive resistance, the 
shameful treatment which they bore with 
resignation, the penitent's robes with which 
they were covered, the tapers they we~e 
compelled to hold at the church-door — all 
these things betrayed the pride of the 
priests, and filled the most generous minds 
with doubts and vague desires. By a 
baptism of suffering, God was then pre- 
paring the way to a glorious reformation. 

This reformation was to be the result of 
two distinct forces — the revival of learning 
and the resurrection of the word of God. 
The latter was the principal cause, but the 
former was necessary as a means. With- 
out it the living waters of the gospel would 
probably have traversed the age, like sum- 
mer streams which soon dry up, such as 
those which had burst forth here and there 
during the middle ages ; it would not have 
become that majestic river, which, by its 
inundations, fertilized all the earth. It 
Avas necessary to discover and examine the 
original fountains, and for this end the 
study of Greek and Hebrew was indispen- 
sable. Lollardism and humanism (the 
study of the classics) were the two labora- 
tories of the reform. We have seen the 
preparations of the one, we must now trace 
the commencement of the other ; and as we 
have discovered the light in the lowly val- 
leys, we shall discern it also on the lofty 
mountain tops. 

About the end of the fifteenth century, 
several young Englishmen chanced to be 
at Florence, attracted thither by the lite- 
rary glory which environed the city of the 
Medici. Cosmo had collected together ?. 
great number of works of antiquity, and 
his palace was thronged with learned men. 
William Selling, a young English eccle- 
siastic, afterwards distinguished at Canter- 
bury by his zeal in collecting valuable 
manuscripts ; his fellow-countrymen, Gro- 
cyn, Lilly, and Latimer, " more bashful 
than a maiden ;"* and, above all, Linacre, 
whom Erasmus ranked before all the scho- 
lars of Italy, — used to meet in the delicious 
villa of the Medici with Politian, Chalcon- 
dyles, and other men of learning ; and 
there, in the calm evenings of summer, 
under that glorious Tuscan sky, they 
dreamt romantic visions of the Platonic 
philosophy. When they returned to Eng- 

1 Pudorem plus quam virgineum. Erasm. Ep. L 
$. 525. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



G51 



land, these learned men laid before the 
youth of Oxford the marvellous treasures 
of the Greek language. Some Italians, 
even, attracted by the desire to enlighten 
the barbarians, and a little, it may be, by 
the brilliant offers made them, quitted their 
beloved country for the distant Britain. 
Cornelius Vitelli taught at Oxford, and 
Caius Amberino at Cambridge. Caxton 
imported the art of printing from Germany, 
and the nation hailed with enthusiasm the 
brilliant dawn which was breaking at last 
in their cloudy sky. 

While learning was reviving in England, 
a new dynasty succeeded to the throne, 
bringing with it that energy of character 
which of itself is able to effect great revo- 
lutions ; the Tudors succeeded the Plan- 
tagenets. That inflexible intrepidity by 
which the reformers of Germany, Switzer- 
land, France, and Scotland were distin- 
guished, did not exist so generally in those 
of England ; but it was found in the char- 
acter of her kings, who often stretched it 
even to violence. It may be that to this 
preponderance of energy in its rulers, the 
church owes the preponderance of the state 
in its affairs. 

Henry Tudor, the Louis XI. of England, 
was a clever prince, of decided but suspi- 
cious character, avaricious and narrow- 
minded. Being descended from a Welsh 
family, he belonged to that ancient race of 
Celts who had so long contended against 
the papacy. Henry had extinguished fac- 
tion at honae, and taught foreign nations 
to respect his power. A good genius 
seemed to exercise a salutary influence 
over his court as well as over himself: 
this was his mother, the countess of 
Richmond. From her closet, where she 
consecrated the first live hours of the day 
to reading, meditation, and prayer, she 
moved to another part of the palace to 
dress the wounds of some of the lowest 
mendicants ; thence she passed into the 
gay saloons, where she would converse 
with the scholars, whom she encouraged 
by her munificence. This noble lady's 
passion for study, of which her son inhe- 
rited but little, was not without its influ- 
ence in her family. Arthur and Henry, 
the king's eldest sons, trembled in their 
father's presence ; but, captivated by the 
affection of their pious grandmother, they 
began to find a pleasure in the society of 
learned men. An important circumstance 
gave a new impulse to one of them. 

Among the countess's friends was Mont- 
joy, who had known Erasmus at Paris, 
and heard his cutting sarcasms upon the 
schoolmen and friars. He invited the 
illustrious Dutchman to England, and 
Erasmus, who was fearful of catching the 
plague, gladly accepted the invitation, and 
set out for what he believed to be the king- 
dom- of darkness. But he had not been 
long in England before he discovered un- 
expected light. 



Shortly after his arrival, happening to 
dine with the lord mayor, Erasmus noticed 
on the other side of the table a young man 
of nineteen, slender, fresh-coloured, with 
blue eyes, coarse hands, and the right 
shoulder somewhat higher than the other. 
His features indicated affability and gaiety, 
and pleasant jests were continually drop- 
ping from his lips. If he could not find a 
joke in English, he would in French, and 
even in Latin or Greek. A literary contest 
soon ensued between Erasmus and th© 
English youth. The former, astonished at 
meeting with any one that could hold his 
own against him, exclaimed : Aut tu es 
Morus aut nullus ! (you are either More or 
nobody) ; and his companion, who had not 
learnt the stranger's name, quickly replied : 
Aut tu es Erasmus aut diabolus ! (you are 
either the devil or Erasmus). 1 More flung 
himself into the arms of Erasmus, and they 
became inseparable friends. More was 
continually joking, even with women, teas- 
ing the young maidens, and making fun 
of the dull, though without any tinge of ill- 
nature in his jests. 2 But under this spor- 
tive exterior he concealed a deep under- 
standing. He was at that time lecturing 
on Augustine's City of God before a nu- 
merous audience composed of priests and 
aged men. The thought of eternity had 
seized him ; and being ignorant of that 
internal discipline of the Holy Ghost, 
which is the "only true discipline, he had 
recourse to the scourge on every Friday. 
Thomas More is the ideal of the Catholi- 
cism of this period. He had, like the 
Romish system, two poles — worldliness 
and asceticism ; which, although contrary, 
often meet together. In fact, asceticism 
makes a sacrifice of self, only to preserve 
it ; just as a traveller attacked by robbers 
w T ill readily give up a portion of his trea- 
sures to save the rest. This was the case 
with More, if we rightly understand his 
character. He sacrificed the accessories 
of his fallen nature to save that same na- 
ture. He submitted to fasts and vigils, 
wore a shirt of hair-cloth, mortified his 
body by small chains next his skin — in a 
word, he immolated every thing in order to 
preserve that self which a real regeneration 
alone can sacrifice. 

From London Erasmus went to Oxford, 
where he met with John Colet, a friend of 
More's, but older, and of very dissimilar 
character. Colet, the scion of an ancient 
family, w r as a very portly man, of imposing 
aspect, great fortune, and elegance of man- 
ners, to which Erasmus had not .been ac- 
customed. Order, cleanliness, and decorum 
prevailed in his person and in his house. 
He kept an excellent table, which was open 



1 Life of More, by his Great-grandson, (1828,) 
p. 93. 

1 Cum mulieribua fere.atque etiam cum uxora 
nonnisi lusus jocosque tractat. Erasui. Ep. L. 
p. 536. 



652 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to all the friends of learning, and at which 
the Dutchman, no great admirer of the col- 
leges of Paris, with their sour wine and 
stale eggs, was glad to take a seat. 1 He 
there met also most of the classical scholars 
of England, especially Grocyn, Linacre, 
Thomas Wolsey, bursar of Magdalene Col- 
lege, Halsey, and some others. " I cannot 
tell you how I am delighted with your 
England," he wrote to Lord Montjoy from 
Oxford. " With such men I could will- 
ingly live in the farthest coast of Scy- 
th'ia." 2 

But if Erasmus on the banks of the 
Thames found a Maecenas in Lord Montjoy, 
a Labeo and perhaps a Virgil in More, he 
nowhere found an Augustus. One day as he 
was expressing his regrets and his fears to 
More, the latter said: " Come, let us go to 
Eltham, perhaps we shall find there what 
you are looking for." They set out, More 
jesting all the way, inwardly resolving to 
expiate his gaiety by a severe scourging at 
night. On their arrival they were heartily 
welcomed by Lord and Lady Montjoy, the 
governor and governess of the king's chil- 
dren. As the two friends entered the hall, 
a pleasing and unexpected sight greeted 
Erasmus. The whole of the family were 
assembled, and they found themselves sur- 
rounded not only by some of the royal 
household, but by the domestics of Lord 
Montjoy also. On the right stood the Prin- 
cess Margaret, a girl of eleven years, whose 
great-grandson under the name of Stuart 
was to continue the Tudor line in England ; 
on the left was Mary, a child four years of 
age ; Edmund was in his nurse's arms ; 
and in the middle of the circle, between his 
two sisters, stood a boy at that time only 
nine years old, whose handsome features, 
royal carriage, intelligent eye, and exquisite 
courtesy, had an extraordinary charm for 
Erasmus. 3 That boy was Henry, duke of 
York, the king's second son, born on the 28th 
June, 1491. More, advancing toward the 
young prince, presented to him some piece 
of his own writing ; and from that hour 
Erasmus kept up a friendly intercourse with 
Henry, which in all probability exercised 
a certain influence over the destinies of 
England. The scholar of Rotterdam was 
delighted to see the prince excel in all the 
manly sports of the day. He sat his horse 
with perfect grace and rare intrepidity, 
could hurl a javelin farther than any of his 
companions, and having an excellent taste 
for music, he was already a performer on 
several instruments. The king took care 
that he should receive a learned education, 
for he destined him to fill the see of Can- 



- Quantum ibi devorabatur ovorum putrium, 
quantum vim putris hauriebatur. Erasm. Colloq. 
p. 564. 

2 Dici non potest quam mini dulcescat Anglia 

tua vel in extrema Scythia vivere non recu- 

sein. Erasm. Ep. i. p. 311. 

4 Erasm. Ep. ad Botzhem. Jortin. Appendix, 
p. 108. 



terbury ; and the illustrious Erasmus, no 
ticing his aptitude for every thing he under- 
took, did his best to cut and polish this 
English diamond, that it might glitter with 
greater brilliancy. " He will begin noth- 
ing that he will not finish," said the scholar. 
And it is but too true, that this prince al- 
ways attained his end, even if it were 
necessary to tread on the bleeding bodies 
of those he had loved. Flattered by the 
attentions of the young Henry, attracted 
by his winning grace, charmed by his wit, 
Erasmus on his return to the continent 
every where proclaimed that England at 
last had found its Octavius. 

As for Henry VII. he thought of every 
thing but Virgil or Augustus. Avarice and 

I ambition were his predominant tastes, 
which he gratified by the marriage of his 
eldest son in 1501. Burgundy, Artois, 

J Provence, and Brittany having been recent- 
ly united to France, the European powers 

| felt the necessity of combining against that 

j encroaching state. It was in consequence 
of this that Ferdinand of Aragon had given 
his daughter Joanna to Philip of Austria, 
and that Henry VII. asked the hand of his 
daughter Catharine, then in her sixteenth 
year, and the richest princess in Europe, 
for Arthur prince of "Wales, a youth about 
ten months younger. The catholic king 
made one condition to the marriage of his 
daughter. Warwick, the last of the Plan- 
tagenets and a pretender to the crown, was 
confined in the Tower. Ferdinand, to se- 
cure the certainty that Catharine would 
really ascend the English throne, required 
that the unhappy prince should be put to 
death. Nor did this alone satisfy the king 
of Spain. Henry VII., who was not a cruel 
man, might conceal Warwick, and say he 
was no more. Ferdinand demanded that 
the chancellor of Castile should be present 
at the execution. The blood of Warwick 
was shed; his head rolled duly on the 
scaffold ; the Castilian chancellor verified 
and registered the murder, and on the 14th 
November the marriage was solemnized at 
St. Paul's. At midnight the prince and 
princess were conducted with great pomp 
to the bridal-chamber. 1 These were ill- 
omened nuptials — fated to set the kings and 
nations of Christendom in battle against 
each other, and to serve as a pretext for the 
external and political discussions of the 
English Reformation. The marriage of 
Catharine the Catholic was a marriage of 
blood. 

In the early part of 1502, Prince Arthur 
fell ill, and on the 2d of April he died. 
The necessary time was taken to be sure 
that Catharine had no hope of becoming a 
mother, after which the friend of Erasmus, 
the youthful Henry, was declared heir to 
the crown, to the great joy of all the learn- 



1 Principes summa nocte ad tba/lamum solemn! 
ritu deducti sunt. Sanderus, de schismate AngL 
p. 2. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



653 



ed. This prince did not forsake his stud- 
ies : he spoke and wrote in French, Ger- 
man, and Spanish with the facility of a na- 
tive ; and England hoped to behold one 
day the most learned of Christian kings 
upon the throne of Alfred the Great. 

A very different question, however, filled 
the mind of the covetous Henry VII. Must 
he restore to Spain the two hundred thou- 
sand ducats which formed Catherine's dow- 
ry ? Shall this rich heiress be permitted 
to marry some rival of England ? To pre- 
vent so great a misfortune the king con- 
ceived the project of uniting Henry to Ar- 
thur's widow. The most serious objections 
were urged against it. "It is not only in- 
consistent with propriety," said Warham, 
the primate, " but the will of God himself 
is against it. It is declared in His law that 
if a man shall take his Mother's wife, it is 
an unclean thing (Lev. xx. 21) ; and in the 
Gospel John Baptist says to Herod : It is 
not lawful for thee to have thy brother's ivife" 
(Mark vi. 18.) Fox, bishop of Winchester, 
suggested a dispensation might be procured 
from the pope, and in December 1503, Ju- 
lius II. granted a bull declaring that for the 
sake of preserving union between the cath- 
olic princes he authorized Catharine's mar- 
riage with the brother of her first husband, 
c-ccedente forsan copula carnali. These four 
words, it is said, were inserted in the bull 
at the express desire of the princess. All 
these details will be of importance in the 
course of our history. The two parties 
were betrothed, but not married in consid- 
eration of the youth of the prince of Wales. 

The second marriage projected by Henry 
VII. was ushered in with auspices still less 
promising than the first. The king having 
fallen sick and lost bis queen, looked upon 
these visitations as a divine judgment. 1 The 
nation murmured, and demanded whether 
it was in the pope's power to permit what 
God had forbidden. 2 The young prince, 
being informed of his father's scruples and 
of the people's discontent, declared, just 
before attaining his majority (27th of June 
1505), in the presence of the bishop of Win- 
chester and several royal counsellors, that 
he protested against the engagement en- 
tered into during his minority, and that he 
would never make Catharine his wife. 

His father's death, which made him free 
made him also recall this virtuous decision. 
In 1509, the hopes of the learned seemed 
about to be realized. On the 9th of May, a 
hearse decorated with regal pomp, bearing 
on a rich pall of cloth of gold the mortal 
remains of Henry VII., with his sceptre 
and his crown, entered London, followed 
by a long procession. The great officers of 
state, assembled round the coffin, broke 
their staves and cast them into the vault, 
and the heralds cried with a loud voice : 
" God send the noble King Henry VIII. 



1 Herbert, Life of Henry VIII. p. 18. 
3 Murrain's Apomaxis. 



long life." 1 Such a cry perhaps had neve? 
on any previous occasion been so joy 
fully repeated by the people. The young 
king gratified the wishes of the nation by 
ordering the arrest of Empson and Dudley, 
who were charged with extortion ; and he 
conformed to the enlightened counsels of his 
grandmother, by choosing the most able 
ministers, and placing the archbishop of 
Canterbury as lord-chancellor at their head. 
Warham was a man of great capacity. The 
day was not too short for him to hear mass, 
receive ambassadors, consult with the king 
in the royal closet, entertain as many as 
two hundred guests at his table, take his 
seat on the woolsack, and find time for his 
private devotions. The joy of the learned 
surpassed that of the people. The old king 
wanted none of their praises or congratu- 
lations, for fear he should have to pay for 
them ; but now they could give free course 
to their enthusiam. Montjoy pronounced 
the young king " divine ;" the Venitian 
ambassador likened his port to Apollo's, 
and his noble chest to the torso of Mars ; 
he was lauded both in Greek and Latin ; 
he was hailed as the founder of a new era. 
and Henry seemed desirous of meriting 
these eulogiums. Far from permitting him- 
self to be intoxicated by so much adula- 
tion, he said to Montjoy : " Ah ! how I 
should like to be a scholar ?" " Sire," re- 
plied the courtier, " it is enough that you 
show your regard for those who possess the 
learning you desire for yourself." " How 
can I do otherwise," he replied with ear- 
nestness ; " without them we hardly exist !" 
Montjoy immediately communicated this to 
Erasmus. 

Erasmus ! — Erasmus ! — the walls of El 
tham, Oxford, and London resounded with 
the name. The king could not live without 
the learned ; nor the learned without Eras- 
mus. This scholar, who was an enthusiast 
for the young king, was not long in answer- 
ing to the call. When Richard Pace, one 
of the most accomplished men of that age, 
met the learned Dutchman at Ferrara, the 
latter took from his pocket a little box which 
he always carried with him: "You don't 
know," he said, "what a treasure you have 
in England : I will just show you ;" and he 
took from the box a letter of Henry's ex- 
pressing in Latin of considerable purity the 
tenderest regard for his correspondent. 2 
Immediately after the coronation Montjoy 
wrote to Erasmus : " Our Henry Octavus, 
or rather Octavius, is on the throne. Come 
and behold the new star. 3 The heavens 
smile, the earth leaps for joy, and all is 
flowing with milk, nectar, and honey. 4 Ava- 

1 Leland's Collectanea, vol. iv. p. 309. 
3 Scripsit ad me suapte manu litteras auiantissi- 
mus. Erasm. vita ad Ep. 

3 Ut hoc novum sidus aspicias. Ibid. p. 277 ; 
an expression of Virgil, speaking of the deified 
Augustus. 

4 Ridet aether, exultat terra, omnia laetis, omnia 
mollis, omnia nectaris sunt plena. Ibid. 



654 



HISTORY OF TIIF. REFORMATION". 



rice has fled away, liberality has descended, 
scattering on every side with gracious hand 
her bounteous largesses. Our king desires 
not gold or precious stones, but virtue, glory 
and immortality." 

In such glowing terms was the young 
king described by a man who had seen him 
closely. Erasmus could resist no longer : 
he bade the pope farewell, and hastened to 
London, where he met with a hearty wel- 
come from Henry. Science and power em- 
braced each other : England was about to 
have its Medici ; and the friends of learning 
no longer doubted the regeneration of Bri- 
tain. 

Julius II., who had permitted Erasmus 
to exchange the white frock of the monks 
for the black dress of the seculars, 1 allowed 
him to depart without much regret. This 
pontiff had little taste for letters, but was 
fond of war, hunting, and the pleasures of 
the table. The English sent him a dish to his 
taste in exchange for the scholar. Some 
time after Erasmus had left, as the pope was 
one day reposing from the fatigues of the 
chase, he heard voices near him singing a 
strange song. He asked with surprise what 
it meant. 2 " It is some Englishmen," was 
the answer, and three foreigners entered the 
room, each bearing a closely-covered jar, 
which the youngest presented on his knees. 
:|L This was Thomas Cromwell, who appears 
here for the first time on the historic scene. 
He was the son of a blacksmith of Putney ; 
but he possessed a mind so penetrating, a 
judgment so sound, a heart so bold, ability 
so consummate, such easy elocution, such 
\n accurate memory, such great activity, 
\nd so able a pen, that the most brilliant 
career was foreboded him. At the age of 
twenty he left England, being desirous to 
see the world, and began life as a clerk in 
the English factory at Antwerp. Shortly 
after this two fellow-countrymen from Bos- 
ton came to him in their embarrassment. 
"What do you want?" he asked them. 
" Our townsmen have sent us to the pope," 
they told him, " to get the renewal of the 
greater and lesser pardons, whose term is 
nearly run, and which are necessary for 
the repair of our harbour. But we do not 
know how to appear before him." Crom- 
well, prompt to undertake everything, and 
knowing a little Italian, replied, " I will go 
with you." Then slapping his forehead he 
muttered to himself: "What fish can I 
throw out as a^ bait to these greedy cormo- 
rants ?" A friend informed him that the 
pope was very fond of dainties. Cromwell 
immediately ordered some exquisite jelly 
to be prepared, after the English fashion, 
and set out for Italy with his provisions and 
his two companions. 



1 Vestem albam commutavit in nigram. Epp. 
ad Servat. 

2 The pope suddenly marvelling at the strange- 
ness of the song. Eoxe, Acts, v. p. 36-4, ed. Lond. 
1338. 



This was the man who appeared before 
Julius after his return from the chase. 
" Kings and princes alone eat of this pre- 
serve in England," said Cromwell to the 
pope. One cardinal who was a greedier 
" cormorant" than his master, eagerly tasted 
the delicacy. " Try it," he exclaimed, and 
the pope, relishing this new confectionery, 
immediately signed the pardons, on condi- 
tion however that the receipt for the jelly 
should be left with him. " And thus were 
the jelly-pardons obtained," says the annal- 
ist. It was Cromwell's first exploit, and the 
man who began his busy career by present- 
ing jars of confectionary to the pope, was 
also the man destined to separate England 
from Rome. 

The court of the pontiff was not the only 
one in Europe devoted to gaiety. Hunting 
parties were as common in London as at 
Rome. The young king and his companions 
were at that time absorbed in balls, ban- 
quets, and the other festivities inseparable 
from a new reign. He recollected however 
that he must give a queen to his people: 
Catherine of Aragon was still in England, 
and the council recommended her for his 
w T ife. He admired her piety without car- 
ing to imitate it ; ! he was pleased with her 
love for literature, and even felt some incli- 
nation towards her. 2 His advisers repre- 
sented to him that " Catherine, daughter of 
the illustrious Isabella of Castile, was the 
image of her mother. Like her, she pos- 
sessed that wisdom and greatness of mind 
which win the respect of nations ; and that 
if she carried to any of his rivals her mar- 
riage portion and the Spanish alliance, the 
long-contested crown of England would soon 

fall from his head We have the pope's 

dispensation : will you be more scrupulous 
than he is ?" 3 The archbishop of Canter- 
bury opposed in vain : Henry gave way, 
and on the eleventh of June, about seven 
weeks after his father's death, the nuptials 
were privately celebrated. On the twenty- 
third the king and queen went in state 
through the city, the bride wearing a white 
satin dress with her hair hanging down her 
back nearly to her feet. On the next day 
they were crowned at Westminster with 
great magnificence. 

Then followed a series of expensive en- 
tertainments. The treasures which the 
nobility had long concealed from fear of 
the old king, were now brought out ; the 
ladies glittered with gold and diamonds; 
and the king and queen, whom the people 
never grew tired of admiring, amused them- 
selves like children with the splendour of 
their royal robes. Henry VIII. was the 



1 Admirabatur quidem uxoris sanctitatem. San- 
ders, p. 5. 

2 Ut amor plus apud regem posset. Morysin, 
Apom. p. 14. 

3 Herbert's Henry VIII., p. 7. Fuller's Church 
Hist. Book V. p. 165. Erasui. Epp. ad Amerb.p. 
19. 






HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



G55 



forerunner of Louis XIV. Naturally in- 
clined to pomp and pleasure, the idol of 
his people, a devoted admirer of female 
beauty, and the husband of almost as many , 
wives as Louis had adulterous mistresses, | 
he made the court of England what the son I 
of Anne of Austria made the court of France 
■ — one constant scene of amusements. He 
thought he could never get to the end of 
the riches amassed by his prudent father. 
His youth — for he was only eighteen — the 
gaiety of his disposition, the grace he dis- 
played in all bodily exercises, the tales of 
chivalry in which he delighted, and which 
even the clergy recommended to their high- 
born hearers, the flattery of his courtiers' 
— all these combined to set his young ima- 
gination in a ferment. Wherever he ap- 
peared, all were filled with admiration of 
his handsome countenance and graceful 
figure : such is the portrait bequeathed to 
us by his greatest enemy. 2 " His brow was 
made to wear the crown, and his majestic 
port the kingly mantle," acids Noryson. 3 

Henry resolved to realize without delay 
the chivalrous combats and fabulous splen- 
dours of the heroes of the Round Table, as 
if to prepare himself for those more real 
struggles which he would one day have to 
maintain against the papacy. At the sound 
of the trumpet the youthful monarch would 
enter the lists, clad in costly armour, and 
wearing a plume that fell gracefully down 
to the saddle of his vigorous courser ; " like 
an untamed bull/' says an historian, "which 
breaks away from its yoke and rushes into 
the arena." On one occasion, at the cele- 
bration of the queen's churching, Catherine 
with her ladies was seated in a tent of pur- 
ple and gold, in the midst of an artificial 
forest, strewn with rocks and variegated 
with flowers. On a sudden a monk stepped 
forward, wearing a long brown robe, and 
kneeling before her, begged permission to 
run a course. It was granted, and rising 
up he threw aside his coarse frock, and ap- 
peared gorgeously armed for the tourney. 
He was Charles Brandon, afterwards duke 
of Suffolk, one of the handsomest and strong- 
est men in the kingdom, and the first after 
Henry in military exercises. He was fol- 
lowed by a number of others dressed in 
black velvet, with wide-brimmed hats on 
their heads, staffs in their hands, and scarfs 
across their shoulders ornamented with 
cockle-shells, like pilgrims from St. James 
of Compostella. " These also threw off their 
disguise, and stood forth in complete ar- 
mour. At their head was Sir Thomas Bo- 
leyn, whose daughter was fated to surpass 
in beauty, greatness, and misfortune, all 
the women of England. The tournament 
began. Henry, who has been compared to 



1 Tyndale, Obedience of a Christian Man (1528). 

8 Exiinia corporis forma prseditus, in qua etiain 
regias majestatis augusta quaedam species eluce- 
bat. Sanderus de Schism., p. 4. 

3 Turner, Hist. Sngl. i. p. 28. 



Amadis in boldness, to the lion-hearted 
Richard in courage, and to Edward III. in 
courtesy, did not always escane danger in 
these chivalrous contests. One day the king 
had forgotten to lower his vizor, and Bran- 
don, his opponent, setting off at full gallop, 
the spectators noticed the oversight, and 
cried out in alarm. But nothing could stop 
their horses : the two cavaliers met. - Suf- 
folk's lance was shivered against Henry, 
and the fragments struck him in the face. 
Every one thought the king was dead, and 
some were running to arrest Brandon, when 
Henry, recovering from the blow which had 
fallen on his helmet, recommenced the com- 
bat, and ran six new courses, amid the ad- 
miring cries of his subjects. This intrepid 
courage changed as he grew older into un- 
sparing cruelty ; and it was this young 
tiger, whose movements were then so grace- 
ful, that at no distant day tore with his 
bloody fangs the mother of his children. 

A message from the pope stopped Henry 
in the midst of these amusements. In 
Scotland, Spain, France, and Italy, the 
young king had nothing but friends — a 
harmony which the papacy was intent on 
disturbing. One day, immediately after 
high mass had been celebrated, the arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, on behalf of Julius 
II. laid at his feet a golden rose, which had 
been blessed by the pope, anointed with 
holy oil, and perfumed with musk. 1 It was 
accompanied by a letter saluting him as 
head of the Italian league. The warlike 
pontiff having reduced the Venetians, de- 
sired to humble France, and to employ 
Henry as the instrument of his vengeance. 
Henry, only a short time before, had re- 
newed his alliance with Louis XII. : but 
the pope was not to be baffled by such a 
trifle as that, and the young king soon be- 
gan to dream of rivalling the glories of 
Crecy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. To no 
purpose did his wisest councillors represent 
to him that England, in the most favourable 
times, had never been able to hold her 
ground in France, and that the sea was the 
true field open to her conquests. Julius, 
knowing his vanity, had promised to de- 
prive Louis of the title of Most Christian 
king, and confer it upon him. " His holi- 
ness hopes that your Grace will utterly ex- 
terminate the king of France," wrote the 
king's agent. 2 Henry saw nothing objec- 
tionable in this very un apostolic mission, 
and decided on substituting the terrible 
game of war for the gentler sports of peace. 

In the spring of 1511, after some unsuc- 
cessful attempts by his generals, Henry de- 
termined to invade France in person. He 
was in the midst of his preparations when 
the festival of Easter arrived. Dean Colet 
had been appointed to preach before Henry 



1 Odorifico musco aspersam. Wilkins, Concilia, 
iii. p. 652. 

" Letter of Cardinal Bembridge. Cotton MSS. 
Vitell. B. 2, p. 8. 



656 



HISTORY OF THE RE FORM A TIO X. 



on Good Friday, and in the course of his 
sermon he showed more courage than could 
have been expected in a scholar, for a 
spark of the Christian spirit was glowing in 
his bosom. He chose for the subject of his 
discourse Christ's victory over death and 
the grave. " Whoever takes up arms from 
ambition," said he, " fights not under the 
standard of Christ, but of Satan. If you 
desire to contend with your enemies, follow 
Jesus Christ as your prince and captain, 
rather than Csesar or Alexander." His 
hearers looked at each other with astonish- 
ment ; the friends of polite literature be- 
came alarmed ; and the priests, who were 
getting uneasy at the uprising of the human 
mind, hoped to profit by this opportunity 
of inflicting a deadly blow on their antago- 
nists, There were among them men whose 
opinions we must condemn, while we can- 
not forbear respecting their zeal for what 
they believed to be the truth ; of this num- 
ber were Bricot, Fitzjames, and above all 
Standish. Their zeal, however, went a lit- 
tle too far on this occasion ; they even 
talked of burning the dean. 1 After the 
sermon, Colet was informed that the king 
requested his attendance in the garden of 
the Franciscan monastery, and immediately 
the priests and monks crowded round the 
gate, hoping to see their adversary led 
forth as a criminal. " Let us be alone," 
said Henry ; " put on your cap, Master 
Dean, and we will take a walk. Cheer 
up," he continued, " you have nothing to 
fear. You have spoken admirably of 
Christian charity, and have almost recon- 
ciled me to the king of France ; yet, as the 
contest is not one of choiee, but of neces- 
sity, I must beg of you in some future ser- 
mon to explain this to my people. Unless 
you do so, I fear my soldiers may misun- 
derstand your meaning." Colet was not a 
John Baptist, and affected by the king's 
condescension, he gave the required expla- 
nation. The king was satisfied, and ex- 
claimed ; " Let every man have his doctor 
as he pleases; this man is my doctor, and 
I will drink his health !" Henry was then 
young : very different was the fashion with 
which in after years he treated those who 
opposed him. 

At heart the king cared little more about 
the victories of Alexander than of Jesus 
Christ. Having fitted out his army, he em- 
barked at the end of June accompanied by 
his almoner Wolsey, who was rising into 
favour, and set out for the war as if for a 
tournament. Shortly after this, he went, 
all glittering with jewels, to meet the Em- 
peror Maximilian, who received him in a 
plain doublet and cloak of black serge. 
After his victory at the battle of Spurs, I 
Henry, instead of pressing forward to the 



1 Dr. Colet was in trouble and should have been 
burnt. Latimer's Sermons. Parker edition, 
p. 440. 



conquest of France, returned to the siege 
of Terouenne, wasted his time in jousts and 
entertainments, conferred on Wolsey the 
bishopric of Tournay which he had" just 
captured, and then returned to England, 
delighted at having made so pleasant an 
excursion. 

Louis XII. was a widower in his 53d 
year, and bowed doAvn by the infirmities of 
premature old age ; but being desirous of 
preventing, at any cost, the renewal of the 
war, he sought the hand of Henry's sister, 
the Princess Mary, then in her 16th year. 
Her affections were already fixed on Charles 
Brandon, and for him she would have sac- 
rificed the splendour of a throne. But 
reasons of state opposed their union. " The 
princess," remarked Wolsey, " will soon 
return to England a widow with a royal 
dowry." This decided the question. The 
disconsolate Mary, who was an objec f of 
universal pity, embarked at Dover with a 
numerous train, and from Boulogne, where 
she was received by the duke of Angouleme, 
she was conducted to the king, elated at 
the idea of marrying the handsomest prin- 
cess in Europe. 

Among Mary's attendants was the youth- 
ful Anne Boleyn. Her father, Sir Thomas 
Boleyn, had been charged by Henry, con- 
jointly with the bishop of Ely, with the di- 
plomatic negotiations preliminary to this 
marriage. Anne had passed her childhood 
at ftever castle, surrounded by all that 
could heat the imagination. Her maternal 
grandfather, the earl of Surrey, whose eld- 
est son had married the sister of Henry 
the Seventh's queen, had filled, as did his 
sons also, the most important offices of 
state. At the age probably of fourteen, 
when summoned by her father to court, 
she wrote him the following letter in French, 
which appears to refer to her departure for 
France : — 

" Sir, — I find by your letter that you 
wish me to appear at court in a manner 
becoming a respectable female, and like- 
wise that the queen will condescend to 
enter into conversation with me ; at this I 
rejoice, as I do to think, that conversing 
with so sensible and elegant a princess 
will make me even more desirous of con- 
tinuing to speak and to write good French ; 
the more as it is by your earnest advice, 
which (I acquaint you by this present 
writing) I shall follow to the best of" my 

ability As to myself, rest assured that 

I shall not ungratefully look upon this fa- 
therly office as one that might be dispensed 
with ; nor will it tend to diminish my affec- 
tion, quest [wish], and deliberation to lead 
as holy a life as you may please to desire 
of me ; indeed my love for you is founded 
on so firm a basis that it can never be im- 
paired. I put an end to this my lucubra- 
tion after having very humbly craved your 
good will and affection. 



PIISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



657 



•* Written at Hever, "by your very humble 
and obedient daughter, 

"Anna de Boullan." 1 

Such were the feelings under which this 
young and interesting lady, so calumniated 
by papistical writers, appeared at court. 

The marriage was celebrated at Abbe- 
villa on the 9th of October 1514, and after 
a sumptuous banquet, the king of France 
distributed his royal largesses among the 
English lords, who were charmed by his 
courtesy. But the morrow was a day of 
trial to the young queen. Louis XII. had 
dismissed the numerous train which had 
accompanied her, and even Lady Guildford, 
to whom Henry had especially confided her. 
Three only were left, — of whom the youth- 
ful Anne Boleyn was one. At this separa- 
tion, Mary gave way to the keenest sorrow. 
To cheer her spirits, Louis proclaimed a 
grand tournament. Brandon hastened to 
France at its first announcement, and car- 
ried off all the prizes; while the king, lan- 
guidly reclining on a couch, could with 
difficulty look upon the brilliant spectacle 
over which his queen presided, sick at 
heart yet radiant with youth and beauty. 
Mary was unable to conceal her emotion, 
and Louisa of Savoy, who was watching 
her, divined her secret. But Louis, if he 
.experienced the tortures of jealousy, did 
not feel them long, for his death took place 
on the 1st January 1515. 

Even before her husband's funeral was 
over, Mary's heart beat high with hope. 
Francis L, impatient to see her wedded to 
some unimportant political personage, en- 
couraged her love for Brandon. The latter, 
who had been commissioned by Henry to 
convey to her his letters of condolence, 
feared his master's anger if he should dare 
aspire to the hand of the princess. But 
the widowed queen, who was resolved to 
brave every thing, told her lover : " Either 
you marry me in four days or you see me 
no more/' The choice the king had made 
of his ambassador announced that he would 
not behave very harshly. The marriage 
was celebrated in the abbey of Clugny, and 
Henry pardoned them. 

While Mary returned to England, as 
Wolsey had predicted, Anne Boleyn re- 
mained in France. Her father, desiring 
his daughter to become an accomplished 
woman, intrusted her to the care of the 
virtuous Claude of France, the good queen, 
at whose court the daughters of the first 
families of the kingdom were trained. 
Margaret, duchess of Alengon, the sister 
of Francis, and afterwards queen of Na- 
varre, ofcen charmed the queen's circle by 
her lively conversation. She soon became 



1 The French original is preserved among Arch- 
bishop Parker's MSS. at Corpus Christi College, 
Cambridge. The translation in the text is (with 
a slight variation) from Sir H. Ellis's Collection 
of royal and other letters, vol. ii. second series. 



deeply attached to the young English wo- 
man, and on the death of Claude took her 
into her own family. Anne Boleyn was 
destined at no very remote period to be at 
the court of London a reflection of the 
graceful Margaret, and her relations with 
that princess were not without influence 
on the English Reformation. 

And indeed the literary movement which 
had passed from Italy into France appeared 
at that time as if it would cross from France 
into Britain. Oxford exercises over Eng- 
land as great an influence as the metro- 
polis ; and it is almost always within its 
walls that a movement commences whether 
for good or evil. At this period of our his- 
tory, an enthusiastic youth hailed with joy 
the first beams of the new sun, and at- 
tacked with their sarcasms the idleness of 
the monks, the immorality of the clergy, 
and the superstition of the people. Dis- 
gusted with the priestcraft of the middle 
ages, and captivated by the writers of anti- 
quity and the purity of the Gospel, Oxford 
boldly called for a reform which should 
burst the bonds of clerical domination and 
emancipate the human mind. Men of let- 
ters thought for a while that they had 
found the most powerful man in England 
in "Wolsey, the ally that would give them 
the victory. 

He possessed little taste for learning, but 
seeing the wind of public favour blow in 
that direction, he readily spread his sails 
before it. He got the reputation of a pro- 
found divine, by quoting a few words of 
Thomas Aquinas, and the fame of a Ma3ce- 
nas and Ptolemy, by inviting the learned 
to his gorgeous entertainments. " happy 
cardinal," exclaimed Erasmus, "who can 
surround his table with such torches !' 71 

At that time the king felt the same am- 
bition as his minister, and having tasted 
in turn the pleasures of war and diplo- 
macy, he now bent his mind to literature. 
He desired "VYolsey to present Sir Thomas 
More to him. — " What shall I do at court V 
replied the latter. "I shall be as awk- 
ward as a man that never rode sitteth in a 
saddle." Happy in his family circle, where 
his father, mother, and children, gathering 
round the same table, formed a pleasing 
group, which the pencil of Holbein has 
transmitted to us, More had no desire to 
leave it. But Henry was not a man to put 
up with a refusal ; he employed force al- 
most to draw More from his retirement, 
and in a short time he could not live with- 
out the society of the man of letters. On 
calm and starlight nights they would walk 
together upon the leads at the top of the 
palace, discoursing on the motions of the 
heavenly bodies. If More did not appear 
at court, Henry would go to Chelsea and 
share the frugal dinner of the family with 
some of their simple neighbours. " Where," 

1 Cnjus mensa talibus luminibus citgilur. 
Erasin. Ep. p. 725. 



€58 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



isked Erasmus, " where is the Athens, the 
Porch, or the Academe, that can be com- 
pared with the court of England ? It is 

a seat of the muses rather than a palace 

The golden age is reviving, and I congra- 
tulate the world." 

But the friends of classical learning were 
not content with the cardinal's banquets or 
the king's favours. They wanted victories, 
and their keenest darts were aimed at the 
cloisters, those strong fortresses of the 
hierarchy and of uncleanness. 1 The abbot 
of Saint Albans, having taken a married 
woman for his concubine, and placed her 
at the head of a nunnery, his monks had 
followed his example, and indulged in the 
most scandalous debauchery. Public in- 
dignation was so far aroused, that Wolsey 
himself — Wolsey, the father of several ille- 
gitimate children, and who was suffering 
the penalty of his irregularities £ — was car- 
ried away by the spirit of the age, and de- 
manded of the pope a general reform of 
manners. When they heard of this re- 
quest, the priests and friars were loud in 
their outcries. " What are you about?" 
said they to Wolsey. " You are giving the 
victory to the enemies of the church, and 
your only reward will be the hatred of the 
whole world." As this was not the cardi- 
nal's game, he abandoned his project, and 
conceived one more easily executed. Wish- 
ing to deserve the name of " Ptolemy" con- 
ferred on him by Erasmus, he undertook to 
build two large colleges, one at Ipswich, 
his native town, the other at Oxford ; and 
found it convenient to take the money ne- 
cessary for their endowment, not from his 
own purse, but from the purses of the 
monks. He pointed out to the pope twenty- 
two monasteries in which (he said) vice 
and impiety had taken up their abode. 3 
The pope granted their secularization, and 
Wolsey having thus procured a revenue 
of £2000 sterling, laid the foundations of 
his college, traced out various courts, and 
constructed spacious kitchens. He fell 
into disgrace before he had completed his 
work, which led Gualter to say with a 
sneer: "He began a college and built a 
cook's shop." 4 But a great example had 
been set: the monasteries had been at- 
tacked, and the first breach made in them 
by a cardinal. Cromwell, Wolsey's secre- 
tary, remarked how his master had set 
about his work, and in after-years profited 
by the lesson. 

It was fortunate for letters that they had 
sincerer friends in London than Wolsey. 
Of these were Colet, dean of St. Paul's, 



1 Loea sacra etiam ipsa Dei templa monialium 
stupro et sanguinis et seminis effusione profanare 
non verentur. Papal bull. Wilkins, Concilia, p. 632. 

* Morcus venereus. Burnet. 

3 Wherein much vice and wickedness was har- 
boured. Strype, i. 169. The names of the monas- 
teries are given. Ibid. ii. 132. 

4 Instituit collegium et absolvit popinam. Ful- 
ler, cent. xvi. p. 169. 



' whose house was the centre of the literary 
movement which preceded the Reformation, 
and his friend and guest Erasmus. The 
latter was the hardy pioneer who opened 
the road of antiquity to modern Europe 
One day he would entertain Colet's guests 
with the account of a new manuscript ; on 
another, with a discussion on the forms of 
ancient literature ; and at other times he 
would attack the schoolmen and monks, 
when Colet would take the same side. The 
only antagonist who dared measure his 
strength with him was Sir Thomas More, 
who, although a layman, stoutly defended 
the ordinances of the church. 

But mere table-talk could not satisfy the 
dean : a numerous audience attended his 
sermons at St. Paul's. The spirituality of 
Christ's words, the authority which char- 
acterizes them, their admirable simplicity 
and mysterious depth, had deeply charmed 
him : " I admire the writings of the apos- 
tles," he would say, " but I forget them 
almost, when I contemplate the wonderful 
majesty of Jesus Christ." 1 Setting aside 
the text prescribed by the church, he ex- 
plained, like Zwingle, the Gospel of St. 
Matthew. Nor did he stop here. Taking 
advantage of the Convocation, he delivered 
a sermon on conformation and reformation, 
which was one of the numerous forerun- 
ners of the great reform of the sixteenth 
century. " We see strange and heretical 
ideas appear in our days, and no wonder," 
said he. " But you must know there is no 
heresy more dangerous to the church than 
the vicious lives of its priests. A reforma- 
tion is needed ; and that reformation must 
begin with the bishops and be extended to 
the priests. The clergy once reformed, we 
shall proceed to the reformation of the 
people." 2 Thus spoke Colet, while the 
citizens of London listened to him with 
rapture, and called him a new Saint Paul. 3 
Such discourses could not be allowed to 
pass unpunished. Fitzjames, bishop of 
London, was a superstitious obstinate old 
man of eighty, fond of money, excessively 
irritable, a poor theologian, and a slave to 
Duns Scotus, the subtle doctor. Calling to 
his aid two other bishops as zealous as him- 
self for the preservation of abuses, namely, 
Bricot and Standish, he denounced the 
dean of St. Paul's to Warham. The arch- 
bishop having inquired what he had done : 
" What has he done?" rejoined the bishop 
of London. " He teaches that we must not 
worship images : he translates the Lord's 
Prayer into English ; he pretends that the 
text Feed my sheep, does not include the 
temporal supplies the clergy draw from 
their flock. And besides all this," he con 
tinued with some embarrassment, " he has 



1 Ita suspiciebat admirabilem illam Christi ma- 
jestatem. Erasm. Epp. 707. 

2 Colet, Sermon to the Convocation. 

3 Pene apostolus Paulus habitus est. Polyi 
I Virg. p. 618. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



659 



spoken against those who carry their ma- 
nuscripts into the pulpit and read their 
sermons I" As this was the bishop's prac- 
tice, the primate could not refrain from 
smiling ; and since Colet refused to justify 
himself, Warham did so for him. 

From that time Colet laboured with fresh 
zeal to scatter the darkness. He devoted 
the larger portion of his fortune to found 
the celebrated school of St. Paul, of which 
the learned Lilly was the first master. Two 
parties, the Greeks and the Trojans, en- 
tered the lists, not to contend with sword 
and spear, as in the ancient epic, but with 
the tongue, the pen, and sometimes the fist. 
If the Trojans (the obscurants) were de- 
feated in the public disputations, they had 
their revenge in the secret of the confes- 
sional. Cave a Grcecis ne jias hereticus, 1 
was the watchword of the priests — their 
daily lessons to the youths under their 
care. They looked on the school founded 
by Colet as the monstrous horse of the per- 
jured Sinon, and announced that from its 
bosom would inevitably issue the destruc- 
tion of the people. Colet and Erasmus re- 
plied to the monks by inflicting fresh blows. 
Linacre, a thorough literary enthusiast, — 
Grocyn, a man of sarcastic humour but ge- 
nerous heart, — and many others, reinforced 
the Grecian phalanx. Henry himself used 
to take one of them with him during his 
journeys, and if any unlucky Trojan ven- 
tured in his presence to attack the tongue 
of Plato and of St. Paul, the young king 
would set his Hellenian on him. Not more 
numerous were the contests witnessed in 
times of yore on the classic banks of the 
Xanthus and Simois. 

Just as every thing seemed tending to a 
reformation, a powerful priest rendered the 
way more difficult. 

One of the most striking personages of 
the age was then making his appearance on 
the stage of the world. It was the destiny 
of that man, in the reign of Henry VIII. , 
to combine extreme ability with extreme 
immorality ; and to be a new and striking 
example of the wholesome truth that im- 
morality is more effectual to destroy a man 
than ability to save him. Wolsey was the 
last high-priest of Rome in England, and 
when his fall startled the nation, it was the 
signal of a still more striking fall — the fall 
of popery. 

Thomas Wolsey, the son of a wealthy 
butcher of Ipswich, according to the com- 
mon story, which is sanctioned by high 
authority, had attained under Henry VII. 
the post of almoner, at the recommenda- 
tion of Sir Richard Nanfan, treasurer of 
Calais, and an old patron of his. But Wol- 
sey was not at all desirous of passing his 
life in saying mass. As soon as he had 
discharged the regular duties of his office, 
instead of spending the rest of the day in 



idleness, as his colleagues did, he strove to 
win the good graces of the persons round 
the king. 

Fox, bishop of Winchester, keeper of the 
privy-seal under Henry VII., uneasy at the 
growing power of the earl of Surrey, 
looked about for a man to counterbalance 
him. He thought he had found such a one 
in Wolsey. It was to oppose the Surreys, 
the grandfather and uncles of Anne Bo- 
leyn, that the son of the Ipswich butcher 
was drawn from his obscurity. This is not 
an unimportant circumstance in our nar- 
rative. Fox began to praise Wolsey in the 
king's hearing, and at the same time he 
encouraged the almoner to give himself to 
public affairs. The latter was not deaf, 1 
and soon found an opportunity of winning 
his sovereign's favour. 

The king having business of importance 
with the emperor, who was then in Flan- 
ders, sent for Wolsey, explained his wishes, 
and ordered him to prepare to set out. 
The chaplain determined to show Henry 

VII. how capable he was of serving him. 
It was long past noon when he took leave 
of the king at Richmond — at four o'clock 
he was in London, at seven at Gravesend. 
By travelling all night he reached Dover 
just as the packet-boat was about to sail. 
After a passage of three hours he reached 
Caiais, whence he travelled post, and the 
same evening appeared before Maximilian. 
Having obtained what he desired, he set 
off again by night, and on the next day but 
one reached Richmond, three days and 
some few hours after his departure. The 
king, catching sight of 'him just as he was 
going to mass, sharply inquired, why he 
had not set out. " Sire, I am just re- 
turned," answered Wolsey, placing the em- 
peror's letters in his master's hands. 
Henry was delighted, and Wolsey saw that 
his fortune was made. 

The courtiers hoped at first that Wolsey, 
like an inexperienced pilot, would run his 
vessel on some hidden rock ; but never dtd 
helmsman manage his ship with more skill. 
Although twenty years older than Henry 

VIII. the almoner danced, and sang, and 
laughed with the prince's companions, and 
amused his new master with tales of scan- 
dal and quotations from Thomas Aquinas. 
The young king found his house a temple 
of paganism, a shrine of voluptuousness ; 2 
and while Henry's councillors were entreat- 
ing him to leave his pleasures and attend 
to business, Wolsey, was continually re- 
minding him that he ought to devote his 
youth to learning and amusement, and leave 
the toils of government to others. Wolsey 
was created bishop of Tournay during tlv: 
campaign in Flanders, and on his return to 
England, was raised to the sees of Lincoln 



1 Beware of the Greeks, lest you should hecoine 
heretic. 



1 Hivjc "Wolseius non surdis audieret auribus. 
Polyd. Virg. p. G22. 

a Douii suae voluptatum omnium sacratiuui fecit. 
Polyd. Virg. p. 623. 



V360 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and of York. Three mitres had been placed 
on his head in one year. He found at last 
the vein he so ardently sought for. 

And yet he was not satisfied. The arch- 
bishop of Canterbury had insisted, as pri- 
mate, that the cross of York should be low- 
ered to his. Wolsey was not of a disposition 
to concede this, and when he found that 
Warham was not content with being his 
equal, • he resolved to make him his inferior. 
He wrote to Paris and to Rome. Francis 
I., who desired to conciliate England, de- 
manded the purple for Wolsey, and the 
archbishop of York received the title of 
Cardinal St. Cecilia beyond the Tiber. In 
November 1515, his hat was brought by the 
envoy of the pope : " It would have been 
better to have given him a Tyburn tippet," 
said some indignant Englishman ; " these 
Romish hats never brought good into Eng- 
land"' — a saying that has become prover- 
bial. 

This was not enough for Wolsey : he de- 
sired secular greatness above all things. 
Warham, tired of contending with so arro- 
gant a rival, resigned the seals, and the 
king immediately transferred them to the 
cardinal. At length a bull appointed him 
legate a latere of the holy see, and placed 
under his jurisdiction all the colleges, mon- 
asteries, spiritual courts, bishops, and the 
primate himself (1519.) From that time, 
as lord-chancellor of England and legate, 
Wolsey administered everything in church 
and state. He filled his coffers with money 
procured both at home and from abroad, 
and yielded without restraint to his domi- 
nant vices, ostentation and pride. When- 
ever he appeared in public, two priests, the 
tallest and comeliest that could be found, 
carried before him two huge silver crosses, 
one to mark his dignity as archbishop, the 
other as papal legate. Chamberlains, gen- 
tlemen, pages, sergeants, chaplains, choris- 
ters, clerks, cupbearers, cooks, and other 
domestics, to the number of more than 500, 
among whom were nine or ten lords and the 
stateliest yeomen of the country, filled his 
palace. He generally wore a dress of scar- 
let velvet and silk, with hat and gloves of 
the same colour. His shoes were embroi- 
dered with gold and silver, inlaid with 
pearls and precious stones. A kind of pa- 
pacy was thus forming in England ; for 
wherever pride flourishes there popery is 
developed. 

One thing occupied Wolsey more than all 
the pomp with which he was surrounded : 
his desire, namely, to captivate the king. 
For this purpose he cast Henry's nativity, 
and procured an amulet which he wore 
constantly, in order to charm his master by 
its magic properties. 2 Then having re- 



1 Latimer's Sermons (Parker, Society), p. 119. 

2 He calked [calculated] the king's nativity 

he made by craft of necromancy graven imagery 
to bear upon him, wherewith he bewitched the 
king's mind. Tyndale's Expositions (Parker 
Soc.j, p. 308. 



course to a still more effectual necromancy, 
he selected from among the most licentious 
companions of the young monarch those of 
the keenest discernment and most ambi' 
tious character : and after binding them U 
him by a solemn oath, he placed them at 
court to be as eyes and ears to him. Ac- 
cordingly not a word was said in the pres- 
ence of the monarch, particularly against 
Wolsey, of which he was not informed an 
hour afterwards. If the culprit was not in 
favour, he was expelled without mercy ; in 
the contrary case, the minister sent him on 
some distant mission. The queen's ladies, 
the king's chaplains, and even their con- 
fessors, were the cardinal's spies. He pre- 
tended to omnipresence, as the pope to in- 
fallibility. 

Wolsey was not devoid of certain showy 
virtues, for he was liberal to the poor even 
to affectation, and as chancellor inexorable 
to every kind of irregularity, and strove 
particularly to make the rich and high-born 
bend beneath his power. Men of learning 
alone obtained from him some little atten- 
tion, and hence Erasmus calls him " the 
Achates of a new JEneas." But the nation 
was not to be carried away by the eulogies 
of a few scholars. Wolsey — a man of more 
than suspected morals, double-hearted, 
faithless to his promises, oppressing the 
people with heavy taxes, and exceedingly 
arrogant to everybody — Wolsey soon be- 
came hated by the people of England. 

The elevation of a prince of the Roman 
Church could not but be favourable to the 
Reformation. The priests, encouraged by 
it, determined to make a stand against the 
triple attack of the learned, the reformers, 
and the state ; and they soon had an op- 
portunity of trying their strength. Holy 
orders had become during the middle ages 
a warrant for every sort of crime. Parlia- 
ment, desirous of correcting this abuse and 
checking the encroachments of the church, 
declared in the year 1513, that any ecclesi- 
astic, accused of theft or murder, should be 
tried before the secular tribunals. Excep- 
tions, however, were made in favour of 
bishops, priests, and deacons — that is to say, 
nearly all the clergy. Notwithstanding 
this timid precaution, an insolent clerk, the 
abbot of Winchelcomb, began the battle by 
exclaiming at St. Paul's: " Touch not mine 
anointed, said the Lord." At the same 
time Wolsey, accompanied by a long train 
of priests and prelates, had an audience of 
the king, at which he said with hands up- 
raised to heaven : " Sire, to try a clerk, is 
a violation of God's laws." This time, 
however, Henry did not give way. " By 
God's will, we are king of England," he 
replied,, "and the kings of England in 
times past had never any superior but God 
only. Therefore know you well that we 
will maintain the right of our crown." He 
saw distinctly that to put the clergy above 
the laws was to put them above the throne. 
The priests were beaten, but not disheart- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CGI 



ened : perseverance is a characteristic fea- 
ture of every hierarchical order. Not 
walking by faith, they walk all the more by 
sight ; and skilful combinations supply the 
place of the holy aspirations of the Christian. 
Humble disciples of the gospel were soon 
to experience this, for the clergy by a few 
isolated attacks were about to flesh them- 
selves for the great struggle of the Re- 
formation. 

It is occasionally necessary to soften 
down somewhat exaggerated colours in 
which contemporary writers describe the 
Romish clergy ; but there are certain ap- 
pellations which history is bound to accept. 
The wolves, for so the priests were* called, 
by attacking the Lords and Commons had 
attempted a work beyond their reach. 
They turned their wrath on others. There 
were many shepherds endeavouring to 
gather together the sheep of the Lord be- 
side the peaceful waters : these must be 
frightened, and the sheep driven into the 
howling wilderness. " The wolves" deter- 
mined to fall upon the Lollards. 

There lived in London an honest trades- 
man named Richard Hun, one of those 
witnesses of the truth who, sincere though 
unenlightened, have been often found in 
the bosom of Catholicism. It was his prac- 
tice to retire to his closet and spend a por- 
tion of each day in the study of the Bible. 
At the death of one of his children, the 
priest required of him an exorbitant fee, 
which Hun refused to pay, and for which 
he was summoned before the legate's court. 
Animated by that public spirit which char- 
acterizes the people of England, he felt in- 
dignant that an Englishman should be cited 
before a foreign tribunal, and laid an infor- 
mation against the priest and his counsel 
under the act of praemunire. Such bold- 
ness — most extraordinary at that time — 
exasperated the clergy beyond all bounds. 
"If these proud citizens are allowed to have 
their way," exclaimed the monks, " every 
layman will dare to resist a priest." 

Exertions were accordingly made to snare 
the pretended rebel in the trap of heresy; 1 
he was thrown into the Lollards' tower at 
St. Paul's and an iron collar was fastened 
round his neck, attached to which was a 
chain so heavy that neither man nor beast 
(says Foxe) would have been able to bear 
it long. When taken before his judges, 
they could not convict him of heresy, and 
it was observed with astonishment " that 
he had his beads in prison with him." 2 
They would have set him at liberty, after 
inflicting on him perhaps some trifling pen- 
ance — but then, what a bad example it 
would be, and who could stop the reform- 
ers, if it was so easy to resist the papacy? 
Unable to triumph by justice, -certain fanat- 
ics resolved to triumph by crime. 



1 Foxe, Acts and Mori. ii. p. 8. Fclio, 1684. 
Lond. " 
1 Ibii. 



At midnight on the 2d December — the 
day of his examination — three men stealth- 
ily ascended the stairs of the Lollards' 
tower: the bellringer went first carrying a 
torch ; a servant named Charles Joseph 
followed, and last came the bishop's chan- 
cellor. Having entered the cell, they went 
up to the bed on which Hun was lying, and 
finding that he was asleep, the chancellor 
said : " Lay hands on the thief." Charles 
Joseph and the bellringer fell upon the 
prisoner, who, awaking with a start, saw at 
a glance what this midnight visit meant. 
He resisted the assassins at first, but was 
soon overpowered and strangled. Charles 
Joseph then fixed the dead man's belt 
round his neck, the bellringer helped to 
raise his lifeless body, and the chancellor 
slipped the other end of the belt through a 
ring fixed in the wall. They then placed 
his cap on his head, and hastily quitted the 
cell." 1 Immediately after, the conscience- 
stricken Charles Joseph got on horseback 
and rode from the city ; the bellringer left 
the cathedral and hid himself: the crime 
dispersed the criminals. The chancellor 
alone kept his ground, and he was at pray- 
ers when the news was brought him that 
the turnkey had found Hun hanging. " He 
must have killed himself in despair/' said 
the hypocrite. But every one knew poor 
Hun's Christian feelings. " It is the priests 
who have murdered him," was the general 
cry in London, and an inquest was ordered 
to be held on his body. 

On Tuesday the 5th of December, V7il- 
liam Barnwell the city coroner, the two 
sheriffs, and twenty-four jurymen, pro- 
ceeded to the Lollards' tower. They re- 
marked that the belt was so short that the 
head could not be got out of it, and that 
consequently it had never been placed in it 
voluntarily, and hence the jury concluded 
that the suspension was an after-thought 
of some other persons. Moreover they 
found that the ring was too high for the 
poor victim to reach it, — that the body bore 
marks of violence — and that traces of blood 
were in the cell : " Wherefore all we find 
by God and all our consciences (runs the 
verdict), that Richard Hun was murdered. 
Also, we acquit the said Richard Hun of 
his own death." 2 

It was but too true, and the criminals 
themselves confessed it. The miserable 
Charles Joseph having returned home on 
the evening of the 6th December, said to 
his maid servant : " If you will swear to 
keep my secret, I will tell you all." "Yes, 
master," she replied, " if it is neither fel- 
ony nor treason." Joseph took a book, 
swore the girl on it, and then said to her : 
" I have killed Richard Hun !" " master ! 



1 Ibid. p. 13. "And so all we murdered Hun 

and so Hun was hanged." (Evidence of 

Charles Joseph.) 

2 For particulars of the Inquest, see Foxe, Acts 
and Mon. ii. p. 11. 



062 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



how ? he was called a worthy man." " I 
would leaver [rather] than a hundred 
pounds it were not done," he made answer ; 
" but what is done cannot be undone." He 
then rushed out of the house. 

The clergy foresaw what a serious blow 
this unhappy affair would be to them, and 
to justify themselves they examined HunV 
Bible (it was Wickliffe's version), and hav- 
ing read in the preface that " that poor 
men and idiots [simple folks] have the truth 
of the Holy Scripture more than a thousand 
prelates and religious men and clerks of the 
school/ - ' and further, " that the pope ought 
to be called Antichrist," the bishop of Lon- 
don, assisted by the bishops of Durham and 
Lincoln, declared Hun guilty of heresy, and 
on the 20th December his dead body was 
burnt at Smlthlield. " Hun's bones have 
been burnt, and therefore he was a here- 
tic," said the priests ; " he was a heretic, 
and therefore he committed suicide." 

The triumph of the clergy was of short 
duration ; for almost at the same time Wil- 
liam Horsey, the bishop's chancellor, 
Charles Joseph, and John Spalding the 
bellringer, were convicted of the murder. 
A bill passed the Commons restoring Hun's 
property to his family and vindicating his 
character ; the Lords accepted the bill, and 
the king himself said to the priests : " Re- 
store to these wretched children the pro- 
perty of their father, whom you so cruelly 
murdered, to our great and just horror." 1 
" If the clerical theocracy should gain the 
mastery of the state," was the general re- 
mark in London, "it would not only be a 
very great lie, but the most frightful tyran- 
ny I" England has never gone back since 
that time, and a theocratic rule has always 
inspired the sound portion of the nation 
with a just and insurmountable antipathy. 
Such were the events taking place in Eng- 
land shortly before the Reformation. This 
was not all. 

The clergy had not been fortunate in 
Hun's affair, but they were not for that 
reason unwilling to attempt a new one. 

In the spring of 1517 — the year in which 
Luther posted up his theses — a priest, whose 
manners announced a man swollen with 
pride, happened to be on board the passage 
boat from London to Gravesend with an in- 
telligent and pious Christian of Ashford, by 
name John Brown. The passengers, as 
they floated down the stream, were amusing 
themselves by watching the banks glide 
away from them, when the priest turning 
towards Brown, said to him insolently : 
" You are too near me, get farther off. Do 
you know who I am ?" " No, sir," an- 
swered Brown. " Well, then, you must 
know that I am a priest." " Indeed, sir ; 
are you a parson, or vicar, or a lady's chap- 
lain ?" " No : I am a soul-priest," he 
haughtily replied ; " I sing mass to save 
souls." " Do you, sir." rejoined Brown 

1 Verdict on the Inquest; Foxe, p. 12. 



somewhat ironically, "that is well done, 
and can you tell me where you find the 
soul when you begin the mass? :; "I can- 
not," said the priest. " And whore you 
leave it when the mass is ended ?" "I do 
not know." "What!" continued Brown, 
with marks of astonishment, "you do not 
know where you find the soul or where you 
leave it. .. .and yet you say that you save 
it!" "Go thy ways," said the priest an- 
grily, " thou art a heretic, and I will be 
even with thee." "Thenceforward the priest 
and his neighbour conversed no more toge- 
ther. At last they reached Gravesend and 
the boat anchored. 

As soon as the priest had landed, he 
hastened to two of his friends, Walter and 
William More, and all three mounting their 
horses set off for Canterbury, and denounced 
Brown to the archbishop. 

In the meantime John Brown had reached 
home. Three days later, his wife, Eliza- 
beth, who had just left her chamber, went 
to church, dressed all in white, to return 
thanks to God for delivering her in the 
perils of childbirth. Her husband, as- 
sisted by her daughter Alice and the maid- 
servant, were preparing for their friends 
the feast usual on such occasions, and they 
had all of them taken their seats at table, 
joy beaming on every face, when the street- 
door was abruptly opened, and Chilton, the 
constable, a cruel and savage man, accom- 
panied by several of the archbishop's ap- 
paritors, seized upon the worthy townsman. 
All sprang from their seats in alarm ; Eli- 
zabeth and Alice uttered the most heart- 
rending cries ; but the primate's officers, 
without showing any emotion, pulled Brown 
out of the house, and placed him on horse- 
back, tying his feet under the animal's 
belly. 1 It is a serious matter to jest with 
a priest. The cavalcade rode off quickly, 
and Brown was thrown into prison, and 
there left forty days. 

At the end of this time, the archbishop 
of Canterbury and the bishop of Rochester 
called before them the impudent fellow who 
doubted whether a priest's mass could save 
souls, and required him to retract this 
" blasphemy." But Brown, if he did not 
believe in the mass, believed in the gospel : 
" Christ was once offered," he said, " to 
take away the sins of many. It is by this 
sacrifice we are saved, and not by the repe- 
titions of the priests." At this reply the 
archbishop made a sign to the executioners, 
one of whom took off the shoes and stock- 
ings of this pious Christian, while the other 
brought in a pan of burning coals, upon 
which they set the martyr's feet. 2 The 
English laws in truth forbade torture to be 
inflicted on any subject of the crown, but 
the clergy thought themselves above the 



1 Foxe, Acts, ii. p. 7. His feet bound under his 
own horse. 

a His bare feet were set upon hot burning coais. 
The Lollards (edit. Tract Soc), p. 149. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



663 



laws. " Confess the efficacity of the mass," 
cried the two bishops to poor Brown. " If 
I - deny my Lord upon earth," he replied, 
" He will deny me before his Father in hea- 
ven." The flesh was burnt off the soles of 
the feet even to the bones, and still John 
Brown remained unshaken. The bishops 
therefore ordered him to be given over to 
the secular arm that he might be burnt 
alive. 

On the Saturday preceding the festival 
of Pentecost, in the year 1517, the martyr 
was led back to Ashford, where he arrived 
just as the day was drawing to a close. A 
number of idle persons were collected in 
the street, and among them was Brown's 
maid-servant, who ran off crying to the 
house, and told her mistress : " I have seen 
him He was bound, and they were ta- 
king him to prison." 1 Elizabeth hastened 
to her husband and found him sitting with 
his feet in the stocks, his features changed 
by sufferings, and expecting to be burnt 
alive on the morrow. The poor woman sat 
down beside him, weeping most bitterly ; 
while he, being hindered by his chains, 
could not so much as bend towards her. 
" I cannot set my feet to the ground," said 
he, "for bishops have burnt them to the 
bones ; but they could not burn my tongue 
and prevent my confessing the Lord . — 

Elizabeth ! continue to love him for He 

is good ; and bring up our children in his 
fear." 

On the following morning — it was Whit- 
sunday — the brutal Chilton and his assist- 
ants led Brown to the place of execution, 
and fastened him to the stake. Elizabeth 
and Alice, with his other children and his 
friends, desirous of receiving his last sigh, 
surrounded the pile, uttering cries of an- 
guish. The fagots were set on fire ; while 
Brown, calm and collected, and full of con- 
fidence in the blood of the Saviour, clasped 
his hands, and repeated this hymn, which 
Foxe has preserved : — a 

Lord, I yield me to thy grace, 
Grant me mercy for my trespass; 
Let never the fiend my soul chase. 
Lord, I will bow, and thou shalt beat, 
Let never my soul come in hell-heat. 

The martyr was silent: the flames had 
consumed their victim. Then redoubled 
cries of anguish rent the air. His wife and 
daughter seemed as if they would lose their 
senses. The bystanders showed them the 
tenderest compassion, and turned with a 
movement of indignation towards the exe- 
cutioners. The brutal Chilton perceiving 
this, cried out : — " Come along ; let us toss 
the heretic's children into the flames, lest 
they should one day spring from their fa- 



1 A young maid of his house coming by saw her 
master, she ran home. The Lollards, p. 50. 

* F-oxe, Acts and Mon. ii. p. 8 (folio, 1684), iv. 
p. 132 (Lond. 1838). We shall in future refer to 
the latter edition, as being more accessible. 
43 



ther's ashes. 1 He rushed towards Alice, 
and was about to lay hold of her, when the 
maiden shrank back screaming with hor- 
ror. To the end of her life, she recollected 
the fearful moment, and to her we are in- 
debted for the particulars. The fury of the 
monster was checked. Such were the scenes 
passing in England shortly before the Re- 
formation. 

The priests were not yet satisfied, for the 
scholars still remained in England : if they 
could not be burnt, they should at least be 
banished. They set to work accordingly. 
Standish, bishop of St. Asaph, a sincere 
man, as it would seem, but fanatical, waa 
inveterate in his hatred of Erasmus, who 
had irritated him by an idle sarcasm. 
When speaking of St. Asaph's it was very 
common to abbreviate it into St. As's ; and 
as Standish was a theologian* of no great 
learning, Erasmus, in his jesting way, 
would sometimes call him Ejpiscopus a 
Sancto Asino. As the bishop could not 
destroy Colet, the disciple, he flattered 
himself that he should triumph over the 
master. 

Erasmus knew Standish's intentions. 
Should he commence in England that 
struggle with the papacy which Luther 
was about to begin in Germany ? It was 
no longer possible to steer a middle course : 
he must either fight or leave. The Dutch- 
man was faithful to his nature — we may 
even say, to his vocation : he left the 
country. 

Erasmus was, in his time, the head of 
the great literary community. By means 
of his connexions and his correspondence, 
which extended over all Europe, he estab- 
lished between those countries where learn- 
ing was reviving, an interchange of ideas 
and manuscripts. The pioneer of antiquity, 
an eminent critic, a witty satirist, the ad- 
vocate of correct taste, and a restorer of 
literature, one only glory was wanting : he 
had not the creative spirit, the heroic soul 
of a Luther. He calculated with no little 
skill, could detect the smile on the lips or 
the knitting of the brows ; but he had not 
that self-abandonment, that enthusiasm for 
the truth, that firm confidence in God, 
without which nothing great can be done 
in the world, and least of all in the church. 
" Erasmus had much, but was little," said 
one of his biographers. 2 

In the year 1517, a crisis had arrived : 
the period of the revival was over, that of 
the Reformation was beginning. The res- 
toration of letters was succeeded by the 
regeneration of religion : the days of criti- 
cism and neutrality by those of courage 
and action. Erasmus was then only forty- 
nine years old ; but he had finished his 
career. From being first, he must now be 
second : the monk of Wittemberg de- 



1 Bade cast in his children also, for they would 
spring of his ashes. Ibid. 
a Ad. Muller. 



664 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



throned him. He looked around himself 
in vain : placed in a new country, he had 
lost his road. A hero was needed to in- 
augurate the great movement of modern 
times : Erasmus was a mere man of letters. 
When attacked by Standish in 1516, the 
literary king determined to quit the court 
of England, and take refuge in a printing- 
office. But before laying down his sceptre 
at the foot of a Saxon monk, he signalized 
the end of his reign by the most brilliant 
of his publications. The epoch of 1516-17, 
memorable for the theses of Luther, was 
destined to be equally remarkable by a 
work which was to imprint on the new 
times their essential character. What dis- 
tinguishes the Reformation from all ante- 
rior revivals is the union of learning with 
piety, and a faith more profound, more en- 
lightened, and based on the word of God. 
The Christian people was then emancipated 
from the tutelage of the schools and the 
popes, and its charter of enfranchisement 
was the Bible. The sixteenth century did 
more than its predecessors : it went straight 
to the fountain (the Holy Scriptures), 



cleared it of weeds and brambles, plumbed 
its depths, and caused its abundant streams 
to pour forth on all around. The Reform?,- 
tion age studied the Greek Testament, which 
the clerical age had almost forgotten, — and 
this is its greatest glory. Now the first ex- 
plorer of this divine source was Erasmus. 
When attacked by the hierarchy, the leader 
of the schools withdrew from the splendid 
halls of Henry VIII. It seemed to him 
that the new era which he had announced 
to the world was rudely interrupted : he 
could do nothing more by his conversa- 
tion for the country of the Tudors. But 
he carried with him those precious leaves, 
the fruit of his labours — a book which 
would do more than he desired. He hast- 
ened to Basle, and took up his quarters in 
Frobenius' printing-office, 1 where he not 
only laboured himself, but made others 
labour. England will soon receive the 
seed of the new life, and the Reformation 
is about to begin. 



1 Frobenio, ut nullius officinse plus debeant 
sacrarum studia literarum Erasm. Ep. p. 330. 




TONSTALL BURNING THE BIBI/E JX LONDON. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



665 



BOOK XVIII. 



THE REVIVAL OF THE CHURCH. 



Four Reforming Powers — Which Reformed England ? — Papal Reform? — Episcopal Reform? — Royal 
Reform ? — What is required in a legitimate Reform ? — The Share of the Kingly Power. — Share 
of the Episcopal Authority — High and Low Church — Political Events — The Greek and Latin 
New Testament — Thoughts of Erasmus — Enthusiasm and 'Anger — Desire of Erasmus — Clamours 
of the Priests — Their Attack at Court — Astonishment of Erasmus — His Labours for this Work — 
Edward Lee — His Character — Lee's Tragedy — Conspiracy — Effects of the New Testament in the 
Universities — Conversations — A Cambridge Fellow — Bilney buys the New Testament — The First 
Passage — His Conversion — Protestantism, the Fruit of the Gospel — The Vale of the Severn — 
William Tyndale — Evangelization at Oxford — Bilney teaches at Cambridge — Fryth — Is Conver- 
sion possible ? — True Consecration — The Reformation has begun — Alarm of the Clergy — The Two 
Bays — Thomas Man's Preaching — True real Presence — Persecutions at Coventry — Standish 
preaches at Saint Paul's — His Petition to the King and Queen — His Arguments and Defeat — 
Wolsey's Ambition — First Overtures — Henry and Francis Candidates for the Empire — Conference 
between Francis I. and Sir T. Boleyn — The Tiara promised to Wolsey — The Cardinal's Intrigues 
with Charles and Francis — Tyndale — Sodbury Hall — Sir John and Lady Walsh — Table-Talk — 
The Holy Scriptures — The Images — The Anchor of Faith — A Roman Camp — Preaching of Faith 
and Works — Tyndale accused by the Priests — They tear up what he has planted — Tyndale 
resolves to translate the Bible — His first Triumph — The Priests in the Taverns — Tyndale 
summoned before the Chancellor of Worcester — Consoled by an aged Doctor — Attacked by a 
Schoolman — His Secret becomes known — He leaves Sodbury Hall — Luther's Works in England 
— Consultation of the Bishops — The Bull of Leo X. published in England — Luther's Books burnt 
— Letter of Henry VIII. — He undertakes to write against Luther — Cry of Alarm — Tradition and 
Sacramentalism — Prudence of Sir Thomas More — The Book presented to the Pope — Defender of 
the Faith — Exultation of the King — Wolsey's Machinations to obtain the Tiara — He gains Charles 
V. — Alliance between Henry and Charles — Wolsey offers to command the Troops — Treaty of 
Bruges — Henry believes himself King of France — Victories of Francis I. — Death of Leo X. — The 
Just Men of Lincolnshire — Their Assemblies and Teaching — Agnes and Morden — Itinerant 
Libraries — Polemical Conversations — Sarcasm — Royal Decree and Terror — Depositions and 
Condemnations — Four Martyrs — A Conclave — Charles consoles Wolsey — Character of Tyndale — 
He arrives in London — He preaches — The Cloth and the Ell — The Bishop of London gives 
audience to Tyndale — He is dismissed — A Christian Merchant of London — Spirit of Love in the 
Reformation — Tyndale in Monmouth's House — Fryth helps him to translate the New Testament 
— Importunities of the Bishop of Lincoln — Persecution in London — Tyndale's Resolution — He 
departs — His Indignation against the Prelates — His Hopes — Bilney at Cambridge — Conversions 
— The University Cross-bearer — A Leicestershire Farmer — A Party of Students — Superstitious 
Practices — An obstinate Papist — The Sophists — Latimer attacks Stafford — Bilney's Resolution — 
Latimer hears Bilney's Confession — Confessor converted — New Life of Latimer — Bilney preaches 
Grace — Nature of the Ministry — Latimer's Character and Teaching — Works of Charity — Three 
Classes of Adversaries — Clark and Calaber — Wolsey seeks the Tiara — Clement VII. is elected 
— Wolsey's Dissimulation — Charles offers France to Henry — Pace's Mission on this Subject — 
Wolsey reforms the Convents — His secret Alliances — Treaty between France and England — 
Taxation and Insurrection — False Charges against the Reformers — Latimer's Defence — Tenterden 
Steeple — Tyndale at Hamburgh — First two Gospels. — Embarrassment — Tyndale at Wittemberg — 
At Cologne — The New Testament at Press — Sudden Interruption — Cochlaeus at Cologne — Rupert's 
Manuscripts — Discovery of Cochlaeus — His Inquiries — His Alarm — Rincke and the Senate's Prohi- 
bition — Consternation and Decision of Tyndale — Cochlaeus writes to England — Tyndale ascends 
the Rhine — Prints two Editions at Worms — Tyndale's Prayer — Worms and Cambridge — St. Paul 
resuscitated— Latimer's Preaching — Never Man spake like this Man — Joy and Vexation at Cam- 
bridge — Sermon by Prior Buckingham — Irony — Latimer's Reply to Buckingham — The Students 
threatened — Latimer preaches before the Bishop — He is forbidden to preach — The most zealous 
of Bishops — Barnes the restorer of Letters — Bilney undertakes to convert him — Barnes offers his 
Pulpit to Latimer — Fryth's Thirst for God — Christmas Eve, 1525 — Storm against Barnes — 
Ferment in the Colleges — Germany at Cambridge — Meetings at Oxford — General Expectation. 



It was the province of four powers in 
the sixteenth century to effect a reforma- 
tion of the church : these were the papacy, 
the episcopate, the monarchy, and Holy 
Scripture. 

The Reformation in England was essen- 
tially the work of Scripture. 

The only true Reformation is that which 
emanates from the word of God. The Holy 
Scriptures, by bearing witness to the incar- 
nation, death, and resurrection of the Son 
jf God, create in man by the Holy Ghost a 



faith which justifies him. That faith, which 
produces in him a new life, unites him to 
Christ, without his requiring a chain of bish- 
ops or a Roman mediator, who would sepa- 
rate him from the Saviour instead of drawing 
him nearer. This Reformation by the word 
restores that spiritual Christianity which 
the outward and hierarchical religion had 
destroyed ; and from the regeneration of 
individuals naturally results the regenera- 
tion of the church. 

The Reformation of England, perhaps to 



666 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a greater extent than that of the continent, 
3,vas effected by the word of God. This 
statement may appear paradoxical, but it is 
not the less true. Those great individuali- 
ties we meet with in Germany, Switzerland, 
and France — men like Luther, Zwingle, 
and Calvin — do not appear in England ; 
but Holy Scripture is widely circulated. 
What brought light into the British isles 
subsequently to the year 1517, and on a 
more extended scale after the year 1526, 
w T as the word— the invisible power of the 
invisible God. The religion of the Anglo- 
Saxon race — a race called more than any 
other to circulate the oracles of God 
throughout the world — is particularly dis- 
tinguished by its biblical character. 

The Reformation of England could not 
be papal. No reform can be hoped from that 
which ought to be not only reformed, but 
abolished ; and besides, no monarch de- 
thrones himself. We may even affirm that 
the popedom has always felt a peculiar af- 
fection for its conquests in Britain, and 
that they would have been the last it would 
have renounced. A serious voice had de- 
clared in the middle of the fifteenth cen- 
tury : " A reform is neither in the will nor 
in the power of the popes." 1 

The Reformation of England was not 
episcopal. Roman hierarchism will never 
be abolished by Roman bishops. An epis- 
copal assembly may perhaps, as at Con- 
stance, depose three competing popes, but 
then it will be to save the papacy. And if 
the bishops could not abolish the papacy, 
still less could they reform themselves. 
The then existing episcopal power, being 
at enmity with the word of God, and the 
slave of its own abuses, was incapable of 
renovating the church. On the contrary, 
it exerted all its influence, to prevent such 
a renovation. 

The Reformation in England was not 
royal. Samuel, David, and Josiah were 
able to do something for the raising up of 
the church, when God again turned his 
face towards it ; but a king cannot rob his 
people of their religion, and still less can 
he give them one. It has often been re- 
peated that " the English Reformation de- 
rives its origin from the monarch ;" but 
the assertion is incorrect. The work of 
God, here as elsewhere, cannot be put in 
comparison with the work of the king ; and 
if the latter was infinitely surpassed in 
importance, it was also preceded in time by 
many years. The monarch was still keep- 
ing up a vigorous resistance behind his 
intrenchments, when God had already de- 
cided the victory along the whole line of 
operations. 

Shall we be told that a reform effected by 
any other principle, than the established 
authorities, both in church and state, would 
have been a revolution ? But has God, the 



1 James of Juterbock, prior of the Carthusians : 
De aeptein ecclesise statibus opusculum. 



lawful sovereign of the church, forbidden 
all revolution in a sinful world ? A revolu- 
tion is not a revolt. The fall of the first 
man was a great revolution : the restora- 
tion of man by Jesus Christ was a counter- 
revolution. The corruption occasioned by 
popery was allied to the fall : the reforma- 
tion accomplished in the sixteenth century 
was connected therefore with the restora- 
tion. There will no doubt be other inter- 
ventions of the Deity, which will be revo- 
lutions in the same direction as the 
Reformation. When God creates a new 
heaven and a new earth, will not that be 
one of the most glorious of revolutions ? 
The Reformation by the word alone gives 
truth, alone gives unity ; but more than 
that, it alone bears the marks of true legi- 
timacy ; for the church belongs not unto 
men, even though they be priests. God 
alone is its lawful sovereign. 

And yet the human elements which we 
have enumerated were not wiiolly foreign 
to the work that was accomplishing in 
England. Besides the word of God, other 
principles were in operation, and although 
less radical and less primitive, they still re- 
tain the sympathy of eminent men of that 
nation. 

And in the first place, the intervention 
of the king's authority was necessary to a 
certain point. Since the supremacy of 
Rome had been established in England by 
several usages which had the force of law, 
the intervention of the temporal power was 
necessary to break the bonds which it had 
previously sanctioned. But it was requi- 
site for the monarchy, while adopting a 
negative and political action, to leave the 
positive, doctrinal, and creative action to 
the word of God. 

Besides the reformation in the name of 
the Scriptures, there was then in England 
another in the name of the Icing. The word 
of God began, the kingly power followed ; 
and ever since these two forces have some- 
times gone together against the authority 
of the Roman Pontiffs — sometimes in oppo- 
sition to each other, like those troops which 
march side by side in the same army, 
against the same enemy, and which have 
occasionally been seen, even on the field 
of battle, to turn their swords against each 
other. 

Finally, the episcopate which had begun 
by opposing the Reformation, was com- 
pelled to accept it in despite of its convic- 
tions. The majority of the bishops were 
opposed to it ; but the better portion were 
found to incline, some to the side of out- 
ward reform, of which separation from the 
papacy was the very essence, and others to 
the side of internal reform, whose main- 
spring was union with Jesus Christ. Lastly, 
the episcopate took up its ground on ite 
own account, and soon two great parties 
alone existed in England : the scriptural 
party and the clerical party. 

These two parties have survived even to 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



667 



our days, and their colours are still distin- 
guishable in the river of the church, like 
the muddy Arve and the limpid Rhone after 
their confluence. The royal supremacy, 
from which many Christians, preferring the 
paths of independence, have withdrawn 
since the end of the 16th century, is recog- 
nised by both parties in the establishment, 
with some few exceptions. But whilst the 
High Church is essentially hierarchical, 
the Low Church is essentially biblical. In 
the one, the Church is above and the Word 
below ; in the other, the Church is below 
and the Word above. These two principles, 
evangelism and hierarchism, are found in 
the Christianity of the first centuries, but 
with a signal difference. Hierarchism then 
almost entirely effaced evangelism ; in the 
age of protestantism, on the contrary, evan- 
gelism continued to exist by the side of 
hierarchism, and it has remained de jure, 
if not always de facto, the only legitimate 
opinion of the church. 

Thus there is in England a complication 
of influences and contests, which render 
the work more difficult to describe ; but it 
is on that very account more worthy the 
attention of the philosopher and the Chris- 
tian. 

Great events had just occurred in Europe. 
Francis I. had crossed the Alps, gained a 
signal victory at Marignano, and con- 
quered the north of Italy. The affrighted 
Maximilian knew of none who could save 
him but Henry VIII. " I will adopt you ; 
you shall be my successor in the empire/' 
he intimated to him in May 1516. " Your 
army shall invade France ; and then we 
will march together to Rome, where the 
sovereign pontiff shall crown you king of 
the Romans/' The king of France, anx- 
ious to effect a diversion, had formed a 
league with Denmark and Scotland, and 
had made preparations for invading Eng- 
land to place on the throne the " white 
rose," — the pretender Pole, heir to the 
claims of the house of York. 1 Henry now 
showed his prudence ; he declined Maximi- 
lian's offer, and turned his whole attention 
to the security of his kingdom. But while 
he refused to bear arms in France and 
Italy, a war of quite another kind broke 
out in England. 

The great work of the 16th century was 
about to begin. A volume fresh from the 
presses of Basle had just crossed the chan- 
nel. Being transmitted to London, Oxford, 
and Cambridge, ■ this book, the fruit of 
Erasmus's vigils, soon found its way 
wherever there were friends of learning. 
It was the New Testament of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, published for the first time in Greek 
with a new Latin translation — an event 
more important for the world than would 
have been the landing of the pretender in 
England, or the appearance of the chief of 



1 A private combination, &c. Strype's Memo- 
rials, i. part ii. p. 16. 



the Tudors in Italy. This book, in which 
God has deposited for man's salvation the 
seeds of life, was about to effect alone, 
without patrons and without interpreters, 
the most astonishing revolution in Britain. 

When Erasmus published this work, at 
the dawn, so to say, of modern times, he 
did not see all its scope. Had he foreseen 
it, he wculd perhaps have recoiled in alarm. 
He saw indeed that there was a great work 
to be done, but he believed that all good 
men would unite to do it with common ac- 
cord. " A spiritual temple must be raised 
in desolated Christendom," said he. " The 
mighty of this world will contribute towards 
it their marble, their ivory, and their gold ; 
I who am poor and humble offer the foun- 
dation stone," and he laid down before the 
world his edition of the Greek Testament. 
Then glancing disdainfully at the traditions 
of men, he said : " It is not from human 
reservoirs, fetid with stagnant waters, that 
we should draw the doctrine of salvation ; 
but from the pure and abundant streams 
that flow from the heart of God." And 
when some of his suspicious friends spoke 
to him of the difficulties of the times, he 
replied : " if the ship of the church is to be 
saved from being swallowed up by the tem- 
pest, there is only one anchor that can save 
it : it is the heavenly word, which, issuing 
from the bosom of the Father, lives, speaks, 
and works still in the gospel." 1 These 
noble sentiments served as an introduction 
to those blessed pages which were to reform 
England. Erasmus, like Caiaphas, prophe- 
sied without being aware of it. 

The New Testament in Greek and Latin 
had hardly appeared when it was received 
by all men of upright mind with unprece- 
dented enthusiasm. Never had any book 
produced such a sensation. It was in every 
hand : men struggled to procure it, read it 
eagerly, and would even kiss it. 2 The 
words it contained enlightened every heart. 
But a reaction soon took place. Tradi- 
tional Catholicism uttered a cry from the 
depths of its noisome pools (to use Eras 
mus's figure). Franciscans and Domini- 
cans, priests and bishops, not daring to 
attack the educated and well-born, went 
among the ignorant populace, and endea- 
voured by their tales and clamours to stir 
up susceptible women and credulous men. 
" Here are horrible heresies," they ex- 
claimed, " here are frightful antichrists ! 
If this book be tolerated it will be the 
death of the papacy !" — " We must drive 
this man from the university," said one. 
" We must turn him out of the church," 
added another. " The public places re- 
echoed with their howlings," said Eras- 
mus. 3 The firebrands tossed by their furious 



1 In evangelieis litteris, sermo ille coelestis, 
quondam e corde Patris ad nos profectus. Erasm. 
Leoni, Ep. p. 1S43. 

a Opus avidissime rapitur amatur, maniDuj 

teritur. Erasm. Ep. p. 557. 

3 Oblatrabant sycophant®. Ibid. p. 329. 



668 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hands were raising fires in every quarter ; 
and the flames kindled in a few obscure 
convents threatened to spread over the 
whole country. 

This irritation was not without a cause. 
The book, indeed, contained nothing but 
Latin and Greek ; but this first step seemed 
to augur another — the translation of the 
Bible into the vulgar tongue. Erasmus 
loudly called for it. 1 " Perhaps it may be 
necessary to conceal the secrets of kings," 
he remarked, " but we must publish the 
mysteries of Christ. The Holy Scriptures, 
translated into all languages, should be 
read not only by the Scotch and Irish, but 
even by Turks and Saracens. The hus- 
bandman should sing them as he holds the 
handle of his plough, the weaver repeat 
tliem as he plies his shuttle, and the 
wearied traveller, halting on his journey, 
refresh him under some shady tree by 
these godly narratives." These words pre- 
figured a golden age after the iron age of 
popery. A number of Christian families 
in Britain and on the continent were soon 
to realize these evangelical forebodings, 
and England after three centuries was to 
endeavour to carry them out for the benefit 
of all the nations on the face of the earth. 

The priests saw the danger, and by a 
skilful manoeuvre, instead of finding fault 
with the Greek Testament, attacked the 
translation and the translator. " He has 
corrected the Vulgate," they said, " and 
puts himself in the place of Saint Jerome. 
He sets aside a work authorized by the 
consent of ages, and inspired by the 
Holy Ghost. What audacity !" and then, 
turning over the pages, they pointed out 
the most odious passages : " Look here ! 
this book calls upon men to repent, instead 
of requiring them, as the Vulgate does, 
to do penance !" (Matt. iv. 17.) The priests 
thundered against him from their pulpits : 2 
" This man has committed the unpardon- 
able sin, they asserted ; "for he maintains 
that there is nothing in common between 
the Holy Ghost and the monks — that they 
are logs rather than men !" These simple 
remarks were received with a -general 
laugh, but the priests, in no wise discon- 
certed, cried out all the louder: "He's a 
heretic, an heresiarch, a forger ! he's a 

goose 3 what do I say? he's a very 

antichrist !" 

It was not sufficient for the papal janis- 
saries to make war in the plain, they must 
carry it to the higher ground. Was not 
the king a friend of Erasmus ? If he 
should declare himself a patron of the 
Greek and Latin Testament, what an awful 

calamity I" After having agitated the 

cloisters, towns, and universities, they re- 



1 Paraclesis ad lectorem pium. 

2 Quam stolide debacchati sunt quidam e sug- 
gests ad populum. Erasm, Ep. p. 1193. 

3 Nos cl ami tans esse grues (cranes) et bestias. 
Erasm. Ep. p. 914. 



solved to protest against it boldly, even in 
Henry's presence. They thought: " If he 
is won, all is won." It happened one day 
that a certain theologian (whose name is 
not given) having to preach in his turn be- 
fore the king, he declaimed violently against 
the Greek language and its new interpreters. 
Pace, the king's secretary was present, and 
turning his eyes on Henry, observed him 
smiling good humouredly. On leaving the 
church, every one began to exclaim against 
the preacher. " Bring the priest to me," 
said the king ; and then turning to More, 
he added : " You shall defend the Greek 
cause against him, and I will listen to the 
disputation." The literary tribunal was 
soon formed, but the sovereign's order had 
taken away all the priest's courage. He 
came forward trembling, fell on his knees, 
and with clasped hands exclaimed : " I 
know not what spirit impelled me." " A 
spirit of madness," said tne king, " and 
not the spirit of Jesus Christ." 2 He then 
added : " Have you ever read Erasmus ?" 
"No, Sire." "Away with you then, you 
are a blockhead." " And yet," said the 
preacher in confusion, " I remember to have 
read something about Moria," (Erasmus's 
treatise on Folly.) "A subject, your ma- 
jesty, that ought to be very familiar to 
him," wickedly interrupted Pace. The 
obscurant could say nothing in his justifi- 
cation. " I am not altogether opposed to 
the Greek," he added at last, " seeing that 
it is derived from the Hebrew." 3 This was 
greeted with a general laugh, and the king 
impatiently ordered the monk to leave the 
room, and never appear before him again. 

Erasmus was astonished at these discus- 
sions. He had imagined the season to be 
most favourable. " Every thing looks peace- 
ful," he had said to himself; "now is the 
time to launch my Greek Testament into the 
learned world." 4 As well might the sun 
rise upon the earth, and no one see it ! At 
that very hour God was raising up a monk 
at Wittemberg who would lift the trumpet 
to his lips, and proclaim the new day. 
" W^retch that I am !" exclaimed the timid 
scholar, beating his breast, " who could 
have foreseen this horrible tempest !" 5 

Nothing was more important at the dawn 
of the Reformation than the publication of 
the Testament of Jesus Christ in the origi- 
nal language. Never had Erasmus worked 
so carefully. " If I told what sweat it cost 
me, no one would believe me." 6 He had 



1 Pacseus in regem conjecit oculos Is mox 

Pacseo suaviter arrisit. Ibid. 

2 Turn rex : ut qui in quit, spiritus iste non erat 
Christi sed stultitias. Ibid. 

3 Graecis, inquit, literis non perinde sum infen- 
sus, quod originem habeant ex lingua hebraica. 
Ibid. p. 347. 

* Erant tempora tranquilla. Erasm. Ep. p. 911. 

8 Quis enim suspicaturus erat hanc fatalem tem- 
pestatem exorituram in orbe ? Ibid. 

6 Quantis mihi constiterit sudoribus. Ibid. p. 
329. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



669 



collated many Greek MSS. of the New Tes- 
tament, 1 and was surrounded by all the 
commentaries and translations, by the wri- 
tings of Origen, Cyprian, Ambrose, Basil, 
Chrysostom, Cyril, Jerome, and Augustine. 
Hie sum in campo meo /he exclaimed as he 
sat in the midst of his books. He had in- 
vestigated the texts according to the prin- 
ciples of sacred criticism. When a know- 
ledge of Hebrew was necessary, he had 
consulted Capito, and more particularly 
CEcolampadius. Nothing without Theseus, 
said he of the latter, making use of a Greek 
proverb. He had corrected the amphibolo- 
gies, obscurities, hebraisms, and barbarisms 
of the Vulgate ; and had caused a list to be J 
printed of the errors in that version. 

" We must restore the pure text of the 
word of God," he had said ; and when he 
heard the maledictions of the priests, he 
had exclaimed : "I call God to witness I 
thought I was doing a work acceptable to 
the Lord and necessary to the cause of 
Christ." 2 Nor in this was he deceived. 

At the head of his adversaries was Ed- 
ward Lee, successively king's almoner, 
archdeacon of Colchester, and archbishop 
of York. Lee, at that time but little known, 
was a man of talent and activity, but also 
vain and loquacious, and determined to 
make his way at any cost. Even when a 
schoolboy, he looked down on all his com- 
panions. 3 As child, youth, man, and in 
mature years, he was always the same, 
Erasmus tells us ; 4 that is to say, vain, en- 
vious, jealous, boasting, passionate, and 
revengeful. We must bear in mind, how- 
ever, that when Erasmus describes the 
character of his opponents, he is far from 
being an impartial judge. In the bosom 
of Roman-catholicism, there have always 
existed well-meaning, though ill-informed 
men, who, not Rowing the interior power 
of the word of God, have thought that if its 
authority were substituted for that of the 
Romish church, the only foundation of 
truth and of Christian society would be 
shaken. Yet while we judge Lee less se- 
verely than Erasmus does, we cannot close 
our eyes to his faults. His memory was 
richly furnished, but his heart was a stranger 
to divine truth : he was a schoolman and 
not a believer. He wanted the people to 
obey the church and not trouble themselves 
about the Scriptures. He was the Doctor 
Eck of England, but with more of outward 
appearance and morality than Luther's ad- 
versary. Yet he was by no means a rigid 
moralist. On one occasion, when preaching 
at the palace, he introduced ballads into his 
sermon, one of which began thus : — 

* Collatis multis Graecorum exeinplaribus. Ibid. 

2 Deum testor simpliciter existimabain me rem 
facere Deo gratam ac rei Christianae necessariam. 
Ibid. p. 911. 

8 Solus baberi in pretio volebat. Erasru. Ep. p. 
693. 

4 Talis erat puer, talis adolescens, talis juvenis, 
talis nunc etiam vir est. Ibid. 594. 



" Pass time with good company." 
And the other : — 

"I love unloved." 

We are indebted to Secretary Pace for 
this characteristic trait. 1 

During the sojourn of Erasmus in Eng- 
land, Lee, observing his influence, had 
sought his friendship, and Erasmus, with 
his usual courtesy, had solicited his advice 
upon his work. But Lee, jealous of his great 
reputation, only waited for an opportunity 
to injure it, which he seized upon as soon 
as it occurred. The New Testament had 
not been long published, when Lee turned 
round abruptly, and from being Erasmus's 
friend became his implacable adversary. 2 
" If we do not stop this leak," said he when 
he heard of the New Testament, " it will 
sink the ship." Nothing terrifies the de- ' 
fenders of human traditions so much as the 
word of God. 

Lee immediately leagued himself with all 
those in England who abhorred the study 
of Scripture, says Erasmus. Although ex- 
ceedingly conceited, he showed himself the 
most amiable of men, in order to accom- 
plish his designs. He invited Englishmen 
to his house, welcomed strangers, and gained 
many recruits by the excellence of his din- 
ners. 3 While seated at table among his 
guests, he hinted perfidious charges against 
Erasmus, and his company left him " loaded 
with lies." 4 " In this Ne,w Testament," 
said he, "there are three hundred danger- 
ous, frightful passages three hundred 

did I say? there are more than a thou- 
sand !" Not satisfied with using his tongue, 
Lee wrote scores of letters, and employed 
several secretaries. Was there any convent 
in the odour of sanctity, he " forwarded to 
it instantly wine, choice viands, and other 
presents." To each one he assigned his 
part, and over all England they were re- 
hearsing what Erasmus calls Lee's tragedy. 5 
In this manner they were preparing the 
catastrophe ; a prison for Erasmus, the fire 
for the Holy Scriptures. 

When all was arranged, Lee issued his 
manifesto. Although a poor Greek scholar, 6 
he drew up some Annotations on Erasmus's 
book, which the latter called " mere abuse 
and blasphemy ;" but which the members 
of the league regarded as oracles. They 
passed them secretly from hand to hand, 
and these obscure sheets, by many indirect 
channels, found their way into every part 



1 State Papers, Henry VIII. etc. i. p. 10, pub. 
1830. 

3 Subito factus est inimicus. Erasm. Ep. p. 746. 

s Excipiebat advenas. praesertim Anglos, eos con- 
viviis faciebat suos. Ibid. p. 593. 

* Abeuntes omni mendaciorum genere diniittebat 
onustos. Ibid. 

s Donee Leus ordiretur'suam tragoediam. Ibid, 
p. 913. 

* Simon, Hist. crit. du N. Test. p. 246. 



670 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of England, and met with numerous readers. 1 
There was to be no publication — such was 
the watchword ; Lee was too much afraid. 
" Why did you not publish your work V 
asked Erasmus, with cutting irony. " Who 
knows whether the holy father, appointing 
you the Aristarchus of letters, might not 
have sent you a birch to keep the whole 
world in order !" 2 

The Annotations having triumphed in the 
convents, the conspiracy took a new flight. 
In every place of public resort, at fairs and 
markets, at the dinner-table and in the 
council-chamber, in shops, and taverns, and 
houses of ill-fame, in churches and in the 
universities, in cottages and in palaces, the 
league blattered against Erasmus and the 
Greek Testament. 3 Carmelites, Dominicans, 
and Sophists, invoked heaven and conjured 
hell. What need was there of Scripture ? 
Had they not the apostolical succession of 
the clergy ? No hostile landing in England 
could, in their eyes, be more fatal than that 
of the New Testament. The whole nation 
must rise to repel this impudent invasion. 
There is, perhaps, no country in Europe, 
where the Reformation was received by so 
unexpected a storm. 

^ While this rude blast was rushing over 
England, and roaring in the long galleries 
of its convents, the still small voice of the 
Word was making its way into the peace- 
ful homes of praying men, and the ancient 
halls of Oxford and Cambridge. In private 
chambers, in the lecture- rooms and refec- 
tories, students, and even masters of arts, 
were to be seen reading the Greek and Latin 
'.Testament. Animated groups were discuss- 
ing the principles of the Reformation. 
When Christ came on earth (said some) He 
gave the Word, and when He ascended up 
into heaven He gave the Holy Spirit. These 
are the two forces which created the church 
— and these are the forces that must regen- 
erate it. No (replied the partisans of 
Rome), it was the teaching of the apostles 
at first, and it is the teaching of the priests 
now. The apostles (rejoined the friends of 
the Testament of Erasmus) — yes, it is true 
— the apostles were during their ministry a 
living scripture ; but their oral teaching 
would infallibly have been altered by pass- 
ing from mouth to mouth. God willed, 
therefore, that these precious lessons should 
be preserved to us in their writings, and 
thus become the ever undefiled source of 
truth and salvation. To set the Scriptures 
in the foremost place, as your pretended re- 
formers are doing, replied the schoolmen 
of Oxford and Cambridge, is to propagate 
heresy ! And what are the reformers doing 



1 Liber volitat inter manus conjuratorum. Erasm. 
Ep. p. 746. 

2 Tibi tradita virgula totius orbis censuram fuerit 
mandaturus. Ibid. p. 742. 

2 Ut nusquam non blaterent in Erasmum, in 
eompotationibus, in foris, in conciliabulis, in phar- 
inacopohis, in curribus, in tonstrinis, in fornicibus. 
Erasm. Ep. p. 746. 



(asked their apologists) except what Christ 
did before them ? The sayings of the pro- 
phets existed in the time of Jesus only as 
Scripture, and it was to this written Word 
that our Lord appealed when he founded 
his kingdom. 1 And now in like manner the 
teaching of the apostles exists only as Scrip- 
ture, and it is to this written word that we 
appeal in order to re-establish the kingdom 
of our Lord in its primitive condition. The 
night is far spent, the day is at hand ; all 
is in motion — in the lofty halls of our col- 
leges, in the mansions of the rich and noble, 
and in the lowly dwellings of the poor. If 
we want to scatter the darkness, must we 
light the shrivelled wick of some old lamp ? 
Ought we not rather to open the doors and 
shutters, and admit freely into the house 
the great light which God has placed in the 
heavens ? 

There was in Trinity College, Cambridge, 
a young doctor, much given to the study 
of the canon law, of serious turn of mind 
and bashful disposition, and whose ten- 
der conscience strove, although ineffec- 
tually, to fulfill the commandments of God. 
Anxious about his salvation, Thomas 
Bilney applied to the priests, whom he 
looked upon as physicians of the soul. 
Kneeling before his confessor, with humble 
look and pale face, he told him all his sins, 
and even those of which he doubted. 2 The 
priest prescribed at one time fasting, at 
another prolonged vigils, and then masses 
and indulgences which cost him dearly. 3 
The poor doctor went through all these 
practices with great devotion, but found no 
consolation in them. Being weak and 
slender, his body wasted away by degrees, 4 
his understanding grew weaker, his imagi- 
nation faded, and his purse became empty. 
" Alas ! ; ' said he with anguish, " my last 
state is worse than the first." From time 
to time an idea crossed his mind ; " May 
not the priests be seeking their own inter- 
est, and not the salvation of my soul V s 
But immediately rejecting the rash doubt, 
he fell back under the iron hand of the 
clergy. 

One day Bilney heard his friends talking 
about a new book : it was the Greek Testa- 
ment printed with a translation which was 
highly praised for its elegant latinity'. 6 At- 
tracted by the beauty of the style rather 
than by the divinity of the subject, 7 he 



1 Matth. xxii. 29 : xxvi. 24, 54 ; Mark, xiv. 49 ; 
Luke xviii. 31 ; xxiv. 27, 44, 45 ; John v. 39, 46 ; 
x. 35 ; xvii. 12, &c. 

a In ignaros medicos, indoctos confessionum 
auditores. Th. Bilngeus Tonstallo Episcopo ; 
Foxe, iv. p. 633. 

3 Indicebant enim mihi jejunia, vigilias, indul- 
gentiarum et missarum emptiones. Ibid. 

* Ut parum mihi virium (alioqui natura imbe- 
cilli) reliquum fuerit. Ibid. 

6 Sua potius queerebant quam salutem anim«B 
mese languentis. Ibid. 

6 Cum ab eo latinius redditum accepi. Ibk 

1 Latinitate potius quam verbo Dei, allectus. 
Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



671 



stretched out his hand ; but just as he was 
going to take the volume, fear came upon 
him and he withdrew it hastily. In fact, 
the confessors strictly prohibited Greek and 
Hebrew books, "the sources of all here- 
sies ;" and Erasmus's Testament was par- 
ticularly forbidden. Yet Bilney regretted 
so great a sacrifice ; was it not the Testa- 
ment of Jesus Christ ? Might not God have 
placed therein some word which perhaps 
might heal the soul ? He stepped forward, 

and then again shrank back At last he 

took courage. Urged, said he, by the hand 
of God, he walked out of the college, slipped 
into the house where the volume was 
sold in secret, bought it with fear and 
trembling, and then hastened back and 
shut himself up in his room. 1 

He opened it — his eyes caught these 
words : This is a faithful saying, and wor- 
thy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came 
into the world to save sinners ; of whom I am 
chief? He laid down the book, and medi- 
tated on the astonishing declaration. — 
" What ! St. Paul the chief of sinners, and 
yet St. Paul is sure of being saved !" He 
read the verse again and again. " asser- 
tion of St. Paul, how sweet art thou to my 
soul I" he exclaimed. 3 This declaration 
continually haunted him, and in this man- 
ner God instructed him in the secret of his 
heart. 4 He could not tell what had hap- 
pened to him ; 5 it seemed as if a refreshing 
wind were blowing over his soul, or as if a 
rich treasure had been placed in his hands. 

The Holy Spirit took what was Christ's, 
and announced it to him. " I also am like 
Paul," exclaimed he with emotion, " and 

more than Paul, the greatest of sinners ! 

But Christ saves sinners. At last I have 
heard of Jesus." 6 

His doubts were ended — he was saved. 
Then took place in him a wonderful trans- 
formation. An unknown joy pervaded 
him ; 7 his conscience, until then sore with 
the wounds of sin, was healed ; 8 instead of 
despair he felt an inward peace passing all 
understanding. 9 " Jesus Christ," exclaimed 

he ; " yes, Jesus Christ saves !" Such is 

the character of the Reformation : it is Je- 
sus Christ who saves, and not the church. 
" I see it all," said Bilney; " my vigils, my 
fasts, my pilgrimages, my purchase of 
masses and indulgences were destroying in- 
stead of saving me. 10 All these efforts were, 

1 Emebam providentia (sine dubio) divina. 
Foxe, iv. p. 633. 

9 1 Tim. i. 15. 

3 mihi suavissimam Pauli sententiam. Foxe, 
iv. p. 633. 

* Hac una sententia, Deo intus in corde meo 
docente. Ibid. 

6 Quod tunc fieri ignorabam. Ibid. 

* Tandem de Jesu audiebam. Ibid. 
Sic exbilaravit pectus meum. Ibid. 

8 Peccatorum conscientia saucium ac pene des- 
perabundum. Ibid. 

Nescio quantam intus tranquillitatum sentire. 
Ibid. 

10 Didici omnes meo* 'onatus, etc. Foxe, iv. p. 633. 



as St. Augustine says, a hasty running out 
of the right way."' 

Bilney never grew tired of reading his 
New Testament. He no longer lent an at- 
tentive ear to the teaching of the school- 
men : he heard Jesus at Capernaum, Peter 
in the temple, Paul on Mars' hill, and felt 
within himself that Christ possesses the 
words of eternal life. A witness to - Jesus 
Christ had just been born by the same 
power which had transformed Paul, Apol- 
los, and Timothy. The Reformation of 
England was beginning. Bilney was united 
to the Son of God, not by a remote succes- 
sion, but by an immediate generation. 
Leaving to the disciples of the pope the en- 
tangled chain of their imaginary succession, 
whose links it is impossible to disengage, 
he attached himself closely to Christ. The 
word of the first century gave birth to the 
sixteenth. Protestantism does not descend 
from the gospel in the fiftieth generation 
like the Romish church of the Council of 
Trent, or in the sixtieth like some modern 
doctors : it is the direct legitimate son — the 
son of the master. 

God's action was not limited to one spot.. 
The first rays of the sun from on high 
gilded with their fires at once the gothic 
colleges of Oxford and the antique schools 
of Cambridge. 

Along the banks of the Severn extends a 
picturesque country, bounded by the forest 
of Dean, and sprinkled with villages, stee- 
ples, and ancient castles. In the sixteenth 
century it was particularly admired by 
priests and friars, and a familiar oath 
among them was : " As sure as God's in 
Glo'ster !" The papal birds of prey had 
swooped upon it. For fifty years, from 
1484 to 1534, four Italian bishops, placed 
in succession over the diocese, had surren- 
dered it to the pope, to the monks, and to 
immorality. Thieves in particular were 
the objects of the tenderest favors of the 
hierarchy. John de Giglis, collector of the 
apostolical chamber, had received from the 
sovereign pontiff authority to pardon mur- 
der and theft, on condition that the crimi- 
nal shared his profits with the pontifical 
commissioners. 2 

^ In this valley, at the foot of Stinchcomb 
hill, to the south-west of Gloucester, there 
dwelt, during the latter half of the fifteenth 
century, a family which had taken refuge 
there during the wars of the Roses, and 
assumed the name of Hutchins. In the 
reign of Henry VII. the Lancasterian party 
having the upper hand, they resumed their 
name of Tyndale, which had been borne of 
yore by many noble barons. 3 In 1484, about 
a year after the birth of Luther, and about 
the time that Zwingle first saw light in the 



Quod ait Augustinus, celerum cursum extra vi 
am. Ibid. 

■ Annals of the English Bible, i. p. 12. 

8 Bigland's Glo'ster, p. 293. Annals of the Eng- 
lish Bible, i. p. 19. 



672 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



mountains of the Tockenburg, these parti- 
sans of the red rose were blessed with a son. 
whom they called William. His youth was 
passed in the fields surrounding his native 
village of North Nibley, beneath the sha- 
dows of Berkeley Castle, or beside the rapid 
waters of the Severn, and in the midst of 
friars and pontifical collectors. He was 
sent very early to Oxford, 1 where he learnt 
grammar and philosophy in the school of 
St. Mary Magdalene, adjoining the college 
of that name. He made rapid progress, 
particularly in languages, under the first 
classical scholars in England — Grocyn, W. 
Latimer, and Linacre, and took his degrees. 2 
A more excellent master than these doctors 
—the Holy Spirit speaking in Scripture — 
was soon to teach him a science which it is 
not in the power of man to impart. 

Oxford, where Erasmus had so many 
friends, was the city in which his New Tes- 
tament met with the warmest welcome. 
The young Gloucestershire student,inwardly 
impelled towards the study of sacred liter- 
ature, read the celebrated book which was 
then attracting the attention of Christen- 
dom. At first he regarded it only as a work 
of learning, or at most as a manual of piety, 
whose beauties were calculated to excite 
religious feelings ; but ere long he found it 
to be something more. The more he read 
it, the more was he struck by the truth and 
energy of the word. This strange book 
spoke to him of God, of Christ, and of re- 
generation, with a simplicity and authority 
which completely subdued him. William 
had found a master whom he had not sought 
at Oxford — this was God himself. The pages 
he held in his hand were the divine revela- 
tion so long mislaid. Possessing a noble 
soul, a bold spirit, and indefatigable activity, 
he did not keep this treasure to himself. 
He uttered that cry, more suited to a Chris- 
tian than to Archimedes : svgqxa, I have 
found it. It was not long before several of 
the younger members of the university, at- 
tracted by the purity of his life and the 
charms of his conversation, 3 gathered round 
him, and read with him the Greek and Latin 
gospels of Erasmus. 4 " A certain well-in- 
formed young man," wrote Erasmus in a 
letter wherein he speaks of the publication 
of his New Testament, " began to lecture 
with success on Greek literature at Oxford." 5 
He was probably speaking of Tyndale. 

The monks took the alarm. " A barba- 
rian" continues Erasmus, "entered the 
pulpit and violently abused the Greek lan- 
guage." " These folk," said Tyndale, 



1 From a child. Foxe, Acts and Mon. v. p. 115. 
a Proceedings in degrees of the schools. Ibid. 

3 His manners and conversation being corres- 
pondent to the Scriptures. Foxe, Acts and Mon. 
v. p. 115. 

4 Read privily to certain students and fellows, 
instructing them in the knowledge and truth of 
the Scriptures. Ibid. 

1 Oxoniae cum juvenis quidam non vulgariter 
doctus. Erasm. Ep. p. 346. 



"wished to extinguish the light which ex- 
posed their trickery, and they have been 
laying their plans these dozen years." 1 
This observation was made in 1531, and 
refers therefore to the proceeding of 1517. 
Germany and England were beginning the 
struggle at nearly the same time, and Ox- 
ford perhaps before Wittemberg. Tyndale, 
bearing in mind the injunction: "When 
they persecute you in one city, flee ye into 
another," left Oxford and proceeded to 
Cambridge. It must needs be that souls 
whom God has brought to his knowledge 
should meet and enlighten one another : 
live coals, when separated, go out ; when 
gathered together, they brighten up, so as 
even to purify silver and gold. The Romish 
hierarchy, not knowing what they did, were 
collecting the scattered brands of the Refor- 
mation. 

Bilney was not inactive at Cambridge. 
Not long had the "sublime lesson of Jesus 
Christ" filled him with joy, before he fell 
on his knees and exclaimed : " Thou who 
art the truth, give me strength that I may 
teach it : and convert the ungodly by means 
of one who has been ungodly himself." 12 
After this prayer his eyes gleamed with new 
fire ; he had assembled his friends, and 
opening Erasmus's Testament, had placed 
his finger on the words that had reached his 
soul, and these words had touched many. 
The arrival of Tyndale gave him fresh 
courage, and the light burnt brighter in 
Cambridge. 

John Fryth, a young man of eighteen, 
the son of an inn-keeper of Sevenoaks in 
Kent, was distinguished among the students 
of King's College by the promptitude of 
his understanding and the integrity of his 
life. He was as deeply read in the mathe- 
matics as Tyndale in the classics and Bilney 
in canon law. Although of an exact turn 
of mind, yet his soul was elevated, and he 
recognised in Holy Scripture a learning of 
a new kind. " These things are not demon- 
strated like a proposition of Euclid," he 
said ; "mere study is sufficient to impress 
the theories of mathematics on our minds ; ' 
but this science of God meets with a resist- 
ance in man that necessitates the interven- 
tion of a divine power. Christianity is a 
regeneration." The heavenly seed soon 
grew up in Fryth's heart. 3 

These three young scholars set to work 
with enthusiasm. They declared that 
neither priestly absolution nor any other 
religious rite could give remission of sins ; 
that the assurance of pardon is obtained by 
faith alone ; and that faith purifies the 
heart. Then they addressed to all men that 



1 Which they have been in brewing as I hear 
this dozen years. Tyndale's Expositions (Park 
Soc), p. 225. 

3 Ut impii ad ipsum per me olim impium conver- 
terentur. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 633. 

3 Through Tyndale's instructions he first received 
into his heart the seed of the Gospel. Ibid. v. p. i. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



673 



saying of Christ's at which the monks were 
so offended : Repent and be converted ! 

Ideas so new produced a great clamour. 
A famous orator undertook one day at Cam- 
bridge to show that it was useless to preach 
conversion to the sinner. " Thou who, for 
sixty years past," said he, " hast wallowed 
in thy lusts, like a sow in her mire, 1 dost 
thou think that thou canst in one year take 
as many steps towards heaven, and that in 
thine age, as thou hast dune towards hell ?" 
Bilney left the church with indignation. 
" Is that preaching repentance in the name 
of Jesus ?" he asked. " Does not this priest 
tell us : Christ will not save thee. 2 Alas ! 
for so many years that this deadly doctrine 
has been taught in Christendom, not one 
man has dared open his mouth against it !" 
Many of the Cambridge fellows were scan- 
dalized at Bilney's language : was not the 
preacher whose teaching he condemned 
duly ordained by the bishop ? He replied : 
" What would be the use of being a hundred 
times consecrated, were it even by a thou- 
sand papal bulls, if the inward calling is 
wanting ? 3 To no purpose hath the bishop 
breathed on our heads if we have never felt 
the breath of the Holy Ghost in our hearts?" 
Thus, at the very beginning of the Refor- 
mation, England, rejecting the Romish 
superstitions, discerned with extreme nicety 
what constitutes the essence of consecration 
to the service of the Lord. 

After pronouncing these noble words, 
Bilney, who longed for an outpouring of the 
Holy Ghost, shut himself up in his room, 
fell on his knees, and called upon God to 
come to the assistance of his church. Then 
rising up, he exclaimed, as if animated by 
a prophetic spirit : " A new time is begin- 
ning. The Christian assembly is about to 

be renewed Some one is coming unto us, 

1 see him, I hear him — it is Jesus Christ. 4 

He is the king, and it is he who will 

call the true ministers commissioned to 
evangelize his people." 

Tyndale, full of the same hopes as Bilney, 
left Cambridge in the course of the year 
1519. m \ 

Thus the English Reformation began in- 
dependently of those of Luther and Zwingle 
— deriving its origin from God alone. In 
every province of Christendom there was a 
simultaneous action of the divine word. 
The principle of the Reformation at Oxford, 
Cambridge, and London, was the Greek 
New Testament, published by Erasmus. 
England, in course, of time, learnt to be 
proud of this origin of its Reformation. 

This revival caused great alarm through- 
out the Roman hierarchy. Content with 



Even as a beast in his own- dung. Bilnaeus 
Tonstallo Ep?scopo ; Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 640. 

2 He will not be thy Jesus or Saviour. Ibid. 

3 Without this inward calling it helpeth nothing 
before God to be a hundred times elect and conse- 
crated. Ibid. p. 638. 

4 If it be Christ, him that cometh unto us. 
Ibid. p. 637. 



the baptism they administered, they feared 
the baptism of the Holy Ghost perfected by 
faith in the word of God. Some of the 
clergy, who were full of zeal, but of zeal 
without knowledge, prepared for the strug- 
gle, and the cries raised by the prelates 
were repeated by all the inferior orders. 

The first blows did not fall on the mem- 
bers of the universities, but on those .hum- 
ble Christians, the relics of WicklifiVs 
ministry, to whom the reform movement 
among the learned had imparted a new 
life. The awakening of the fourteenth 
century was about to be succeeded by that 
of the sixteenth, and the last gleams of the 
closing day were almost lost in the first 
rays of that which was commencing. The 
young doctors of Oxford and Cambridge 
aroused the attention of the alarmed hie- 
rarchy, and attracted their eyes to the hum- 
ble Lollards, who here and there still re- 
called the days of Wickliffe. 

An artisan named Thomas Man, some- 
times called Doctor Man, from his know- 
ledge of Holy Scripture, had been impri- 
soned for his faith in the priory of Frides- 
wide at Oxford. (1511 a. d.) Tormented 
by the remembrance of a recantation which 
had been extorted from him, he had escaped 
from this monastery and fled into the eastern 
parts of England, where he had preached 
the Word, supplying his daily wants by the 
labour of his hands. 1 This " champion of 
God" afterwards drew near the capital, and 
assisted by his wife, the new Priscilla of 
this new Aquila, he proclaimed the doctrine 
of Christ to the crowd collected around him 
in some " upper chamber" of London, or 
in some lonely meadow watered by the 
Thames, or under the aged oaks of "Windsor 
Forest. He thought with Chrysostom of 
old, that " all priests are not saints, but all 
saints are priests." 2 " He that receiveth 
the word of God," said he, ''receiveth God 
himself; that is the true real presence. The 
vendors of masses are not the high-priests 
of this mystery ; 3 but the men whom God 
hath anointed with his Spirit to be kings 
and priests." From six to seven hundred 
persons were converted by his preaching. 4 

The monks, who dared not as yet attack 
the universities, resolved to fall upon those 
preachers who made their temple on the 
banks of the Thames, or in some remote 
corner of the city. Man was seized, con- 
demned, and burnt alive on the 29th March 
1519. 

And this was not all. There lived at 
Coventry a little band of serious Christians 
— four shoemakers, a glover, a hosier, and 
a widow named Smith — who gave their 
children a pious education. The Francis- 



1 "Work thereby to sustain his poor life. Foxe, 
Acts, iv. p. 209. 

a Chrysostom, 43 Homily on Matth. 

3 He called them pilled knaves. Foxe, it. p. 
209. 

4 Ibid. p. 211. 



674 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cans were annoyed that laymen, and even 
& woman, should dare meddle with religious 
instruction. On Ash Wednesday (1519), 
Simon Morton, the bishop's sumner, appre- 
hended them all, men, women, and children. 
On the following Friday, the parents were 
taken to the abbey of Mackstock, about 
six miles from Coventry, and the children 
to the Greyfriars' convent. "Let us see 
what heresies you have been taught 1" said 
Friar Stafford to the intimidated little ones. 
The poor children confessed they had been 
taught in English the Lord's prayer, the 
apostles' creed, and the ten commandments. 
On hearing this, Stafford told them angrily : 
*' I forbid you (unless you wish to be burnt 
as your parents will be) to have anything 
to do with the Pater, the credo, or the ten 
commandments in English." 

Five weeks after this, the men were con- 
demned to be burnt alive; but the judges 
had compassion on the widow because of 
her young family (for she was their only 
support), and let her go. It was night: 
Morton offered to see Dame Smith home ; 
she took his arm, and they threaded the 
dark and narrow streets of Coventry. " Eh ! 
eh!" said the apparitor on a sudden, " what 
have we here ?" He heard in fact the noise 
of paper rubbing against something. "What 
have you got there ?" he continued, drop- 
ping her arm, and putting his hand up her 
sleeve, from which he drew out a parch- 
ment. Approaching a window whence 
issued the faint rays of a lamp, ■he examined 
the mysterious scroll, and found it to con- 
tain the Lord's prayer, the apostles' creed, 
and the ten commandments in English. 
" Oh, oh ! sirrah !" said he ; " come along. 
As good now as another time I" 1 Then 
seizing the poor widow by the arm, he 
dragged her before the bishop. Sentence 
of death was immediately pronounced on 
her ; and on the 4th of April, Dame Smith, 
Robert Hatchets, Archer, Hawkins, Tho- 
mas Bond, Wrigsham, and Landsdale, were 
burnt alive at Coventry in the Little Park, 
for the crime of teaching their children the 
Lord's prayer, the apostles' creed, and the 
commandments of God. 

But what availed it to silence these ob- 
scure lips, so long as the Testament of 
Erasmus could speak ? Lee's conspiracy 
must be revived. Standish, bishop of St. 
Asaph, was a narrow-minded man, rather 
fanatical, but probably sincere, of great 
courage, and not without some degree of 
piety. This prelate, being determined to 
preach a crusade against the New Testa- 
ment, began at London, in St. Paul's ca- 
thedral, before the mayor and corporation. 
" Away with these new translations," he 
said, " or else the religion of Jesus Christ 
is threatened with utter ruin. 7 ' 2 But Stan- 



1 Foxe, Acts. iv. p. 357. 

* Imminere christianae religionis itavo'ktt paav, 
nisi novae translations omnes subito de medio tol- 
lerentur. Erasm. Ep. p. 596. 



dish was deficient in tact, and instead of 
confining himself to general statements, 
like most of his party, he endeavoured to 
show how far Erasmus had corrupted the 
gospel, and continued thus in a whining 
voice : " Must I who for so many years 
have been a doctor of the Holy Scriptures, 
and who have always read in my Bible : 
In principio erat verbum — must I now be 
obliged to read : In principio erat sermo 1" 
for thus had Erasmus translated the open- 
ing words of St. John's Gospel. Risum 
teneatis, whispered one to another, when 
they heard this puerile charge : " My lord," 
proceeded the bishop, turning to the mayor, 
li magistrates of the city, and citizens all, 
fly to the succor of religion !" Standish 
continued his pathetic appeals, but his ora- 
tory was all in vain ; some stood unmoved, 
others shrugged their shoulders, and others 
grew impatient. The citizens of London 
seemed determined to support liberty and 
the Bible. 

Standish, seeing the failure of his attack 
in the city, sighed and groaned and prayed 
and repeated mass against the so much 
dreaded book. But he also made up his 
mind to do more. One day, during the 
rejoicings at court for the betrothal of the 
Princess Mary, then two years old, with a 
French prince who was just born, St. 
Asaph, absorbed and absent in the midst 
of the gay crowd, meditated a bold step. 
Suddenly he made his way through the 
crowd, and threw himself at the feet of the 
king and queen. All were thunderstruck, 
and asked one another what the old bishop 
could mean. " Great king," said he, " your 
ancestors, who have reigned over this is- 
land — and yours, great queen, who have 
governed Aragon, were always distinguished 
by their zeal for the church. Show your- 
selves worthy of your forefathers. Times 
full of danger are come upon us, 1 a book 
has just appeared, and been published too 
by Erasmus ! It is such a book that, if you 
close not your kingdom against it, it is all 
over with the religion of Christ among us." 

The bishop ceased, and a dead silence 
ensued. The devout Standish, fearing lest 
Henry's well-known love of learning should 
be an obstacle to his prayer, raised his 
eyes and his hand toward heaven, and, 
kneeling in the midst of the courtly assem- 
bly, exclaimed in a sorrowful tone : " 

Christ ! Son of God : save thy spouse! 

for no man cometh to her help." 2 

Having thus spoken, the prelate, whose 
courage was worthy of a better cause, rose 
up and waited. Every one strove to guess 
at the king's thoughts. Sir Thomas More 
was present, and he could not forsake his 
friend Erasmus. " What are the heresies 
this book is likely to engender?" he in- 



1 Adesse tempora longe perieulosissima. Erasm. 
Ep. p. 597. 

a Caepit obsecrare Christum dignaretur ipse sun 
sponsae opitulari. Erasm. Ep. p. 598. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



675 



quired. After the sublime came the ridi- 
culous. With the forefinger of his right 
hand, touching successively the fingers of 
his left, 1 Standish replied . " First, this book 
destroys the resurrection; secondly, it an- 
nuls the sacrament of marriage ; thirdly, it 
abolishes the mass." Then, uplifting his 
thumb and two fingers, he showed them to 
the assembly with a look of triumph. The bi- 
goted Catherine shuddered as she saw Stan- 
dish's three fingers, — signs of the three here- 
sies of Erasmus ; and Henry himself, an 
admirer of Aquinas, was embarrassed. It 
was a critical moment: the Greek Testa- 
ment was on the point of being banished 
from England. " The proof, the proof," 
exclaimed the friends of literature. " I will 
give it," rejoined the impetuous Standish, 
and then once more touching his left 

thumb : " Firstly," he said ..But he 

brought forward such foolish reasons, that 
even the women and the unlearned were 
ashamed of them. The more he endea- 
voured to justify his assertions, the more 
confused he became : he affirmed among 
other things that the Epistles of St. Paul 
were written in Hebrew. " There is not a 
schoolboy that does not know that Paul's 
epistles were written in Greek," said a doc- 
tor of divinity, kneeling before the king. 
Henry, blushing for the bishop, turned the 
conversation, and Standish, ashamed at 
having made a Greek write to the Greeks 
in Hebrew, would have withdrawn unob- 
served. " The beetle must not attack the 
eagle," 2 was whispered in his ear. Thus 
did the book of God remain in England the 
standard of a faithful band, who found in 
its pages the motto, which the church of 
Rome had usurped : The truth is in me 
alone. 

A more formidable adversary than Stan- 
dish aspired to combat the Reformation, 
not only in England, but in all the West. 
One of those ambitious designs, which 
easily germinate in the human heart, de- 
veloped itself in the soul of the chief 
minister of Henry VIII. ; and if this pro- 
ject succeeded, it promised to secure for 
ever the empire of the papacy on the banks 
of the Thames, and perhaps in the whole 
of Christendom. 

Wolsey, as chancellor and legate, go- 
verned both in state and in church, and 
could, without an untruth, utter his famous 
Ego et rex meus. Having reached so great a 
height, he desired to soar still higher. The 
favourite of Henry VIII. almost his master, 
treated as a brother by the emperor, by the 
king of France, and by other crowned 
heads, invested with the title of Majesty, 
the peculiar property of sovereigns, 3 the 



1 Et rem in digitos porrectos dispartiens. Ibid. 

3 Scarabaeus ille qui maxiino suo malo aquilam 
quaesivit. Brasm. Ep. p. 555. 

a Consultissiina tua Majestas. Vestra sublimis 
et longe reverendissiina Majestas, etc. Fiddes, 
Bodleian Pape », p. 178. 



cardinal, sincere in his faith in the pope- 
dom, aspired to fill the throne of the pon- 
tiffs, and thus become Deus in terris. He 
thought, that if God permitted a Luther to 
appear in the world, it was because he had 
a Wolsey to oppose him. 

It would be difficult to fix the precise 
moment when this immoderate desire en- 
tered his mind : it was about the end of 
1518 that it began to show itself. The 
bishop of Ely, ambassador at the court of 
Francis I., being in conference with that 
prince on the 18th of December in that 
year, said to him mysteriously : " The car- 
dinal has an idea in his mind..,. ...or which 
he can unbosom himself to nobody ex- 
cept it be to your majesty." Francis under- 
stood him. 

An event occurred to facilitate the cardi- 
nal's plans. If Wolsey desired to be the 
first priest, Henry desired to be the first 
king. The imperial crown, vacant by the 
death of Maximilian, was sought by two 
princes : — by Charles of Austria a cold 
and calculating man, caring little about 
the pleasures and even the pomp of power, 
but forming great designs, and knowing 
how to pursue them with energy : and by 
Francis L, a man of less penetrating glance 
and less indefatigable activity, but more 
daring and impetuous. Henry VIII., in- 
ferior to both, passionate, capricious, and 
selfish, thought himself strong enough to 
contend with such puissant competitors, 
and secretly strove to win " the monarchy 
of all Christendom." 1 Wolsey flattered 
himself that, hidden under the cloak of his 
master's ambition, he might satisfy his own. 
If he procured the crown of the Caesars 
for Henry, he might easily obtain the tiara 
of the popes for himself; if he failed, the 
least that could be done to compensate 
England for the loss of the empire, would 
be to give the sovereignty of the church to 
her prime minister. 

Henry first sounded the king of France. 
Sir Thomas Boleyn appeared one day be- 
fore Francis I. just as the latter was re- 
turning from mass. The king, desirous to 
anticipate a confidence that might be em- 
barrassing, took the ambassador aside to 
the window and whispered to him : " Some 
of the electors have offered me the empire; 
I hope your master will be favourable to 
me." Sir Thomas, in confusion, made some 
vague reply, and the chivalrous king, fol- 
lowing up his idea, took the ambassador 
firmly by one hand, and laying the other 
on his breast, 2 exclaimed : " By my faith, 
if I become emperor, in three years I shall 
be in Constantinople, or I shall die on the 
road !" This was not what Henry wanted 
but dissembling his wishes, he took care to 
inform Francis that he would support his 



1 Cotton MBS. Brit. Mus. Calig. D. 7, p. 88. 

9 He took me hard by the wrist with one hand, 
and laid the other upon his breast. Ibid. D. 8, 
p. 93. 



C76 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of the graceful smile with which he had 
taken leave of Charles, smiled also on 
Francis, and sang mass in his honour. He 
engaged the hand of the Princess Mary to 
| the dauphin of France and to Charles V., 
\ leaving the care of unravelling the matter 
to futurity. Then, proud of his skilful 
' practices, he returned to London full of 
hope. By walking in falsehood he hoped 
to attain the tiara : and if it was yet too far 
I above him, there were certain gospellers in 
England who might serve as a ladder to 
| reach it. Murder might serve as the com- 
plement to fraud. 

Whilst this ambitious prelate was think- 
ing of nothing but his own glory and that 
of the Roman pontificate, a great desire, 
| but of a very different nature, was spring- 
: ing up in the heart of one of the humble 
; " gospellers " of England. If Wolsey had 
j his eyes fixed on the throne of the popedom 
( in order to seat himself there, Tyndale 
; thought of raising up the true throne of the 
church by re-establishing the legitimate 
: sovereignty of the word of God. The 
j Greek Testament of Erasmus had been one 
step ; and it now became necessary to place 
before the simple what the king of the 
schools had given to the learned. This 
idea, which pursued the young Oxford doc- 
tor everywhere, was to be the mighty main- 
spring of the English Reformation. 

On the slope of Sodbury hill there stood 
a plain but large mansion, commanding an 
extensive view over the beautiful vale of the 
Severn, where Tyndale was born. It was 
inhabited by a family of gentle birth ; Sir 
John Walsh had shone in the tournaments 
of the court, and by this means conciliated 
the favour of his prince. He kept open 
table ; and gentlemen, deans, abbots, arch- 
deacons, doctors of divinity, and fat rectors, 
charmed by Sir John's cordial welcome and 
by his good dinners, were ever at his house. 
The former brother-at-arms of Henry VIII. 
felt an interest in the questions then dis- 
cussing throughout Christendom. Lady 
Walsh, herself a sensible and generous wo- 
man, lost not a word of the animated con- 
versation of her guests, and discreetly tried 
to incline the balance to the side of truth. 1 
Tyndale, after leaving Oxford and Cam- 
bridge, had returned to the home of his 
fathers. Sir John had requested him to 
educate his children, and he had accepted. 
William was then in the prime of life (he 
was about thirty-six), well instructed in 
Scripture, and full of desire to show forth 
the light which God had given him. Op- 
portunities were not wanting. Seated at 
table with all the doctors welcomed by Sir 
John, 2 Tyndale entered into conversation 
j with them. They talked of the learned men 
j of the day — of Erasmus much, and some- 



candidature. Upon hearing this Francis 
raised his hat and exclaimed : *' I desire to 
see the king of England ; I will see him, I 
tell you, even if I go to London with only 
one page and one lackey." 

Francis was well aware that if he 
threatened the king's ambition, he must 
flatter the minister's, and recollecting the 
hint given by the bishop of Ely, he said 
one day to Boleyn : " It seems to me that 
my brother of England and I could do, in- 
deed ought to do something for the 

cardinal. He was prepared by God for the 

good of Christendom one of the greatest 

men in the church; and on the word of 

a king, if he consents, I will do it." A few 
minutes after he continued: "Write and 
tell the cardinal, that if he aspires to be the 
head of the church, and if any thing 
should happen to the reigning pope, I will 
promise him fourteen cardinals on my 
part. 1 Let us only act in concert, your 
master and me, and I promise you, Master 
Ambassador, that neither pope nor emperor 
shall be created in Europe without our 
consent." 

But Henry did not act in concert with 
the king of France. At Wolsey's instiga- 
tion he supported three candidates at once : 
at, Paris he was for Francis I. ; at Madrid 
for Charles V. ; and at Frankfort for him- 
self. The kings of France and England 
failed, and on the 10th August, Pace, 
Henry's envoy at Frankfort, having re- 
turned to England, desired to console the 
king by mentioning the sums of money 
which Charles had spent. " By the mass !" 2 
exclaimed the king, congratulating himself 
at not having obtained the crown at so 
dear a rate. Wolsey proposed to sing a Te 
Deum in St. Paul's, and bonfires were 
lighted in the city. 

The cardinal's rejoicings were not mis- 
placed. Charles had scarcely ascended the 
imperial throne, in despite of the king of 
France, when these two princes swore eter- 
nal hatred of each other, and each was 
anxious to win over Henry VIII. At one 
time Charles, under the pretence of seeing 
his uncle and aunt, visited England; at 
another, Francis had an interview with the 
king in the neighbourhood of Calais. The 
cardinal shared in the flattering attentions 
of the two monarchs. " It is easy for the 
king of Spain, who has become the head 
of the empire, to raise whomsoever he 
pleases to the supreme pontificate," said the 
young emperor to him ; and at these words 
the ambitious cardinal surrendered himself 
to Maximilian's successor. But erelong 
Francis I. flattered him in his turn, and 
Wolsey replied also to his advances. The 
king of France gave Henry tournaments 
and banquets of Asiatic luxury ; and Wol- 
sey, whose countenance yet bore the marks 

j ' Lady Walsh, a stout and wise woman. Foxe, 
1 He will assure you full fourteen cardinals for | Acts, v. p. 115. 
him. Cotton MSS., Calig. D. F. p. 98. 3 Who were together with Master Tyndale sit- 

s Bi the messe ! State Paper6, i. 9. [ ting at the same tahle. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



677 



times of Luther, who was beginning to as- 
tonish England. 1 They discussed several 
questions touching the Holy Scriptures, and 
sundry points of theology. Tyndale ex- 
pressed his convictions with admirable clear- 
ness,' supported them with great learning, 
and kept his ground against all with un- 
bending courage. These animated conversa- 
tions in the vale of the Severn are one of the 
essential features of the picture presented 
by the Reformation in this country. The 
historians of antiquity invented the speeches 
which they have put into the mouths of 
their heroes. In our times history, without 
inventing, should make us acquainted with 
the sentiments of the persons of whom it 
treats. It is sufficient to read Tyndale's 
works to form some idea of these conversa- 
tions. It is from his writings that the fol- 
lowing discussion has been drawn. 

In the dining-room of the old hall a va- 
ried group was assembled round the hospi- 
table table. There were Sir John and I 
Lady Walsh, a few gentlemen of the neigh- 
bourhood, with several abbots, deans, | 
monks, and doctors, in their respective cos- 
tumes. Tyndale occupied the humblest 
place, and generally kept Erasmus's New 
Testament within reach in order to prove 
what he advanced. 2 Numerous domestics 
were moving about engaged in waiting on 
the guests ; and at length the conversation, 
after wandering a little, took a more pre- 
cise direction. The priests grew impatient 
when they saw the terrible volume appear. 
" Your Scriptures only serve to make here- 
tics," they exclaimed. " On the contrary," 
replied Tyndale, " the source of all heresies 
ispride; now the word of God strips man 
of everything and leaves him as bare as 
Job." 3 — " The word of God! why even we 
don't understand your word, how can the 
vulgar understand it ?" — " You do not un- 
derstand it," rejoined Tyndale, "because 
you look into it only for foolish questions, 
as you would into our Lady's Matins or 
Merlin's Prophecies. 4, Now the Scriptures 
are a clue which we must follow, without 
turning aside, until we arrive at Christ ; 5 
for Christ is the end." — " And I tell you," 
shouted out a priest, " that the Scriptures 
are a Daedalian labyrinth, rather than Ari- 
adne's clue — a conjuring book wherein ev- 
erybody finds what he wants." — " Alas !" 
replied Tyndale ; " you read them without 
Jesus Christ ; that's why they are an ob- 
scure book to you. What do I say ? a den 
of thorns where you only escape from the 



1 Talk of learned men, as of Luther and Eras- 
mus, &c. Ibid. 

3 When they at any time did vary from Tyndale 
in opinions and judgment, he would show them in 
the book. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 115. 

3 Tyndale, Expositions (Park. Soc.) p. 140. 

4 Ibid. p. 141. 

* So along by the Scripture as by a line until 
thou come to Christ. Tynd. Works, i. 354 (ed. 
Russell.) 



briars to be caught by the brambles." 1 
" No !" exclaimed anothei clerk, heedless 
of contradicting his colleague, " nothing is 
obscure to us ; it is we who give the Scrip- 
tures, and we who explain them to you."— 
" You would lose both your time and your 
trouble," said Tyndale ; " do you know who 
taught the eagles to find their prey ? 2 Well, 
that same God teaches his hungry children 
to find their Father in his word. Far from 
having given us the Scriptures, it is you 
who have hidden them from us ; it is you 
who burn those who teach them, and if 
you could, you would burn the Scriptures 
themselves." 

Tyndale was not satisfied with merely 
laying down the great principles of faith : 
he always sought after what he calls " the 
sweet marrow within ;" but to the divine 
unction he added no little humour, and un- 
mercifully ridiculed the superstitions of his 
adversaries. " You set candles before im- 
ages," he said to them ; " and since you 
give them light, why don't you give them 
food f Why don't you make their bellies 
hollow, and put victuals and drink inside ? 3 
To serve God by such mummeries is treat- 
ing him like a spoilt child, whom you pa- 
cify with a toy or with a horse made of a 
stick." 4 

But the learned Christian soon returned 
to more serious thoughts ; and when his 
adversaries extolled the papacy as the 
power that would save the church in the 
tempest, he replied : " Let us only take 
on board the anchor of faith, after having 
dipped it in the blood of Christ, 5 and when 
the storm bursts upon us, let us boldly cast 
the anchor into the sea ; then you may be 
sure the ship will remain safe on the great 
waters." And, in fine, if his opponent re- 
jected any doctrine of the truth, Tyndale 
(says the chronicler) opening his Testament 
would set his finger on the verse which re- 
futed the Romish error, and exclaim : 
"Look and read." 6 

The beginnings of the English Reforma- 
tion are not to be found, as we have seen, 
in a material ecclesiasticism, which has 
been decorated with the name of English 
Catholicism: they are essentially spiritual. 
The Divine Word, the creator of the new 
life in the individual, is also the founder 
and reformer of the church. The re- 
formed churches, and particularly the 
reformed churches of Great Britain, belong 
to evangelism. 



1 A grave of briars ; if thou loose thyself in one 
place thou art caught in another. Tyndale, Ex- 
positions, p. 5. 

a Tyndale, Answer to More (Park. Soc), p. 49. 

3 Make a hollow belly in the image. Ibid. p. SI. 

* Make him a horse of a stick. Tyndale's 
Works (ed. Russell) ii. 475. 

6 Ibid. Expositions (Park. Soc), p. 15. 

s And lay plainly before them the open and 
manifest places of the Scriptures, to confute their 
errors and confirm his sayings. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 
115. 



578 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The contemplation of God's works re- 
freshed Tyndale after the discussions he 
had to maintain at his patron's table. He 
would often ramble to the top of Sodbury 
hill, and there repose amidst the ruins of 
an ancient Roman camp which crowned the 
summit. It was here that Queen Margaret 
of Anjou halted ; and here too rest Edward 
IV., who pursued her, before the fatal 
battle of Tewkesbury, which caused this 
princess to fall in the hands of the White 
Rose. Amidst these ruins, monuments of 
the Roman invasion and of the civil dis- 
sensions of England, Tyndale meditated 
upon other battles, which were to restore 
liberty and truth to Christendom. Then 
rousing himself he would descend the hill, 
and courageously resume his task. 

Behind the mansion stood a little church, 
overshadowed by two large yew trees, and 
dedicated to St. Adeline. On Sundays, 
Tyndale used to preach there, Sir John 
and Lady Walsh, with the eldest of the 
children, occupying the manorial pew. 
This humble sanctuary was filled by their 
household and tenantry, listening atten- 
tively to the words of their teacher, which 
fell from his lips like the waters of Shiloah 
that goeth softly. Tyndale was very lively 
in conversation ; but he explained the 
Scriptures with so much unction, says the 
chronicler, " that his hearers thought they 
heard St. John himself." If he resembled 
John in the mildness of his language, he 
resembled Paul in the strength of his doc- 
trine. " According to the pope," he said, 
" we must first be good after his doctrine, 
and compel God to be good again for our 
goodness. Nay, verily, God's goodness is 
the root of all goodness. Antichrist turneth 
the tree of salvation topsyturvey : l he 
planteth the branches, and setteth the roots 

upwards. We must put it straight As 

the husband marrieth the wife, before he 
can have any lawful children by her ; even 
so faith justifieth us to make us fruitful in 
good works. 2 But neither the one nor the 
other should remain barren. Faith is the 
holy candle wherewith we must bless our- 
selves at the last hour ; without it you will 
go astray in the valley of the shadow of 
death, though you had a thousand tapers 
lighted around your bed." 3 

The priests, irritated at such observa- 
tions, determined to ruin Tyndale, and 
some of them invited Sir John and his 
lady to an entertainment, at which he was 
not present. During dinner, they so abused 
the young doctor and his New Testament, 
that his patrons retired greatly annoyed 
that their tutor should have made so many 
enemies. They told him all they had heard, 

1 Antichrist turneth the roots of the trees up- 
ward. Tyndale, Doctrinal Treatises (Park. Soc), 
p. 295. 

8 Tyndale, Parable of the Wicked Mammon. 
Doctrinal Treatises (Park. Soc), p. 126. 

3 Though thou hadst a thousand holy candles 
about thee. Ibid. p. 48. 



and Tyndale successfully refuted his adver- 
saries' arguments. " What !" exclaimed 
Lady Walsh, "there are some of these doc- 
tors worth one hundred, some two hundred, 

and some three hundred pounds 1 and 

were it reason, think you, Master William, 
that we should believe you before them ?" 
Tyndale, opening the New Testament, re- 
plied : " No ! it is not me you should believe. 
That is what the priests have told you ; but 
look here, St. Peter, St. Paul, and the Lord 
himself say quite the contrary." 2 The 
word of God was there, positive and su- 
preme : the sword of the Spirit cut the 
difficulty. 

Before long the manor-house and St. 
Adeline's church became too narrow for 
Tyndale's zeal. He preached every Sun- 
day, sometimes in a village, sometimes in a 
town. The inhabitants of Bristol assem- 
bled to hear him in a large meadow, called 
St. Austin's Green. 3 But no sooner had he 
preached in any place than the priest hast- 
ened thither, tore up what he had planted, 4 
called him a heretic and threatened to 
expel from the church every one who dared 
listen to him. When Tyndale returned he 
found the field laid waste by the enemy ; 
and looking sadly upon it, as the husband- 
man who sees his corn beaten down by the 
hail, and his rich furrows turned into a 
barren waste, he exclaimed : " What is to 
be done ? While I am sowing in one place, 
the enemy ravages the field I have just left. 
I cannot be every where. Oh ! if Christians 
possessed the Holy Scriptures in their own 
tongue, they could of themselves withstand 
these sophists. Without the Bible it is 
impossible to establish the laity in the 
truth." 6 

Then a great idea sprung up in Tyn- 
dale's heart: "It was in the language of 
Israel," said he, "that the Psalms were 
sung in the temple of Jehovah ; and shall 
not the gospel speak the language of Eng- 
land among us? Ought the church to 

have less light at noonday than at the 

dawn ? Christians must read the New 

Testament in their mother-tongue." Tyn- 
dale believed that this idea proceeded from 
God. The new sun would lead to the dis- 
covery of a new world, and the infallible 
rule would make all human diversities give 
way to a divine unity. " One holdeth this 
doctor and another that," said Tyndale ; 
" one followeth Duns Scotus, another St. 
Thomas, another Bonaventure, Alexander 
Hales, Raymond of Penaford, Lyra, Gor- 



1 Well, there was such a doctor who may dis- 
pend a hundred pounds. Foxe, Acts, y. p. 11 o. 

a Answering bv the Scriptures maintained the 
truth. Ibid. 

3 Ibid. p. 117. 

* Whatsoever truth is taught them, these ene- 
mies of all truth quench it again. Tynd. Doctr. 
Tr. p. 394. 

5 Impossible to establish the lay people in any 
truth, except the Scripture were plainly laid before 
their eyes in their mother tongue. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



679 



ram, Hugh de Sancto Vietore, and so many 
others besides Now, each of these au- 
thors contradicts the other. How then can 
we distinguish him who says right from 

him who says wrong ? How ? Verily, 

by God's word." 1 Tyndale hesitated no 

longer While Wolsey sought to win 

the papal tiara, the humble tutor of Sod- 
bury undertook to place the torch of heaven 
in the midst of his fellow-countrymen. 
The translation of the Bible shall be the 
work of his life. 

The first triumph of the word was a rev- 
olution in the manor-house. In proportion 
as Sir John and Lady Walsh acquired a 
taste for the gospel, they became disgusted 
with the priests. The clergy were not so 
often invited to Sodbury, nor did they meet 
with the same welcome. 2 They soon dis- 
continued their visits, and thought of noth- 
ing but how they could drive Tyndale from 
the mansion and from the diocese. 

Unwilling to compromise themselves in 
this warfare, they sent forward some of 
those light troops which the church has 
always at her disposal. Mendicant friars 
and poor curates, who could hardly under- 
stand their missal, and the most learned of 
whom made Albertus de secretis mulierum 
their habitual study, fell upon Tyndale like 
a pack of hungry hounds. They trooped 
to the alehouses, 3 and calling for a jug of 
beer, took their seats, one at one table, 
another at another. They invited the peas- 
antry to drink with them, and entering into 
conversation with them, poured forth a 
thousand curses upon the daring reformer : 
"He's a hypocrite," said one; "he's a 
heretic," said another. The most skillful 
among them would mount upon a stool, and 
turning the tavern into a temple, deliver, 
for the first time in his life, an extempora- 
neous discourse. They reported words that 
Tyndale had never uttered, and actions that 
he had never committed. 4 Rushing upon 
the poor tutor (he himself informs us) 
"like unclean swine that follow their car- 
nal lusts," 5 they tore his good name to very 
tatters, and shared the spoil among them ; 
while the audience, excited by their calum- 
nies and heated by the beer, departed over- 
flowing with rage and hatred against the 
heretic of Sodbury. 

After the monks came the dignitaries. 
The deans and abbots, Sir John's former 
guests, accused Tyndale to the chancellor 
of the diocese, 6 and the storm which had 
begun in the tavern burst forth in the epis- 
copal palace. 



* Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 149. 

' Neither had they the cheer and countenance 
when they came, as before they had. Foxe, Acts, 
v. p. 116. 

3 Come together to the alehouse, which, is their 
preaching place. Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 394. 

4 They add too of their own heads what I never 
Bpake. Ibid. p. 395. 

1 Ibid. Expositions, p. 10. 

• Ibid. p. 395, 



44 



The titular bishop of Worcester (an ap- 
panage of the Italian prelates) was Giulio 
de' Medici, a learned man, great politician, 
and crafty priest, who already governed the 
popedom without being pope. 1 Wolsey, 
who administered the diocese for his absent 
colleague, had appointed Thomas Parker 
chancellor, a man devoted to the Roman 
church. It was to him the churchmen 
made their complaint. A judicial inquiry 
had its difficulties ; the king's companions- 
at-arms was the patron of the pretended 
heretic, and Sir Anthony Poyntz, Lady 
Walsh's brother, was sheriff of the county. 
The chancellor was therefore content to 
convoke a general conference of the clergy. 
Tyndale obeyed the summons, but foresee- 
ing what awaited him, he cried heartily to 
God, as he pursued his way up the banks 
of the Severn, " to give him strength to 
stand fast in the truth of his word."' 

When they were assembled, the abbots 
and deans, and other ecclesiastics of the 
diocese, with haughty heads and threaten- 
ing looks, crowded round the humble but 
unbending Tyndale. When his turn ar- 
rived, he stood forward, and the chancellor 
administered him a severe reprimand, to 
which he made a calm reply. This so ex- 
asperated the chancellor, that, giving way 
to his passion, he treated Tyndale as if he 
had been a dog. 3 " Where are your wit- 
nesses?" demanded the latter. " Let them 
come forward, and I will answer them." 
Not one of them dared support the charge 
— they looked another way. The chancel- 
lor waited, one witness at least he must 
have, but he could not get that. 4 Annoyed 
at this desertion of the priests, the repi*e- 
sentative of the Medici became more equit- 
able, and let the accusation drop. Tyn- 
dale quietly returned to Sodbury, blessing 
God who had saved him from the cruel 
hands of his adversaries, 5 and entertaining 
nothing but the tenderest charity towards 
them. " Take away my goods," he said to 
them one day, "take away my good name ! 
yet so long as Christ dwelleth in my heart, 
so long shall I love you not a whit the 
less." 6 Here indeed is the St. John to 
whom Tyndale has been compared. 

In this violent warfare, however, he could 
not fail to receive some heavy blows ; and 
where could he find consolation ? Fryth and 
Bilney were from him. Tyndale recollec- 
ted an aged doctor who lived near Sodbury, 



1 Governava il papato e havia piu zente a la sua 
audienzia che il papa. (He governed the pope- 
dom, and had more people at his audiences than 
the pope.) Ilelazione di Marco Foscari, 1526. 

2 Foxe, Acts, v. p. 116. 

3 He threatened me grievously and reviled me, 
and rated me as though I had been a dog. Tynd. 
Doctr. Tr. p. 395. 

4 And laid to my charge whereof there would 
be none accuser brought forth. Ibid. 

5 Escaping out of their hands. Foxe, Acts, v 
p. 116. 

6 Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 298. 



680 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and who had shown him great affection. 
He went to see him, and opened his heart 
to him. 1 The old man looked at him for 
a while as if he hesitated to disclose some 
great mystery. " Do you not know," said 
he, lowering his voice, "that the pope is very 
Antichrist, whom the Scripture speaketh of? 
But beware what you say That know- 
ledge may cost you your life." 2 This doc- 
trine of Antichrist, which Luther was at 
that moment enunciating so boldly, struck 
Tyndale. Strengthened by it, as was the 
Saxon reformer, he felt fresh energy in his 
heart, and the aged doctor was to him what 
the aged friar had been to Luther. 

When the priests saw that their plot had 
failed, they commissioned a celebrated di- 
vine to undertake his conversion. The re- 
former replied with his Greek Testament 
to the schoolman's arguments. The theo- 
logian was speechless : at last he exclaimed : 
" Well, then ! it were better to be without 
God's laws than the pope's." 3 Tyndale, who 
did not expect so plain and blasphemous a 
confessiou, made answer : " And I defy the 
pope and all his laws !" and then, as if un- 
able to keep his secret, he added : " If God 
spares my life, I will take care that a 
ploughboy shall know more of the Scrip- 
tures than you do." 4 

All his thoughts were now directed to 
the means of carrying out his plans ; and 
desirous of avoiding conversations that 
might compromise them, he thenceforth 
passed the greater portion of his time in the 
library. 5 He prayed, he read, he began 
his translation of the Bible, and in all pro- 
bability communicated portions of it to Sir 
John and Lady Walsh. 

All his precautions were useless : the 
scholastic divine had betrayed him, and the 
priests had sworn to stop him in his trans- 
lation of the Bible. One day he fell in with 
a troop of monks and curates, who abused 
him in the grossest manner. " It's the fa- 
vour of the gentry of the county that 
makes you so proud," said they ; " but not- 
withstanding your patrons, there will be a 
talk about you before long, and in a pretty 
fashion too ! . . . .You shall not always live 
in a manor-house !" — " Banish me to the 
obscurest corner of England," replied Tyn- 
dale ; " provided you will permit me to 
teach children and preach the gospel, and 
give me ten pounds a-year for my support 6 
1 shall be satisfied !" The priests left 



1 For to him he durst be bold to disclose his 
heart. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 117. 

2 Ibid. ' 3 Ibid. 

4 Cause a boy that driveth the plough to know 
more of the Scripture than he did. Ibid. 

5 This part of the house was standing in 18.39, 
but has since been pulled down. Anderson, Bi- j 
ble Annals, i. p. 37. We cannot but unite in the 
wish expressed in that volume, that the remain- 
der of the building, now tenanted by a farmer, 
may be carefully preserved. 

6 Binding him to no more but to teach children 
and to preach. Fose, Acts, v. p. 117. 



him, but with the intention of preparing 
him a different fate. 

Tyndale indulged in his pleasant dreams 
no longer. He saw that he was on the 
point of being arrested, condemned, and 
interrupted in his great work. He must 
seek a retreat where he can discharge in 
peace the task God has allotted him. 
" You cannot save me from the hands of 
the priests," said he to Sir John, " and God 
knows to what troubles you would expose 
yourself by keeping me in your family. 
Permit me to leave you." Having said 
this, he gathered up his papers, took his 
Testament, pressed the hands of his bene- 
factors, kissed the children, and then de- 
scending the hill, bade farewell to the smil- 
ing banks of the Severn, and departed 
alone — alone with his faith. What shall 
he do ? What will become of him ? Where 
shall he go ? He went forth like Abraham, 
one thing alone engrossing his mind: — the 
Scriptures shall be translated into the vul- 
gar tongue, and he will deposit the oracles 
of God in the midst of his countrymen. 

Whilst a plain minister was commencing 
the Reformation' in a tranquil valley in the 
west of England, powerful reinforcements 
were landing on the shores of Kent. The 
writings and actions of Luther excited a 
lively sensation in Great Britain. His ap- 
pearance before the diet at Worms was a 
common subject of conversation. Ships 
from the harbours of the Low Countries 
brought his books to London, 1 and the Ger- 
man printers had made answer to the 
nuncio Aleander, who was prohibiting the 
Lutheran works in the empire; "Very 
well ! we shall send them to England .'" 
One might almost say that England was 
destined to be the asylum of truth. And 
in fact, the Theses of 1517, the Explanation 
of the Lord's Prayer, the books against 
Emser, against the papacy of Rome, against 
the bull of Antichrist, the Epistle to the Gal- 
atians, the Appeal to the German JSobility, 
and above all, the Babylonish Captivity of 
the Church-r-oW. crossed the sea, were trans- 
lated, and circulated throughout the king- 
dom.- The German and English nations, 
having a common origin and being suffi- 
ciently alike at that time in character and 
civilization, the works intended for one 
might be read by the other with advantage. 
The monk in his cell, the country gentle- 
man in his hall, the doctor in his college, 
the tradesman in his shop, and even the 
bishop in his palace, studied these extraor- 
dinary writings. The laity in particular, 
who had been prepared by Wickliffe and 
disgusted by the avarice and disorderly 
lives of the priests, read with enthusiasm 
the eloquent pages of the Saxon monk. 
They strengthened all hearts. 



1 Burnet, Hist, of the Reformation, (Lond. 1S41, 
8vo.) i. p. 21. 

3 Libros Lutheranos quorum magnus jam Hume- 
rus pervenerat in manus Anglorum. Pol>d. 
Virg. Angl. Hist. (Basil, 1570, fol.) p. 664 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



6S1 



The papacy was not inactive in presence 
of all these efforts. The times of Gregory 
YII. and of Innocent III., it is true, were 
past ; and weakness and irresolution had 
succeeded to the former energy and activity 
of the Roman pontificate. The spiritual 
power had resigned the dominion of Eu- 
rope to the secular powers, and it was 
doubtful whether faith in the papacy could 
be found in the papacy itself. Yet a Ger- 
man (Dr. Eck) by the most indefatigable 
exertions had extorted a bull from the pro- 
fane Leo X., 1 and this bull had just reached 
England. The pope himself sent it to 
Henry, calling upon him to extirpate the 
Lutheran heresy. 2 The king handed it to 
Wolsey, and the latter transmitted it to the 
bishops, who, after reading the heretic's 
books, met together to discuss the matter. 3 
There was more Romish faith in London 
than in the Vatican. " This false friar," 
exclaimed Wolsey, " attacks submission to 
the clergy — that fountain of all virtues." 
The humanist prelates were the most an- 
noyed ; the road they had taken ended in 
an abyss, and they shrank back in alarm. 
Tonstall,- the friend of Erasmus, afterwards 
bishop of LondoD, and who had just re- 
turned from his embassy to Germany where 
Luther had been painted to him in the 
darkest colours, was particularly violent : 

" This monk is a Proteus I mean an 

atheist. 4 If you allow the heresies to grow 
up which he is scattering with both hands, 
they will choke the faith and the church 
will perish. 5 Had we not enough of the 
Wickliffites ? — here are new legions of the 

same kind ! To-day Luther calls for the 

abolition of the mass ; to-morrow he will 
ask for the abolition of Jesus Christ. 6 He 
rejects every thing, and puts nothing in its 
place. What ! if barbarians plunder our 

frontiers, we punish them and shall we 

bear with heretics who plunder our altars ? 

No ! by the mortal agony that Christ 

endured, I entreat you. ......What am I say- 
ing ? the whole church conjures you to 

combat against this devouring dragon 

to punish this hell-dog, to silence his sinis- 
ter howlings, . and to drive him shamefully 
back to his den." 7 Thus spoke the elo- 
quent Tonstall ; nor was Wolsey far be- 
hind him. The only attachment at all 
respectable in this man was that which he 
entertained for the church ; it may perhaps 
be called respectable, for it was the only 
one that did not exclusively regard him- 



1 See above, Book VI. chap. iv. 

s Ab hoc regno extirpanduui et abolendum. 
Cardinal. Ebor. Commissio. Strype, M. I. v. 
p. 22. 

3 Habitoque super bac re diligenti tractatu. 
Ibid. 

4 Cum illo Protheo imo Atheo. Erasm. Ep. 

p. 1158. 

* Tota ruet Ecclesia. Ibid. p. 1159. 

G Nisi de abolendo Cbristo scribere destinavit. 
Ibid. p. 1160. 

1 Gladio Spiritus abactum in antrum suum 
cogfca. Erasm. Ep. p. 1160. 



self. On the 14th May 1521, this English 
pope, in imitation of the Italian pope, 
issued his bull against Luther. 

It was read (probably on the first Sun- 
day in June) in all the churches during 
high mass, when the congregation was 
most numerous. 1 A priest exclaimed: 
" For every book of Martin Luther's found 
in your possession within fifteen days after 
this injunction, you will incur the greater 
excommunication." Then a public notary, 
holding the pope's bull in his hand, with a 
description of Luther's perverse opinions, 
proceeded towards the principal door of the 
church, and fastened up the document. 2 
The people gathered round it ; the most 
competent person read it aloud, while the 
rest listened ; and the following are some 
of the sentences which, by the pope's order, 
resounded in the porches of all the cathe- 
dral, conventual, collegiate, and parish 
churches of every county in England : 3 

" 11. Sins are not pardoned to any, un- 
less the priest remitting them, he believe 
they are remitted to him. 

" 13. If by reason of some impossibility, 
the contrite be not confessed, or the priest 
absolve him, not in earnest, but in jest; 
yet if he believe that he is absolved, he is 
most truly absolved. 

" 14. In the sacrament of penance and 
the remission of a fault, the pope or bishop 
doth not more than the lowest priest ; yea, 
where there is not a priest, then any Chris- 
tian will do ; yea, if it were a woman or a 
child. 

"26. The pope, the successor of Peter, 
is not Christ's vicar. 

" 28. It is not at all in the hand of the 
church or the pope to decree articles of 
faith, no, nor to decree the laws of manners 
or of good works." 

The cardinal-legate, accompanied by the 
nuncio, by the ambassador of Charles V., 
and by several bishops, proceeded in great 
pomp to St. Paul's, where the bishop of 
Rochester preached, and Wolsey burnt 
Luther's books. 4 But they were hardly 
reduced to ashes before sarcasms and jests 
were heard in every direction. " Fire is 
not a theological argument," said one. 
" The papists, who accuse Martin Luther 
of slaying and murdering Christian's," 
added another, " are like the pickpocket, 
who began to cry stop thief as soon as he 
saw himself in danger of being caught." 
" The bishop of Rochester," said a third, 
" concludes that because Luther has thrown 
the pope's decretals into the fire, he would 

throw in the pope himself. We may 

hence deduce another syllogism quite as 



1 Cum major convenerit multitude Ibid. 

a In valvis seu locis publicis ccclesia3 vestrae. 
Ibid. p. 24. 

3 Strype, M. I. p. 57, (Oxf. ed.) or Luther, 
xvii. p. 306. 

* See above, Book Hi. chap. x. 



682 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



sound: The popes have burnt the New 
Testament, therefore, if they could, they 
would burn Christ himself." 1 These jests 
were rapidly circulated from mouth to 
mouth. It was not enough that Luther's 
writings were in England, they must needs 
be known, and the priests took upon them- 
selves to advertise them. The Reforma- 
tion was advancing, and Rome herself 
pushed behind the car. 

The cardinal saw that something more 
was required than these paper autos-da-fe, 
and the activity he displayed may indicate 
what he would have done in Europe if ever 
he had reached the pontifical chair. " The 
spirit of Satan left him no repose," says the 
papist Sanders. 2 Some action out of the 
ordinary course is needful, thought Wolsey. 
Kings have hitherto been the enemies of 
the popes : a king shall now undertake 
their defence. Princes are not very anxious 
about learning, a prince shall publish a 
book !...-." Sire," said he to the king, to 
get Henry in the vein, " you ought to write 
to the princes of Germany on the subject 
of this heresy." He did so. Writing to 
the Archduke Palatine, he said : " This 
fire, which has been kindled by Luther, and 
fanned by the arts of the devil, is raging 
every where. If Luther does not repent, 
deliver him and his audacious treatises to 
the flames. I offer you my royal co-opera- 
tion, and even, if necessary my life." 3 This 
was the first time Henry showed that cruel 
thirst which was in after days to be 
quenched in the blood of his wives and 
friends. 

The king having taken the first step, it 
was not difficult for Wolsey to induce him 
to take another. To defend the honor of 
Thomas Aquinas, to stand forward as the 
champion of the church, and to obtain from 
the pope a title equivalent to that of Chris- 
tianissimus, most Christian king, were more 
than sufficient motives to induce Henry to 
break a lance with Luther. " I will com- 
bat with the pen this Cerberus, spruug 
from the depths of hell," 4 said he, " and if 
he refuses to retract, the fire shall consume 
the heretic and his heresies together." 3 

The king shut himself up in his library ; 
all the scholastic tastes with which his 
youth had been imbued were revived ; he 
worked as if he were archbishop of Can- 
terbury, and not king of England ; with 
the pope's permission, lie read Luther's 
writings ; he ransacked Thomas Aquinas ; 
forged with infinite labour, the arrows with 
which he hoped to pierce the heretic ; 
called several learned men to his aid, and 
at last published his book. His first words 

1 They would have burnt Christ himself. Tynd. 
Doctr., Tr., Obedience, &c. (Park. Soc. p. 221.) 

2 Satanae spiritu actus. De Schism. Angl. p. 6. 

3 Kapps Urkunden, ii. p. 458. 

4 Velut Cerberum ex inferis producit in lucem. 
Regis ad lectorem. Epist. p. 94. 

5 Ut errores ejus eumque ipsum ignis esurat. 
Ibid. o. 95. 



were a cry of alarm. " Beware of the 
track of this serpent," said he to his Chris- 
tian readers ; " walk on tiptoe ; fear the 
thickets and caves in which he lies con- 
cealed, and whence he will dart his poison 
on you. If he licks you, be careful ! the 
cunning viper caresses only that he may 
bite I" 1 After that Henry sounded a charge : 
"Be of good cheer ! Filled with the same 
valour that you would display against 
Turks, Saracens, and other infidels, march 
now against this little friar, — a fellow ap- 
parently weak, but more formidable through 
the spirit that animates him than all infi- 
dels, Sarcens, and Turks put together." 2 
Thus did Henry VIII., the Peter the H>r- 
mit of the sixteenth century, preach a cru- 
sade against Luther, in order to save the 
papacy. 

He had skilfully chosen the ground on 
which he gave battle: sacramentalism and 
tradition are in fact the two essential fea- 
tures of the papal religion ; just as a lively 
faith and Holy Scripture are of the religion 
of the gospel. Henry did a service to the 
Reformation, by pointing out the princi- 
ples it would mainly have to combat ; and 
by furnishing Luther with an opportunity 
of establishing the authority of the Bible, 
he made him take a most important step in 
the path of reform. " If a teaching is op- 
posed to Scripture," said the Reformer, 
" whatever be its origin — traditions, cus- 
tom, kings, Thomists, sophists, Satan, or 
even an angel from heaven, — all from whom 
it proceeds must be accursed. Nothing can 
exist contrary to Scriptvre, and everything 
must exist for it." 

Henry's book being terminated by the 
aid of the bishop of Rochester, the king 
showed it to Sir Thomas More, who 
begged him to pronounce less decidedly in 
favour of the papal supremacy. " I will not 
change a word," replied the king, full of 
servile devotion to the popedom. " Be- 
sides, I have my reasons," and he whis- 
pered them in More's ear. 

Doctor Clarke, ambassador from Eng- 
land at the court of Rome, was commis- 
sioned to present the pope with a magnifi- 
cently bound copy of the king's work. 
" The glory of England," said he, " is to 
be in the foremost rank among the nations 
in obedience to the papacy." 3 Happily 
Britain was erelong to know a glory of a 
very different kind. The ambassador 
added, that his master, after having refuted 
Luther's errors with the pen, was ready to 
combat his adherents with the sword. 4 
The pope, touched with this offer, gave him 
his foot, and then his cheek to kiss, and 



1 Qui tantum ideo lambit ut mordeat. Asser- 
tio Sept. Sacram. 

2 Sed animo Turcis omnibus Sarracenis omni. 
bus usquam infidelibus nocentiorem fraterculuni. 
Ibid. p. 147. 

3 Fiddes' Life of Wolsey, p. 249. 

* Totius regni sui viribus et armis. Rymer, 
Foedera, vi. p. 199. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



G83 



said to him: "I will do for your master's 
book as much as the church has done for 
the works of St. Jerome and St. Augus- 
tine." 

The enfeebled papacy had neither the 
power of intelligence, nor even of fanati- 
cism. It still maintained its pretensions 
and its pomp, but it resembled the corpses 
of the mighty ones of the earth that lie in 
state, clad in their most magnificent robes: 
splendour above, death and corruption be- 
low. The thunderbolts of a Hildebrand 
ceasing to produce their effect, Rome grate- 
fully accepted the defence of laymen, such 
as Henry VIII. and Sir Thomas More, 
without disdaining their judicial sentences 
and their scaffolds. " We must honour 
those noble champions," said the pope to 
his cardinals, " who show themselves pre- 
pared to cut off with the sword the rotten 
members of Jesus Christ. 1 What title shall 
we give to the virtuous king of England ?" 
— Protector of the Roman church, suggested 
one ; Apostolic king, said another ; and 
finally, but not without some opposition, 
Henry VIII. was proclaimed Defender of 
the Faith. At the same time the pope 
promised ten years' indulgence to all 
readers of the king's book. This was a 
lure after the fashion of the middle ages, 
and which never failed in its effect. The 
clergy compared its author to the wisest of 
kings ; and the book, of which many thou- 
sand copies were printed, filled the Chris- 
tian world (Cochlseus tells us) with admira- 
tion and delight. 

Nothing could equal Henry's joy. "His 
majesty," said the vicar of Croydon, 
" would not exchange that name for all 
London and twenty miles round." 2 The 
king's fool, entering the room just as his 
master had received the bull, asked him 
the cause of his transports. " The pope 
has just named me Defender of the Faith!" 
— " Ho ! ho ! good Harry," replied the fool, 
"let you and me defend one another; but 

take my word for it let the faith 

alone to defend itself"* An entire modern 
system was found in those words. In the 
midst of the general intoxication, the fool 
was the only sensible person. But Henry 
could listen to nothing. Seated on an ele- 
vated throne, with the cardinal at his right 
hand, he caused the pope's letter to be read 
in public. The trumpets sounded : Wolsey 
said mass ; the king and his court took 
their seats around a sumptuous table, and 
the heralds at arms proclaimed : Henricus 
Dei gratia Rex Anglice et Francice, Defensor 
Fidei et Dominus HibernicE! 

Thus was the king of England more than 
ever united to the pope : whoever brings 
the Holy Scriptures into his kingdom shall 
there encounter that material s\\ovd,ferrum 



1 Putida membra ferro et materiali gladio 

nbscindere. Ibid. 
- Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 596. 
3 Fuller, book v. p. 16S. 



et materialem gladiiun, in which the papacy 
so much delighted. 

One thing was wanting to check more 
surely the progress of the gospel: ^Volsey's 
accession to the pontifical throne. Con 
sumed by the desire of reaching "the sum- 
mit of sacerdotal unity," 1 he formed to at- 
tain this end, one of the most perfidious 
schemes ambition ever engendered. - He 
thought with others : " The end justifies 
the means." 

The cardinal could only obtain the pope- 
dom through the emperor or the king of 
France ; for then, as now, it was the secu- 
lar powers that really elected the chief of 
catholicity. After carefully weighing the 
influences of these two princes, Wolsey 
found that the balance inclined to the side 
of Charles, and his choice was made. A 
close intimacy of long standing united him 
to Francis I., but that mattered little ; he 
must betray his friend to gain his friend's 
rival. 

But this was no easy matter. Henry was 
dissatisfied with Charles the Fifth. 2 Wol- 
sey was therefore obliged to employ every 
imaginable delicacy in his manoeuvres. 
First he sent Sir Richard Wingfield to the 
emperor ; then he wrote a flattering letter 
in Henry's name to the princess-regent of 
the Low Countries. The difficulty was to 
get the king to sign it. " Have the good- 
ness to put your name," said Wolsey, " even 

if it should annoy your Highness You 

know very well that women like to bo 

pleased."^ This argument prevailed with 
the king, who still possessed a spirit of 
gallantry. Lastly, Wolsey being named 
arbitrator between Charles and Francis, re- 
solved to depart for Calais, apparently to 
hear the complaints of the two princes ; 
but in reality to betray one of them. Wol- 
sey felt as much pleasure in such practices, 
as Francis in giving battle. 

The king of France rejected his arbitra- 
tion : he had a sharp eye, and his mother 
one still sharper. " Your master loves me 
not," said he to Charles' ambassador, " and 
I do not love him any more, and am deter- 
mined to be his enemy." 4 It was impossi- 
ble to speak more plainly. Far from imi- 
tating this frankness, the politic Charles 
endeavoured to gain Wolsey, and Wolsey, 
who was eager to sell himself, adroitly 
hinted at what price he might be bought. 
" If the king of England sides with me," 
Charles informed the cardinal, "you shall be 
elected pope at the death of Leo X." 5 Fran- 
cis, betrayed by Wolsey, abandoned by the 
pope, and threatened by the emperor, de- 



1 Unitatis sacerdotal is fastigium conseendere. 
Sanders, De Schism. Ang. 8. 

8 Hys owiie affayris doith not succcde with th* 
Emperour. State papers, vol. i. p. 10. 

3 Ibid. p. 12. 

4 He was utterly determined to be his enemy. 
Cotton MSS. Galba, B. 7, p. 35. 

s Ut Wolseus mortuo Leono decimo fieret sum- 
mus pun tile x. 



684 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



termined at last to accept Henry's media- 
tion. 

But Charles was now thinking of very- 
different matters. Instead of a mediation, 
he demanded of the king of England 4000 
of his famous bowmen. Henry smiled as 
he read the despatch, and looking at Pace 
his secretary, and Marney the captain of 
his guards, he said : " Beati qui audiunt et 
non intelligunt !" thus forbidding them to 
understand, and above all to bruit abroad 
this strange request. It was agreed to raise 
the number of archers to 6000 ; and the 
cardinal, having the tiara continually before 
his eyes, departed to perform at Calais the 
odious comedy of a hypocritical arbitration. 
Being detained at Dover by contrary winds, 
the mediator took advantage of this delay 
to draw up a list of the 6000 archers and 
their captains, not forgetting to insert in it, 
" certain obstinate deer/ 7 as Henry had 
said, " that must of necessity be hunted 
down. m These were some gentlemen whom 
the king desired to get rid of. 

While the ambassadors of the king of 
France were received at Calais on the 4th 
of August with great honours, by the lord 
high chamberlain of England, the cardinal 
signed a convention with Charles's minis- 
ters that Henry should withdraw his pro- 
mise of the Princess Mary's hand to the 
dauphin, and give her to the emperor. At 
the same time he issued orders to destroy 
the French navy, and to invade France. 2 
And, finally, he procured, by way of com- 
pensating England for the pension of 
16,000 pounds hitherto received from the 
court of St Germains, that the emperor 
should pay henceforward the annual sum 
of 40,000 marks. Without ready money 
the bargain would not have been a good 
one. 

This was not all. While Wolsey was 
waiting to be elected pope, he conceived the 
idea of'becoming a soldier. A commander 
was wanted for the 6000 archers Henry was 
sending against the king of France ; and 
why should he not be the cardinal himself ? 
He immediately intrigued to get the noble- 
men set aside who had been proposed as 
generals in chief. " Shrewsbury," he said 
to the king, " is wanted for Scotland — Wor- 
cester by his experience is worthy that 

you should keep him near you. As for 

Dorset he will be very dear." Then the 

priest added : " Sire, if during my sojourn 
on the other side of the sea, you have good 

reason to send your archers I hasten to 

inform you that whenever the emperor takes 
the command of his soldiers, I am ready, 
although an ecclesiastic, 3 to put myself at 
the head of yours." What devotedness ! 
Wolsey would cause his cross of cardinal a 

1 Sayyinge that certayne hartes were so toggide 
for hym, that he must neadys hunte them. State 
Papers, i. p. 26. 

2 Ibid. i. p. 23. 

3 Though I be a spiritual man. State Papers, i. 
p. 31. 



latere to be carried before him (he said) ; 
and neither Francis nor Bayard would be 
able to resist him. To command at the 
same time the state, the church, and the 
army, while awaiting the tiara, — to sur- 
round his bead with laurels : such was this 
man's ambition. Unfortunately for him, 
they were not of that opinion at court. The 
king made the earl of Essex commander- 
in-chief. 

As Wolsey could not be general, he 
turned to diplomacy. He hastened to 
Bruges ; and as he entered at the emperor's 
side, a voice was heard above the crowd, 
exclaiming, Salve, Hex regis tui atque regni 
sui . n — a sound most pleasing to his ears. 
People were very much astonished at Bruges 
by the intimacy existing between the car- 
dinal and the emperor. " There is some 
mystery beneath it all," they said. 2 Wol- 
sey desired to place the crown of France 
on Henry's head, and the tiara on his own. 
Such was the mystery, which was well 
worth a few civilities to the mighty Charles 
Y. The alliance was concluded, and the 
contracting parties agreed " to avenge the 
insults offered to the throne of Jesus Christ," 
or in other words, to the popedom. 

Wolsey, in order to drag Henry into the 
intrigues which were to procure him the 
tiara, had reminded him that he was king 
of France, and the suggestion had been 
eagerly caught at. At midnight, on the 7th 
of August, the king dictated to his secretary 
a letter for Wolsey containing this strange 
expression : Si ibitis parare regi locum in 
regno ejus hereditario, Majestas ejus qmim 
tempns erit opportunvm-, sequeiur? The 
theologian who had corrected the famous 
latin book of the king's against Luther most 
certainly had not revised this phrase. Ac- 
cording to Henry, France was his hereditary 
kingdom, and Wolsey was going to prepare 

the throne for him The king could not 

restrain his joy at the mere idea, and al- 
ready he surpassed in imagination both 
Edward III. and the Black Prince. " I am 
about to attain a glory superior to that 
which my ancestors have gained by so 
many wars and battles." 4 Wolsey traced 
out for him the road to his palace on the 
banks of the Seine: " Mezieres is about to 
fall; afterwards there is only Rheims, which 
is not a strong city ; and thus your grace 
will very easily reach Paris." 5 Henry fol- 
lowed on the map the route he would have 
to take : " Affairs are going on well," wrote 
the cardinal, " the Lord be praised." In 



1 Hail, both king of thy king and also of hia 
kingdom. Tynd. Expos, p. 314. 

2 There was a certain secret whereof all men 
knew not. Ibid. p. 315. 

3 If you go to prepare a place for the king in his 
hereditary kingdom, his majesty will follow you at 
a fitting season. State Papers, i. 36. 

4 Mnjora assequi quam omnes ipsius progenitores 
tot bellis et prseliis. State Papers, i. 45. 

5 Your grace shall have but a ley ve wey to Parys. 
Ibid. 46. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



him this Christian language was a mere 
official formality. 

Wolsev was mistaken : things were going 
on badly. On the 20th of October 1522, 
Francis I. whom so much perfidy had been 
unable to deceive, — Francis, ambitious and 
turbulent, but honest in this matter at 
least, and confiding in the strength of his 
arms, had suddenly appeared between Cam- 
bray and Valenciennes. The emperor fled 
to Flanders in alarm, and Wolsey, instead 
of putting himself at the head of the army, 
had shielded himself under his arbitrator's 
cloak. Writing to Henry, who, a fortnight 
before, had by his advice excited Charles 
to attack France, he said : " I am confident 
that your virtuous mediation will greatly 
increase your reputation and honour 
throughout Christendom." 1 Francis re- 
jected Wolsey's offers, but the object of the 
latter was attained. The negotiations had 
gained time for Charles, and bad weather 
soon stopped the French army. Wolsey re- 
turned satisfied to London about the middle 
of December. It was true that Henry's 
triumphant entry into Paris became very 
difficult: but the cardinal was sure of the 
emperor's favour, and through it (he im- 
agined) of the tiara. Wolsey had done, 
therefore, what he desired. He had hardly 
arrived in England when there came news 
which raised him to the height of happi- 
ness : Leo X. was dead. His joy surpassed 
what Henry had felt at the thought of his 
hereditary kingdom. Protected by the pow- 
erful Charles V., to whom he had sacrificed 
every thing, the English cardinal was at 
last on the point of receiving that pontifical 
crown which would permit him to crush 
heresy, and which was, in his eyes, the just 
reward of so many infamous transactions. 

Wolsey did not stay until he was pope, 
before persecuting the disciples of the word 
of God. Desirous of carrying out the sti- 
pulations of the convention at Bruges, he 
had broken out against " the king's subjects 
who disturbed the apostolic see." Henry 
had to vindicate the title conferred on him 
by the pope ; the cardinal had to gain the 
popedom ; and both could satisfy their de- 
sires by the erection of a few scaffolds. 

In the county of Lincoln on the shores 
of the North Sea, along the fertile banks 
of the Humber, Trent, and With am, and on 
the slopes of the smiling hills, dwelt many 
peaceful Christians — labourers, artificers, 
and shepherds — who spent their days in 
toil, in keeping their flocks, in doing good, 
and in reading the Bible. 2 The more, the 
gospel-light increased in England, the 
greater was the increase in the number of 
these children of peace. 3 These "just men," 
as they were called, were devoid of human 



1 Cotton MSS. Calig. D. 8, p. 85. 

2 Being simple labourers and artificers. Foxe, 
Acts, iv. p. 240. 

3 As the light of the gospel began more to ap- 
pear, and the numbers of professors to grow. Foxe, 
Acts, iv. p. 217. 



knowledge, but they thirsted for the know 
ledge of God. Thinking they were alone 
the true disciples of the Lord, they married 
only among themselves. 1 They appeared 
occasionally at church ; but instead of re- 
peating their prayers like the rest, they sat, 
said their enemies, " mum like beasts." 2 
On Sundays and holidays, they assembled 
in each other's houses, and sometimes passed 
a whole night in reading a portion of Scrip- 
ture. If there chanced to be few books 
among them, one of the brethren, who had 
learnt by heart the epistle of St. James, the 
beginning of St. Luke's gospel, the sermon 
on the mount, or an epistle of St. Paul's, 
would recite a few verses in a loud and 
calm voice ; then all would piously converse 
about the holy truths of the faith, and ex- 
hort one another to put them in practice. 
But if any person joined their meetings, 
w r ho did not belong to their body, they 
would all keep silent. 3 Speaking much 
among each other, they were speechless be- 
fore those from without : fear of the priests 
and of the fagot made them dumb. There 
was no family rejoicing without the Scrip- 
tures. At the marriage of a daughter of 
the aged Durdant, one of their patriarchs, 
the wedding party met secretly in a barn, 
and read the whole of one of St. Paul's 
epistles. Marriages are rarely celebrated 
with such pastimes as this ! 

Although they were dumb before ene- 
mies or suspected persons, these poor peo- 
ple did not keep silence in the presence of 
the humble ; a glowing proselytism charac- 
terized them all. " Come to my house," 
said the pious Agnes Ashford to James Mor- 
den, " and I will teach you some verses of 
Scripture." Agnes was an educated wo- 
man ; she could read ; Morden came, and 
the poor woman's chamberwas transformed 
into a school of theology. Agnes began : 
" Ye are the salt of the earth," and then re- 
cited the following verses. 4 Five times did 
Morden return to Agnes before he knew 
that beautiful discourse. " We are spread 
like salt over the various parts of the king- 
dom," said this Christian woman to the 
neophite, " in order that we may check the 
progress of superstition by our doctrine 
and our life. But," added she in alarm, 
" keep this secret in your heart, as a man 
would keep a thief in prison. 5 

As books were rare, these pious Christ- 
ians had established a kind of itinerant 
library, and one John Scrivener was con- 
tinually engaged in carrying the precious 
volumes from one to another. 6 But at 



1 Did contract matrimony only with themselves. 
Ibid. p. 223. 

a Ibid. p. 225. 

s If any came in among them that were not of 
their side, thon they would keep all silent. Ibid, 
p. 222. 

* Matth. v. 13-16. 

8 Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 225. 

s Carrving about books from one to another. 
Ibid. p. 224. 



686 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



times, as lie was proceeding along the 
banks of the river, or through the forest 
glades, he observed that he was followed. 
He would quicken his pace and run into 
some barn, where the friendly peasants 
promptly hid him beneath the straw, or, 
like the spies of Israel, under the stalks of 
flax. 1 The bloodhounds arrived, sought 
and found nothing ; and more than once 
those who so generously harboured these 
evangelists cruelly expiated the crime of 
charity. 

The disappointed officers had scarcely 
retired from the neighbourhood when these 
friends of the word of God came out of 
their hiding-places, and profited by the mo- 
ment of liberty to assemble the brethren. 
The persecutions they suffered irritated 
them against the priests. They worshipped 
God, read and sang with a low voice ; but 
when the conversation became general, they 
gave free course to their indignation. 
" Would you know the use of the pope's 
pardons ?" said one of them ; " they are to 
blind the eyes and empty the purse." — 
" True pilgrimages/' said the tailor Geoff- 
rey of Uxbridge, " consists in visiting the 
poor and sick — barefoot, if so it please you 
— for these are the little ones that are 
God's true'image." — " Money spent in pil- 
grimages," added a third, " serves only to 
maintain thieves and harlots." 2 The wo- 
men were often the most animated in the 
controversy. " What need is there to go 
to the feet," said Agnes Ward, who disbe- 
lieved in saints, " when we may go to the 
head f" 3 " The clergy of the good old 
times," said the wife of David Lewis, " used 
to lead the people as a hen leadeth her 
chickens ; 4 but now if our priests lead their 
flocks anywhere, it is to the devil as- 
suredly." 

Erelong there was a general panic 
throughout this district. The king's con- 
fessor John Longland was bishop of Lin- 
coln. This fanatic priest, Wolsey's crea- 
ture, took advantage of his position to 
petition Henry for a severe persecution : 
this was the ordinary use in England, 
France and elsewhere, of the confessors of j 
princes. It was unfortunate that among I 
these pious disciples of the word, men of 
a cynical turn were bow and then met with, 
whose biting sarcasms went beyond all 
bounds. Wolsey and Longland knew how 
to employ these expressions in arousing the 
king's anger. " As one of these fellows," 
they said, " was busy beating out his corn 
in his barn, a man chanced to pass by. 
' Good morrow, neighbour/ (said the lat- 
ter), 'you are hard at it!' — 'Yes/ replied 
the old heretic, thinking of transubstantia- 
tion, ' I am thrashing the corn out of which 



x Hiding others in their barns. 

2 Ibid. 

* Ibid. p. 229. 

4 Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 224. 



Ibid. p. 243. 



the priests make God Almighty.' " l Henry 
hesitated no longer. 

On the 20th October 1521, nine days af- 
ter the bull on the Defender of the Faith 
had been signed at Rome, the king, who 
was at Windsor, summoned his secretary, 
and dictated an order commanding all his 
subjects to assist the bishop of Lincoln 
against the heretics. " You will obey it at 
the peril of your lives," added he. The 
order was transmitted to Longland. and the 
bishop immediately issued his warrants, 
and his officers spread terror far and wide. 
When they beheld them, these peaceful but 
timid Christians were troubled. Isabella 
Bartlet, hearing them approach her cottage, 
screamed out to her husband: " You are a 
lost man ! and I am a dead woman !"* This 
cry was re-echoed from all the cottages of 
Lincolnshire. The bishop, on his judg- 
ment-seat, skilfully played upon these poor 
unhappy beings to make them accuse one 
another. Alas ! according to the ancient 
prophecy : " the brother delivered up the 
brother to death." Robert Bartlet deposed 
against his brother Richard and his own 
wife ; Jane Bernard accused her own father, 
and Tredway his mother. It was not until 
after the most cruel anguish that these poor 
creatures were driven to such frightful ex- 
tremities ; but the bishop and death terri- 
fied them : a small number alone remained 
firm. As regards heroism, Wickliff's Re- 
formation brought but feeble aid to the Re- 
formation of the sixteenth century ; still if 
it did not furnish many heroes, it prepared 
the English people to love God's word 
above all things. Of these humble people, 
some were condemed to do penance in dif- 
ferent monasteries ; others to carry a fagot 
on their shoulders thrice round the market- 
place, and then to stand some time exposed 
to the jeers of the populace; others were 
fastened to a post while the executioner 
branded them on the cheek with a red-hot 
iron. They also had their martyrs. Yvick- 
liffe's revival had never been without them. 
Four of these brethren were chosen to be 
put to death, and among them the pious 
evangelical colporteur Scrivener. By burn- 
ing him to ashes the clergy desired to 
make sure that he would no longer circu- 
late the word of God ; and by a horrible 
refinement of cruelty his children were 
compelled to set fire to the pile that was to 
consume their father. 3 They stretched 
forth their trembling hands, held in the 
strong grasp of the executioners .... Poor 

children! But it is easier to burn the 

limbs of Christians than to quench the 
Spirit of Heaven. These cruel fires could 
not destroy among the Lincolnshire peas- 



1 I thresh God Almighty out of the straw. Ibid, 
p. 222. 

2 Alas ! now are you an undone man, and I but 
a dead woman. Ibid. p. 224. 

3 Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 2±o. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



687 



antry that love of the Bible, which in all 
ages l;as been England's strength, far more 
than the wisdom of her senators or the 
bravery of her generals. 

Having by these exploits gained indis- 
putable claims to the tiara, Wolsey turned 
his efforts towards Rome. Leo X., as we 
have seen, was just dead (1522). The car- 
dinal sent Pace to Rome, instructing him to 
" represent to the cardinals that by choos- 
ing a partisan of Charles or Francis they 
will incur the enmity of one or the- other 
of these princes, and that if they elect some 
feeble Italian priest, the apostolical see 
must become the prey of the strongest. Lu- 
ther's revolt and the emperor's ambition 
endanger the papacy. There is only one 
means of preventing the threatening dan- 
gers it is to choose me Now, go and 

exert yourself." 1 The conclave opened at 
Rome on the 27th December, and Wolsey 
was proposed ; but the cardinals were not 
generally favourable to his election. " He 
is too young," said one ; " too firm," said 
another. " He will fix the seat of the pa- 
pacy in England and not in Rome," urged 
many. He did not receive twenty votes. 
" The cardinals," wrote the English am- 
bassador, " snarled and quarrelled with 
each other ; and their bad faith and hatred 
increased every day," On the sixth day, 
only one dish was sent them ; and then in 
despair they chose Adrian, who had been 
tutor to the emperor, and the cry was 
raised : Papain habemus I 

During all this time Wolsey was in Lon- 
don, consumed by ambition, and counting 
the days and hours. At length a despatch 
from Ghent, dated the 22d January, reached 
him with these words: "On the 9 th of Jan- 
uary, the cardinal of Tortosa was elected !" 

Wolsey was almost distracted. To 

gain Charles, he had sacrificed the alliance 
of Francis I. ; there was no stratagem that 
he had not employed, and yet Charles, in 
spite of his engagements, had procured the 

election of his tutor ! The emperor knew 

what must be the cardinal's anger, and en- 
deavoured to appease it : " The new pope," 
he wrote, " is old and sickly ; 2 he cannot 

hold his office long Beg the cardinal of 

York for my sake to take great care of his 
health." 

Charles did more than this : he visited 
London in person, under pretence of his 
betrothal with Mary of England, and, in 
the treaty then drawn up, he consented to 
the insertion of- an article by virtue of 
which Henry VIII. and the mighty empe- 
ror bound themselves, if either should in- 
fringe the treaty, to appear before Wolsey 
and to submit to his decisions. 3 The car- 

1 The sole way was to chuse him. Herbert, 

p. 110. 

- The new elect is both old, sickly..' so that 

he. shall not have the office long. Cotton MSS. 
Galba, B. vii. p. 6. 

3 Both princes appearing before the cardinal of 
York as judge. Art. xiii. Herbert, p. 118. 



I dinal, gratified by such condescension, 
' grew calm ; and at the same time he was 
| soothed with the most flattering hopes. 
" Charles's imbecile preceptor," they told 
him, " has arrived at the "\ atican, attended 
only by his female cook ; you shall soon 
make your entrance there surrounded by 
all your grandeur." To be certain of his 
game, Wolsey made secret approaches to 
Francis L, and then waited for the death 
of the pope. 1 

While the cardinal was intriguing to 
attain his selfish ends, Tyndale was humbly 
carrying out the great idea of giving the 
Scriptures of God to England. 

After bidding a sad farewell to the ma- 
nor-house of Sodbury, the learned tutor 
had departed for London. This occurred 
about the end of 1522 or the beginning of 
1523. He had left the university — he had 
forsaken the house of his protector ; his 
wandering career was about to commence, 
but a thick veil hid from him all its sor- 
rows. Tyndale, a man simple in his habits, 
sober, daring, and generous, fearing nei- 
ther fatigue nor danger, inflexible in his 
duty, anointed with the Spirit of God, over- 
flowing with love for his brethren, emanci- 
pated from human traditions, the servant 
of God alone, and loving nought but Jesus 
Christ, imaginative, quick at repartee, and 
of touching eloquence — such a man might 
have shone in the foremost ranks ; but he 
preferred a retired life in some poor corner, 
provided he could give his countrymen the 
Scriptures of God. Where could he find 
this calm retreat ? was the question he put 
to himself as he was making his solitary 
way to London. The metropolitan see was 
then filled by Cuthbert Tonstall, who was 
more of a statesman and a scholar than of 
a churchman, "the first of English men in 
Greek and Latin literature," said Erasmus. 
This eulogy of the learned Dutchman oc- 
curred to Tyndale's memory. 2 It was the 
Greek Testament of Erasmus that led me 
to Christ, said he to himself; why should 
not the house of Erasmus's friend offer me 

a shelter that I may translate it At last 

he reached London, and, a stranger in 
that crowded city, he wandered along the 
streets, a prey by turns to hope and fear. 

Being recommended by Sir John Walsh 
to Sir Harry Guildford, the king's comp- 
troller, and by him to several priests, Tyn- 
dale began to preach almost immediately, 
especially at St. Dunstan's, and bore into 
the heart of the capital the truth which had 
been banished from the banks of the Se- 
vern. The word of God was with him the 
basis of salvation, and the grace of God its 
essence. His inventive mind presented the 
truths he proclaimed in a striking manner. 
He said on one occasion : " It is the blood 



1 Mortem etiaua Adriani expectat. Sauders, 
p. 8. 

3 As I thus thought, the bishop of Loudon came 
to my remembrance Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 395. 



G83 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



of Christ that opens the gates of heaven, 
and not thy works. I am wrong. — Yes, 
if thou wilt have it so, by thy good works 
shalt thou he saved. Yet, understand me 
well, — not by those which thou hast done, 
but by those which Christ has done for 
thee. Christ is in thee and thou in him, 
knit together inseparably. Thou canst not 
be damned, except Christ be {damned with 
thee ; neither can Christ be saved except 
thou be saved with him." 1 This lucid view 
of justification by faith places Tyndale 
among the reformers. He did not take his 
seat on a bishop's throne, or wear a silken 
cope ; but he mounted the scaifold, and was 
clothed with a garment of flames. In the 
service of a crucified Saviour this latter 
distinction is higher than the former. 

Yet the translation was his chief busi- 
ness ; he spoke to his acquaintance about 
it, and some of them opposed his project. 
" The teachings of the doctors," said some 
of the city tradesmen, " can alone make us 
understand Scripture." " That is to say," 
replied Tyndale, "I must measure the yard 
by the cloth. 2 Look here," continued he, 
using a practical argument, "here are in 
your shop twenty pieces of stuff of different 
lengths. .. .Do you measure the yard by 
these pieces, or the pieces by the yard ? . . . . 
The universal standard is Scripture." This 
comparison was easily fixed in the minds 
of the petty tradesmen of the capital. 

Desirous of carrying out his project, 
Tyndale aspired to become the bishop's 
chaplain ; 3 his ambition was more modest 
than Wolsey's. The Hellenist possessed 
qualities which could not fail to please the 
most learned of Englishmen in Greek li- 
terature : Tonstall and Tyndale both liked 
and read the same authors. The ex-tutor 
determined to plead his cause through the 
elegant and harmonious disciple of Radicus 
and Gorgias: "Here is one of Isocrates' 
orations that I have translated into Latin," 
said he to Sir Harry Guildford ; "I should 
be pleased to become chaplain to his lord- 
ship the bishop of London ; will you beg 
him to accept this trifle. Isocrates ought 
to be an excellent recommendation to a 
scholar ; will you be good enough to add 
yours." Guildford spoke to the bishop, 
placed the translation in* his hands, and 
Tonstall replied with that benevolence 
which he showed to every one. " Your 
business is in a fair way," said the comp- 
troller' to Tyndale ; "write a letter to his 
lordship, and deliver it yourself." 4 

Tyndale's hopes now began to be realized. 
He wrote his letter in the best style, and 
then, commending himself to God, pro- 
ceeded to the episcopal palace. He fortu- 
nately knew one of the bishop's officers, 

1 Ibid. p. 79. 

5 Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 153. 

8 He laboured to be his chaplain. Foxe, Acts, 
iv.p. 617. 

4 He willed me to write an epistle to my lord, 
and to go to him myself. Ibid. 



William Hebilthwayte, to whom he gave 
the letter. Hebilthwayte carried it to his 
lordship, while Tyndale waited. His heart 
throbbed with anxiety: shall he find at last 
the long hoped for asylum ? The bishop's 
answer might decide the whole course of 
his life. If the door is opened — if the trans- 
lator of the Scriptures should be settled in 
the episcopal palace, why should not his 
London patron receive the truth like his 
patron at Sodbury ? and, in that case, what 
a future for the church and for the king- 
dom ! . — The Reformation was a knocking 
at the door of the hierarchy of England, 
and the latter was about to utter its } T ea or 
its nay. After a few moments' absence 
Hebilthwayte returned : " I am going to 
conduct you to his lordship." Tyndale 
fancied himself that he had attained his 
wishes. 

The bishop was too kind-hearted to re- 
fuse an audience to a man who called upon 
him with the triple recommendation of Iso- 
crates, of the comptroller, and of the king's 
old companion in arms. He received Tyn- 
dale with kindness, a little tempered how- 
ever with coldness, as if he were a man 
whose acquaintanceship might compromise 
him. Tyndale having made known his 
wishes, the bishop hastened to reply: 
" Alas ! my house is full ; I h.ave now more 
people than I can employ." 1 Tyndale was 
discomfited by this answer. The bishop of 
London was a learned man, but wanting in 
courage and consistency ; he gave his right 
hand to the friends of letters and of the 
gospel, and his left hand to the friends of 
the priests ; and then endeavoured to walk 
with both. But when he had to choose be- 
tween the two parties, clerical interests 
prevailed. There was no lack of bishops, 
priests, and laymen about him, who inti- 
midated him by their clamours. After 
taking a few steps forward, he suddenly re- 
coiled. Still Tyndale ventured to hazard a 
word ; but the prelate was cold as before. 
The humanists, who laughed at the igno- 
rance of the monks, hesitated to touch aa 
ecclesiastical system which lavished on 
them such rich sinecures. They accepted 
the new ideas in theory, but not in prac- 
tice. They were very willing to discuss 
them at table, but not to proclaim them 
from the pulpit ; and covering the Greek 
Testament with applause, they tore it in 
pieces when rendered into the vulgar tongue. 
" If you will look well about London," 
said Tonstall coldly to the poor priest, 
" you will not fail to meet with some suit- 
able employment." This was all Tyndale 
could obtain. Hebilthwayte waited on him 
to the door, and the Hellenist departed sad 
and desponding. 

His expectations were disappointed. 
Driven from the banks of the Severn, with- 
out a home in the capital, what would be- 



1 My lord answered me, his house was full. 
Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 395. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



GSO 



come of the translation of the Scriptures? 

" Alas !" he said; "I was deceived 1 

there is nothing to be looked for from the 

bishops Christ was smitten on the cheek 

before the bishop,, Paul was buffetted before 

the bishop 2 and a bishop has just turned 

me away." His dejection did not last long: 
there was an elastic principle in his soul. 
" I hunger for the word of God," said he, 
" I will translate it, whatever they may say 
or do. God will not suffer me to perish. 
He never made a mouth but he made 
food for it, nor a body but he made raiment 
also." 3 

This trustfulness was not misplaced. It 
was the privilege of a layman to give what 
the bishop refused. Among Tyndale's 
hearers at St. Dunstan's was a rich mer- 
chant named Humphrey Monmouth, who 
had visited Rome, and to whom (as well as 
to his companions) the pope had been so 
kind as to give certain Roman curiosities, 
such as indulgences, a culpa et a poena. 
Ships laden with his manufactures every 
year quitted London for foreign countries. 
He had formerly attended Colet's preach- 
ing at St. Paul's, and from the year 1515 
he had known the word of God. 4 He was 
one of the gentlest and most obliging men 
in England ; he kept open house for the 
friends of learning and of the gospel, and 
his library contained the newest publica- 
tions. In putting on Jesus Christ, Mon- 
mouth had particularly striven to put on 
his character ; he helped generously with 
his purse both priests and men of letters ; 
he gave forty pounds sterling to the chap- 
lain of the bishop of London, the same to 
the king's, to the provincial of the Angus- 
tines, and to others besides. Latimer, who 
sometimes dined with him, once related in 
the pulpit an anecdote characteristic of the 
friends of the Reformation in England. 
Among the regular guests at Monmouth's 
table was one of his poorest neighbours, a 
zealous Romanist, to whom his generous 
host often used to lend money. One day 
when the pious merchant was extolling 
Scripture and blaming popery, his neigh- 
bour turned pale, rose from the table, and 
left the room. " I will never set foot in his 
house again," he said to his friends, " and 
I will never borrow another shilling from 
him." 5 He next went to the bishop and 
laid an information against his benefactor. 
Monmouth forgave him, and tried to bring 
him back ; but the neighbour constantly 
turned out of his way. Once, however, 
they met in a street so narrow that he 
could not escape. " I will pass by without 
looking at him," said the Romanist turning 
away his head. But Monmouth went 

1 1 was beguiled. Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 395. 

' Expositions, p. 59. 

3 Tyndale and Fryth's Works, ii. p. 349. 

* The rich man began to be a Scripture man. 
Latimer's Sermons, p. 440 (Park. Soc.) 

' Latimer's Works, i. p. 441. He would borrow 
no [more] money of him. 



straight to him, took him by the hand, and 
said affectionately: "Neighbour, what 
wrong have I done you ?" and he continued 
to speak to him with so much love, that the 
poor man fell on his knees, burst into tears, 
and begged his forgiveness. 1 Such was the 
spirit which, at the very outset, animated 
the work of the Reformation in .England: 
it was acceptable to God, and found favour 
with the people. 

Monmouth being edified by Tyndale's 
sermons, inquired into his means of living. 
" I have none," 2 replied he, " but I hope to 
enter into the bishop's service." This was 
before his visit to Ton stall. When Tyndale 
saw all his hopes frustrated, he went to 
Monmouth and told him everything. "Come 
and live with me," said the wealthy mer- 
chant, " and there labour." God did to 
Tyndale according to his faith. Simple, 
frugal, devoted to work, he studied night 
and day ; 3 and wishing to guard his mind 
against " being overcharged with surfeit- 
ing," he refused the delicacies of his patron's 
table, and would take nothing but sodden 
meat and small beer. 4 It would even seem 
that he carried simplicity in dress almost 
too far. 5 By his conversation and his works, 
he shed over the house of his patron the 
mild light of the Christian virtues, and 
Monmouth loved him more and more every 
day. 

Tyndale was advancing in his work when 
John Fryth, the mathematician of King'^ 
College, Cambridge, arrived in London. It 
is probable that Tyndale, feeling the want 
of an associate, had invited him. United 
like Luther and Melancthon, the two friends 
held many precious conversations together. 
" I will consecrate my life wholly to the 
church of Jesus Christ," said Fryth." "To 
be a good man, you must give great part 
of yourself to your parents, a greater part 
to your country ; but the greatest of all to 
the church of the Lord." " The people 
should know the word of God," 7 they said 
both. " The interpretation of the gospel, 
without the intervention of courxnls or popes 
is sufficient to create a saving faith in the 
heart." They shut themselves up in the 
little room in Monmouth's house, and trans- 
lated chapter after chapter from the Greek 
into plain English. The bishop of London 
knew nothing of the work going on a few 
yards from him, and everything was suc- 
ceeding to Tyndale's wishes when it was 
interrupted by an unforeseen circumstance. 

Longland, the -persecutor of the Lincoln- 



1 Ibid. 

3 Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 617. 

3 Strype, Records, i. p. 664. 

4 Strype, Records, i. p. 664. He would eat 
sodden meat and drink but small single beer. 

s He was never seen in that house to wear linen 
about him. Ibid. 

6 Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 73. 74. 

1 That the poor people might also road and Bee 
the simple plain word of (Jod. Foxe. Acts, v. p. 
US. 



coo 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION; 



shire Christians, did not confine his activity 
within the limits of his diocese ; he besieged 
the king, the cardinal, and the queen with 
his cruel importunities, using Wolsey's in- 
fluence with Henry, and Henry's with Wol- 
sey. " His majesty/' he wrote to the car- 
dinal, " shows in this holy dispute as much 

goodness as zeal yet, be pleased to urge 

him to overthrow God's enemies." And 
then turning "to the king, the confessor said, 
to spur him on: " The cardinal is about to 
fulminate the greater excommunication 
against all who possess Luther's works or 
hold his opinions, and to make the book- 
sellers sign a bond before the magistrates, 
not to sell heretical books." " Wonderful !" 
replied Henry with a sneer, ''they will fear 
the magisterial bond, I think, more than 
the clerical excommunication." And yet 
the consequences of the " clerical" excom- 
munication were to be very positive ; who- 
soever persevered in his offence was to be 
pursued by the law ad ignem, even to the 
fire. 1 At last the confessor applied to the 
queen : " We cannot be sure of restraining 
the press," he said to her. " These wretch- 
ed books come to us from Germany, France, 
and the Low Countries ; and are even 
printed in the very midst of us. Madam, 
we must train and prepare skilful men. 
such as are able to discuss the controverted 
points, so that the laity, struck on the one 
hand by well-developed arguments, and 
frightened by the fear of punishment on 
the other, may be kept in obedience." 2 In 
the bishop's system, " fire" was to be the 
complement of Roman learning. The es- 
sential idea of Jesuitism is already visible 
in this conception of Henry the Eighth's 
confessor. That system is the natural de- 
velopment of Romanism. 

Tonstall, urged forward by Longland, 
and desirous of showing himself as holy a 
churchman as he had once been a skilful 
statesman and elegant scholar — Tonstall, 
the friend of Erasmus, began to persecute. 
He would have feared to shed blood, like 
Longland ; but there are measures which 
torture the mind and not the body, and 
which the most moderate men fear not to 
make use of. John Higgins, Henry Cham- 
bers, Thomas Eaglestune, a priest named 
Edmund Spilman, and some other Chris- 
tians in London, used to meet and read 
portions of the Bible in English, and even 
asserted publicly that " Luther had more 
learning' in his little finger than all the doc- 
tors in England." 3 The bishop ordered 
these rebels to be arrested: he flattered 
and alarmed them, threatening them with 
a cruel death (which he would hardly have 
inflicted on them), and by these skilful 
practices reduced them to silence. 

Tyndale, who witnessed this persecution, 



1 Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i. p. 42. 
a Ibid. p. 42, 43. Herbert says (p. 147) "to 
euspend the laity betwixt fear and controversies." 
3 Poxe, Acts, r. p. 179. 



feared lest the stake should interrupt his 
labour. If those who read a few fragments 
of Scripture are threatened with death, 
what will he not have to endure who ia 
translating the whole ? His friends en- 
treated him to withdraw from the bishop's 
pursuit. " Alas !" he exclaimed, " is there 
then no place where I can translate the 

Bible ? It is not the bishop's house alone 

that is closed against me, but all Eng- 
land." 1 

He then made a great sacrifice. Since 
there is no place in his own country where 
he can translate the word of God, he will 
go and seek one among the nations of the 
continent. It is true the people are un- 
known to him ; he is without resources ; 
perhaps persecution and even death await 

him there It matters not! some time 

must elapse before it is known what he is 
doing, and perhaps he will have been able 
to translate the Bible. He turned his eyes 
towards Germany. " God does not destine 
us to a quiet life here below," he said. 2 
" If he calls us to peace on the part of 
Jesus Christ, he calls' us to war on the part 
of the world." 

There lay at that moment in the river 
Thames a vessel loading for Hamburg. 
Monmouth gave Tyndale ten pounds ster- 

j ling for his voyage, and other friends con- 
tributed a like amount. He left the half 

! of this sum in the hands of his benefactor 

' to provide for his future wants, and pre- 
pared to quit London, where he had spent 

j a year. Rejected by his fellow-countrymen, 
persecuted by the clergy, and carrying 

j with him only his New Testament and his 
ten pounds, he went on board the ship, 
shaking off the dust of his feet, according 
to his Master's precept, and that dust fell 
back on the priests of England. He was 
indignant (says the chronicler) against 
those coarse monks, covetous priests, and 
pompous prelates, 3 who were waging an 
impious war against God. " What a trade 
is that of the priests !" he said in one 
of his later writings; "they want money 
for every thing : money for baptisms, 
money for churchings, for weddings, for 
buryings, for images, brotherhoods, pen- 
ances, soul-masses, bells, organs, chalices, 
copes, surplices, ewers, censers, and 
all manner of ornaments. Poor sheep ! 
The parson shears, the vicar shaves, the 
parish priest polls, the friar scrapes, the 

indulgence seller pares all that you want 

is a butcher to flay you and take away your 
skin. 4 He will not leave you long. Why 
are your prelates dressed in red ? Because 
they are ready to shed the blood of whoni- 



1 But also that there was no place to do it in all 
England. Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 396. 

2 We be not called to a soft living. Ibid. p. 249. 

3 Marking especially the demeanor of the preach- 
ers, and beholding the pomp of the prelates. Foxe, 
Acts. v. p. 118. 

4 Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 230. Obedience of a 
Christian Man. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



691 



soever seeketh the word of God. 1 Scourges 
of states, devastators of kingdoms, the 
priests take away not only Holy Scripture, 
but also prosperity and peace ; but of their 
councils is no layman: reigning over all, 
they obey nobody ; and making all concur 
to their own greatness, they conspire 
against every kingdom." 2 

No kingdom was to be more familiar than 
England with the conspiracies of the papa- 
cy of which Tyndale spoke ; and yet none 
was to free itself more irrevocably from the 
power of Rome. 

Yet Tyndale was leaving the shores of his 
native land, and as he turned his eyes to- 
wards the new countries, hope revived in 
his heart. He was going to be free, and 
he would use his liberty to deliver the 
word of God, so long held captive. "The 
priests," said he one day, "when they had 
slain Christ, set poleaxes to keep him in his 
sepulchre, that he should not rise again ; 
even so have our priests buried the Testa- 
ment of God, and all their study is to keep 
it down, that it rise not again. 3 But the 
hour of the Lord is come, and nothing can 
hinder the word of God, as nothing could 
hinder Jesus Christ of old from issuing 
from the tomb." Indeed that poor man, 
then sailing toward Germany, was to send 
back, even from the banks of the Elbe, the 
eternal gospel to his countrymen. 

This ship did not bear away all the 
hopes of England. A society of Christians 
had been formed at Cambridge, of which 
Bilney was the centre. He now knew no 
other canon law than Scripture, and had 
found a new master, " the Holy Spirit of 
Christ," says an historian. Although he 
was naturally timid, and often suffered from 
the exhaustion brought on by his fasts 
and vigils, there was in his language a life, 
liberty, and strength, strikingly in contrast 
with his sickly appearance. He desired to 
draw to the knowledge of God, 4 all who 
came nigh him ; and by degrees, the rays 
of the gospel sun, which was then rising in 
the firmament of Christendom, pierced the 
ancient windows of the colleges, and illu- 
minated the solitary chambers of certain of 
the masters and fellows. Master Arthur, 
Master Thistle of Pembroke Hall, and Mas- 
ter Stafford, were among the first to join 
Bilney. George Stafford, professor of di- 
vinity, was a man of deep learning and 
holy life, clear and precise in his teaching. 
He was admired by every one in Cam- 
bridge, so that' his conversion, like that of 
his friends, spread alarm among the parti- 
sans of the schoolmen. But a conversion 
still more striking than this was destined 
to give the English Reformation a cham- 
pion more illustrious than either Stafford or 
Bilney. 



1 Tyndale Doctr. Tr., p. 251. 
•Ibid. p. 191. 'Ibid. p. 251. 

4 So was in his heart an incredible desire to 
allure many. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 620. 



There was in Cambridge, at that time, a 
priest notorious for his ardent fanaticism. 
In the processions, amidst the pomp, pray- 
ers, and chanting of the train, none could 
fail to notice a master-of-arts, about thirty 
years of age, who, with erect head, carried 
proudly the university cross. Hugh Lati- 
mer, for such was his name, combined a 
biting humour with an impetuous disposi- 
tion and indefatigable zeal, and was very 
quick in ridiculing the faults of his adver- 
saries. There was more wit and raillery 
in his fanaticism than can often be found 
in such characters. He followed the friends 
of the word of God into the colleges and 
houses where they used to meet, debated 
with them, and pressed them to abandon 
their faith. He was a second Saul, and 
was soon to resemble the apostle of the 
Gentiles in another respect. 

He first saw light in the year 1491, in 
the county of Leicester. Hugh's father 
was an honest yeoman ; and, accompanied 
by one of his six sisters, the little boy had 
often tended in the pastures the five score 
sheep belonging to the farm, or driven 
home to his mother the thirty cows it was 
her business to milk. 1 In 1497, the Cornish 
rebels, under Lord Audley, having en- 
camped at Blackheath, our farmer had 
donned his rusty armour, and, mounting 
his horse, responded to the summons of the 
crown. Hugh, then only six years old, 
was present at his departure, and as if he 
had wished to take his little part in the 
battle, he had buckled the straps of his 
father's armour. 2 Fifty-two years after- 
wards he recalled this circumstance to 
mind in a sermon preached before King- 
Edward. His father's house was always 
open to the neighbours ; and no poor man 
ever turned away from the door without 
having received alms. The old man brought 
up his family in the love of men and in 
the fear of God, and having remarked with 
joy the precocious understanding of his son, 
he had him educated in the country schools, 
and then sent to Cambridge at the age of 
fourteen. This was in 1505, just as Luther 
was entering the Augustine convent. 

The son of the Leicestershire yeoman 
was lively, fond of pleasure, and of cheer- 
ful conversation, and mingled frequently 
in the amusements of his fellow-students. 
One day, as they were dining together, 
one of the party exclaimed : Nil melius 
quam Icetari et facere bene! — "There is 
nothing better than to be merry and to do 
well." 3 — "A vengeance on that bote!" re- 
plied a monk of impudent mien ; " I wish 
it were beyond the sea ; 4 it mars all the 
rest." Young Latimer was much surprised 



I My mother milked thirty kine. Latimer's 
Sermons, (Parker ed.) p. 101. 

I I can remember that I buckled his harness. 
Ibid. 

3 Eccles. iii. 12. 

4 I would that bene had been banished beyond 
' the sea. Latimer's Sermons, p. 153. 



G92 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION 



at the remark: " I understand it now," 
said he: "that will be a heavy bene to 
these monks when they have to render God 
an account of their lives." 

Latimer having become more serious, 
threw himself heart and soul into the prac- 
tices of superstition, and a very bigoted 
old cousin undertook to instruct him in 
them. One day, when one of their rela- 
tions lay dead, she said to him : " Now we 
must drive out the devil. Take this holy 
taper, my child, and pass it over the body, 
first longways and then athwart, so as 
always to make the sign of the cross." 

But the scholar performing this exorcism 
very awkwardly, his aged cousin snatched 
the candle from his hand, exclaiming 
angrily : " It's a great pity your father 
spends so much money on your studies : 
he will never make any thing of you." 1 

This prophecy was not fulfilled. He be- 
came Fellow of Clare Hall in 1509, and 
took his master's degree in 1514. His clas- 
sical studies being ended, he began to 
study divinity. Duns Scotus, Aquinas, and 
Hugo de Sancto Victore were his favourite 
authors. The practical side of things, how- 
ever, engaged him more than the specula- 
tive ; and he was more distinguished in 
Cambridge for his asceticism and enthusi- 
asm than for his learning. He attached 
importance to the merest trifles. As the 
missal directs that water should be mingled 
with the sacramental wine, often while say- 
ing mass he would be troubled in his con- 
science for fear he had not put sufficient 
water. 2 This remorse never left him a mo- 
ment's tranquillity during the service. In 
him, as in many others, attachment to pue- 
rile ordinances occupied in his heart the 
place of faith in the great truths. With 
him, the cause of the church was the cause 
of God, and he respected Thomas a Becket 
at least as much as St. Paul. " I was then," 
said he, " as obstinate a papist as any in 
England." 3 Luther said the same thing of 
himself. 

The fervent Latimer soon observed that 
every body around him was not equally 
zealous with himself for the ceremonies of 
the church. He watched with surprise cer- 
tain young members of the university who, 
forsaking the doctors of the School, met 
daily to read and search into the Holy 
Scriptures. People sneered at them in 
Cambridge: "It is only the sophists," was 
the cry; 'but raillery was not enough for 
Latimer. One day he entered the room 
where these sophists was assembled, and 
begged them to cease studying the Bible. 
All his entreaties were useless. Can we 
be astonished at it ? said Latimer to him- 
self. Don't we see even the tutors setting 



1 Ibid. p. 499. 

2 He thought he had never sufficiently mingled 
his massing wine with water. Foxe, Acts, viii. 
p. 438. 

3 Foxe, Acts, viii. p. 334. 



an example to these stray sheep ? There 
is Master Stafford, the most illustrious pro- 
fessor in English universities, devoting his 
time ad Biblia, like Luther at Wittemberg, 
and explaining the\ Scriptures according to 
the Hebrew and Greek texts ! and the de- 
lighted students celebrate in bad verse the 
doctor, 

Qui Paulum explicuit rite et evangelium. 1 

That young people should occupy them- 
selves with these new doctrines was con- 
ceivable, but that a doctor of divinity 
should do so — what a disgrace ! Latimer 
therefore determined to attack Stafford. 
He insulted him ; 2 he entreated the youth 
of Cambridge to abandon the professor and 
his heretical teaching ; he attended the hall 
in which the doctor taught, made signs of 
impatience during the lesson, and cavilled 
at it after leaving the school. He even 
preached in public against the learned 
doctor. But it seemed to him that Cam- 
bridge and England were struck blind: 
true, the clergy approved of Latimer's pro- 
ceedings — nay, praised them ; and yet they 
did nothing. To console him, however, he 
was named cross-bearer to the university, 
and we have already seen him discharging 
this duty. 

Latimer desired to show himself worthy 
of such an honour. He had left the stu 
dents to attack Stafford ; and he now left 
Stafford for a more illustrious adversary. 
But this attack led him to some one that 
ivas^ stronger than he. At the occasion of 
receiving the degree of bachelor of divinity 
he had to deliver a Latin discourse in the 
presence of the university ; Latimer chose 
for his subject Philip Melancthon and his 
doctrines. Had not this daring heretic 
presumed to say quite recently that the 
fathers of the church have altered the 
sense of Scripture ? Had he not asserted 
that, like those rocks whose various colours 
are imparted to the polypus which clings 
to them, 3 so the doctors of the church give 
each their own opinion in the passages they 
explain ? And, finally, had he not discov- 
ered a new touchstone (it is thus he styles 
the Holy Scriptures) by which we must 
test the sentences even of St. Thomas ? 

Latimer's discourse made a great im- 
pression. At last (said his hearers) Eng- 
land, nay Cambridge, will furnish a cham- 
pion for the church that will confront the 
Wittemberg doctors, and save the vessel 
of our Lord. But very different was to be 
the result. There was among the hearers 
one man almost hidden through his small 
stature : it was Bilney. For some time he 
had been watching Latimer's movements, 



1 Who has explained to us the true sense of St. 
Paul and of the gospel. Strype's Mem. i. p. 74. 

a Most spitefully railing against him. FoXe, 
Acts, viii. p. 437. 

3 Ut polypus cuicunque petrse adhseserit, ejuf 
colorem iniitatur. Corp. Ref. i. p. 114. 



HISTORY OF THE RE FORMATION. 



693 



and his zeal interested him, though it was 
a zeal without knowledge. His energy 
was not great, but he possessed a delicate 
tact, a skilful discernment of character 
which enabled him to distinguish error, 
and to select the fittest method for combat- 
ing it. Accordingly, a chronicler styles 
him " a trier of Satan's subtleties, ap- 
pointed by God to detect the bad money 
that the enemy was circulating throughout 
the church." 1 Bilney easily detected La- 
timer's sophisms, but at the same time 
loved his person, and conceived the design 
of winning him to the gospel. But how to 
manage it ? The prejudiced Latimer would 
not even listen to the evangelical Bilney. 
The latter reflected, prayed, and at last 
planned a very candid and very strange 
plot, which led to one of the most astonish- 
ing conversions recorded in history. 

He went to the college where Latimer 
resided. " For the love of God/' he said to 
him, " be pleased to hear my confession." 2 

The heretic prayed to make confession to 
the catholic : what a singular fact ! My 
discourse against Melancthon has no doubt 
converted him, said Latimer to himself. 
Had not Bilney once been among the num- 
ber of the most pious zealots? His pale 
face, his wasted frame, and his humble look 
&re clear signs that he ought to belong to 
the ascetics of Catholicism. If he turns 
back, all will turn back with him, and the 
reaction will be complete at Cambridge. 
The ardent Latimer eagerly yielded to Bil- 
ney's request, and the latter, kneeling be- 
fore the cross-bearer, related to him with 
touching simplicity the anguish he had 
once felt in his soul, the efforts he had 
made to remove it, their unprofitableness 
so long as he determined to follow the pre- 
cepts of the church, and, lastly, the peace 
he had felt when he believed that Jesus 
Christ is the Lamb of God that taketh away 
the sins of the world. He described to Lati- 
mer the spirit of adoption he had received, 
and the happiness he experienced in being 
able now. to call God his father. . . . Latimer, 
who expected to receive a confession, lis- 
tened without mistrust. His heart was 
opened, and the voice of the pious Bilney 
penetrated it without obstacle. From time 
to time the confessor would have chased 
away the new thoughts which came crowd- 
ing into his bosom ; but the penitent con- 
tinued. His language, at once so simple 
and so lively, entered like a two-edged 
sword. Bilney was not without assistance 
in his work. A new, a strange witness — 
the Holy Ghost 3 — was speaking in Lati- 
mer's soul. He learned from God to know 
God : he received a new heart. At length 
grace prevailed : the penitent rose up, but 



1 Foxe, Acts, vii. p. 438. 

2 He came to me afterwards in my study, and 
desired me for God's sake to hear his confession. 
Latimer's Sermons, p. 334, 

a He was through the good spirit of God so 
touched. Foxe, viii. p. 438. 



Latimer remained seated, absorbed in 
thought. The strong cross-bearer con- 
tended in vain against the words of the 
feeble Bilney. Like Saul on the way to 
Damascus, he was conquered, and his con- 
version, like the apostle's, was instanta- 
neous. He stammered out a few words ; 
Bilney drew near him with love, and God 
scattered the darkness which still obscured 
his mind. Lie saw Jesus Christ as the only 
Saviour given to man : he contemplated and 
adored him. " I learnt more by this con- 
fession," he said afterwards, " than by much 

reading and in many years before 1 1 

now tasted the word of God, 2 and forsook 
the doctors of the school and all their fool- 
eries." 3 It was not the penitent but the 
confessor who received absolution. Lati- 
mer viewed with horror the obstinate war 
he had waged against God ; he wept bit- 
terly ; but Bilney consoled him. " Brother," 
said he, " though your sins be as scarlet, 
they shall be white as snow." These two 
young men, then locked in their solitary 
chamber at Cambridge, were one clay to 
mount the scaffold for that divine Master 
whose spirit was teaching them. But one 
of them before going to the stake was first 
to sit on an episcopal throne. 

Latimer was changed. The energy of 
his character was tempered by a divine 
unction. Becoming a believer, he had 
ceased to be superstitious. Instead of per- 
secuting Jesus Christ, he became a zealous 
seeker after him. 4 Instead of cavilling and 
railing, he showed himself meek and gen- 
tle ; 5 instead of frequenting company, he 
sought solitude, studying the Scriptures and 
advancing in true theology. He threw off 
the old man and put on the new. He 
waited upon Stafford, begged forgiveness 
for the insult he had offered him, and then 
regularly attended his lectures, being sub- 
jugated more by this doctor's angelic con- 
versation 6 than by his learning. But it 
was Bilney's society Latimer cultivated 
most. They conversed together daily, took 
frequent walks together into the country, 
and occasionally rested at a place, long 
known as " the heretic's hill." 7 

So striking a conversion gave fresh vig- 
our to the evangelical movement. Hith- 
erto Bilney and Latimer had been the most 
zealous champions of the two opposite 
causes ; the one despised, the other hon- 
oured ; the weak man had conquered the 
strong. This action of the Spirit of God 
was not thrown away upon Cambridge. 



1 Latimer's Sermons, p. 334. 
a From that time forward I began to smell tlie 
word of God. Ibid. 

3 Ibid. p. 335. 

4 Whereas before he was an enemy and almost a 
persecutor of Christ, he was now a zealous seeker 
after him. Foxe, Acts, vii. p. 338. 

6 Ibid. 

s A man of a very perfect life and angelic con- 
versation. Becon's Works (Parker Soc.) p. 125, 
1 Foxe, viii. p. 452. 



694 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Latimer's conversion, as of old the miracles 
of the apostles, struck men's minds ; and 
was it not in truth a miracle ? All the 
youth of the university ran to hear Bilney 
preach. He proclaimed " Jesus Christ as 
He who, having tasted death, has delivered 
his people from the penalty of sin." 1 While 
the doctors of the school (even the most 
pious of them) laid most stress upon man's 
part in the work of redemption, Bilney on 
the contrary emphasized the other term, 
namely, God's part. This doctrine of 
grace, said his adversaries, annuls the sac- 
raments, and contradicts baptismal regener- 
ation. The selfishness which forms the es- 
sence of fallen humanity rejected the 
evangelical doctrine, and felt that to accept 
it was to be lost. " Many listened with the 
left ear," to use an expression of Bilney's ; 
" like Malchus, having their rigid ear cut 
off •" and they filled the university with 
their complaints. 

But Bilney did not allow himself to be 
stopped. The idea of eternity had seized 
on his mind, and perhaps he still retained 
some feeble relic of the exaggerations of 
asceticism. He condemned every kind of 
recreation, even when innocent. Music in 
the churches seemed to him a mockery of 
God : 2 and when Thurlby, who was after- 
wards a bishop, and who lived at Cam- 
bridge in the room below his, used to begin 
playing on the recorder, Bilney would fall 
on his knees and pour out his soul in 
prayer : to him prayer was the sweetest 
melody. He prayed that the lively faith of 
the children of God might in all England 
be substituted for the vanity and pride of 
the priests. He believed — he prayed — he 
waited. His waiting was not in vain. 

Latimer trod in his footsteps ; the trans- 
formation of his soul was going on ; and 
the more fanaticism he had shown for the 
sacerdotal system, which places salvation in 
the hands of the priest, the more zeal he 
now showed for the evangelical system, 
which placed it in the hands of Christ. He 
saw that if the churches must needs have 
ministers, it is not because they require a 
human mediation, but from the necessity 
of a regular preaching of the gospel and a 
steady direction of the flock ; and accord- 
ingly he would have wished to call the ser- 
vant of the Lord minister (irc^^itrj^ or 
Siaxovos Tfov hoyov), and not priest 3 (tf^svj 
or sacerdos). In his view, it was not the 
imposition of hands by the bishop that 
gave grace, but grace which authorized the 
imposition of hands. He considered activ- 
ity to be one of the essential features of the 
gospel ministry. " Would you know," said 
he, " why the Lord chose fishermen to be 
his apostles ? See how they watch day 

1 Christus quem pro virili doceo denique et 

satisfaction em. Ep. ad Tonstallum episcop. Foxe, 
Acts, iv. p. 633. 

J Ibid. p. 621. 

3 Minister is a more fit name for that office. La- 
timer'y Remains, p. 264. 



and night at their nets to take all such 
fishes that they can get and come in their 

way So all our bishops, and curates, 

and vicars should be as painful in casting 
their nets, that is to say, in preaching God's 
word." 1 Pie regarded all confidence in 
human strength as a remnant of paganism. 
" Let us not do," he said, "as the haughty 
Ajax, who said to his father as he went to 
battle : Without the help of God I am able 
to fight, and I will get the victory with 
mine own strength." 2 

The Reformation had gained in Latimer 
a very different man from Bilney. He had 
not so much discernment and prudence, 
perhaps, but he had more energy and elo- 
quence. What Tyndale was to be for Eng- 
land by his writings, Latimer was to be by 
his discourses. The tenderness of his con- 
science, the warmth of his zeal, and the vi- 
vacity of his understanding, were enlisted 
in the service of Jesus Christ ; and if at 
times he was carried too far by the liveli- 
ness of his wit, it only shows that the re- 
formers were not saints, but sanctified men. 
" He was one of the first," says an histo- 
rian, " who, in the days of King Henry 
VIII. set himself to preach the gospel in 
the truth and simplicity of it." 3 He 
preached in Latin ad clerum, and in Eng- 
lish adjiopulem. He boldly placed the law 
with its curses before his hearers, and then 
conjured them to flee towards the Saviour 
of the world. 4 The same zeal which he had 
employed in saying mass, he now employed 
in preaching the true sacrifice .of Christ. 
He said one day : — " If one man had com- 
mitted all the sins since Adam, you may be 
sure he should be punished with the same 
horror of death, in such a sort as all men 

in the world should have suffered Such 

was the pain Christ endured .... If our 
Saviour had committed all the sins of the 
world ; all that I for my part have done, all 
that you for your part have done, and that 
any man else hath done ; if he had done 
all this himself, his agony that he suffered 
should have been no greater nor grievouser 

than it was Believe in Jesus Christ, and 

you shall overcome deatk But, alas !" 

said he at another time, "the devil, by the 
help of that Italian bishop, his chaplain, 
has laboured by all means that he might 
frustrate the death of Christ and the merits 
of his passion." 5 

Thus began in British Christendom the 
preaching of the Cross. The Reformation 
was not the substitution of the Catholicism 
of the first ages for the popery ;£ the mid- 
dle ages : it was a revival of the preaching 
of St. Paul, and thus it was that on hearing 
Latimer every one exclaimed with rapture : 



1 Ibid. p. 24. 

2 Latimer's Sermons, p. 491. Sophocles, Ajax, 
783, et seq. 

3 Strype's Mem. iii. part i. p. 378. 

4 Flying to him by an evangelical faith. Ibid. 
s Latimer's Sermons, p. 74. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



695 



" Of a Saul, God has made him a very 
PauV n 

To the inward power of faith the Cam- 
bridge evangelists added the outward power 
of the life. Saul become Paul, the strong, 
the ardent Latimer, had need of action ; 
and Bilney, the meek and humble Bilney, 
in delicate health, observing a severe diet, 
taking ordinarily but one meal a-day, and 
never sleeping more than four hours, ab- 
sorbed in prayer and in the study of the 
word, displayed at that time all the energy 
of charity. These two friends devoted 
themselves not merely to the easy labours 
of Christian beneficence ; but, caring little 
for that formal Christianity so often met 
with among the easy classes, they explored 
the gloomy cells of the madhouse to bear 
the sweet and subtle voice of the gospel to 
the infuriate maniacs. They visited the 
miserable lazar-house without the town, in 
which several poor lepers were dwelling ; 
they carefully tended them, wrapped them 
in clean sheets, and wooed them to be con- 
verted to Christ. 2 The gates of the jail at 
Cambridge were opened to them, 3 and they 
announced to the poor prisoners that word 
which giveth liberty. Some were converted 
by it, and longed for the day of their exe- 
cution. 4 Latimer, afterwards bishop of 
Worcester, was one of the most beautiful 
types of the Reformation in England. 

He was opposed by numerous adversa- 
ries. In the front rank were the priests, 
who spared no endeavours to retain souls. 
" Beware," said Latimer to the new con- 
verts, " lest robbers overtake you, and 
plunge you into the pope's prison of purga- 
tory." 5 After these came the sons and 
favourites of the aristocracy, worldly and 
frivolous students, who felt little disposi- 
tion to listen to the gospel. " By yeomen's 
sons the faith of Christ is and hath been 
chiefly maintained in the church," 6 said 
Latimer. " Is this realm taught by rich 
men's sons ? No, no ; read the chronicles ; 
ye shall find sometime noblemen's sons 
which have been unpreaching bishops and 
prelates, but ye shall find none of them 
learned men." He would have desired a 
mode of election which placed in the 
Christian pulpit, not the richest and most 
fashionable men, but the ablest and most 
pious. This important reform was reserved 
for other days. Lastly, the evangelists of 
Cambridge came into collision with the 
brutality of many to use Latimer's own ex- 
pression. " What need have we of univer- 



i 



1 This was said by Ralph Morice, afterwards 
Cranmer's secretary. Strype, Eccl. Mem. iii. part 
i. p. 368. 

3 Preaching at the lazar-cots, wrapping them in 
sheets. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 620. Lond. 1846. 

3 Latimer's Sermons, p. 335 (Park. Soc.) 

4 She had such a savour, such a sweetness, and 
feeling," that she thought it long to the day of ex- 
ecution. Ibid. p. 180. 

* Strype's Eecles. Memorials, iii. part i. p. 378. 
Latimer's Sermons, p. 102. 
45 



sities and schools ?" said the students of 
this class. The Holy Ghost " will give us 
always what to say." — "We must trust in 
the Holy Ghost," replied Latimer, " but 
not presume on it. If you will not main- 
tain universities, you shalK have a bru- 
tality." 1 In this manner the Reformation 
restored to Cambridge gravity and knowl- 
edge, along with truth and charity. 

Yet Bilney and Latimer often turned 
their eyes towards Oxford, and wondered 
how the light would be able to penetrate 
there. Wolsey provided for that. A Cam- 
bridge master-of-arts, John Clark, a con- 
scientious man, of tender heart, great pru- 
dence, and unbounded devotion to his duty, 
had been enlightened by the word of God. 
Wolsey, who since 1523 had been seeking 
everywhere for distinguished scholars to 
adorn his new college, invited Clark among 
the first. This doctor, desirous of bearing 
to Oxford the light which God had given 
Cambridge, immediately began to deliver a 
course of divinity lectures, to hold confer- 
ences, and to preach in his eloquent man- 
ner. He taught every day. 2 Among the 
graduates and students who followed him 
was Anthony Dalaber, a young man of 
simple but profound feeling, who while 
listening to him had experienced in his 
heart the regenerating power of the gospel. 
Overflowing with the happiness which the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ imparted to him, 
he went to the cardinal's college, knocked 
at Clark's door, and said : " Father, allow 
me never to quit you more !" The teacher, 
beholding the young disciple's enthusiasm, 
loved him, but thought it his duty to try 
him : " Anthony," said he, " you know not 
what you ask. My teaching is now pleasant 
to you, but the time will come when God 
will lay the cross of persecution on you ; • 
you will be dragged before bishops ; your 
name will be covered with shame in the 
world, and all who love you will be heart- 
broken on account of you Then, my 

friend, you will regret that you ever knew 
me." 

Anthony believing himself rejected, and 
unable to bear the idea of returning to the 
barren instructions of the priests, fell on 
his knees, and weeping bitterly, 3 exclaimed : 
" For the tender mercy of God, turn me 
not away !" Touched by his sorrow, Clark 
folded him in his arms, kissed him, and 
with tears in his eyes exclaimed: "The 

Lord give thee what thou askest ! Take 

me for thy father, I take thee for my son." 
From that hour Anthony, all joy, was like 
Timothy at the feet of Paul. Fie united a 
quick understanding with tender affections. 
When any of the students had not attended 
Clark's conferences, the master commis- 
sioned his disciple to visit them, to inquire 



1 Latimer's Sermons, p. 269. 
a Teach or preach, which he did daily Fox 
Acts, v. p. 426. 

3 Foxe, Acte, v. p. 426. 



'oxe 



C9? 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



into their doubts, and to impart to them 
his instructions. " This exercise did me 
much good," said Dalaber, " and I made 
great progress in the knowledge of the 
Scripture." 

Thus the kingdom of God, which con- 
sists not in forms but in the power of the 
Spirit, was se* up in Cambridge and Ox- 
ford. The alarmed schoolmen, beholding 
their most pious scholars escaping one 
after another from their teaching, called 
the bishops to their aid, and the latter de- 
termined to send agents to Cambridge, the 
focus of the heresy, to apprehend the lead- 
ers. This took place in 1523 or the begin- 
ning of 1524. The episcopal officers had 
arrived, and were proceeding to business. 
The most timid began to feel alarm, but 
Latimer was full of courage ; when sud- 
denly the agents of the clergy were forbid- 
den to go on, and this prohibition, strange 
to p-ay, originated with Wolsey ; 4< upon 
what ground I cannot imagine," says Bur- 
net. 1 Certain events were taking place at 
P*ome of a nature to exercise great influence 
over the priestly councils, and which may 
perhaps explain what Burnet could nut 
understand. 

Adrian VI. died on the 14th September 
1523, before the end of the second year of 
his pontificate. Wolsey thought himself 
pope. At length he would no longer be 
the favourite only, but the arbiter of the 
kings of the earth ; and his genius, for 
which England was too narrow, would have 
Europe and the world for its stage. Al- 
ready revolving gigantic projects in his 
mind, the future pope dreamt of the de- 
struction of heresy in the west, and in the 
east the cessation of the Greek schism, and 
new crusades to replant the cross on the 
walls of Constantinople. There is nothing 
that Wolsey would not have dared to under- 
take when once seated on the throne of 
Catholicism, and the pontificate of Gregory 
VII. and Innocent III. would have been 
eclipsed by that of the Ipswich butcher's 
sun. The cardinal reminded Henry of his 
promise, and the very next day the king 
signed a letter addressed to Charles the 
Fifth. 

Believing himself sure of the emperor, 
Wolsey turned all his exertions to the side 
of Rome. " The legate of England," said 
Henry's ambassadors to the cardinals, " is 
the 'very man "for the present time. He is 
the only one thoroughly acquainted with 
the interests and wants of Christendom, 
and strong enough to provide for them. 
He is all kindness, and will share his dig- 
nities and wealth among all the prelates 
who support him." 

But Julio de* Medici himself aspired to 
the papacy, and as eighteen cardinals were 
devoted to him, the election could not take 
place without his support. " Rather than 



1 History of the Reformation, i. p. 25. Lond. 
1841. 



yield/' said he in the conclave, "I would 
die in this prison." A month passed away, 
and nothing was dune. New intrigues were 
then resorted to : there were cabals for Wol- 
sey, cabals for Medici. The cardinals were 
besieged : 

Into their midst, by many a secret path, 
Creeps sly intrigue. 1 

At length, on the 19th November 1523, 
the people collected under their windows, 
shouting: " No foreign pope." After forty- 
nine days' debating, Julio was elected, and 
according to his own expression, " bent his 
head beneath the yoke of apostolic servi- 
tude." 2 He took the name of Clement VII. 

Wolsey was exasperated. It was in vain 
that he presented himself before St. Pe- 
ter's chair at each vacancy : a more active 
or more fortunate rival always reached it 
before him. Master of England, and the 
most influential of European diplomatists, 
he saw men preferred to him who were his 
inferiors. This election was an event for 
the Reformation. Wolsey as pope would, 
humanly speaking, have tightened the cords 
which alread bound England so closely to 
Rome ; but Wolsey, rejected, could hardly 
fail to throw himself into tortuous paths 
which would perhaps contribute to the 
emancipation of the church. He became 
more crafty than ever ; declared to Henry 
that the new election w r as quite in conform- 
ity with his wishes, 3 and hastened to con- 
gratulate the new pope. He wrote to his 
agents at Rome : " This election, I assure 
you, is as much to the king's and my re- 
joicing, consolation, and gladness, as pos- 
sibly may be devised or imagined. .. .Ye 
shall show unto his holiness what joy, com- 
fort, and gladness it is both to the king's 
highness and me to perceive that once in 
our lives it hath pleased God of his great 
goodness to provide such a pastor unto his 
church, as his grace and I have long in- 
wardly desired ; who for his virtue, wisdom 
and other high and notable qualities, we 
have always reputed the most able and 
worthy person'to be called to that dignity." 4 
But the pope, divining his competitor's 
vexation, sent the king a golden rose, and 
a ring to Wolsey. " I am sorry," he said 
as he drew it from his finger, " that I can- 
not present it to his eminence in person." 
Clement moreover conferred on him the 
quality of legate for life — an office which 
had hitherto been temporary only. Thus 
the popedom and England embraced each 
other, and nothing appeared more distant 

1 Un conclave, by C. Delavigne. 

2 Colla subjecimus jugo apostolicae servitutis. 
Rymer, Foedera, vi. 2, p. 7. 

3 I take God to witness, I am more joyous there- 
of than if it had fortuned upon my person. Wolsey 
to Henry VIII. Burnet, Records, p. cccxxviii. 
(Lond. 1841.) 

4 Wolsey to Secretary Page. Gait's Wolsey, p. 
381, Appendix. (Lond. 1846.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



G97 



than that Christian revolution which was 
destined very shortly to emancipate Britain 
from the tutelage of the Vatican. 

Wolsey's disappointed ambition made 
him suspend the proceedings of the clergy 
at Cambridge. He had revenge in his 
heart, and cared not to persecute his fellow- 
countrymen merely to please his rival ; and 
besides, like several popes, he had a certain 
fondness for learning. To send a few Lol- 
lards to prison was a matter of no difficulty ; 

but learned doctors this required a closer 

examination. Hence he gave Rome a sign 
of independence. And yet it was not 
specially against the pope that he began to 
entertain sinister designs : Clement had 
been more fortunate than himself; but that 
was no reason why he should be angry with. 

him Charles V. was the offender, and 

Wolsey swore a deadly hatred against him. 
Resolved to strike, he sought only the place 
where he could inflict the severest blow. 
To obtain his end, he resolved to dissem- 
ble his passion, and to distil drop by drop 
into Henry's mind that mortal hatred 
against Charles, which gave fresh energy 
to his activity. 

Charles discovered the indignation that 
lay hid under Wolsey's apparent mildness, 
and wishing to retain Henry's alliance, he 
made more pressing advances to the king. 
Having deprived the minister of a tiara, 
he resolved to offer the king a crown : this 
was, indeed, a noble compensation ! " You 
are king of France," tl|e emperor said, 
" and I undertake to win your kingdom for 
you. 1 Only send an ambassador to Italy 
to negotiate the matter." Wolsey, who 
could hardly contain his vexation, was 
forced to comply, in appearance at least, 
with the emperor's views. The king, 
indeed, seemed to think of nothing but 
his arrival at St. Germain's, and commis- 
sioned Pace to visit Italy for this important 
business. Wolsey hoped that he would be 
unable to execute his commission ; it was 
impossible to cross the Alps, for the French 
troops blockaded every passage. But Pace, 
who was one of those adventurous char- 
acters whom nothing can stop, spurred on 
by the thought that the king himself had 
sent him, determined to cross the Col di 
Tenda. On the 27th of July, he entered 
the mountains, traversed precipitous passes, 
sometimes climbing them on all-fours, 2 and 
often falling during the descent. In some 
places he could ride on horseback ; " but in 
the most part thereof I durst not either 
turn my horse traverse (he wrote to the 
king) for all the worldly riches, nor in 
manner look on my left hand, for the pro- 
nite and deepness to the valley." After 
this passage, which lasted six days, Pace 
arrived in Italy worn out by fatigue. " If 
the king of England will enter France irn- 



1 Ellis' Letters, Second Series, p. 326, 327. 

2 It made us creep of all-foot. Pace to the king, 
Strype, vol. i. part ii. p. 27. 



mediately by way of Normandy," said the 
constable of Bourbon to him, " I will give 
him leave to pluck out both my eyes 1 if he 
is not 'master of Paris before All-Saints; 
and when Paris is taken, he will be master 
of the whole kingdom." But Wolsey, to 
whom these remarks were transmitted by 
the ambassador, slighted them, delayed 
furnishing the subsidies, and required cer- 
tain conditions which were calculated to 
thwart the project. Pace, who was ardent' 
and ever imprudent, but plain and straight- 
forward, forgot himself, and in a moment 
of vexation wrote to Wolsey : " To speak 
frankly, if you do not attend to these things, 
I shall impute to your grace the loss of the 
crow^n of France." These words ruined 
Henry's envoy in the cardinal's mind. 
Was this man, who owed every thing to 

him, trying to supplant him? Pace in 

vain assured Wolsey that he should not 
take seriously what he had said : but the 
bolt had hit. Pace was associated with. 
Charles in the cruel enmity of the minister, 
and he was one day to feel its terrible 
effects. It was not long before Wolsey was 
able to satisfy himself that the service 
Charles had desired to render the king 
of England was beyond the emperor's 
strength. 

No sooner at ease on one side, than Wol- 
sey found himself attacked on another. This 
man, the most powerful among kings' fa- 
vourites, felt at this time the first breath 
of disfavour blow over him. On the ponti- 
fical throne, he would no doubt have at- 
tempted a reform after the manner of Sixtus 
V. ; and wishing to rehearse on a smaller 
stage, and regenerate after his own fashion 
the "catholic church in England, he submit- 
ted the monasteries to a strict inquisition, 
patronized the instruction of youth, and 
was the first to set a great example, by sup- 
pressing certain religious houses, whose 
revenues he applied to his college in Ox- 
ford. Thomas Cromwell, his solicitor, dis- 
played much skill and industry in this bu- 
siness, 2 and thus, under the orders of a car- 
dinal of the Roman church, made his first 
campaign in a war in which he was in la- 
ter days to hold the chief command. Wol- 
sey and Cromwell, by their reforms, drew 
down the hatred of certain monks, priests, 
and noblemen, always the very humble ser- 
vants of the clerical party. The latter ac- 
cused the cardinal of not harving estimated 
the monasteries at their just value, and of 
having in certain cases, encroached on the 
royal jurisdiction. Henry, whom the loss 
of the crown of France had put in a bad 
humour, resolved, for the first time, not to 
spare his minister : "There are loud mur- 
murs throughout this kingdom," he said to 
him ; " It is asserted that your new college 
at Oxford, is only a convenient cloak to 



1 Cotton MSS., Vitellius, B. 6, p. 87. 

2 Very forward and industrious. Foxe, Acts 
p. 366. 



698 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



hide your malversations/' 1 " God forbid/' 
replied the cardinal, " that this virtuous 
foundation at Oxford, undertaken for the 
good of my poor soul, should be raised ex 
rapinis ! But, above all, God forbid that I 
should ever encroach upon your royal 
authority." He then cunningly insinuated, 
that by his will he left all his property to 
the king. Henry was satisfied : he had a 
share in the business. 

Events of very different importance drew 
the king's attention to another quarter. 
The two armies, of the empire and of 
France, were in presence before Pavia. 
Wolsey, who openly gave his right hand to 
Charles V., and secretly his left to Fran- 
cis, repeated to his master: "If the empe- 
ror gains the victory, are you not his ally ? 
and if Francis, am I not in secret commu- 
nication with him ?" 2 "Thus," added the 
cardinal, " whatever happens, your High- 
ness will have great cause to give thanks 
to Almighty God/' 

On the 24th of February, 1525, the battle 
of Pavia was fought, and the imperial- 
ists found in the French king's tent several 
of Wolsey's letters, and in his military 
chest and in the pockets of his soldiers the 
cardinal's corrupting gold. This alliance 
had been contrived by Giovanni Gioacchine, 
a Genoese master of the household to Lou- 
isa, regent of France, who passed for a 
merchant of Bologna, and lived in conceal- 
ment at Blackfriars. Charles now saw 
what he had to trust to ; but the news of 
the battle of Pavia had scarcely reached 
England, when, faithful to perfidy, Wolsey 
gave utterance to a feigned pleasure. The 
people rejoiced also, but they were in ear- 
nest. Bonfires were lighted in the streets 
of London ; the fountains ran wine, and the 
lord-mayor, attended by the aldermen, 
passed through the city on horseback to 
the sound of the trumpet. 

The cardinal's joy was not altogether 
false. He would have been pleased at the 
enemy's defeat ; but his victory was per- 
haps still more useful to him. 

He said to Henry : " The emperor is a 
liar, observing neither faith nor promise : 
the Archduchess Margaret is a woman of 
evil life ; 3 Don Ferdinand is a child, 
and Bourbon a traitor. Sire, you have 
other things to do with your money than to 
squander it on these four individuals. 
Charges is aiming at universal monarchy ; 
Pavia is the first step of this throne, and if 
England does not oppose him, he will at- 
tain it." Joachim having come privily 
to London, Wolsey prevailed upon Henry 
to conclude between England and France 
an " indissoluble peace by land and sea." 6 



1 Collier's Eccles. Hist. x. p. 20. 
a By such communications as he set forth with 
France apart. State Papers, i. p. 158. 

3 Milady Margaret was a ribaud. Cotton MSS. 
Vesp. C. 3, p. 55. 

4 Sincera fidelis, firma et indissolubilis pax. Ry- 
mer, Foedera, p. 32, 33. 



At last then he was in a position to prove 
to Charles that it is a dangerous thing to 
oppose the ambition of a priest. 

This was not the only advantage Wolsey 
derived from the triumph of his enemy. 
The citizens of London imagined that the 
king of England would be in a few weeks 
in Paris ; Wolsey, rancorous and grasping, 
determined to make them pay dearly for 
their enthusiasm. " You desire to conquer 
France," said he; "you arc right. Give 
me then for that purpose tho sixth part of 
your property ; that is a trifle to gratify so 
noble an inclination." England did not 
think so ; this illegal demand aroused uni- 
versal complaint. " We are English and 
not French, freemen and not slaves," 1 was 
the universal cry. Henry might tyrannize 
over his court, but not lay hands on his 
subjects' property. 

The eastern counties rose in insurrec- 
tion : four thousand men were under arms 
in a moment ; and Henry was guarded m 
his own palace by only a few servants. It 
was necessary to break down the bridges 
to stop the insurgents. 2 The courtiers com- 
plained to the king ; the king threw the 
blame on the cardinal ; the cardinal laid it 
on the clergy, who had encouraged him to 
impose this tax by quoting to him the ex- 
ample of Joseph demanding of the Egyp- 
tians the fifth part of their goods ; and the 
clergy in their turn ascribed the insurrection 
to the gospellers, who (said they) were stir- 
ring up a peasant war in England, as they 
had done in Germany. Reformation pro- 
duces revolution : this is the favourite text 
of the followers of the pope. Violent hands 
must be laid upon the heretics. Nbn pluit 
Dens, due ad chrislianos. 3 

The charge of the priests was absurd ; 
but the people are blind whenever the gos- 
pel is concerned, and occasionally the gov- 
ernors are blind also. Serious reasoning 
was not necessary to confute this invention. 
" Here, by the way, I will tell you a merry 
toy," said Latimer one day in the pulpit. 
" Master More was once sent in commission 
into Kent to help to try out, if it might be, 
what was the cause of Goodwin Sands and 
the shelf that stopped up Sandwich haven. 
He calleth the country afore him, such as 
were thought to be men of experience, and 
among others came in an old man with a 
white head, and one that was thought to 
be little less than one hundred years old. 
So Master More called the old aged man 
unto him, and said : Father, tell me, if you 
can, what is the cause of this great arising 
of the sands and shelves hereabout, that 
stop up Sandwich haven ? Forsooth, Sir, 



1 Hall's Chronicle, p. 696. If men should gfve 
their goods by a commission, then were it worse 
than the taxes of France ; and so England would 
be bond and not free. 

2 Ibid. 

3 " God sends no rain lead us against the 

Christians." A cry ascribed by Augustine to the 
pagans of the first ages. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



099 



(quoth he) I am an old man, for I am well 
nigh an hundred, and I think that Tenter- 
den steeple is the cause of the Goodwin 
Sands. For I am an old man, Sir, and I 
may remember the building of Tenterden 
steeple, and before that steeple was in 
building, there was no manner of flats or 
sands." After relating this anecdote, Lati- 
mer slyly added : " Even so, to my purpose, 
is preaching of God's word the cause of re- 
bellion, as Tenterden steeple was the cause 
Sandwich haven is decayed." 1 

There was no persecution : there was 
something else to be done. Wolsey, feel- 
ing certain that Charles had obstructed his 
accession to the popedom, thought only in 
what manner he might take his revenge. 
But during this time Tyndale also was pur- 
suing his aim; and the year 1525, memor- 
able for the battle of Pavia, was destined 
to be no less so in the British isles, by a 
still more important victory. 

The ship which carried Tyndale and his 
MSS. cast anchor at Hamburg, where, 
since the year 1521, the gospel had counted 
numerous friends. Encouraged by the pre- 
sence of his brethren, the Oxford fellow 
had taken a quiet lodging in one of the 
narrow winding streets of that old city, 
» and had immediately resumed his task. A 
secretary, whom he terms his " faithful 
companion," 2 aided him in collating texts ; 
but it was not long before this brother, 
whose name is unknown to us, thinking 
himself called to preach Christ in places 
where He had as yet never been proclaimed, 
left Tyndale. A former friar-observant of 
the Franciscan order at Greenwich, having 
abandoned the cloister, and being at this 
time without resources, offered his services 
to the Hellenist. Wiliam Roye was one of 
those men (and they are always pretty nu- 
merous) whom impatience of the yoke alie- 
nates from Rome without their being at- 
tracted by the Spirit of God to Christ. 
Acute, insinuating, crafty, and yet of 
pleasing manners, he charmed' all those 
who had mere casual relations with him. 
Tyndale, banished to the distant shores of 
the Elbe, surrounded by strange customs, 
and hearing only a foreign tongue, often 
thought of England, and was impatient 
that his country should enjoy the result of 
his labours : he accepted Roye's aid. The 
Gospels of Matthew and Mark, translated 
and printed at Hamburg, became, it would 
• seem, the first fruits to England of his 
great task. 

But Tyndale was soon overwhelmed by 
annoyances. Roye, who was pretty ma- 
nageable while he had no money, had be- 
come intractable now that his purse was 
less empty. 8 What was to be done ? The 
reformer having spent the ten pounds he 
had brought from England, could. not satis- 



Latimer's Sermons, vol. i. p. 251. 
Tyndale's Doctr. Treatises, p. 37. 
Anderson's A.nnals of the Bible, i. 4.9. 



fy the demands of his assistants, pay his 
own debts, and remove to another city. He 
became still more sparing and economical. 
The Wartburg, in which Luther had trans- 
lated the New Testament, was a palace in 
comparison with the lodging in which the 
reformer of wealthy England endured hun- 
ger and cold, while toiling day and night 
to give the gospel to the English Christians. 

About the end of 1524, Tyndale sent the 
two gospels to Monmouth ; and a merchant 
named John Collenbeke, having brought 
him the ten pounds he had left in the hands 
of his old patron, he prepared to depart 
immediately. 

Where should he go ? Not to England ; 
he must complete his task before all things. 
Could he be in Luther's neighbourhood and 
not desire to see him ? He needed not the 
Saxon reformer either to find the truth, 
which he had already known at Oxford, or 
to undertake the translation of the Scrip- 
tures, which he had already begun in the 
vale of the Severn. But did not all evan- 
gelical foreigners flock to Wittemberg ? To 
remove all doubt as to the interview of the 
reformers, it would be desirable perhaps to 
find some trace at Wittemberg, 1 either in 
the university registers or in the writings 
of the Saxon reformers. Yet several con- 
temporaneous testimonies seem to give a 
sufficient degree of probability to this con- 
ference. Foxe tells us : " He had an inter- 
view with Luther and other learned men 
of that country." 2 This must have been in 
the spring of 1525. 

Tyndale, desirous of drawing nearer to 
his native country, turned his eyes towards 
the Rhine. There w r ere at Cologne some 
celebrated printers well known in England, 
and among others Quentel and the Byrck- 
mans. Francis Byrckman had warehouses 
in St. Paul's churchyard in London — a cir- 
cumstance that might facilitate the intro- 
duction and sale of the Testament printed 
on the banks of the Rhine. This providen- 
tial circumstance decided Tyndale in favour 



1 I requested a German divine to investigate this 
matter, but his researches were unsuccessful. 

3 Mr. Anderson, in his excellent work (Annals 
of "the English Bible, vol. i. p. 47) disputes the in- 
terview between these two reformers, but his argu- 
ments do not convince me. We can understand 
how Luther, at that time busily engaged in his 
dispute with Carlstadt, does not mention Tyn- 
dale's visit in his letters. But, besides Foxe, there 
are other contemporaneous authorities in favour 
of this fact. Cochlseus, a German well informed 
on all the movements of the reformers, and whom 
we shall presently see on Tyndale's traces, says of 
him and Roye: "Duo Angli apostates, jut vli- 
quamdiu fuerant Vuitenbergce" (p. 123). And 6ir 
Thomas More, having said that Tyndale had gone 
to see Luther, Tyndale was content to reply : 
"When Mr. More saith Tyndale was confederate 
with Luther, that is not the truth." Answer to 
Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 147 (Park Soc). 
He denied the confederation, but not the visit, If 
Tyndale had not seen Luther, he would have been 
more explicit, and would probably ha\e said lb.it 
he had never even met him. 



700 



IIISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 



i)f Cologne, and thither he repaired with 
Roye and his MSS. Arriyed in the gloomy 
streets of the city of Agrippina, he contem- 
plated its innumerable churches, and above 
all its ancient cathedral reechoing to the 
voices of its canons, and was oppressed Avith 
sorrow as he beheld the priests, and monks 
and mendicants and pilgrims who, from all 
parts of Europe, poured in to adore the pre- 
tended relics of the three wise men and of 
the eleven thousand virgins. And then Tyn- 
dale asked himself whether it was really in 
this superstitious city that the New Testa- 
ment was to be printed in English. This 
was not all. The reform movement then 
at work in Germany had broken out at Co- 
logne during the feast of Whitsuntide, and 
the archbishop had just forbidden all evan- 
gelical worship. Yet Tyndale persevered, 
and submitting to the most minute precau- 
tions, not to compromise his work, he took 
an obscure lodging where he kept himself 
closely hidden. 

Soon however, trusting in God, he called 
on the printer, presented his manuscripts 
to him, ordered six thousand copies, and 
then, upon reflection, sank down to three 
thousand for fear of a seizure.' The print- 
ing went on ; one sheet followed another ; 
gradually the gospel unfolded its mysteries 
in the English tongue, and Tyndale could 
not contain himself for very joy. 2 He saw 
in his mind's eye the triumphs of the Scrip- 
tures over all the kingdom, and exclaimed 
with transport : " Whether the king wills 
it or not, erelong all the people of England, 
enlightened by the New Testament, will 
obey the gospel." 3 

But on a sudden that sun whose earliest 
beams he had hailed with songs of joy, was j 
hidden by thick clouds. One day, just as j 
the tenth sheet had been thrown off, the j 
printer hastened to Tyndale, and informed j 
him that the senate of Cologne forbade him \ 
to continue the work. Everything was dis- 
covered then. No doubt Henry VIII., who 
has burnt Luther's books, wishes to burn 
the New Testament also, to destroy Tyn- 
dale's manuscripts, and deliver him up to 
death. Who had betrayed him ? He was 
lost in unavailing conjectures, and one 
thing only appeared certain : alas! his ves- 
sel, Which was moving onwards in full sail, 
had struck upon a reef! The following is 
the explanation of this unexpected incident. 

A man whom we have often met with in 
the course of tnis history, 4 one of the most 
violent enemies of the Reformation — we 
mean Cochlseus — had arrived in Cologne. 
The wave of popular agitation which had 
stirred this city during the Whitsuntide 



1 Sex inilia sub praelum dari. Cochlaeus, p. 123. 
3 Tanta ex ea spe laetitia Lutheranos invasit. 
Ibid. p. 124. 

3 Cunctos Anglise populos, volente nolente rege. 
Ibid. p. 123. 

4 Book ix chapter xii. etc. 



holidays, had previously swppt over Frank- 
fort during the festival of Easter ; and the 
dean of Notre Dame, taking advantage of a 
moment when the gates of the city were 
open, had escaped a few minutes before 
the burghers entered his house to arrest him. 
On arriving at Cologne, where he hoped to 
live unknown under the shadow of the pow- 
erful elector, he had gone to lodge with 
George Lauer, a canon in the church of the 
Apostles. 

By a singular destiny the two most op- 
posite men, Tyndale and Cochlaeus, were in 
hiding in the same city ; they could not 
long remain there without coming into col- 
lision. 

On the right bank of the Rhine, and op- 
posite Cologne, stood the monastery of 
Deutz, one of whose abbots, Rupert, who 
lived in the twelfth century, had said : " To 
be ignorant of Scripture is to be ignorant 
of Jesus Christ. This is the scripture of 
nations! 1 This book of God, which is not 
pompous in words and poor in meaning like 
Plato, ought to be set before every people, 
and to proclaim aloud to the whole world 
the salvation of all." One day, when 
Cochlaeus and his host were talking of Ru- 
pert, the canon informed the dean that the 
heretit Osiander of Nuremberg was in treaty 
with the abbot of Deutz about publishing 
the writings of this ancient doctor. Coch- 
lseus guessed that Osiander was desirous of 
bringing forward the contemporary of St. 
Bernard as a witness in defence of the Re- 
formation. Hastening to the monastery he 
alarmed the abbot: "Intrust to me the 
manuscripts of your celebrated predeces- 
sor," he said ; " I will undertake to print 
them, and prove that he was one of us." 
The monks placed them in his hands, stip- 
ulating for an early publication from which 
they expected no little renown. 2 Cochlaeus 
immediately went to Peter Quentel and Ar- 
nold Byrckman to make the necessary 
arrangements. They were Tyndale's 
printers. 

There Cochlaeus made a more important 
discovery than that of Rupert's manu- 
scripts. Byrckman and Quentel having 
invited him one day to meet several of 
their colleagues at dinner, a printer, some- 
what elevated by wine, declared in his 
cups (to borrow the words of Cochlaaus): 3 
" Whether the king and the cardinal of 
York wish it or not, all England will soon 
be Lutheran." 4 Cochlaaus listened and 
grew alarmed ; he made inquiry, and was 
informed that two Englishmen, learned 
men and skilled in the languages, were 



1 Sci-ipturae populorum. Opp. i. p. 641. 
a Cum monachi quieturi non erant, nisi ederentur 
opera ilia. Cocbl. p. 124. 

3 Audivit eos aliquando inter pocula fiducialitef 
jactitare. Ibid. p. 125. 

4 Velint nolint rex et cardinalis Anglige. totam 
Angliam brevi fore Lutheranum. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



701 



concealed at Cologne. 1 But all bis efforts 
to discover more proved unavailing. 

There was no more repose for the dean 
of Frankfort ; his imagination fermented, 
his mind became alarmed. " What," said 
he, " shall England, that faithful servant 
of the popedom, be perverted like Ger- 
many ? Shall the English, the most reli- 
gious people of Christendom,- and whose 
king once ennobled himself by writing 
against Luther, — shall they be invaded by 
heresy ? Shall the mighty cardinal- 
legate of York be compelled to flee from 
his palace, as I was from Francfort 1" 
Cochheus continued his search ; he paid 
frequent visits to the printers, spoke to 
them in a friendly tone, flattered them, 
invited them to visit him at the canon's ; 
but as yet he dared not hazard the import- 
Tint question ; it was sufficient for the mo- 
ment to have won the good graces of the 
depositaries of the secret. He soon took a 
new step ; he was careful not to question 
them before one another ; but he procured 
a private interview with one of them, 3 and 
supplied him plentifully with Rhine wine : 
— he himself is our informant. 4 Artful 
questions embarrassed the unwary printer, 
and at last the secret was disclosed. " The 
New Testament," Cochlgeus learnt, "is 
translated into English ; three thousand 
copies are in the press ; fourscore pages 
in quarto are ready ; the expense is fully 
supplied by English merchants, who are 
secretly to convey the work when printed, 
and to disperse it widely through all Eng- 
land, before the king or the cardinal can 
discover or prohibit it. 5 ..Thus will Bri- 
tain be converted to the opinions of Lu- 
ther." 6 

The surprise of Cochlseus equalled his 
alarm ; 7 he dissembled ; he wished to learn, 
however, where the two Englishmen lay 
concealed ; but all his exertions proved in- 
effectual, and he returned to his lodgings 
filled with emotion. The danger was very 
great. A stranger and an exile, what can 
he do to oppose this impious undertaking? 
Where shall he find a friend to England, 
prepared to show his zeal in warding off 
the threatened blow ? He was bewil- 
dered. 

A flash of light suddenly dispelled the 
darkness. A person of some consequence 
at Cologne, Herman Rincke, a patrician 
and imperial councillor, had been sent on 
im pur tan t business by the Emperor Maxi- 
milian to Henry YII., and from that time 



1 Duos ibi latitare Anglos eruditos, linguarumque 
peritos. Ibid. 

2 In gente ilia religiosissima verequo Christiana. 
Ibid. p. 131. 

3 Onus' eorum in seeretiori colloquio revelavit 
illi arcanum. Ibid. 

4 Rem omnem ut acceperat vini bineficio. Ibid, 
p. 131. 

\ Opus excussum clam invecturi per totam An- 
gliam latenter dispergere valient, ibid. 

s Ad Lathed partes trah^ndx *"t* Anglia. Ibid. 
1 Metu et, adumalione affectus. Ibid. 



he had always shown a great attachment 
to England. Cochlgeus determined to reveal 
the fatal secret to him ; but, being still 
alarmed by the scenes at Frankfort, lie was 
afraid to conspire openly against the Re- 
formation. He had left an aged mother 
and a little niece at home, and was unwill- 
ing to do any thing which might compro- 
mise them. He therefore crept stealthily 
towards Rincke's house (as he tells us him- 
self), 1 slipped in secretly, and unfolded the 
whole matter to him. Rincke could not 
believe that the New Testament in English 
was printing at Cologne ; however, he sent 
a confidential person to make inquiries, 
who reported to him that Cochlaeus's in- 
formation was correct, and that he had 
found in the printing office a large supply 
of paper intended for the edition. 2 The 
patrician immediately proceeded to the 
senate, and spoke of Wolsey, of Henry 
YIIL, and of the preservation of the Ronv 
ish church in England ; and that body 
which, under the influence of the arch- 
bishop, had long since forgotten the rights 
of liberty, forbade the printer to continue 
the work. Thus, then, there were to be 
no New Testaments for England ! A prac- 
tised hand had warded off the blow aimed 
at Roman Catholicism ; Tyndale would 
perhaps be thrown into prison, and Coch- 
lgeus enjoy a complete triumph. 

Tyndale was at first confounded. Were 
so many years of toil lost, then, for ever ? 
His trial seemed beyond his strength. 3 
" They are ravening wolves," he exclaimed, 
" they preach to others, Steal not, and yet 
they have robbed the soul of man of the 
bread of life, and fed her with the shales 
[shells ?] and cods of the hope in their 
merits and confidence in their good works." 4 
Yet Tyndale did not long remain cast down ; 
for his faith was of that kind which would 
remove mountains. Is it not the word of 
God that is imperilled ? If he does not 
abandon himself, God will not abandon him. 
He must anticipate the senate of Cologne. 
Daring and prompt in all his movements, 
Tyndale bade Roye follow him, hastened 
to the printing office, collected the sheets, 
jumped into a boat, and rapidly ascended 
the river, carrying with him the hope of 
England. 5 

When Cochlgeus and Rincke, accompa- 
nied by the officers of the senate, reached 
the printing office, they were surprised be- 
yond measure. The apostate had secured 

the abominable papers ! Their enemy 

had escaped like a bird from the net of the 
fowler. Where was he to be found now ? 



1 Abiit igitur clam ad H. Rincke. Cochlaeus, 
p. 131. 

3 Ingentem papyri copiam ibi existere. Ibid. 

* Necessity and combrance (God is record) above 
strength. Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 390. 

4 Tyndale, Expositions, p. 123 (Parker Society), 

* Arreptis secum quaterniomhus impressis ftu- 
fuserunt navigio per llhenum ascendenie^. Cochl. 
p. 126. 



'02 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



lie would no doubt go and place himself 
under the protection of some Lutheran 
prince, whither Cochlasus would take good 
care not to pursue him ; but there was one 
resource left. These English books can do 
no harm in Germany ; they must be pre- 
vented reaching London. He wrote to 
Henry VIII., to Wolsey, and to the bishop 
of Rochester. " Two Englishmen," said 
he to the king, " like the two eunuchs who 
desired to lay hands on Ahasuerus, are 
plotting wickedly against the peace of your 
kingdom ; but I, like the faithful Mordecai, 1 
will lay open their designs to you. They 
wish to send the New Testament in English 
to your people. Give orders at every sea- 
port to prevent the introduction of this 
most baneful merchandise." 2 Such was 
the name given by this zealous follower of 
the pope to the word of God. An unex- 
pected ally soon restored peace to the soul 
of Cochleeus. The celebrated Dr. Eck, a 
champion of popery far more formidable 
than he was, had arrived at Cologne on his 
way to London, and he undertook to arouse 
the anger of the bishops and of the king. 3 
The eyes of the greatest opponents of the 
Reformation seemed now to be fixed on 
England. Eck, who boasted of having 
gained the most signal triumphs over 
Luther, would easily get the better of the 
humble tutor and his New Testament. 

During this time Tyndale, guarding his 
precious bales, ascended the rapid river as | 
quickly as he could. He passed before the i 
antique cities and the smiling villages scat- j 
tered along the banks of the Rhine amidst | 
scenes of picturesque beauty. The moun- j 
tains, glens, and rocks, the dark forests, the 
ruined fortresses, the gothic churches, the 
boats that passed and repassed each other, 
the birds of prey that soared over his head, 
as if they bore a mission from Cochheus — 
nothing could turn his eyes from the treas- 
ures he was carrying with him. At last, 
after a voyage of five or six days, he 
reached Worms, where Luther, four years 
before, had exclaimed : " Here I stand, I 
can do no other ; may God help me !" 4 
These words of the German reformer, so 
well known to Tyndale, were the star that 
guided him to Worms. He knew that the 
gospel was preached in that ancient city. 
" The citizens are subject to fits of Luther- 
ism," said Cochlgeus. 5 Tyndale arrived 
there, not as Luther did, surrounded by an 
immense crowd, but unknown, and imagin- 
ing himself pursued by the myrmidons of 



Charles and of Henry. As he landed from 
the boat he cast an uneas} r glance around 
him, and laid down his precious burden on 
the bank of the river. 

He had time to reflect on the dangers 
which threatened his work. As his ene- 
mies would have marked the edition, some 
few sheets of it having fallen into their 
hands, he took steps to mislead the inquisi- 
tors, and began a new edition, striking out 
the prologue and the notes, and substitu- 
ting the more portable octavo form for the 
original quarto. Peter Schceffer, the grand- 
son of Fust, one of the inventors of print- 
ing, lent his presses for this important work. 
The two editions were quietiv completed 
about the end of the year 1525. l 

Thus were the wicked deceived : they 
would have deprived the English people of 
the oracles of God, and two editions were" 
now ready to enter England. " Give dili- 
gence," said Tyndale to his fellow-country- 
men as he sent from Worms the Testament 
he had just translated, "unto the words of 
eternal life, by the which, if we repent and 
believe them," we are born anew, created 
afresh, and enjoy the fruits of the blood of 
Christ." 2 In the beginning of 1526, these 
books crossed the sea by way of Antwerp 
or Rotterdam. Tyndale was happy ; but 
he knew that the unction of the Holy Ghost 
alone could enable the people of England 
to understand these sacred pages ; and ac- 
cordingly he followed them night and day 
with his prayers. " The scribes and phari- 
sees," said he, " had thrust up the sword 
of the word of God in a scabbard or sheath 
of glosses, and therein had knit it fast, so 
that it could neither stick nor cut. 3 Now, 
God, draw this sharp sword from the 
scabbard. Strike, wound, cut asunder, the 
soul and the flesh, so that man being di- 
vided in two, and set at variance with him- 
self, may be in peace with thee to all eter- 
nity !"_ 

While these works were accomplishing 
at Cologne and Worms, others were going 
on at Cambridge and Oxford. On the 
banks of the Rhine they were preparing 
the seed ; in England they were drawing 
the furrows to receive it. The gospel pro- 
duced a great agitation at Cambridge. Bil- 
ney, whom we may call the father of the 
English Reformation, since, being the first 
converted by the New Testament, he had 
brought to the knowledge of God the ener- 
getic Latimer, and so many other witnesses 
of the truth — Bilney did not at that tima 
put himself forward, like many of those 



1 He was indebted to me no less than Ahasuerus 
was indebted to Mordecai. Annals of the Bible, 
i p. 61. 

2 Ut quam diligentissiine praecaverint in omni- 
bus Anglise portubus, ne merx ilia perniciosissima j 
inveheretur. Cochlaeus, p. 126. 

3 Ad quem Doctor Eckius venit, duin in Angliam 
tenderet. Ibid. p. 109. 

* See above, book vii. chapter viii. 

* Ascendentes Wormatiain ubi plebs pleno furore 
lutherisabat. Cochlams, p. 126. 



1 A copy of the octavo edition still exists in the 
Museum of the Baptist College at Bristol. If it is 
compared with the quarto edition, a sensible pro- 
gress will be found in the orthography. Thus we 
read in the latter : prophettes, si/itners, moostc, 
sekynge; in the octavo we find, prophets, siiinera, 
most, seking. Annals of the Bible, i. p. 70. 

2 Epist. in init. 

3 Tyndale's Works, ii. p. 378 ; or Expositions 
(Matthew), p. 131 (Park. Sue.) 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



703 



who had listened to him ; his vocation was 
prayer. Timid before men, he was full of 
boldness before God, and day and night 
called upon him for souls. But while he 
was kneeling in his closet, others were at 
work in the world. Among these Stafford 
was particularly remarkable. " Paul is 
risen from the dead," said many as they 
heard him. And in fact Stafford explained 
with so much life the true meaning of the 
words of the apostle and of the four evan- 
gelists, 1 that these holy men, whose faces 
had been so long hidden under the dense 
traditions of the schools, 2 reappeared before 
the youth of the university such as the 
apostolic times had beheld them. But it 
was not only their persons (for that would 
have been a trifling matter), it was their 
doctrine which Stafford laid before his hear- 
ers. While the schoolmen of Cambridge 
•were declaring to their pupils a reconcili- 
ation which was not yet worked out, and 
telling them that pardon must be purchased 
by the works prescribed by the church, 
Stafford taught that redemption was accom- 
plished, that the satisfaction offered by Jesus 
Christ was perfect ; and he added, that po- 
pery having revived the kingdom of the law, 
God, by the Reformation, was now reviving 
the kingdom of grace. The Cambridge stu- 
dents, charmed by their master's teaching, 
greeted him with applause, and, indulging 
a little too far in their enthusiasm, said to 
one another as they left the lecture-room: 
" Which is the most indebted to the other? 
Stafford to Paul, who left him the holy 
epistles ; or Paul to Stafford, who has re- 
suscitated that apostle, and his holy doc- 
trines, which the middle ages had ob- 
scured V 

Above Bilney and Stafford rose Latimer, 
who, by the power of the Holy Ghost, 
transfused into our hearts the learned les- 
sons of his master. 3 Being informed of 
the work that Tyndale was preparing, he 
maintained from the Cambridge pulpits 
that the Bible ought to be read in the 
vulgar tongue. 4 " The author of Holy 
Scripture," said he, " is the Mighty One, 

the Everlasting Godhimsef! and this 

Scripture partakes of the might and eternity 
of its author. There is neither king nor 
emperor that is not bound to obey it. Let 
us beware of those bypaths of human tra- 
dition, filled of stones, brambles, and up- 
rooted trees. Let us follow the straight 
road of the word. It does not concern us 
what the Fathers 'have done, but what they 
should have done." 5 



1 He set forth in his lectures the native sense. 
Thomas Becon. ii. p. 426. 

3 Obscured through the darkness and mists of 
the papists. Ibid. 

3 A private instructor to the rest of his brethren 
within the university. Foxe, Acts, vii-. p. 438. 

4 He proved in his sermons that the Holy Scrip- 
tures ought to be read in the English tongue of all 
Christian people. Becon, vol. ii. p. 424 (Park. 
Soc.) 

* We find his ODinions upon that subject in a 



A numerous congregation crowded to 
Latimer's preaching, and his hearers hung 
listening to his lips. One in particular 
attracted attention. He was a Norfolk 
youth, sixteen years of age, whose features 
were lighted up with understanding and 
piety. This poor scholar had received with 
eagerness the truth announced by the former 
cross-bearer. He did not miss one of his 
sermons ; with a sheet of paper on his 
knees, and a pencil in his hand, he took 
down part of the discourse, trusting the 
remainder to his memory. 1 This was 
j Thomas Becon, afterwards chaplain to 
Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury. " If 
I possess the knowledge of God," said he, 
" 1 owe it (under God) to Latimer." 

Latimer had hearers of many sorts. By 
the side of those who gave way to their 
enthusiasm stood men " swelling, blown 
full, and puffed up like unto Esop's frog, 
with envy and malice against him," said 
Becon ; 2 these were the partisans of tradi- 
tional Catholicism, whom curiosity had at- 
tracted, or whom their evangelical friends 
had dragged to the church. But as Lati- 
mer spoke, a marvellous transformation 
was worked in them ; by degrees their 
angry features relaxed, their fierce looks 
grew" softer ; and, if these friends of the 
priests were asked., after their return home, 
what they thought of the heretic preacher, 
they replied, in the exaggeration of their 
surprise and rapture': " Nunquam sic locu- 
tus est homo, sicut hie homo !" (John 
vii. 46.) 

When he descended from the pulpit, 
Latimer hastened to practise what he had 
taught. He visited the narrow chambers 
of the poor scholars, and the dark rooms of 
the working classes : "he watered w r ith 
good deeds whatsoever he had before planted 
with godly words," 3 said the student who 
collected his discourses. The disciples con- 
versed together with joy and simplicity of 
heart ; every where the breath of a new 
life was felt ; as yet no external reforms 
had been effected, and yet the spiritual 
church of the gospel and of the Reforma- 
tion was already there. And thus the recol- 
lection of these happy times was long com 
mem orated in the adage : 

When Master Stafford read, 
And Master Latimer preached, 
Then was Cambridge blessed. 4 

The priests could not remain inactive : 
they heard speak of grace and liberty, and 
would have nothing to do with either. If 
grace is tolerated, will it not take from the 
hands of the clergy the manipulation of 
salvation, indulgences, penance, and all the 



later sermon. Latimer's Sermons, p. 96, 97 (Park. 
Soc.) 

1 A poor scholar of Cambridge but a child of 

sixteen years. Becon's Works, ii. p. 425. 

2 Ibid. p. 425. 

3 ibid. * Ibid. 



704 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rubrics of the canon law ? If liberty is con- 
ceded, will not the hierarchy, with all its 
degrees, pomps, violence, and scaffolds, be 
shaken ? Home desires no other liberty 
than that of free-will, which, exalting the 
natural strength of fallen man, dries up as 
regards mankind the springs of divine life, 
withers Christianity, and changes that hea- 
venly religion into a human moralism and 
legal observances. 

The friends of popery, therefore, collected 
their forces to oppose the new religion. 
" Satan, who never sleeps," says the sim- 
ple chronicler, " called up his familiar 
spirits, and sent them forth against the re- 
formers." Meetings were heid in the con- 
vents, but particularly in that belonging 
to the Greyf'riars. They mustered all their 
forces. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a 
tooth, said they. Latimer extols in his ser- 
mons the blessings of Scripture ; we must 
deliver a sermon also to show its dangers. 
But where was the orator to be found who 
could cope with him ? This was a very 
embarrassing question to the clerical party. 
Among the Greyfriars there was a haughty 
monk, adroit and skilful in little matters, 
and full at once of ignorance and pride : it 
was the prior Buckingham. No one had 
shown more hatred against the evangelical 
Christians, and no one was in truth a 
greater stranger to the gospel. This was 
the man commissioned to set forth the dan- 
gers of the word of God. He was by no 
means familiar with the New Testament ; 
he opened it however, picked out a few pas- 
sages here and there which seemed to fa- 
vour his thesis, and then, arrayed in his 
costliest robes, with head erect and solemn 
step already sure of victory, he went into 
the pulpit, 'combated the heretic, and with 
pompous voice stormed against the reading 
of the Bible; 1 it was in his eyes the foun- 
tain of all heresies and misfortunes. " If 
that heresy should prevail," he exclaimed, 
" there will be an end of every thing useful 
among us. The ploughman, reading in the 
gospel that no man having put his hand to 
the plough should look back, would soon lay 

aside his labour The baker, reading that 

a little leaven leave neth the whole lump, will 
in future make us nothing but very insipid 
bread ; and the simple man finding him- 
self commanded to pluck out the right eye 
and cast it fro in thee, England, after a few 
years, will be a frightful spectacle ; it will 
be little better than a nation of blind and 
one-eyed men. sadly begging their bread 
from door to door." 2 

This discourse moved that part of the 
audience for which it was intended. " The 
heretic is silenced," said the monks and 
clerks ; but sensible people smiled, and 
Latimer was delighted that they had given 
him such an adversary. Being of a lively 



1 With great pomp and prolixity. Gilpin's Life 
of Latimer, p. 8. 

The nation full of blind beggars. Ibid. 



| disposition and inclined to irony, he re- 
selved to lash the platitudes of the pompous 
friar. There are some absurdities, he 
thought, which can only be refuted by show- 
ing how foolish they are. Does not even 
the grave Tertullian speak of things which 
are only to be laughed at, for fear of giving 
them importance by a serious refutation V 
" Next Sunday I will reply to him," said 
Latimer. 

The church was crowded when Backing- 
bam, with the hood of St. Francis on his 
shoulders and with a vain-glorious air, took 
his place solemnly in front of the preacher. 
Latimer began by recapitulating the least 
weak of his adversary's arguments : then 
taking them up one by one, he turned them 
over and over, and pointed out all their ab- 
I surdity with so much wit that the poor 
j prior was buried in his own nonsense. 
I Then turning towards the listening crowd, 
j he exclaimed with warmth : " This is how 
j your skilful guides abuse your understand- 
ing. They look upon you as children that 
! must be for ever kept in leading-strings. 
Now, the hour of your majority has ar- 
rived ; boldly examine the Scriptures, and 
you will easily discover the absurdity of 
the teaching of your doctors." And then 
desirous, as Solomon has it, of answering a 
fool according to his folly, he added: " As 
for the comparisons drawn from the plough, 
the leaven, and the eye, of which the rever- 
end prior has made so singular a use. is it 
j necessary to justify these passages of Scrip- 
ture ? Must I tell you what plough, what 
leaven, what eye is here meant? Is notour 
Lord's teaching distinguished by those ex- 
pressions which, under a popular form, con- 
ceal a spiritual and profound meaning ? 
Do not we know that in all languages and 
in all speeches, it is not on the image that 
we must fix our eyes, but on the thing 
which the image represents ? For in- 
stance," he continued, and as he said these 
words he cast a piercing glance on the 
prior, " if we see a fox painted preaching 
in a friar's hood, nobody imagines that a 
fox is meant, but that craft and hypocrisy 
are described, which are so often found dis- 
guised in that garb." 2 At these words the 
poor prior, on whom the eyes of all the 
congregation were turned, rose and left the 
church hastily, and ran off to his convent 
to hide his rage and confusion among his 
brethren. The monks and their creatures 
uttered loud cries against Latimer. It was 
unpardonable (they said) to have been thus 
wanting in respect to the cowl of St. Fran- 
cis. But his friends replied : "Do we not 
whip children ? and he who treats Scrip- 
ture worse than a child, does he not de- 
serve to be well flogged ?" 



1 Si et ridebitur alicubi materiis ipsis satisfied 
Multa sunt sic digna revinci, ne gravitate adoren- 
tur. Contra Valentin, c. vi. See also Pascal' 
Provincials, Letter xi. 

a Gilpin's Life of Latimer, p. 10. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



705 



The "Romish party did not consider them- 
selves beaten. The heads of colleges and 
the priests held frequent conferences. The 
professors were desired to watch carefully 
over their pupils, and to lead them back to 
the teaching of the church by flattery and 
by threats. " We are putting our lance in 
rest/'' they told the students ; "if you 
become evangelicals, your advancement is 
at an end." But these open-hearted gen- 
erous youths loved rather to be poor with 
Christ, than rich with the priests. Staf- 
ford continued to teach, Latimer to preach, 
and Bilney to visit the poor ; the doctrine 
of Christ ceased not to spread abroad, and 
souls to be converted. 

One weapon only was left to the school- 
men ; this was persecution, the favourite 
arm of Rome. " Our enterprise has not 
succeeded." said they ; " Buckingham is a 
fool. The best way of answering these gos- 
pellers is to prevent their speaking." Dr. 
West, bishop of Ely, was ordinary of Cam- 
bridge ; they called for his intervention, 
and he ordered one of the doctors to inform 
him the next time Latimer was to preach ; | 
" but," added he, " do not say a word to | 
any one. I wish to come without being 
expected." 

One day as Latimer was preaching in 
Latin ad clerum,, the bishop suddenly en- 
tered the university church, attended by a 
number of priests. Latimer stopped, wait- 
ing respectfully until West and his train 
had taken their places. " A new audience," 
thought he ; " and besides an audience 
worthy of greater honour calls for a new 
theme. Leaving, therefore, the subject I 
had proposed, I will take up one that re- 
lates to the episcopal charge, and will 
preach on these words : Christus existens 
Pontifex futurorum bonorum." (Hebrews 
ix. 11.) Then describing Jesus Christ, 
Latimer represented him as the " true and 
perfect pattern unto all other bishops." 1 
There was not a single virtue pointed out 
in the divine bishop that did not corres- 
pond with some defect in the Romish bish- 
ops. Latimer's caustic wit had a free 
course at their expense ; but there was so 
much gravity in his sallies, and so lively a 
Christianity in his descriptions, that every 
one must have felt them to be the cries of a 
Christian conscience rather than the sar- 
casms of an illnatured disposition. Never 
had bishop been taught by one of his 
priests like this man. " Alas !" said many, 
" our bishops are not of that breed : they 
are descended from Annas and Caiaphas." 
West was not more at his ease than Buck- 
ingham had been formerly. He stifled his 
anger, however ; and after the sermon, 
said to Latimer with a gracious accent : 
" You have excellent talents, and if you 
would do one thing I should be ready to 
kiss your feet." 2 What humility in a 

1 Strype's Eccles. Mem. iii. p. 369. 

9 T will kneel down and kiss your foot. Ibid. 



bishop !...." Preach in this same church," 

continued West, "a sermon against 

Martin Luther. That is the best way of 
checking heresy." Latimer understood the 
prelate's meaning, and replied calmly : 
" If Luther preaches the word of God, I 
cannot oppose him. But if he teaches the 
contrary, I am ready to attack .him." — 
" Well, well, Master Latimer," exclaimed 
the bishop, " I perceive that you smell 
somewhat of the pan. 1 . . ... . .One day or 

another you will repent of that merchan- 
dise." 

West having left Cambridge in great irri- 
tation against that rebellious clerk, hastened 
to convoke his chapter, and forbade Lati- 
mer to preach either in the university or in 
the diocese. " All that will live godly shall 
suffer persecution," St. Paul had said ; La- 
timer was now experiencing the truth of 
the saying. It was not enough that the 
name of heretic had been given him by the 
priests and their friends, and that the 

passers-by insulted him in the streets ; 

the work of God was violently checked. 
" Behold then," he exclaimed with a bitter 

sigh, " the use of the episcopal office to 

hinder the preaching of Jesus Christ !" 
Some few years later he sketched with his 
usual caustic irony, the portrait of a cer- 
tain bishop, of whom Luther also used fre- 
quently to speak : " Do you know," said 
Latimer, " who is the most diligentest 

bishop and prelate in all England ? I see 

you listening and hearkening that I should 

name him I will tell you It is the 

devil. He is never out of his diocese ; ye 
shall never find him out of the way ; call 
for him when you will, he's ever at home. 
He is ever at his plough. Ye shall never 
find him idle, I warrant you. Where the 
devil is resident— there away with books 
and up with candles ; away with Bibles 
and up with beads ; away with the light 
of the gospel and up with the light of can- 
dles, yea at noondays ; down with Christ's 
cross, up with purgatory pickpurse ; away 
with clothing the naked, the poor, and im- 
potent, up with decking of images and gay 
garnishing of stocks and stones ; down 
with God's traditions and his most holy 

word Oh ! that our prelates would be as 

diligent to sow the corn of good doctrine 
as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel !" 2 
Truly may it be said, " There was never 
such a preacher in England as he is." 3 

The reformer was not satisfied with 
merely speaking: he acted. "Neither the 
menacing words of his adversaries nor their 
cruel imprisonments," says one of his con- 
temporaries, 4 " could hinder him from pro- 
claiming God's truth." Forbidden to preach 

1 Strype's Eccl. Mem. iii. p. 370. 

a Latimer's Sermons (Park. Soc.) vol. i. p. 70. 
Sermon of the Plough. 

3 Ibid. p. 72. 

* He adds : Whatsoever he had once preached, 
he valiantly defended the same. Becon, vol. ii. p. 
424. 



706 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



in the churches, he went about from house 
to house. He lunged for a pulpit, however, 
and this he obtained. A haughty prelate had 
in vain interdicted his preaching; Jesus 
Christ, who is above all bishops, is able, 
when one door is shut, to open another. 
Instead of one great preacher there were 
soon two at Cambridge. 

An Augustine monk named Robert Barnes, 
a native of the county of Norfolk, and a 
great scholar, had gone to Louvain to pro- 
secute his studies. Here he received the 
degree of doctor of divinity, and having 
returned to Cambridge, was nominated 
prior of his monastery in 1523. It was his 
fortune to reconcile learning and gospel 
in the university ; but by leaning too much 
to learning he diminished the force of the 
word of God. A great crowd collected 
every day in the Augustine convent to hear 
his lectures upon Terence, and in particu- 
lar upon Cicero. Many of those who were 
offended by the simple Christianity of Bil- 
ney and Latimer, were attracted by this 
•eformer of another kind. Coleman, Cover- 
dale, Field, Cambridge, Barley, and many 
other young men of the university, gathered 
round Barnes and proclaimed him " the 
restorer of letters." 1 

But the classics were only a prepara- 
tory teaching. The masterpieces of anti- 
quity having aided Barnes to clear the soil, 
he opened before his class the epistles of 
St. Paul. He did not understand their 
divine depth, like Stafford ; he was not, 
like him, anointed with the Holy Ghost ; 
he differed from him on several of the apos- 
tle's doctrines, on justification by faith, and 
on the new creature ; but Barnes was an 
enlightened and liberal man, not without 
some degree of piety, and desirous, like 
Stafford, of substituting the teaching of 
Scripture for the barren disputations of the 
school. But they soon came into collision, 
and Cambridge long remembered that cele- 
brated discussion in which Barnes and 
Stafford contended with so much renown, 
employing no other weapons than the word 
of God, to the great astonishment of the 
blind doctors, and the great joy of the clear- 
sighted, says the chronicler. 2 

Barnes was not as yet thoroughly en- 
lightened, and the friends of the gospel 
were astonished that a man, a stranger to 
the *truth, should deal such heavy blows 
against error. Bilney, whom we continu- 
ally meet with when any secret work, a 
work of irresistible charity, is in hand, — 
Bilney, who had converted Latimer, under- 
took to convert Barnes ; and Stafford, Ar- 
thur, Thistel of Pembroke, and Fooke of 
Benet's, earnestly prayed God to grant his 
assistance. The experiment was difficult : 
Barnes had reached the juste milieu, that 

1 The great restorer of good learning. Strype, i. 
p. 568 ; Foxe, Acts, v. p. 415. 

2 Marvellous in the sight of the great blind doe- 
tors. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 415. 



j " golden mean" of the humanists, that in- 
| toxication of learning and glory, which 
: rendered conversion more difficult. Besides, 
j could a man like Bilney really dare to in- 
I struct the restorer of antiquity ? But the 
I humble bachelor of arts, so simple in ap- 
pearance, knew, like David of old, a secret 
j power by which the Goliath of the uni- 
versity might be vanquished. He passed 
I days and nights in prayer ; and then 
urged Barnes openly to manifest his con- 
I victions without fearing the reproaches 
of the world. After many conversations 
and prayers, Barnes was converted to the 
' gospel of Jesus Christ. 1 Still, the prior 
| retained something undecided in his cha- 
I racter, and only half relinquished that mid- 
dle state with which he had begun. For 
| instance, he appears to have always be- 
lieved in the efficacy of sacerdotal conse- 
cration to transform the bread and wine 
into the body and blood of Christ. His 
eye was not single, and his mind was 
often agitated and driven to and fro by 
contrary thoughts. " Alas !" said this di- 
vided character one day, " I confess my 
cogitations be innumerable." 2 

Barnes, having come to a knowledge of 
the truth, immediately displayed a zeal 
that was somewhat imprudent. Men of 
the least decided character, and even those 
who are destined to make a signal fall, are 
often those who begin their course with 
the greatest ardour. Barnes seemed pre- 
pared at this time to withstand all Eng- 
j land. Being now united to Latimer by a 
i tender Christian affection, he was indig- 
i nant that the powerful voice of his friend 
I should be lost to the church. " The bishop 
has forbidden you to preach," he said to 
j him, " but my monastery is not under epis- 
copal jurisdiction. You can preach there." 
Latimer went into the pulpit at the Augus- 
tines', and the church could not contain 
the crowd that flocked to it. At Cam- 
bridge, as at Wittemberg, the chapel of 
the Augustine monks was used for the first 
struggles of the gospel. It was here that 
Latimer delivered some of his best ser- 
mons. 

A very different man from Latimer, and 
particularly from Barnes, was daily grow- 
ing in influence among the English re- 
formers : this was Fryth. No one was 
more humble than he, and on that very 
account no one was stronger. He was less 
brilliant than Barnes, but more solid. He 
might have penetrated into the highest de- 
partments of science, but he was drawn 
awa} T by the deep n^steries of God's word ; 
the call of conscience prevailed over that 
of the understanding. 3 He did not devote 
the energy of his soul to difficult ques- 



1 Bilney converted Dr. Barnes to the gospel of 
Jesus Christ. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 620. 

3 Ibid. v. p. 434. 

* Notwithstanding his other manifold and singu- 
lar gifts and ornaments of the mind, in him most 
pregnant. Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 73. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



•07 



tions ; he thirsted for God, for his truth, I 
and for his love. Instead of propagating 
his particular opinions and forming divi- j 
sions, he clung only to the faith which j 
saves, and advanced the dominion of true 
unity. This is the mark of the great ser- j 
vants of God. Humble before the Lord, | 
mild before men, and even in appearance j 
somewhat timid, Fryth in the face of dan- , 
ger displayed an intrepid courage. " My I 
learning is small," he said, " but the little j 
I have, I am determined to give to Jesus I 
Christ for the building of his temple." 1 

Latimer's sermons, Barnes's ardour, and 
Fryth's firmness, excited fresh zeal at Cam- 
bridge. They knew what was going on in 
Germany and Switzerland ; shall the En- 
glish, ever in front, now remain in the 
rear? Shall not Latimer, Bilne} T , Stafford, 
Barnes, and Fryth do what the servants of 
God are doing in other places ? 

- A secret ferment announced an approach- 
ing crisis : every one expected some change 
for better or for worse. The evangelicals, 
confident in the truth, and thinking them- 
selves sure of victory, resolved to fall upon 
the enemy simultaneously on several points. 
The Sunday before Christmas, in the year 
1525, was chosen for this great attack. 
While Latimer should address the crowds 
that contined to fill the Augustine chapel, 
and others were preaching in other places, 
Barnes was to deliver a sermon in one of 
the churches in the town. But nothing com- 
promises the gospel so much as a disposi- 
tion turned towards outward things. God, 
who grants his blessing only to undivided 
hearts, permitted this general assault, of 
tvhich Barnes was to be the hero, to be 
marked by a defeat. The prior, as he went 
into the pulpit, thought only of Wolsey. 
AlS the representative of the popedom in 
England, the cardinal was the great ob- 
stacle to the Reformation. Barnes preached 
from the epistle for the day : Rejoice in the 

Lord oil-way. 2 But instead of announcing 
Christ and the joy of the Christian, he im- 
prudently declaimed against the luxury, 
pride, and diversions of the churchmen, 
and everybody understood that he aimed 
at the cardinal. He described those mag- 
nificent palaces, that brilliant suite, those 
scarlet robes, and pearls, and gold, and 
precious stones, and all the prelate's osten- 
tation, so little in keeping (said he) with 
the stable of Bethlehem. Two fellows of 
King's College, Robert Ridley and Walter 
Preston, relations of Tonstali, bishop of 
London, who were intentionally among the 
congregation, noted down in their tablets 
the prior's imprudent expressions. 

The sermon was scarcely over when the 
storm broke out. " These people are not 
satisfied with propagating monstrous here- 
sies," exclaimed their enemies, u but they 



1 That is very small, nevertheless that little. 
Ibid. iii. p. 83. 

Philippians iv. 4-7. I 



must find fault with the powers that be. 
To-day they attack the cardinal, to-morrow 
they will attack the king !" Ridley and 
Preston accused Barnes to the vice-chan- 
cellor. All Cambridge was in commotion. 
What ! Barnes the Augustine prior, the 
restorer of letters, accused as a Lol- 
lard ! The gospel was threatened with a 

danger more formidable than a prison or a 
scaffold. The friends of the priests, know- 
ing Barnes' weakness, and even his vanity, 
hoped to obtain of him a disavowal that 
would cover the evangelical party with 
shame. " What !" said these dangerous 
counsellors to him, " the noblest career 
was open to you, and would you close 
it? Do, pray, explain away your ser- 
mon." They alarmed, they flattered him ; 
and the poor prior was near yielding to 
their solicitations. " Next Sunday you 
will read this declaration," they said to 
him. Barnes ran over the paper put into 
his hands, and saw no great harm in it. 
However he desired to show it to Bilney 
and Stafford. " Beware of such weakness," 
said these faithful men. Barnes then re- 
called his promise, and for a season the 
enemies of the gospel were silent. 

Its friends worked with increased ener- 
gy. The fall from which one of their com- 
panions had so narrowly escaped inspired 
them with fresh zeal. The more indecision 
and weakness Barnes had shown, the more 
did his brethren flee to God for courage and 
firmness. It was reported, moreover, that 
a powerful ally was coming across the sea, 
and that the Holy Scriptures, translated 
into the vulgar tongue, were at last to be 
given to the people. Wherever the word 
was preached, there the congregation was 
largest. It was the seed-time of the church: 
all were busy in the fields to prepare the 
soil and trace the furrows. Seven colleges 
at least were in full ferment : Pembroke, 
St. John's, Queens', Kings', Caius, Benet's, 
and Peterhouse. The gospel was preached 
at the Augustines', at St. Mary's (the Uni- 
versity church), and in other places, and 
when the bells rang to prayers, the streets 
were alive with students issuing from the 
colleges, and hastening to the sermon. 1 

There was at Cambridge, a house called 
the White Horse, so situated as to permit 
the most timid members of Kings', Queens', 
and St. John's Colleges, to enter at the rear 
without being perceived. In every age 
Nicodemus has had his followers. Here 
those persons used to assemble who de- 
sired to read the Bible and the works of 
the German reformers. The priests, look- 
ing upon Wittemberg as the focus of the 
Reformation, named this house Germany ; 
the people will always have their bywords. 
At first the frequenters of the White Horse 
were called Sophists ; and now, whenever 
a group of " fellows." was seen walking in 

1 Flocked together in open street Strype, ^letn. 
i. p. 563. 



703 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that direction, the cry was, " There are the 
Germans going to Germany/' " We are 
not Germans," was the reply, " neither are 
we Romans." The Greek New Testament 
had made them Christians. The gospel- 
meetings had never been more fervent. 
Some attended them to communicate the 
new life they possessed ; others to receive 
what God had given to the more advanced 
brethren. The Holy Spirit united them all, 
and thus, by the fellowship of the saints, 
were real churches created. To these 
young Christians the word of God was the 
source of so much light, that they imagined 
themselves transported to that heavenly 
city of which the Scriptures speak, which 
had no need of the sun, for the yiory of God 
did lighten it. " So oft as I was in the 
company of these brethren," said a youth- 
ful student of St. John's, " methought I was 
quietly placed in the new glorious Jerusa- 
lem." 1 

Similar things were taking place at Ox- 
ford. In 1524 and 1525, Wolsey had suc- 
cessively invited thither several Cambridge 
fellows, and although only seeking the most 
able, he found that he had taken some of 
the most pious. Besides John Clark, there 
were Richard Cox, John Pryer, Godfrey 
Harman, W. Betts, Henry Sumner, W. 
Baily, Michael Drumm, Th. Lawny, and 
lastly, the excellent John Fryth. These 
Christians, associating with Clark, with his 
faithful Dalaber, and with other evangeli- 
cals of Oxford, held meetings like their other 
Cambridge brethren, at which God mani- 
fested his presence. The bishops made war 



Becon, ii. p. 426. 



upon the gospel ; the king supported them 
with all his power : but the word had gained 
the victory ; there was no longer any 
doubt. The church was born again in Eng- 
land. 

The great movement of the sixteenth 
century had begun more particularly among 
the younger doctors and students of Oxford 
and Cambridge. From them it was neces- 
sary that it should be extended to the peo- 
ple, and for that end the New Testament, 
hitherto read in Latin and in Greek, must 
be circulated in English. The voices of 
these youthful evangelists were heard, in- 
deed, in London and in the provinces, but 
their exhortations would have been insuffi- 
cient, if the mighty hand which directs all 
things had not made this Christian activity 
coincide with that holy work for which it 
had set Tyndale apart. While all was agi- 
tation in England, the waves of the ocean 
were bearing from the continent to the 
banks of the Thames those Scriptures of 
God, which, three centuries later, multiplied 
by thousands and by millions, and transla- 
ted into a hundred and fifty tongues, were 
to be wafted from the same banks to the 
ends of the world. If in the fifteenth cen- 
tury, and even in the early years of the six- 
teenth, the English New Testament had 
been brought to London, it would only have 
fallen into the hands of a few Lollards. 
Now, in every place, in the parsonages, the 
universities, and the palaces, as well as 
the cottages of the husbandmen and the 
shops of the tradesmen, there was an ardent 
desire to possess the Holy Scriptures. The 
fat lux was about to be uttered over the 
chaos of the church, and light to be separ- 
ated from darkness by the word of God. 




DR. BARNES BEFORE CARDINAL WOLSEY. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



709 



BOOK XIX. 

THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE CHURCH OF ROME. 

Church and State essentially distinct — Their fundamental Principles — What restores Life to the Church 
— Separation from Rome necessary — Reform and Liberty — The New Testament crosses the Sea — Ig 
hidden in London — Garret's Preaching and Zeal — Dissemination of Scripture — What the People 
find in it — The Effects it produces — Tyndale's explanations — Roper, More's Son-in-law — Garret 
carries Tyndale's Testament to Oxford — Henry and his Valet — The Supplication of the Beggars — 
Two Sorts of Beggars — Evils caused by Priests — More's Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory — 
The two Authorities — Commencement of the Search — Garret at Oxford — His Plight — His Return 
and Imprisonment — Escapes and takes Refuge with Dalaber — Garret and Dalaber at Prayer — The 
Magnificat — Surprise among the Doctors — Clark's Advice — Fraternal Love at Oxford — Alarm of 
Dalaber — His Arrest and Examination — He is tortured — Garret and twenty Fellows imprisoned — 
The Cellar — Condemnation and Humiliation — Persecution at Cambridge — Barnes arrested — A grand 
Search — Barnes at Wolsey's Palace — Interrogated by the Cardinal — Conversation between Wolsey 
and Barnes — Barnes threatened with the Sta*ke — His Fall and Public Penance — Richard Bayfield — 
His Faith and Imprisonment — Visits Cambridge — Joins Tyndale — The Confessors in the Cellar at 
Oxford — Four of them die — The rest liberated — Luther's Letter to the King — Henry's Anger — His 
Reply — Luther's Resolution — Persecutions — Barnes escapes — Proclamations against the New Tes- 
tament — W. Roy to Caiaphas — Third Edition of the New Testament — The Triumph of Law and 
Liberty — Hackett attacks the Printer — Hackett's Complaints — A Seizure — The year 1526 in Eng- 
land — Wolsey desires to be Revenged — The Divorce suggested — Henry's Sentiments towards the 
Queen — Wolsey's first Steps — Longland's Proceedings — Refusal of Margaret of Valois — Objection 
of the Bishop of Tarbes — Henry's Uneasiness — Catherine's Alarm — Mission to Spain — Anne Boleyn 
appointed Maid of Honour to Catherine — Lord Percy becomes attached to her — Wolsey separates 
them — Anne enters Margaret's Household — Siege of Rome ; Cromwell — Wolsey's Intercession for 
the Popedom — He demands the Hand of Renee of France for Henry — Failure — Anne reappears at 
Court — Repels the King's Advances — Henry's Letter — He resolves to accelerate the Divorce — Two 
Motives which induce Anne to refuse the Crown — Wolsey's Opposition — Bilney's Preaching — His 
Arrest — Arthur's Preaching and Imprisonment — Bilney's Examination — Contest between the Judge 
and the Prisoner — Bilney's Weakness and Fall — His Terrors — Two Wants — Arrival of the Fourth 
Edition of the New Testament — Joy among Believers — The Papacy intercepts the Gospel — The 
King consults Sir Thomas More — Ecclesiastical Conferences about the Divorce — The Universities — 
Clarke — The Nun of Kent — Wolsey decides to do the King's Will — Mission to the Pope — Four 
JJocuments — Embarrassment of Charles V. — Francis Philip at Madrid — Distress and Resolution of 
Charles — He turns away from the Reformation — Conference at the Castle of St. Angelo — Knight ar- 
rives in Italy — His Flight — Treaty between the Pope and the Emperor — Escape of the Pope — 
Confusion of Henry VIII. — Wolsey's Orders — His Entreaties — The English Envoys at Orvieto — ■ 
Their Oration to the Pope — Clement gains time — The Envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor — 
Stratagem of the Pope — Knight discovers it and returns — The Transformations of Antichrist — The 
English obtain a new Document — Fresh Stratagem — Demand of a second Cardinal-legate — The 
Pope's new Expedient — End of the Campaign — Disappointment in England — War declared against 
Charles V. — Wolsey desires to get him deposed by the Pope — A new Scheme — Embassy of Foxe 
and Gardiner— Their arrival at Orvieto — Their first Interview with Clement — The Pope reads a 
Treatise by Henry — Gardiner's Threats and Clement's Promise — The Modern Fabius — Fresh Inter- 
view and Menaces — The Pope has not the Key — Gardiner's Proposition — Difficulties and Delays of 
the Cardinals — Gardiner's last Blows — Reverses of Charles V. in Italy — The Pope's Terror and 
Concession — The Commission granted — Wolsey demands the Engagement — A Loophole — The Pope's 
Distress — Foxe's Report to Henry and Anne — Wolsey's Impression — He demands the Decretal — 
One of the Cardinal's petty Manoeuvres — He sets his Conscience at Rest — Gardiner fails at Rome — ■ 
Wolsey's new Perfidy — The King's anger aerainst the Pope — Sir T. More predicts Religious Liberty 
— Immorality of Ultramontane Socialism — Erasmus invited — Wolsey's last Flight — Energetic efforts 
at Rome — Clement grants all — Wolsey triumphs — Union of Rome and England. 



The Church and the State are essentially 
distinct. They both receive their task from 
God, but that task is different in each. The 
task of the church is to lead men to God ; 
the task of the state is to secure the earthly 
development of a people in conformity with 
its peculiar character. There are certain 
bounds, traced by the particular spirit of 
each nation within which the state should 
confine itself; while the church, whose limits 
are co-extensive with the human race, has a 
universal character, which raises it above 
all. national differences. These two distinc- 
tive features should be maintained. A state 
which aims at universality loses itself ; a 
church whose mind and aim are sectarian 



falls away. Nevertheless, the church and 
the state, the two poles of social life, while 
they are in many respects opposed to one 
another, are far from excluding each other 
absolutely. The church has need of that 
justice, order, and liberty, which the state 
is bound to maintain : but the state has es- 
pecial need of the church. If Jesus can 
do without kings to establish his kingdom, 
kings cannot do without Jesus, if they 
would have their kingdoms prosper. Justice, 
which is the fundamental principle of the 
state, is continually fettered in its progress 
by the internal power of sin : and as force 
can do nothing against this power, the state 
requires the gospel in order to overcome it. 



710 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



That country will always be the most pros- 1 
perous where the church is the most evan- I 
gelical. These two communities having 
thus need one of the other, we must be pre- 
pared, whenever a great religious manifes- 
tation takes place in the world, to witness 
the appearance on the scene not only of the 
little ones, but of the great ones also, of 
the state. We must not then be surprised 
to meet with Henry VIII., but let us en- 
deavour to appreciate accurately the part 
he played. 

If the Reformation, particularly in Eng- 
land, happened necessarily to be mixed up 
with the state, with the world even, it ori- 
ginated neither in the state nor in the 
world. There was much worldliness in 
the age of Henry VIII., passions, violence, 
festivities, a trial, a divorce ; and some his- 
torians call that the history of the Reforma- 
tion in England. We shall not pass by in 
silence these manifestations of the worldly 
life ; opposed as they are to the Christian 
life, they are in history, and it is not our 
business to tear them out. But most as- 
suredly they are not the Reformation. From 
a very different quarter proceeded the di- 
vine light which then rose upon the human 
race. 

To say that Henry VIII. was the re- 
former of his people is to betray our igno- 
rance of history. The kingly power in 
England by turns opposed and favoured 
the reform in the church : but it opposed 
before it favoured, and much more than it 
favoured. This great transformation was 
begun and extended by its own strength, 
by the Spirit from on high. 

When the church has lost the life that is 
peculiar to it, it must again put itself in 
communication with its creative principle, 
that is with the word of God. Just as the 
buckets of a wheel employed in irrigating 
the meadows have no sooner discharged 
their reviving waters, than they dip again 
into the stream to be refilled, so every gene- 
ration void of the Spirit of Christ, must 
return to the divine source to be again 
filled up. The primitive words which cre- 
ated the church have been preserved for us 
in the Gospels, the Acts, and the Epistles ; 
and the humble reading of these divine 
writings will create in every age the com- 
munion of saints. God was the father of 
the Reformation, not Henry VIII. The 
visible world which then glittered with 
such brightness ; those princes and sports, 
those noblemen, and trials and laws, far 
from effecting a reform, were calculated to 
stifle it. But the light and the warmth 
came from heaven, and the new creation 
was completed. 

In the reign of Henry VIII. a great 
number of citizens, priests, and noblemen 
possessed that degree of cultivation which 
favours the action of the holy books. It 
was sufficient for this divine seed to be scat- 
tered on the well-prepared soil for the work 
of germination to be accomplished. 



A time not less important also was ap- 
proaching — that in which the action of the 
popedom was to come to an end. The hour 
had not yet struck. God was first creating 
within by his word a spiritual church, 
before he broke without by his dispensa- 
tions the bonds which had so long fastened 
England to the power of Rome. It was 
his good pleasure first to give truth and 
life, and then liberty. It has been said 
that if the pope had consented to a reform 
of abuses and doctrines on condition of his 
keeping his position, the religious revolu- 
tion would not have been satisfied at that 
price, and that after demanding reform, the 
next demand would have been for liberty. 
The only reproach that can be made to this 
assertion is, that it is superabundantly 
true. Liberty was an integral part of the 
Reformation, and one of the changes im- 
peratively required was to withdraw reli- 
gious authority from the pope, and restore 
it to the word of God. In the sixteenth 
century there was a great outpouring of 
the Christian life in France, Italy, and 
Spain ; it is attested by martyrs without 
number, and history shows that to trans- 
form these three great nations, all that the 
gospel wanted was liberty. 1 " If we had 
set to work two months later/' said a grand 
inquisitor of Spain who had dyed himself 
in the blood of the saints, "it would have 
been too late : Spain would have been lost 
to the Roman church." We may therefore 
believe that if Italy, France and Spain had 
had some generous king to check the myr- 
midons of the pope, those three countries, 
carried along by the renovating power of 
the gospel, would have entered upon an era 
of liberty and faith. 

The struggles of England with the pope- 
dom began shortly after the dissemination 
I of the English New Testament by Tyndale. 
; The epoch at which we are arrived accord- 
I ino-ly brings in one view before our eyes 
j both the Testament of Jesus Christ and the 
! court of Rome. We can thus study the 
men (the reformers and the Romanists) and 
! the works they produce, and arrive at a 
I just valuation of the two great principles 
I which dispute the possession of authority 
in the church. 

It was about the close of the year 1525 ; 

the English New Testament was crossing 

the* sea; five pious Hanseatic merchants 

! had taken charge of the books. Captiva- 

i ted by the Holy Scriptures they had taken 

i them on board their ships, hidden them 

i among their merchandise ; and then made 

sail from Antwerp for London. 

Thus those precious pages were ap- 
proaching England, which were to become 
I its light and the source of its greatness. 
The merchants, whose zeal unhappily cost 
them dear, were not without alarm. Had 



1 Geddes's Marty rology. God sal vi, Mart- Hisp, 
Llorente, Inquis. M/Crie, Ref. in Spain. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



711 



not Cochlseus caused orders to be sent to 
every port to prevent the entrance of the 
precious cargo they were bringing to Eng- 
land ? They arrived and cast anchor ; they 
lowered the boat to, reach the shore ; what 
were they likely to meet there ? Tonstall's 
agents, no doubt, and Wolsey's, and 
Henry's, ready to take away their New 
Testaments ! They landed and soon again 
returned to the ship ; boats passed to and 
fro, and the vessel was unloaded. No ene- 
my appeared ; and no one seemed to im- 
agine that these ships contained so great a 
treasure. 

Just at the time this invaluable cargo 
was ascending the river, an invisible hand 
had dispersed the preventive guard. Ton- 
stall, bishop of London, had been sent to 
Spain ; Wolsey was occupied in political 
combinations with Scotland, France, and 
the Empire ; Henry VIII., driven from his 
capital by an unhealthy winter, was passing 
the Christmas holidays at Eltham ; and 
even the courts of justice, alarmed by an 
extraordinary mortality, had suspended 
their sittings. God, if we may so speak, 
had sent his angels to remove the guards. 

Seeing nothing that could stop them, the 
five merchants, whose establishment was at 
the Steelyard in Thames Street, hastened 
to conceal their precious charge in their 
warehouses. But who will receive them ? 
Who will undertake to distribute these 
Holy Scriptures in London, Oxford, Cam- 
bridge, and all England ? Jt is a little 
matter that they have crossed the sea. The 
principal instrument God was about to use 
for their dissemination was an humble ser- 
vant of Christ. 

In Honey Lane, a narrow thoroughfare 
adjoining Cheapside, stood the old church 
of All Hallows, of which Robert Form an 
was rector. His curate was a plain man, 
of lively imagination, delicate conscience, 
and timid disposition, but rendered bold by 
his faith, to which he was to become a mar- 
tyr. Thomas Garret, for that was his name, 
having believed in the Gospel, earnestly 
called his hearers to repentance ;' he urged 
upon them that works, however good they 
might be in appearance, were by no means 
capable of justifying the sinner, and that 
faith alone could save him. 2 He maintained 
that every man had the right to preach the 
word of God ; 3 and called those bishops 
pharisees who persecuted Christian men. 
Garret's discourses, at once so quickening 
and so gentle, attracted great crowds ; and 
to many of his hearers, the street in which 
he preached was rightly named Honey 
Lane, for there they found the honey out of 
the rock. 4. But Garret was about to commit 



1 Earnestly laboured to call us to repentance. 
Becon, iii. p. 11. 

- Quod opera nostra quantumvis bona in specie 
nihil" cunducunt ad justificationem nee ad meritum, 
gee? sola fides. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 428. 

3 Every man may preach the word of God. Ibid. 

* Psalm lxxxi. 16. 
46 



a fault still more heinous in the eyes of the 
priests than preaching faith. The Hanse 
merchants were seeking some sure place 
where they might store up the New Testa- 
ments and other books sent from Germany: 
the curate offered his house, stealthily 
transported the holy deposit thither, hid 
them in the most secret corners, and kept 
a faithful watch over this sacred library. 1 
He did not confine himself to this. Night 
and day he studied the holy books, he held 
gospel meetings, read the word and ex- 
plained its doctrines to the citizens of Lon- 
don. At last, not satisfied with being at 
once student, librarian, and preacher, he 
became a trader, and sold the New Testa- 
ment to laymen, and even to priests and 
monks, so that the Holy Scriptures were 
dispersed over the whole realm. 2 This 
humble and timid priest was then perform- 
ing alone the biblical work of England. 

And thus the word of God, presented by 
Erasmus to the learned in 1517, Avas given 
to the people by Tyndale in 1526. In the 
parsonages and in the convent cells, but 
particularly in shops and cottages, a crowd 
of persons were studying the New Testa- 
ment. The clearness of the Holy Scriptures 
struck each reader. None of the systematic 
or aphoristic forms of the school were to be 
found there : it was the language of human 
life which they discovered in those divine 
writings: here a conversation, there a dis- 
course ; here a narrative, and there a com- 
parison ; here a command, and there an ar- 
gument; here a parable and there a prayer. 
It was not all doctrine or all history ; but 
these two elements mingled together made 
an admirable whole. Above all, the life of 
our Saviour, so divine and so human, had 
an inexpressible charm which captivated 
the simple. One work of Jesus Christ ex- 
plained another, and the great facts of the 
redemption, birth, death, and resurrection 
of the Son of God, and the sending of the 
Holy Ghost, followed and completed each 
other. The authority of Christ's teaching, 
so strongly contrasting with the doubts of 
the schools, increased the clearness of his 
discourses to his readers ; for the more 
certain a truth is, the more distinctly it 
strikes the mind. Academical explanations 
were not necessary to those noblemen, far- 
mers, and citizens. It is to me, for me, and 
of me, that this book speaks, said each one. 
It is I whom all these promises and teachings 

concern. This fall and this restoration 

they are mine. That old death and this new 

life I have passed through them. That 

jiesh and that spirit I know them. This 

law and this grace, this faith, these icorks, 
this slavery, this glory, this Christ and this 
Belial all are familiar to me. It is my own 



1 Having the said books in his custody. Foxe, 
Acts. v. p. 428. 

2 Dispersing abroad of the said books within this 
realm. Ibid. p. 428. See also Strype, Cranmer'a 
Mem. p. 81. 



712 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



history that 1 find in this book. Thus by 
the aid of the Holy Ghost each one had in 
his own experience a key to the mysteries 
of the Bible. To understand certain authors 
and certain philosophers, the intellectual 
life of the reader must be in harmony with 
theirs; so must there be an intimate affinity 
with the hoi}'' books to penetrate their mys- 
teries. " The man that has not the Spirit 
of God," said a reformer, " does not under- 
stand one jot or tittle of the Scripture." 1 
Now that this condition was fulfilled, the 
Spirit of God moved upon the face of the 
waters. 

Such at that period were the hermeneu- 
tics of England. Tyndale had set the ex- 
ample himself by explaining many of the 
words which might stop the reader. " The 
New Testament!" we may suppose some 
farmer saying, as he took up the book ; 
"what Testament is that?" " Christ," re- 
plied Tyndale in his prologue, " commanded 
his disciples before his death to publish 
over all the world his last will, which is to 
give all his goods unto all that repent and 
believe. 2 He bequeaths them his righteous- 
ness to blot out their sins — his salvation to 
overcome their condemnation ; and this is 
why that document is called the Testament 
of Jesus Christ." 

" The law and the gospel" said a citizen 
of London, in his shop ; " what is that ?" 
" They are two keys,'" answered Tyndale. 
" The law is the key which shuts up all 
men under condemnation, and' the gospel is 
the key which opens the door and lets them 
out. Or, if you like it, they are two salves. 
The law, sharp and biting, driveth out the 
disease and killeth it ; while the gospel, 
soothing and soft, softens the wound and 
brings life." 3 Every one understood and 
read, or rather devoured the inspired pages ; 
and the hearts of the elect (to use Tyndale's 
words), warmed by the love of Jesus Christ, 
began to melt like wax. 4 

This transformation was observed to take 
place even in the most catholic families. 
Roper, More's son-in-law, having read the 
New Testament, received the truth. " I 
have no more need," said he, " of auricular 
confession, of vigils, or of the invocation of 
saints. The ears of God are always open 
to hear us. Faith alone is necessary to 
salvation. I believe and I am saved 

. . . Nothing can deprive me of God's fa- 
vour." 4 

The amiable and zealous young man de- 
sired to do more. " Father," said he one 



1 Nullus homo unum iota in Scripturis sacris 
videt, nisi qui spiritum Dei habet. Luther, De 
servo arbitrio, Witt. ii. p. 424. 

2 Tyndale and Fryth's works (ed. Russell), vol. 
ii. p. 491. The " Pathway unto the Holy Scrip- 
ture" is the prologue to the quarto Testament, with 
a few changes of little importance. 

3 Tyndale and Fryth's Works (ed. Russell), vol. 
ii. p. 503. 

4 Ibid. p. 500. 

1 More's Life, p. 134. 



day to Sir Thomas, " proeure for me from 
the king, who is very fond of you. a license 
to preach. God hath sent me to instruct 
the world." More was uneasy. Must this 
new doctrine, which he detests, spread even 
to his children? He exerted all his au- 
thority to destroy the work begun in Ro- 
per's heart. " "What," said he with a smile, 
" is it not sufficient that we that are your 
friends should know that you are a fx-ol, 
but you would proclaim your folly to the 
world ? Hold your tongue : I will debate 
with you no longer." The young man's 
imagination was struck, but his heart had 
not been changed. The discussions having 
ceased, the father's authority being restored, 
Roper became less fervent in his faith, and 
gradually he returned to popery, of which 
he was afterwards a zealous champion. 

The humble curate of All Hallows having 
sold the New Testament to persons living 
in London and its neighbourhood, and to 
many pious men who would carry it to the 
farthest parts of England, formed the reso- 
lution to introduce it into the University of 
Oxford, that citadel of traditional catholic- 
ism. It was there he had studied, and he 
felt towards that school the affection which 
a son bears to his mother ; he set out with 
his books. 1 Terror occasionally seized him, 
for he knew that the word of God had many 
deadly enemies at Oxford ; but his inex- 
haustible zeal overcame his timidity. In 
concert with Dalaber, he stealthily offered 
the mysterious book for sale ; many stu- 
dents bought it, and Garret carefully en- 
tered their names in his register. This 
was in January 1526 ; an incident disturbed 
this Christian activity. 

One morning when Edmund Moddis, one 
of Henry's valets-de-chambre, was in at- 
tendance on his master, the prince, who 
was much attached to him, spoke to him 
of the new books come from beyond the 
sea. " If your grace," said Moddis, "would 
promise to pardon me and certain indivi- 
duals, I would present you a wonderful 
book which is dedicated to your majesty." 2 
— " Who is the author ?" — " A lawyer of 
Gray's Inn named Simon Fish, at present 
on the continent." — " What is he doing 
there ?" — " About three years ago, Mr. 
Row, a fellow-student of Gray's Inn, com- 
posed for a private theatre a drama against 
my lord the cardinal." The king smiled ; 
when his minister was attacked, his own yoke 
seemed lighter. " As no one was willing 
to represent the character employed to give 
the cardinal his lesson," continued the 
valet, " Master Fish boldly accepted it. The 
piece produced a great effect ; and my lord 
being informed of this impertinence, sent 
the police one night to arrest Fish. The 



1 And brought with him Tyndale's first transla- 
tion of the New Testament in English. Foxe, 
Acts, v. p. 421. 

a His grace should see such a book as it was a 
marvel to hear of. Ibid. iv. p 658. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



713 



latter managed to escape, crossed the sea, 
joined one Tyndale, the author of some of 
the books so much talked of; and, carried 
away by some of his friend's example, he 
composed the book of which I was speak- 
ing to your grace. "— " What's the name of 
it?" — " The Supplication of the Beggars" — 
" Where did you see it ?" — " At two of 
your tradespeople's, George Elyot and 
George Robinson ; l if your grace desires it, 
they shall bring it you." The king ap- 
pointed the, day and the hour. 

The book was written for the king, and 
every body read it but the king himself. 
At the appointed day, Moddis appeared 
with Elyot and Robinson, who were not 
entirely without fear, as they might be ac- 
cused of proselytism even in the royal 
palace. The king received them in his pri- 
vate apartments. 2 "What do you want?" 
he said to them. " Sir," replied one of the 
merchants, " we are come about an extra- 
ordinary book that is addressed to you." — 
" Can one of you read it to me ?" — " Yes, 
if it so please your grace," replied Elyot. 
" You may repeat the contents from me- 
mory," rejoined the king "but, no, 

read it all : that will be better. I am 
ready." Elyot began, 

" The Supplication of the Beggars." 
" To the king our sovereign lord, — 

" Most lamentably complaineth of their 
woeful misery, unto your highness, your 
poor daily bedesmen the wretched hideous 
monsters, on whom scarcely, for horror, 
any eye dare look ; the foul unhappy sort 
of lepers and other sore people, needy, im- 
potent, blind, lame, and sick, that live only 
by alms ; how that their number is daily 
sore increased, that all the alms of all the 
well-disposed people of this your realm are 
not half enough to sustain them, but that 
for very constraint they die for hunger. 

" And this most pestilent mischief is 
come upon your said poor bedesmen, by 
the reason that there hath, in the time of 
your noble predecessors, craftily crept into 
this your realm, another sort, not of impo- 
tent, but of strong, puissant, and counter- 
feit, holy and idle beggars and vagabonds, 
who by all the craft and wiliness of Satan 
are now increased not only into a great 
number, but also into a kingdom." 

Henry was very attentive. Elyot con- 
tinued : 

"These are not the shepherds, but the 
ravenous wolves going in shepherds' cloth- 
ing, devouring the flock : bishops, abbots, 
priors, deacons, archdeacons, suffragans, 
priests, monks, canons, friars, pardoners, 

and sumners The goodliest lordships, 

manors, lands, and territories are theirs. 
Besides this, they have the tenth part of 
all the corn, meadow, pasture, grass, wood, 
colts, calves, lambs, pigs, geese, and 



Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 658. 
Ibid. 



chickens. Over and besides, the tenth part 
of every servant's wages, the tenth part of 
wool, milk, honey, wax, cheese, and butter. 
The poor wives must be accountable to 
them for every tenth egg, or els^ she getteth 
not her rights [i. e. absolution] at Easter. 

Finally, what get they in a year? 

Summa totalis : £430,333, 6s. 8d. sterling, 
whereof not four hundred years past they 
had not a penny 

" What subjects shall be able to help 
their prince, that be after this fashion 
yearly polled ? What good Christian peo- 
ple can be able to succour us poor lepers, 
blind, sore, and lame, that be thus yearly- 
oppressed ? The ancient Romans had 

never been able to have put all the whole 
world under their obeisance, if they had 
had at home such an idle sort of cormo- 
rants." 

No subject could have been found more 
likely to captivate the king's attention. 
" And what doth all this greedy sort of 
sturdy idle holy thieves with their yearly 
exactions that they take of the people ? 
Truly nothing, but translate all rule, 
power, lordship, 'authority, obedience, and 
dignity from your grace unto them. No- 
thing, but that all your subjects should fall 

into disobedience and rebellion Priests 

and doves make foul houses ; and if you 
will ruin a state, set up in it the pope with 

his monks and his clergy Send these 

sturdy loobies abroad in the world to take 
them wives of their own, and to get their 
living with their labour in the sweat of 

their faces Then shall your commons 

increase in riches ; then shall matrimony 
be much better kept ; then shall not your 
sword, power, crown, dignity, and obe- 
dience of your people be translated from 
you." 

When Elyot had finished reading, the 
king was silent, sunk in thought. The 
true cause of the ruin of the state had been 
laid before him ; but Henry's mind was 
not ripe for these important truths. At 
last he said, with an uneasy manner: " If 
a man who desires to pull down an old 
wall, begins at the bottom, I fear the upper 
part may chance to fall on his head." 1 
Thus then, in the king's eyes, Fish by at- 
tacking the priests was disturbing the foun- 
dations of religion and society. After this 
royal verdict, Henry rose, took the book, 
locked it up in his desk, and forbade the 
two merchants to reveal to any one the fact 
of their having read it to him. 

Shortly after the king had received this 
copy, on Wednesday the 2d of February, 
the feast of Candlemas, a number of per- 
sons, including the king himself, were to 
take part in the procession, bearing wax 
tapers in their hands. l)uring the night 
this famous invective was scattered about 
all the streets through which the proces- 



1 The upper part thereof might chance to fall 
i upon his head. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 658. 



714 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Bion had to pass. The cardinal ordered 
the pamphlet to he seized, and immediately 
waited upon the king. The latter put his 
hand under his robe, and with a smile took 
out the so much dreaded work, and then, 
as if satisfied with this prouf of indepen- 
dence, he gave it up to the cardinal. 

While Wolsey replied to Fish by confis- 
cation, Sir Thomas More with greater libe- 
rality, desiring that press should reply to 
press, published The Supplications of tfte 
Srntls in Purgatory. " Suppress/' said 
they, " the pious stipends paid to the 
monks, and then Luther's gospel will come 
in, Tyndale's Testament will be read, he- 
resy will preach, fasts will be neglected, 
the saints will be blasphemed, God will be 
offended, virtue will be mocked of, vice 
will run riot, and England will be peopled 
with beggars and thieves." 1 The Souls 
in Purgatory then call the author of the 
Beggars' Supplication " a goose, an ass, 
a mad dog." Thus did superstition de- 
grade More's noble genius. Notwithstand- 
ing the abuse of the souls in purgatory, the 
New Testament was daily read more and 
more in England. 

Wolsey did not stop with Fish's book. It 
was not that " miserable pamphlet" only 
that it was necessary to hunt down ; the 
New Testament in English had entered the 
kingdom by surprise : there was the dan- 
ger. The gospellers, who presumed to 
emancipate man from the priests, and put 
him in absolute dependence on God, did 
precisely the reverse of what Rome de- 
mands. 2 The cardinal hastened to assem- 
ble the bishops, and these (particularly 
Warham and Tonstall, who had long en- 
joyed the jests launched against supersti- 
tion) took the matter seriously when they 
were shown that the New Testament was 
circulating throughout England. These 
priests believed with Wolsey, that the au- 
thority of the pope and of the clergy was a 
dogma to which all others were subordi- 
nate. They saw in the reform an uprising 
of the human mind, a desire of thinking for 
themselves, of judging freely the doctrines 
and institutions, which the nations had 
hitherto received humbly from the hands of 
the priests. The new doctors justified their 
attempt at enfranchisement by substituting 
a new authority for the old. It was the 
New Testament that compromised the ab- 
solute power of Rome. It must be seized 
and destroyed, said the bishops. London, 
Oxford, and above all Cambridge, those 
three haunts of heresy, must be carefully 
searched. Definitive orders were issued on 
Saturday, 3d February, 1526, and the work 
began immediately. 

The first visit of the inquisitors was to 
Honey Lane, to the house of the curate of 



1 Supplication of the Souls in Purgatory. More's 
Works. 

3 Actus meritorius est in potestate hominis. Duns 
Scotus in Sentent. lib. 1. diss. 17. 



All Hallows. They did not find Garret ; 
they sought after him at Monmouth's, and 
throughout the city, but he could not be 
met with. 1 " He is gone to Oxford to sell 
his detestable wares," the inquisitors were 
informed, and they set off after him imme- 
diately, determined to burn the evangelist 
and his books ; " so burning hot," says an 
historian, " was the charity of these holy 
fathers." 2 

On Tuesday, the 6th of February, Garret 
was quietly selling his books at Oxford, and 
carefully noting down his sales in his re- 
gister, when two of his friends ran to him 
exclaiming, " Fly ! or else you will be taken 

before the cardinal, and thence to the 

Tower." The poor curate was greatly agi- 
tated. " From whom did you learn that ?" 
— " From Master Cole, the clerk of the as- 
sembly, who is deep in the cardinal's fa- 
vour." Garret, who saw at once that the 
affair was serious, hastened to Anthony 
Dalaber, who held the stock of the Holy 
Scriptures at Oxford; others followed him ; 
the news spread rapidly, and those who had 
bought the book were seized with alarm, fur 
the}* knew by the history of the Lollards 
what the Romish clergy could do. They 
took counsel together. The brethren, "for 
so did we not only call one another, but 
were in deed one to another," says Dala- 
ber, 3 decided that Garret should change his 
name ; that Dalaber should give him a let- 
ter for his brother, the rector of Stalbridge, 
in Dorsetshire, who was in want of a cu- 
rate ; and that once in this parish, he 
should seek the first opportunity of cross- 
ing the sea. The rector was in truth a 
" mad papist" (it is Dalaber' s expression), 
but that did not alter their resolution. 
They knew of no other resource. Anthony 
wrote to him hurriedly ; and, on the morn- 
ing of the Tth of February, Garret left Ox- 
ford without being observed. 

Having provided for Garret's safety, De- 
laber next thought of his own. He care- 
fully concealed in a secret recess of his 
chamber, at St. Alban's Hall, Tyndale's 
Testament, and the works of Luther, (Eco- 
lampadius, and others on the word of God- 
Then, disgusted with the scholastic soph- 
isms which he heard in that college, he 
took with him the New Testament and the 
Commentary on the Gospel of St. Luke, by 
Lambert of Avignon, the second edition of 
which had just been published at Stras- 
burg, 4 and went to Gloucester college, 
where he intended to study the civil law, 
not caring to have anything more to do 
with the church. 

During this time, poor Garret was making 
his way into Dorsetshire. His conscience 
could not bear the idea of being, although 



1 He was searched for through all London. Foxe, 
Acts. v. p. 421. 

Ibid. 8 Ibid. 

4 In Lucse Evangelium Commentarii, nunc se- 
sundo recogniti et locupletati. Argentorati, 1552. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



715 



for a short time only, the curate of a bigot- 
ed priest — of concealing his faith, his de- 
sires, and even his name. He felt more 
wretched, although at liberty, than he could 
have been in Wolsey's prisons. It is bet- 
ter, he said within himself, to confess Christ 
before the judgment-seat, than to seem to 
approve of the superstitious practices I de- 
test. He went forward a little, then stopped 
— and then resumed his course. There was 
a fierce struggle between his fears and his 
conscience. At length, after a day and a 
half spent in doubt, his conscience pre- 
vailed ; unable to endure any longer the 
anguish that he felt, he retraced his steps, 
returned to Oxford, which he entered on 
Friday evening, and lay down calmly in 
his bed. It was barely past midnight when 
Wolsey's agents, who had received infor- 
mation of his return, arrived, and dragged 
him from his bed, 1 and delivered him up to 
Dr. Cottisford, the commissary of the uni- 
versity. The latter locked him up in one 
of his rooms, while London and Higdon, 
dean of Frideswide, " two arch papists" 
(as the chronicler terms them), announced 
this important capture to the cardinal. They 
thought popery was saved, because a poor 
curate had been taken. 

Dalaber, engaged in preparing his new 
room at Gloucester college, had not per- 
ceived all this commotion. 2 On Saturday, 
at noon, having finished his arrangements, 
he double-locked his door, and began to 
read the Gospel according to St. Luke. All 
of a sudden he hears a knock. Dalaber 
made no reply ; it is no doubt the commis- 
sary's ofiicers. A louder knock was given ; 
but he still remained silent. Immediately 
after, there was a third knock, as if the 
door would be beaten in. " Perhaps some- 
body wants me." thought Dalaber. lie laid 
his book aside, opened the door, and to his 
great surprise saw Garret, who, with alarm 
in every feature, exclaimed, •' I am a lost 
man ! They have caught me !" Dalaber, 
who thought his friend was still with his 
brother at Stalbridge, could not conceal his 
astonishment, and at the same time he cast 
an uneasy glance on a stranger who accom- 
panied Garret. He was one of the college 
servants who had led the fugitive curate to 
Dalaber's new room. As soon as this man 
had gone away, Garret told Anthony every- 
thing : " Observing that Dr. Cottisford and 
his household had gone to prayers, I put 

back the bolt of the lock with my finger 

and here I am." . .*. . " Alas ! Master Garret," 
replied Dalaber, " the imprudence you com- 
mitted in speaking to me before that young 
man has mined us both !" At these words, 
Garret, who had resumed his fear of the 
priests, now that his conscience was satis- 
fied, exclaimed with a voice interrupted by 
sighs and tears : 3 " For mercy's sake, help 



1 Foxe, v. p. 422. 
■ Ibid. 
With deep sighs and plenty of tears. Ibid. 



me! Save me!" "Without waiting for an 
answer, he threw off his frock and hood, 
begged Anthony to give him a sleeved coat, 
and thus disguised, he said: " I will escape 
into Wales, and from there, if possible, to 
Germany and Luther." 

Garret checked himself; there was some- 
thing to be done before he left. -The two 
friends fell on their knees and prayed to- 
gether ; they called upon God to lead his 
servant to a secure retreat. That done, 
they embraced each other, their faces 
bathed with tears, and unable to utter a 
word. 1 

Silent on the threshold of his door, Dala- 
ber followed both with eyes and ears his 
friend's retreating footsteps. Having heard 
him reach the bottom of the stairs, he re- 
turned to his room, locked the door, took 
out his New Testament, and placing it be- 
fore him, read on his knees the tenth chap- 
ter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, breathing 

many a heavy sigh : Ye shall be brought 

before governors and kings for my sake .... 
but fear them not ; the very hairs of your head 
are all numbered. This reading having re- 
vived his courage, Anthony, still on his 
knees, prayed fervently for the fugitive 
and for all his brethren : "0 God, by thy 
Holy Spirit, endue with heavenly strength 
this tender and new-born little flock in Ox- 
ford. 2 Christ's heavy cross is about to ba 
laid on the weak shoulders of thy poor 
sheep. Grant that they may bear it with 
godly patience and unflinching zeal!" 

Rising from his knees, Dalaber put away 
his book, folded up Garret's hood and 
frock, placed them among his own clothes, 
locked his room-door, and proceeded to the 
Cardinal's College, (now Christ Church,) to 
tell Clark and the other brethren what had 
happened. 3 They were in chapel : the eve- 
ning service had begun ; the dean and 
canons, in full costume were chanting in 
the choir. Dalaber stopped at the door lis- 
tening to the majestic sounds of the organ 
at which Taverner presided, and to the har- 
monious strains of the choristers. They 
were singing the Magnificat : My soul doth 

magnify the Lord He hath holpen his 

servant Israel. It seemed to Dalaber thai 
they were singing Garret's deliverance. 
But his voice could not join in their song 
of praise. " Alas !" he exclaimed, " all 
my singing and music is turned into sigh- 
ing and musing."* 

As he listened, leaning against the en- 
trance into the choir, Dr. Cottisford, the 
university commissary, arrived with hasty 
step, "bareheaded, and as pale as ashes." 
He passed Anthony without noticing him, 
and going straight to the dean appeared to 
announce some important and unpleasant 
news. " I know well the cause of his sor- 
row," thought Dalaber as he watched every 



1 That we all bewet both our faces. Foxe, v. p. 
423. 

a Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. 



716 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



gesture. The commissary had scarcely fin- 
ished his report when the dean arose, and 
both left the choir with undisguised confu- 
sion. They had only reached the middle 
of the ante-chapel when Dr. London ran 
in, puffing and chafing and stamping, 
" like a hungry and greedy lion seeking 
his prey." 1 All three stopped, questioned 
each other, and deplored their misfortune. 
Their rapid and eager movements indicated 
the liveliest emotion: London above all 
could not restrain himself. He attacked 
the commissary, and blamed him for his 
negligence, so that at last Cottisford burst 
into tears. " Deeds, not tears," said the 
fanatical London ; and forthwith they de- 
spatched officers and spies along every road. 

Anthony having left the chapel hurried to 
Clark's to tell him of the escape of his 
friend. " We are walking in the midst of 
"wolves and tigers," replied Clark ; " prepare 
for persecution. Prudentia serpentina et 
simplicitas columbina (the wisdom of ser- 
pents and the harmlessness of doves) must 
be our motto. God, give us the courage 
these evil times require." All in the little 
flock were delighted at Garret's deliverance. 
Sumner and Betts, who had come in, ran 
off to tell it to the other brethren in the col- 
lege, 1 and Dalaber hastened to Corpus 
Christi. All these pious young men felt 
themselves to be soldiers in the same army, 
travellers in the same company, brothers 
in the same family. Fraternal love nowhere 
shone so brightly in the days of the Refor- 
mation as among the Christians of Great 
Britain. This is a feature worthy of notice. 

Fitzjames, Udal, and Diet were met to- 
gether in the rooms of the latter, at Corpus 
Christi College, when Dalaber arrived. 
They ate their frugal meal, with downcast 
eyes and broken voices, conversing of Ox- 
ford, of England, and of the perils hanging 
over them. 3 Then rising from table they 
fell on their knees, called upon God for 
aid, and separated, Fitzjames taking Dala- 
ber with him to St. Alban's Hall. They 
were afraid that the servant of Gloucester 
College had betrayed him. 

The disciples of the gospel at Oxford 
passed the night in great anxiety. Garret's 
flight, the rage of the priests, the dangers 
of the rising church, the roaring of a storm 
that filled the air and re-echoed through 
the long cloisters — all impressed them with 
terror. On Sunday, the 11th of February, 
Dalaber, who was stirring at five in the 
morning, set out for his room in Gloucester 
College. Finding the gates shut, he walked 
up and down beneath the walls in the mud, 
for it had rained all night. As he paced 
to and fro along the solitary street in the 
obscure dawn, a thousand thoughts alarmed 
his mind. It was known, he said to him- 



1 Foxe, v. p. 424. 

2 To tell unto our other brethren ; (for there were 
divers else iu that college.) Foxe, v. p. 424. 

3 Considering our state and peril at hand. Ibid. 



self that he had taken part in Garret's 
flight : he would be arrested, and his 
friend's escape would be revenged on him. 1 
He was weighed down by sorrow and 
alarm ; he sighed heavily ; 2 he imagined he 
saw Wolsey's commissioners demanding 
the names of his accomplices, and pretend- 
ing to draw up a prescription list at his 
dictation : he recollected that on more than 
one occasion cruel priests had extorted from 
the Lollards the names of their brethren, 
and terrified at the possibility of such a 
crime, he exclaimed ; " God, I swear to 

thee that I will accuse no man I will 

tell nothing but what is perfectly well 
known." 3 

At last, after an hour of anguish, he was 
able to enter the college. He hastened in, 
but when he tried to open his door, ho 
found that the lock had been picked. The 
door gave way to a strong push, and what 
a sight met his eyes I his bedstead over- 
turned, the blankets scattered on the floor, 
his clothes all confusion in his wardrobe, 
and his study broken into and left open. 
He doubted not that Garret's dress had be- 
trayed him ; and he was gazing at this sad 
spectacle in alarm, when a monk who occu- 
pied the adjoining rooms came and told 
him what had taken place : " The commis- 
sary and two proctors, armed with swords 
and bills, broke open your door in the mid- 
dle of the night. They pierced your bed- 
straw through and through to make sure 
Garret were not hidden there ; 4 they care 
fully searched every nook and corner, but 
were not able to discover any traces of the 
fugitive." At these words Dalaber breathed 

again but the monk had not ended. " I 

have orders," he added, " to send you to 
the prior." Anthony Dunstan, the prior, 
was a fanatical aud avaricious monk ; and 
the confusion into which this message threw 
Dalaber was so great, that he went just as 
he was all bespattered with mud, to the 
rooms of his superior. 

The prior, who was standing with his 
face towards the door, looked at Dalaber 
from head to foot as he came in. " Where 
did you pass the night ?" he asked. " At 
St. Alban's Hall with Fitzjames." The 
prior with a gesture of incredulity contin- 
ued: "Was not master Garret with you 
yesterday?" "Yes." "Where is he now V 
" I do not know." During this examina- 
tion, the prior had remarked a large double 
gilt silver ring on Anthony's finger, with 
the initials A. D. 5 " Show me that," said 
the prior. Dalaber gave him the ring, and 



1 My musing head being full cf forecasting 
cares. Foxe, v. p. 424. 

2 My sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs. 
Ibid. 

3 1 fully determined in my conscience before God 
that I would accuse no man. Ibid. 

4 With bills and swords thrusted through my 
bed-straw. Ibid. p. 425. 

5 Then had he spied on my fore-finger a big ring 
of silver, very well double-gilted. Foxe, v. p. 425. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the prior believing it to be of solid gold, 
put it on his own finger, adding with a 
cunning leer : " This ring is mine ; it bears 
my name. A is for Anthony, and D for 
Dunstan." " Would to God," thought Dal- 
aber, " that I were as well delivered from 
his company, as I am sure of being deliv- 
ered of my ring/ 7 

At this moment the chief beadle, with 
two or three of the commissary's men, 
entered and conducted Dalaber to the 
chapel of Lincoln College, where three ill- 
omened figures were standing beside the 
altar : they were Cottisford, London, and 
Higdon. "Where is Garret?'' asked Lon- 
don ; and pointing to his disordered dress, 
he continued : "Your shoes and garments 
covered with mud prove that you have been 
out all night with him. If you do not say 
where you have taken him, you will be sent 
to the Tower." "Yes," added Higdon, "to 
Little-ease [one of the mosthorrible dungeons 
in the prison], and you will be put to the tor- 
ture, do you hear V Then the three doctors 
spent two hours attempting to shake the 
young man by flattering promises and fright- 
ful threats ; but all was useless. The com- 
missary then gave a sign, the officers stepped 
forward, and the judges ascended a nar- 
row staircase leading to a large room situa- 
ted above the commissary's chamber. Here 
Dalaber was deprived of his purse and gir- 
dle, and his legs were placed in the stocks, 
so that his feet were almost as high as his 
head. 1 When that was done, the three doc- 
tors devoutly went to mass. 

Poor Anthony, left alone in this fright- 
ful position, recollected the warning Clark 
had given him two years before. He 
groaned heavily and cried to God ; 2 " 
Father ! that my suffering may be for thy 
glory, and for the consolation of my breth- 
ren ! Happen what may, I will never ac- 
cuse one of them." After this noble pro- 
test, Anthony felt an increase of peace in 
his heart ; but a new sorrow was reserved 
for him. 

Garret, who had directed his course west- 
wards, with the intention of going to Wales, 
had been caught at Hinksey, a short dis- 
tance from Oxford. He was brought back, 
and thrown into the dungeon in which Dala- 
ber had been placed after the torture. Their 
gloomy presentiments were to be more than 
fulfilled. 

In fact Wolsey was deeply irritated at 
seeing the college [Christ Church], which 
he had intended should be " the most glo- 
rious in the world," made the haunt of 
heresy, and the young men, whom he had 
so carefully chosen, become distributors of 
the New Testament. By favouring litera- 
ture, he had had in view the triumph of the 
clergy, and literature had on the contrary 
served to the triumph of the gospel. He 
issued his orders without delay, and the 
university was filled with terror. John 



Foxe, v. p. 426. 



u Ibid. p. 427. 



Clark, John Fryth, Henry Sumner, William 
Betts, Richard Taverner, Richard Cox, Mi- 
chael Drumm, Godfrey Harman, Thomas 
Lawney, Radley, and others besides of 
Cardinal's College ; Udal, Diet, and others 
of Corpus Christi ; Eden and several of his 
friends of Magdalene ; Goodman, William 
Bayley, Robert Ferrar, John Salisbury of 
Gloucester, Barnard, and St Mary's Colle- 
ges ; were seized and thrown into prison. 
Wolsejr had promised them glory ; he gave 
them a dungeon, hoping in this manner to 
save the power of the priests, and to repress 
that awakening of truth and liberty which 
was spreading from the continent to Eng- 
land. 

Under Cardinal's College there was a 
deep cellar sunk in the earth, in which the 
butler kept his salt fish. . Into this hole 
these young men, the choice of England, 
were thrust. The dampness of this cave, 
the corrupted air they breathed, the horri- 
ble smell given out by the fish, seriously 
affected the prisoners, already weakened by 
study. Their hearts were bursting with 
groans, their faith was shaken, and the 
most mournful scenes followed each other 
in this foul dungeon. The wretched cap- 
tives gazed on one another, wept, and 
prayed. This trial was destined to be a 
salutary one to them : " Alas !" said Fryth 
on a subsequent occasion. "I see that be- 
sides the word of God, there is indeed a se- 
cond purgatory but it is not that in- 
vented by Rome ; it is the cross of tribula- 
tion to which God has nailed us." 1 

At last the prisoners were taken out one 
by one, and brought before their judges ; 
two only were released. The first was 
Betts, afterwards chaplain to Anne Boleyn : 
they had not been able to find any prohib- 
ited books in his room, and he pleaded his 
cause with great talent. The other waa 
Taverner ; he had hidden Clark's books un- 
der his school-room floor, where they had 
been discovered: but his love for the arts 
saved him: "Pshaw! he is only a musi- 
cian," said the cardinal. 

All the rest were condemned. A great 
fire was kindled at the top of the market- 
place : 2 a long procession was marshalled, 
and these unfortunate men were led out, 
each bearing a fagot. When they came 
near the fire, they were compelled to throw 
into it the heretical books that had been 
found in their rooms, after which they were 
taken back to their noisome prison. There 
seemed to be a barbarous pleasure in 
treating these young and generous men so 
vilely. In other countries also, Rome was 
preparing to stifle in the flames the noblest 
geniuses of France, Spain, and Italy. Such 
was the reception letters and the gospel 
met with from popery in the sixteenth een- 

1 God naileth us to the cross to heal our infirmi- 
ties. Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 91 (ed. 
Russell.) 

a There was made a great fire upen the top of 
Carfax. Foxe, v. p. 428. 



718 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



tury. Every plant of God's must be beaten 
by the wind, even at the risk of its being 
uprooted ; if it receives only the gentle 
rays of the sun, there is reason to fear that 
it will dry up and wither before it produces 
fruit. Except a corn of wheat fall into the 
ground and die, it abideth alone. There was 
to arise one day a real church in England, 
for the persecution had begun. 

We have to contemplate still further 
trials. 

Cambridge, which had produced Latimer, 
Bilney, Stafford, and Barnes, had at first 
appeared to occupy the front rank in the 
English reformation. Oxford by receiving 
the crown of persecution seemed now to 
have outstripped the sister university. And 
yet Cambridge was to have its share of 
suffering. The investigation had begun at 
Oxford on Monday the 5th of February, 
and on the very same day two of Wolsey's 
creatures, Dr. Capon, one of his chaplains, 
and Gibson, a sergeant-at-arms, notorious 
for his arrogance, left London for Cam- 
bridge. Submission, was the pass-word of 
popery. "Yes, submission/' was responded 
from every part of Christendom by men of 
sincere piety and profound understanding ; 
" submission to the legitimate authority 
against which Roman-catholicism has re- 
belled/' According to their views the tra- 
ditionalism and pelagianism of the Romish 
church had set up the supremacy of fallen 
reason in opposition to the divine supre- 
macy of the word and of grace. The ex- 
ternal and apparent sacrifice of self which 
Roman Catholicism imposes, — obedience to 
a confessor or to the pope, arbitrary pen- 
ance, ascetic practices, and celibacy, — only 
served to create, and so to strengthen and 
perpetuate, a delusion as to the egotistic 
preservation of a sinful personality. When 
the Reformation proclaimed liberty, so far 
as- regarded ordinances of human inven- 
tion, it was with the view of bringing man's 
heart and life into subjection to their real 
Sovereign. The reign of God was com- 
mencing ; that of the priests must needs 
come to an end. No man can serve two 
masters. Such were the important truths 
which gradually dawned upon the world, 
and which it became necessary to extin- 
guish without delay. 

On the day after their arrival in Cam- 
bridge, on Tuesday the 6th of February, 
Capon, and Gibson went to the convocation 
house, where several of the doctors were 
talking together. Their appearance caused 
eome anxiety among the spectators, who 
looked upon the strangers with distrust. 
On a sudden Gibson moved forward, put 
his hand on Barnes, and arrested him in 
the presence of his friends. 1 The latter 
were frightened, and this was what the 
"What!" said they, 



1 Suddenly arrested Barnes openly in the convo- 
cation house to make all others afraid. Eoxe, v. 
p. 416. 



" the prior of the Augustines, the restorer 
of letters in Cambridge, arrested by a ser- 
geant !" This was not all. Wolsey's agents 
were to seize the books come from Ger- 
many, and their owners ; Bilney, Latimer, 
Stafford, Arthur, and their friends, were 
all to be imprisoned, for they possessed the 
New Testament. Thirty members of the 
university were pointed out as suspected ; 
and some miserable wretches, who had 
been bribed by the inquisitors, offered to 
show the place in every room where the 
prohibited books were hidden. But while 
the necessary preparations were making for 
this search, Bilney, Latimer, and their col- 
leagues being warned in time, got the books 
removed ; they were taken away not only 
by the doors but by the windows, even by 
the roof's, and anxious inquiry was made 
for sure places in which they could be con- 
cealed. 

This work was hardly ended, when the 
vice-chancellor of the university, the ser- 
geant-at-arms, Wolsey's chaplain, the proc- 
tors, and the informers began their rounds. 
They opened the first room, entered, 
searched, and found nothing. They passed 
on to the second, there was nothing. The 
sergeant was astonished, and grew angry. 
On reaching the third room, he ran directly 
to the place that had been pointed out, — ■ 
still there was nothing. The same thing 
occurred every where ; never was inquisitor 
more mortified. He dared not lay hands 
on the persons of the evangelical doctors ; 
his orders bore that he was to seize the 
books and their owners. But as no books 
were found, there could be no prisoners. 
Luckily there was one man (the prior of 
the Augustines) against whom there were 
particular charges. The sergeant promised 
to compensate himself at Barnes' expense 
for his useless labours. 

The next day Gibson and Capon set out 
for London with Barnes. During this 
mournful journey the prior, in great agita- 
tion, at one time determined to brave all 
England, and at another, trembled like a 
leaf. At last their journey was ended ; the 
chaplain left his prisoner at Parnell's house, 
close by the stocks. 1 Three students (Co- 
verdale, Goodwin, and Field) had followed 
their master to cheer him with their tender 
affection. 

On Thursday (8th February) the sergeant 
conducted Barnes to the cardinal's palace 
at Westminster; the wretched prior, whose 
enthusiasm had given way to dejection, 
waited all day before he could be admitted. 
What a day ! Will no one come to his as- 
sistance ? Doctor Gardiner, Wolsey's secre- 
tary, and Fox, his steward, both old friends 
of Barnes, passed through the gallery in 
the evening, and went up to the prisoner, 
who begged them to procure him an audi- 
ence with the cardinal. When night had 
come, those officers introduced the prior 



1 Foxe, v. p. 416. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



719 



into the room where their master was sit- 
ting, and Barnes, as was customary, fell on 
his knees before him. " Is this the Doctor 
Barnes who is accused of heresy V asked 
Wolsey, in a haughty tone, of Fox and Gar- 
diner. They replied in the affirmative. 
The cardinal then turning to Barnes, who 
was still kneeling, said to him ironically, 
and not without reason : " What, master 
doctor, had you not sufficient scope in the 
Scriptures to teach the people ; but my 
golden shoes, my poleaxes, my pillars, my 
golden cushions, my crosses, did so sore 
offend you, that you must make us a laugh- 
ing stock, ridiculum caput, amongst the 
people? We were jollily that day laughed 
to scorn. Verily it was a sermon more lit 
to be preached on a stage than in a pulpit; 
for at the last you said I wore a pair of 
red gloves — I should say bloody gloves 
(quoth you) .... Eh ! what think you, mas- 
ter doctor ?" Barnes, wishing to elude 
these embarrassing questions, answered 
vaguely : " I spoke nothing but the truth 
out of the Scriptures, according to my con- 
science and according to the old doctors/' 
He then presented to the cardinal a state- 
ment of his teaching. 

Wolsey received the papers with a smile : 
" Oh, ho !" said he, as he counted the six 
sheets, " I perceive you intend to stand to 
your articles, and to show your learning." 
" With the grace of God/' said Barnes. 
Wolsey then began to read them, and 
stopped at the sixth article, which ran thus : 
" I will never believe that one man may, by 
the law of God, be bishop of two or three 
cities, yea, of a whole country, for it is con- 
trary to St. Paul who saith : I have left thee 
behind, to set in every city a bishop." Barnes 
did not quote correctly, for the apostle says : 
" to ordain elders in every city." 1 Wolsey 
was displeased at this thesis : " Ah ! this 
touches me," he said : " Do you think it 
wrong (seeing the ordinance of the church) 
that one bishop should have so many cities 
underneath him?" "I know of no ordi- 
nance of the church," Barnes replied, " as 
concerning this thing, but Paul's saying 
only." 

Although this controversy interested the 
cardinal, the personal attack of which he 
had to complain touched him more keenly. 
" Good," said Wolsey ; and then with a 
condescension hardly to be expected from 
so proud a man, he deigned almost to jus- 
tify himself. " You charge me with dis- 
playing a royal pomp ; but do you not un- 
derstand that, being called to represent his 
majesty, I must strive by these mean's to 
strike terror into the wicked?" " It is not 
your pomp or your poleaxes," Barnes cou- 
rageously answered, " that will save the 
king's person. .. .God will save him, who 
said : Per me reges regnant." Barnes, in- 
stead of profiting by the cardinal's kind- 



1 Key) xata,Gtr t 67j$ xata rtoXu' 7tpeo6vt£pov$. 
Titus i. 5. 



ness to present an humble justification, as 
Dean Colet had formerly done to Henry 
VIII. dared preach him a second sermon 
to his face. Wolsey felt the colour mount 
to his cheeks. "Well, gentlemen," said 
he, turning to Fox and Gardiner, " you 
hear him ! Is this the wise and learned 
man of whom you spoke to me ?" 

At these words both steward and secre- 
tary fell on their knees, saying: " My lord, 
pardon him for mercy's sake." — " Can you 
find ten or even six doctors of divinity 
willing to swear that you are free from 
heresy ?" asked Wolsey. Barnes offered 
twenty honest men, quite as learned as him- 
self, or even more so. " I must have doc- 
tors in divinity, men as old as yourself." — 
" That is impossible," said the prior. " In 
that case you must be burnt," continued the 
cardinal. " Let him be taken to the Tower." 
Gardiner and Fox offering to become his 
sureties, Wolsey permitted him to pass the 
night at ParnelPs. 

"It. is no time to think of sleeping," 
said Barnes as he entered the house, " we 
must write." Those harsh and terrible 
words, you must be burnt, resounded conti- 
nually in his ears. He dictated all night 
to his three young friends a defence of his 
articles. 

The next day he was taken before the 
chapter, at which Clarke, bishop of Bath, 
Standish, and other doctors were present. 
His judges laid before him a long state- 
ment, and said to him : " Promise to read 
this paper in public, without omitting or 
adding a single word." It was then read 
to him. " I would die first," was his reply. 
" Will you abjure or be burnt alive ?" said 
his judges ; " take your choice." The al- 
ternative was dreadful. Poor Barnes, a 
prey to the deepest agony, shrank at the 
thought of the stake : then, suddenly his 
courage revived, and he exclaimed : " I 
would rather be burnt than abjure." Gar- 
diner and Fox did all they could to per- 
suade him. " Listen to reason," said they 
craftily : "your articles are true ; that is not 
the question. W T e want to know whether 
by your death you will let error triumph, 
or whether you would rather remain to de- 
fend the truth, when better days may come." 

They entreated him : they put forward 
the most plausible motives ; from time to 
time they uttered the terrible words burnt 
alive ! His blood froze in his veins ; he 
knew not what he said or did.... they 
placed a paper before him — they put a pen 
in his hand — his head was bewildered, he 
signed his name with a deep sigh. This 
unhappy man was destined at a later pe- 
riod to be a faithful martyr of Jesus 
Christ ; but he had not yet learnt to " re- 
sist even unto blood." Barnes had fallen. 

On the following morning (Sunday, 11th 
February) a solemn spectacle was prepar- 
ing at St. Paul's. Before daybreak, all 
were astir in the prison of the poor prior ; 
and at eight o'clock, the knight-marshal 



720 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



with his tipstaves, and the warden of the 
Fleet prison with his billmen, conducted 
Barnes to St. Paul's, along with four of the 
Hanse merchants who had first brought to 
London the New Testament of Jesus Christ 
in English. The fifth of these pious mer- 
chants held an immense taper in his hands. 
A persevering search had discovered that 
it was these men to whom England was 
indebted for the so much dreaded book ; 
their warehouses were surrounded and 
their persons arrested. On the top of St. 
Paul's steps was a platform, and on the 
platform a throne, and on the throne the 
cardinal, dressed in scarlet — like a " bloody 
antichrist," says the chronicler. On his 
head glittered the hat of which Barnes had 
spoken so ill ; around him were thirty-six 
bishops, abbots, priors, and all his doctors, 
dressed in damask and satin ; the vast ca- 
thedral was full. The bishop of Rochester 
having gone into a pulpit placed at the top 
of the steps, Barnes and the merchants, 
each bearing a fagot, were compelled to 
kneel and listen to a sermon intended to 
cure these poor creatures of that taste for 
insurrection against popery which was be- 
ginning to spread in every quarter. The 
sermon ended, the cardinal mounted his 
mule, took his station under a magnficent 
canopy, and rode off. After this Barnes 
and his five companions walked three times 
round a fire, lighted before the cross at the 
north gate of the cathedral. The dejected 
prior, with downcast head, dragged him- 
self along, rather than walked. After the 
third turn, the prisoners threw their fa- 
gots into the flames; some " heretical " 
books also were flung in ; and the bishop 
of Rochester having given absolution to 
the six penitents, they were led back to 
prison to be kept there during the lord car- 
dinal's pleasure. Barnes could not weep 
now ; the thought of his relapse, and of 
the effects so guilty an example might pro- 
duce, had deprived him of all moral en- 
ergy. In the month of August, he was 
led out of prison and confined in' the Au- 
gustine convent. 

Barnes was not the only man at Cam- 
bridge upon whom the blow had fallen. 
Since the year 1520, a monk named Rich- 
ard Bayfield had been an inmate of the 
abbey of Bury St. Edmunds. His affabil- 
ity delighted every traveller. One day, 
when -engaged as chamberlain in receiving 
Barnes, who had come to visit Dr. Ruffani, 
his fellow-student at Louvain, two men en- 
tered the convent. They were pious per- 
sons, and of great consideration in London, 
where they carried on the occupation of 
brick making, and had risen to be wardens 
of their guild. Their names were Maxwell 
and Stacy, men " well grafted in the doc- 
trine of Christ/ 7 says the historian, who 
had led many to the Saviour by their con- 
versation and exemplary life. Being ac- 
customed to travel once a-year through the 
counties to visit their brethren, and extend 



a knowledge of the gospel, they used to 
lodge, according to the usages of the time, 
in the convents and abbeys. A conversa- 
tion soon arose between Barnes, Stacy, and 
Maxwell, which struck the lay-brother. 
Barnes, who had observed his attention, 
gave him, as he was leaving the convent, a 
New Testament in Latin, and the two 
brick-makers added a New Testament in 
English, with The Wicked Mammon, and 
The Obedience of a Christian Man. The 
lay-brother ran and hid the books in his 
cell, and for two years read them con- 
stantly. At last he was discovered, and 
reprimanded ; but he boldly confessed his 
faith. Upon this the monks threw him into 
prison, set him in the stocks, put a gag in 
his mouth, and cruelly whipped him, to 
prevent his speaking of grace. 1 The un- 
happy Bayfield remained nine months in 
this condition. 

- When Barnes repeated his visit to Bury 
at a later period, he did not find the amia- 
ble chamberlain at the gates of the abbe}'. 
Upon inquiry he learnt his condition, and 
immediately took steps to procure his de- 
liverance. Dr. Ruffam came to his aid : 
" Give him to me," said Barnes, " I will 
take him to Cambridge." The prior of the 
Augustines was at that time held in high 
esteem ; his request was granted, in the 
hope that he would lead back Bayfield to 
the doctrines of the church. But the 
very reverse took place : intercourse with 
the Cambridge brethren strengthened the 
young monk's faith. On a sudden his hap- 
piness vanished. Barnes, his friend and 
benefactor, was carried to London, and the 
monks of Bury St. Edmunds, alarmed at 
the noise this affair created, summoned him 
to return to the abbey. But Bayfield, re- 
solving to submit to their yoke no longer, 
went to London, and lay concealed at Max- 
well and Stacy's. One day, having left his 
hiding-place, he was crossing Lombard 
street, when he met a priest named Picrson 
and two other religious of his order, with 
whom he entered into conversation which 
greatly scandalized them. "You must de- 
part forthwith," said Maxwell and Stacy to 
him on his return. Bayfield received a 
small sum of money from them, went on 
board a ship, and as soon as he reached 
the continent, hastened to find Tyndalc. 
During this time scenes of a very different 
nature from those which had taken place at 
Cambridge, but not less heartrending, were 
passing at' Oxford. 

The storm of persecution was raging 
there with more violence than at Cam- 
bridge. Clark and the other confessors of 
the name of Christ were still confined in 
their under-ground prison.. The air. they 
breathed, the food they took (and they ate 
nothing but salt fish 2 ), the burning thirst 
this created, the thoughts by which they 



1 Foxe, iv. p. 681. 

2 Foxe, v. p. 5. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



•21 



Were agitated, all together combined to 
crush these noble-hearted men. Their 
"bodies wasted day by day ; they wandered 
like spectres up and down their gloomy 
cellar. These animated discussions in 
which the deep questions then convulsing 
Christendom were so eloquently debated 
were at an end; they were like shadow 
meeting shadow. Their hollow eyes cast a 
vague and haggard glance on one another, 
and after gazing for a moment they passed 
on without speaking. Clark, Sumner, 
Ba} 7 ley, and Goodman, consumed by fever, 
feebly crawled along, leaning against their 
dungeon walls. The first, who was also 
the eldest, could not walk without the sup- 
port of one of his fellow-prisoners. Soon 
he was quite unable to move, and lay 
stretched upon the damp floor. The breth- 
ren gathered round him, sought to discover 
in his features whether death was not 
about to cut short the days of him who had 
brought many of them to the knowledge 
of Christ. They repeated to him slowly 
the words of Scripture, and then knelt 
down by his side and uttered a fervent 
prayer. 

Cla.rk, feeding his end draw near, asked 
for the communion. The jailers conveyed 
his request to their master; the noise of 
the bolts was soon heard, and a turnkey, 
stepping into the midst of the disconsolate 
band, pronounced a cruel no! 1 On hear- 
ing this, Clark looked towards heaven,. and 
exclaimed with a father of the church : 
Crede et manducasti, Believe and thou hast 
eaten. 2 He was lost in thought : he con- 
templated the crucified Son of God ; by 
faith he ate and drank the flesh and blood 
of Christ, and experienced in his inner life 
the strengthening action of the Redeemer. 
Men might refuse him the host, but Jesus 
had given him his body ; and from that 
hour he felt strengthened by a living union 
with the King of heaven. 

Not alone did Clark descend into the 
shadowy valley : Sumner, Bayley, and 
Goodman were sinking rapidly. Death, 
the gloomy inhabitant of this foul prison, 
had taken possession of these four friends. 3 
'Their brethren addressed fresh solicitations 
to the cardinal, at that time closely occu- 
pied in negotiations with France, Rome, 
and Venice. 4 He found means, however, 
to give a moment to the Oxford martyrs ; 
and just as these Christians were praying 
over their four dying companions, the com- 
missioner came and informed them, that 
" his lordship, of his great goodness, . per- 
mitted the sick persons to be removed to 
their own chambers." Litters were brought 

V 

1 Npt be suffered to receive the communion, be- 
ing in prison. Foxe, v. p. 428. 

2 Ibid. Habe fidem et tecum est quern non vides, 
says Augustine in another place. See Serm. 235, 
272. Tract, 26, Evan. Joh. 

3 Taking their death in the same prison. Foxe, 
V. p. 5. 

* State Papers, i. p. 169. 



on which the dying men were placed and 
carried to their rooms ;* the doors were 
closed again upon those whose lives this 
frightful dungeon had not yet attacked. 

It was the middle of August. The 
wretched men who had passed six months 
in the cellar were transporter] in vain to 
their chambers and their beds ; - several 
members of the university ineffectually 
tried by their cares and their tender cha- 
rities to recall them to life. It was too 
late. The severities of popery had killed 
these noble witnesses. The approach of 
death soon betrayed itself; their blood 
grew cold, their limbs stiff, and their be- 
dimmed eyes sought only Jesus Christ, 
their everlasting hope. Clark, Sumner, 
and Bayley died in the same week. Good- 
man followed close upon them. 2 

This unexpected catastrophe softened 
Wolsey. He was cruel only as far as his 
interest and the safety of the church re- 
quired. He feared that the death of so 
many young men would raise public opi- 
nion against him, or that these catas- 
trophes would damage his college ; perhaps 
even some sentiment of humanity may 
have touched his heart. " Set the rest at 
liberty," he wrote to his agents, " but upon 
condition that they do not go above ten 
miles from Oxford." The university be- 
held these young men issue from their 
living tomb pale, wasted, weak, and with 
faltering steps. At that time they were 
not men of mark ; it was their youth that 
touched the spectators' hearts ; but in 
after-years they all occupied an important 
place in the church. They were Cox, who 
became bishop of Ely, and tutor to Edward 
the Prince R^al ; Drumm, who under 
Cranmer became one of the six preachers 
at Canterbury ; Udal, afterwards master 
of Westminster and Eton schools ; Salis- 
bury, dean of Norwich, and then bishop of 
Sodor and Man, who in all his wealth and 
greatness often recalled his frightful prison 
at Oxford as a title to glory ; Ferrar, after- 
wards Cranmer's chaplain, bishop of St. 
David's, and a martyr even unto death, after 
an interval of thirty years ; Fryth, Tyndale's 
friend, to whom this deliverance proved only 
a delay ; and several others. When they 
came forth from their terrible dungeon, 
their friends ran up to them, supported 
their faltering steps, and embraced them 
amidst floods of tears. Fryth quitted the 
university not long after and went to Flan- 
ders. 3 Thus was the tempest stayed which 
had so fearfully ravaged Oxford. But the 
calm was of no long duration ; an unex- 
pected circumstance became perilous to the 
cause of the Reformation. 

Henry was still under the impression of 
the famous Supplication of the Beggars, 
when Luther's interference increased his 



1 Foxe, v. p. 5. 3 Ibid. 

3 Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 75 (edit. 
Russell). 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



anger. The letter which, at the advice of 
Ghristiern, king of Denmark, this reformer 
had written to him in September, 1525, had 
miscarried. The Wittemberg doctor hear- 
ing nothing of it, had boldly printed it, and 
sent a copy to the king. " I am informed," 
said Luther, " that your Majesty is begin- 
ning to favour the gospel, 1 and to be dis- 
gusted with the perverse race that fights 

against it in your noble kingdom It is true 

that, according to Scripture, the kings of the 
earth take counsel together against the Lord, 
and we cannot, consequently, expect to see 
them favourable to the truth. How fer- 
vently do I wish that this miracle may be 
accomplished in the person of your Ma- 
jesty." 2 

We may imagine Henry's wrath as he 
read this letter. " What I" said he, " does 
this apostate monk dare print a letter ad- 
dressed to us, without having even sent it, or 
at the least without knowing if we have ever 

received it? And as if that were not 

enough, he insinuates that we are among his 

partizans He wins over also one or two 

wretches, born in our kingdom, and en- 
gages them to translate the New Testament 
into English, adding thereto certain prefaces 
and poisonous glosses." Thus spoke Henry. 
The idea that his name should be associa- 
ted with that of the Wittemberg monk called 
all the blood into his face. He will reply 
right royally to such unblushing impudence. 
He summoned Wolsey forthwith. " Here !" 
said he, pointing to a passage concerning 
a prelate, " here ! read what is said of you !" 
And then he read aloud : " Illud monstrum 
et publicum odium Dei et hominum, cardina- 
lis Eboracensis, pestis ilia regni tui. You 
see, my lord, you are a monster, an object 
of hatred both to God and man, the scourge 
of my kingdom !" The king had hitherto 
allowed the bishops to do as they pleased, 
and observed a sort of neutrality. He now 
determined to lay it aside and begin a cru- 
sade against the gospel of Jesus Christ, but 
he must first answer this impertinent let- 
ter. He consulted Sir Thomas More, shut 
himself in his closet, and dictated to his 
secretary a reply to the reformer : " You 
are ashamed of the book you have written 
against me," he said, " I would counsel you 
to be ashamed of all that you have written. 
They are full of disgusting errors and fran- 
tic heresies ; and are supported by the most 
audacious obstinacy. Your venomous pen 
mocks the church, insults the fathers, 
abuses the saints, despises the apostles, dis- 
honours the holy virgin, and blasphemes 

God, by making him the author of evil 

And after all that, you claim to be an author 
whose like does not exist in the world." 3 

" You offer to publish a book in my 

1 Majestatem tuam ccepisse favere Evangelic 
Cochlseus, p. 136. 

3 Huic miraculo in Majestate tua quam opto ex 
totis medullis. Ibid. p. 127. 



totis medullis. jluiu. p. x*i. 

" Tantusautorhaberipostulas, quantus nee hodie I 



quisquain sit. 



Ibid. p. 127. 
irhaberipostuitio, H i 
Cochlaeus, p. 127. 



] praise 1 thank you ! You will praise 

me most by abusing me ; you will dishonour 
me beyond measure if you praise me. I say 
with Seneca : Tarn turpe iibi sit laudari a 
turpibus, quam si lauderis ob turpia." 1 

This letter, written by the king of the 
English to the king of the heretics, 2 was im- 
mediately circulated throughout England 
bound up with Luther's epistle. Henry, by 
publishing it, put his subjects on their 
guard against the unfaithful translations 
of the New Testament, which were besides 
about to be burnt everywhere. " The 
grapes seem beautiful," he said, " but be- 
ware how you wet your lips with the wine 
made from them, for the adversary hath 
mingled poison with it." 

Luther, agitated by this rude lesson, 
tried to excuse himself. " I said to myself, 
There are twelve hours in the dag. Who 
knows ? perhaps I may find one lucky hour 
to gain the king of England. I therefore 
laid my humble epistle at his feet ; but 
alas ! the swine have torn it. I am willing 

to be silent but as regards my doctrine, 

I cannot impose silence on it. It must cry 
aloud, it must bite. If any king imagines 
he can make me retract my faith, he is a 
dreamer. So long as one drop of blood re- 
mains in my body, I shall say no. Empe- 
rors, kings, the devil, and even the whole 
universe, cannot frighten me when faith is 
concerned. I claim to be proud, very 
proud, exceedingly proud. If my doctrine 
had no other enemies than the king of Eng- 
land, Duke George, the pope and their al- 
lies, all these soap-bubbles one little 

prayer would long ago have worsted them 
all. Where are Pilate, Herod and Caia- 
phas now ? Where are Nero, Domitian, 
and Maximilian ? Where are Arius, Pela- 

gius, and Manes ? — Where are they ? 

Where all our scribes and all our tyrants 
will soon be. — But Christ ? Christ is the 
same always. 

" For a thousand years the Holy Scrip- 
tures have not shone in the world with so 
much brightness as now. 3 I wait in peace 
for my last hour : I have done what I could. 
princes, my hands are clean from your 
blood : it will fall on your own heads." 

Bowing before the supreme royalty of 
Jesus Christ, Luther spoke thus boldly to 
King Henry, who contested the rights of 
the word of God. 

A letter written against the reformer was 
not enough for the bishops. Profiting by 
the wound Luther had inflicted on Henry's 
self-esteem, they urged him to put down 
this revolt of the human understanding, 



1 Let it be as disgraceful to ^ou to be praised by 
the vile, as if you were praised for vile deeds. 

2 Rex Anglorum Regi hsereticorum scribit. 
Strype, Mem. i. p. 91. The title of the pamplet 
was Litterarum quibus invictus Pr. Henricus V1I1 
etc. etc. respondit ad quandam Epistolam 31. Lvr 
theri ad se viissam. 

3 Als in tausend Jahren nicht gewesen ist. Luth. 
Opp. xix. p. 501. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



723 



which threatened (as they averred) both the 
popedom and the monarchy. They com- 
menced the persecution. Latimer was 
summoned before Wolsey, but his learning 
and presence of mind procured his dismis- 
sal. Bilney also, who had been ordered to 
London, received an injunction not to 
preach Luther's doctrines. " I will not 
preach Luther's doctrines, if there are any 
peculiar to him," he said ; " but I can and 
I must preach the doctrine of Jesus Christ, 
although Luther should preach it too." 
And finally Garret, led into the presence of 
his judges, was seized with terror, and fell 
before the cruel threats of the bishop. 
When restored to liberty, he fled from 
place to place, 1 endeavouring to hide his sor- 
row, and to escape from the despotism of 
the priests, awaiting the moment when he 
should give his life for Jesus Christ. 

The adversaries of the Reformation were 
not yet satisfied. The New Testament con- 
tinued to circulate, and depots were formed 
in several convents. Barnes, a prisoner in 
the Augustine monastery in London, had 
regained his courage, and loved his Bible 
more and more. One day about the end 
of September, as three or four friends were 
reading in his chamber, two simple peas- 
ants, John Tyball and Thomas Hilles, na- 
tives of Bumpstead in Essex, came in. 
" How did you come to a knowledge of the 
truth ?" asked Barnes. They drew from 
their pockets some old volumes containing 
the Gospels, and a few of the Epistles in 
English. Barnes returned them with a 
smile. " They are nothing/' he told them, 
" in comparison with the new edition of the 
New Testament," 2 a copy of which the two 
peasants bought for three shillings and two 
pence. " Hide it carefully," said Barnes. 
When this came to the ears of the clergy, 
Barnes was removed to Northampton to be 
'burnt at the stake ; but he managed to es- 
cape ; his friends reported that he was 
drowned ; and while strict search was mak- 
ing for him during a whole week along the 
seacoast, he secretly went on board a ship, 
and was carried to Germany. " The car- 
dinal will catch him even now," said the 
bishop of London, " whatever amount of 
money it may cost him." When Barnes 
was told of this, he remarked : " I am a 
poor simple wretch, not worth the tenth 
penny they will give for me. Besides, if 
they burn me, what will they gain by it ? 

The sun and the moon, fire and water, 

the stars and the elements — yea, and also 
stones shall defend this cause against them, 
rather than the truth should perish." Faith 
had returned to Barnes's feeble heart. 

His escape added fuel to the wrath of the 
clergy. They proclaimed, throughout the 
length and breadth of England, that the 



Holy Scriptures contained an infectious poi- 
son, 1 and ordered a general search after the 
wordof God. On the 24th of October 1526, 
the bishop of London enjoined on his arch- 
deacons to seize all translations of the New 
Testament in English with or without gloss- 
es : and, a few days later, the archbishop 
of Canterbury issued a mandate against all 
the books which should contain " any par- 
ticle of the New Testament." 2 The primate 
remembered that a spark was sufficient to 
kindle a large fire. 

On hearing of this order, William Roy, 
a sarcastic writer, published a violent sa- 
tire, in which figured Judas (Standish), 
Pilate (Wolsey), and Caiaphas (Tonstall). 
The author exclaimed with energy : 

God, of his goodness, grudged not to die, 
Man to deliver from deadly damnation ; 

Whose wil^is, that we should know perfectly 
What he here hath done for our salvation. 
cruel Caiaphas ! full of crafty conspiration, 

How durst thou give them false judgment 

To burn God's word — the Holy Testament. 3 

The efforts of Caiaphas and his colleagues 
were indeed useless : the priests were un- 
dertaking a work beyond their strength. 
If by some terrible revolution all social 
forms should be destroyed in the world, the 
living church of the elect, a divine institu- 
tion in the midst of human institutions, 
would still exist by the power of God, like 
a rock in the midst of the tempest, and 
would transmit to future generations the 
seeds of Christian life and civilisation. It 
is the same with the word, the creative 
principle of the church. It cannot perish 
here below. The priests of England had 
something to learn on this matter. 

While the agents of the clergy were car- 
rying out the archiepiscopal mandate, and 
a merciless search was making everywhere 
for the New Testaments from Worms, a 
new edition was discovered, fresh from the 
press, of a smaller and more portable, and 
consequently more dangerous size. It was 
printed by Christopher Eyndhoven of Ant- 
werp, who had consigned it to his corres- 
pondents in London. The annoyance of 
the priests was extreme, and Hackett, the 
agent of Henry VIII. in the Low Countries, 
immediately received orders to get this man 
punished. " We cannot deliver judgment 
without inquiry into the matter," said the 
lords of Antwerp ; " we will therefore have 
the book translated into Flemish." " Gel 
forbid," said Hackett in alarm. "What! 
would you also on your side of the ocean, 
translate this book into the language of 
the people?" "Well then," said one of 
the judges, less conscientious than his col- 
leagues, " let the king of England send us 



1 Foxe, v. p. 428. 

a Which books he did little regard, and made a 
twit of it. Tybalt's Confession in Bible Annals 
L p. 134. 



1 Libri pestiferum virus in se continentes, in pro- 
midcuam provincial Cant, raultitudinem sunt dis- 
persi. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 706. 

a Vel aliquam ejus particulam. Ibid. 

3 Satire of W. Roy, printed in the llarl. Misc. 
vol. Ls. p. 77, (ed. 1809). 



m 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIOX. 



a copy of each of the books he has burnt, 
and we will burn them likewise." Hackett 
wrote to Wolsey for them, and as soon as 
they arrived the court met again. Eynd- 
hoven's counsel called upon the prosecutor 
to point out the heresies contained in the 
volume. The margrave (an officer of the 
imperial government) shrank from the task 
and. said to Hackett, " I give up the busi- 
ness !" The charge against Eyndhoven was 
dismissed. 

Thus did the Reformation awaken in 
Europe the slumbering spirit of law and 
liberty. By enfranchising thought from 
the yoke of popery, it prepared the way for 
other enfranchisements ; and by restoring 
the authority of the word of God, it brought 
back the reign of the law among nations 
long the prey of turbulent passions and ar- 
bitrary power. Then, as at all times, reli- 
gious society forestalled civil society, and 
gave it those two great principles of order 
and liberty, which popery compromises or 
annuls. It was not in vain that the magis- 
trates of a Flemish city, enlightened by the 
first dawn of the Reformation, set so noble 
an example ; the English, who were very 
numerous in the Hanse Towns, thus learnt 
once more the value of that civil and reli- 
gious liberty which is the time-honoured 
right of England, and of which they were 
in after years to give other nations the so 
much needed lessons. 

" Well then," said Hackett, who was an- 
noyed at their setting the law above his 
master's will, " I will go and buy all these 
books, and send them to the cardinal, that 
he may burn them." With these words he 
left the court. But his anger evaporating, 1 
he set off for Malines to complain to the 
regent and her council of the Antwerp de- 
cision. '"What!" said he, "you punish 
those who circulate false money, and you 
will not punish still more severely the man 
who coins it? — in this case, he is the prin- 
ter." " But that is just the point in dis- 
pute," they replied; "we are not sure the 
money is false." — " How can it be other- 
wise," answered Henry's agent, " since the 
bishops of England have declared it so ?" 
The imperial government, which was not 
very favourably disposed towards England, 
ratified Eyndhoven's acquittal, but permit- 
ted Hackett to burn all the copies of the 
New Testament he could seize. He hast- 
ened to profit by this concession, and began 
hunting after the Holy Scriptures, while 
the priests eagerly came to his assistance. 
In their view, as well as in that of their 
English colleagues, the supreme decision in 
matter of faith rested not with the word of 
God but Avith the pope ; and the best means 
of securing this privilege to the pontiff was 
to reduce the Bible to ashes. 

Notwithstanding these trials, the year 
1526 was a memorable one for England. 



1 My choler was descended. Anderson's Annals 
of the Bible, i. p. 159. 



The English New Testament had been cir- 
culated from the shores of the Channel to 
the borders of Scotland, and the Reforma- 
tion had begun in that island by the word 
of God. The revival of the sixteenth cen- 
tury was in no country less than in Eng- 
land the emanation of a royal mandate. 
But God, who had disseminated the Scrip- 
tures over Britain, in defiance of the rulers 
of the nation, was about to make use of 
their passions to remove the difficulties 
which opposed the final triumph of his 
plans. We here enter upon a new phasia 
in the history of the Reformation ; and 
having studied the work of God in the faith 
of the little ones, we proceed to contemplate 
the work of man in the intrigues of the 
great ones of the earth. 

Wolsey, mortified at not being able to 
obtain the pontifical throne, to which he 
I had so ardently aspired, and being espe- 
j daily irritated by the ill-will of Charles V., 
meditated a plan which, entirely unsus- 
pected by him, was to lead to the enfran- 
chisement of England from the papal yoke. 
" They laugh at me, and thrust me into the 
second rank," he had exclaimed. " So be 
it ! I will create such a confusion in the 

world as has not been seen for ages 

I will do it, even should England be swal- 
lowed up in the tempest ! " l Desirous 
of exciting imperishable hatred between 
Henry VIII. and Charles V., he had un- 
dertaken to break the marriage which 
Henry- „,VII. and Ferdinand the Catholic 
had planned to unite for ever their families 
and their crowns. His hatred of Charles 
was not his only motive. Catherine had 
reproached him for his dissolute life, 2 and 
he had sworn to be revenged. There can 
be no doubt as to Wolsey's share in the 
matter. " The first terms of the divorce 
were put forward by me," he told the 
French ambassador. " I did it," he added, 
" to cause a lasting separation between the 
houses of England and Burgundy." 3 The 
best informed writers of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, men of the most opposite parties, 
Pole, Polydore Virgil, Tyndale, Meteren, 
Pallavicini, Sanders, and Roper, More's 
son-in-law, all agree in pointing to Wolsey 
as the instigator of that divorce, which has 
become so famous. 4 He desired to go still 
farther, and after inducing the king to put 
away his queen, he hoped to prevail on the 



1 Sandoval, i. p. 358. Eanke, Deutsche Gesch. 
iii. p. 17. 

a Malos oderat mores. Polyd. Virg. p. 6S5. 

3 Le G-rand, Hist, du divorce, Preuves, p. 1S6. 

4 Instigator et auctor concilii existimabatur (Pole, 
Apology). He was furious mad, and imagined 
this divorcement between the king and the queen 
(Tyndale's "Works, i. p. 465). See also Sanderus, 
7 and 9 ; Polyd. Virg. p. 685 ; Meteren, Hist of 
the Low Countries, p. 20 : Pallavicini, Cone. Tri- 
dent, i. p. 203, etc. A contrary assertion of Wol- 
sey's has been adduced against these authorities 
in the Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 336 ; but a slight 
acquaintance with his history soon teaches us that 
veracity was the least of his virtues. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



725 



pope to depose the emperor. 1 It; was not 
his passion for Anne Buleyn, as so many 
of the Romish fabulists have repeated, but 
the passion of a cardinal for the triple 
crown which gave the signal of Eng- 
land's emancipation. Offended pride is 
one of the most active principles of human 
nature. 

Wolsey's design was a strange one, and 
difficult of execution, but not impossible. 
Henry was living apparently on the best 
terms with Catherine ; on more than one 
occasion Erasmus had spoken of the royal 
family of England as the pattern of the 
domestic virtues. But the most ardent of 
Henry's desires was not satisfied ; he had 
no son ; those whom the queen had borne 
him had died in their infancy, and Mary 
alone survived. The deaths of these little 
children, at all times so heartrending, were 
particularly so in the palace of Greenwich. 
It appeared to Catherine that the shade of 
the last Plantagenet, immolated on her 
marriage altar, came forth to seize one after 
the heirs she gave to the throne of Eng- 
land, and to carry them away to his tomb. 
The queen shed tears almost unceasingly, 
and implored the divine mercy, while the 
king cursed his unhappy fate. The peo- 
ple seemed to share in the royal sorrow ; 
and men of learning and piety (Longland 
was among their number) 2 declared against 
the validity of the marriage. They said 
that " the papal dispensations had no force 
when in opposition to the law of God." 
Yet hitherto Henry had rejected every idea 
of a divorce. 3 

The times had changed since 1509. The 
king had loved Catherine ; her reserve, 
mildness, and dignity, had charmed him. 
Greedy of pleasure and applause, he was 
delighted to see his wife content to be the 
quiet witness of his joys and of his tri- 
umphs. But gradually the queen had 
grown older, her Spanish gravity had in- 
creased, her devout practices were multi- 
plied, and her infirmities, become more fre- 
quent, had left the king no hope of having 
a son. From that hour, even while conti- 
nuing to praise her virtues, Henry grew 
cold towards her person, and his love by 
degrees changed into repugnance. And 
then he thought that the death of his chil- 
dren might be a sign of God's anger. This 
idea had taken hold of him, and induced 
him to occupy apartments separate from 
the queen's. 4 

Wolsey judged the moment favourable for 
beginning the attack. It was in the latter 
months of 1526, when calling Longland, 
the king's confessor, to him, and concealing 
his principal motive, he said: " You know 

1 Le Grand, Hist, du divorce, Preuves, p. 65, 69. 

a Jauiprideui conjugiuin regium, veluti infirmum. 
Polyd. Virg. p. 685. 

s -That matrimony which the king at first seemed 
not disposed to annul. Strype, i. p. 135. 

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 20 (London, 1841). Letter 
from Grynaeus to Bucer. Strype, i. p. 135. 



his majesty's anguish. The stability of his 
crown and his everlasting salvation seem 
to be compromised alike. To whom can I 
unbosom myself, if not to you, who must 
know the inmost secrets of his soul 2" The 
two bishops resolved to awaken Henry to 
the perils incurred by his union with 
Catherine ;' but Longland insisted that 
Wolsey should take the first steps.' 

The cardinal waited upon the king, and 
reminded him of his scruples before the be- 
trothal ; he exaggerated those entertained 
by the nation, and speaking with unusual 
warmth, he entreated the king to remain 
no longer in such danger ; 2 " The holiness 
of your life and the legitimacy of your suc- 
cession are at stake." — " My good father," 
said Henry, " you would do well to con- 
sider the weight of the stone that you have 
undertaken to remove. 3 The Queen is a 
woman of such exemplary life that I have 
no motive in separating from her." 

The cardinal did not consider himself 
beaten ; three days later he appeared before 
the king accompanied by the bishop of 
Lincoln. " Most mighty prince," said the 
confessor, who felt bold enough to speak 
after the cardinal, " you cannot, like Herod, 
have your brother's wife. 4 I exhort and 
coujure you, as having the care of your 
soul, 5 to submit the matter to competent 
judges." Henry consented, and perhaps 
not unwillingly. 

It was not enough for Wolsey to separate 
Henry from the emperor; he must, for 
greater security, unite him to Francis I. 
The king of England shall repudiate the 
aunt of Charles V., and then marry the 
sister of the French king. Proud of the 
success he had obtained in the first part of 
his plan, Wolsey entered upon the second. 
" There is a princess," he told the king, 
" whose birth, graces, and talents charm 
all Europe. Margaret of Valois, sister of 
King Francis, is superior to all of her sex, 
and no one is worthier of your alliance." 6 
Henry made answer that it was a serious 
matter, requiring deliberate examination. 
Wolsey, however, placed in the king's 
hands a portrait of Margaret, and it has 
been imagined that he even privily caused 
her sentiments to be sounded. Be that as 
it may, the sister of Francis I. having 
learnt that she was pointed at as the future 
queen of England, rebelled at the idea of 
taking from an innocent woman a crown 
she had worn so nobly. " The French 
king's sister knows too much of Christ to 



1 Quamprimum regi patefaeiendum. Polyd. 
Virg. p. 685. 

2 Vehementer orat ne se patiatur in tanto versari 
discriniine. Polyd. Virg. p. 685. 

3 Bone pater, vide bene quale saxuin suo loco 
jacens movere coneris. Ibid. 

4 Like another Herodes. More'a Life, p. 129. 

* Ipse cui de salute arnimse tuse cura est, hortor, 
rogo, perauadeo. Polyd. Virg. p. 686. 

6 Mulier prieter caeteras digna maUimcnio tua 
Ibid. 



726 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



consent unto such wickedness," said Tyn- 
dale. 1 Margaret of Valois replied : " Let 
me hear no more of a marriage that can be 
effected only at the expense of Catherine 
of Aragon's happiness and life." 2 The 
woman who was destined in futnre years to 
fill the throne of England was then residing 
at Margaret's court. Shortly after this, on 
the 24th of January 1527, the sister of 
Francis I. married Henry d'Albret, king 
of Navarre. 

Henry VIII., desirous of information 
with regard to his favourite's suggestion, 
commissioned Fox, his almoner, Pace, dean 
of St. Paul's, and Wakefield, professor of 
Hebrew at Oxford, to study the passages 
of Leviticus and Deuteronomy which re- 
lated to marriage with a brother's wife. 
Wakefield, who had no wish to commit 
himself, asked whether Henry was for or 
against the divorce. 3 Pace replied to this 
servile hebraist that the king wanted noth- 
ing but the truth. 

But who would take the first public step 
in an undertaking so hazardous ? Every 
one shrank back ; the terrible emperor 
alarmed them all. It was a French bishop 
that hazarded the step ; bishops meet us at 
every tarn in this affair in the divorce, 
with which bishops have so violently re- 
proached the Reformation. Henry, desi- 
rous of excusing Wolsey, pretended after- 
wards that the objections of the French 
prelate had preceded those of Longland and 
the cardinal. In February 1527, Francis I. 
had sent an embassy to London, at the 
head of which was Gabriel de Grammont, 
bishop of Tarbes, with the intention to 
procure the hand of Mary of England. 
Henry's ministers having inquired whether 
the engagement of Francis with the queen- 
dowager of Portugal did not oppose the 
commission with which the French bishop 
was charged, the latter answered: "I will 
ask you in turn what has been done to 
remove the impediments which opposed 
the marriage of which the Princess Mary 
is issue." 4 The} 7 laid before the ambassador 
the dispensation of Julius II., which he 
returned, saying, that the bull was not 
sufficient, seeing that such a marriage was 
forbidden jure divino ; 5 and he added : 



1 Works (ed. Russell), i. p. 464. 

2 Princeps ilia, nmlier optima, noluerit quicquam 
audire (\e nuptiis, quae nuptias nonpossunt conjungi 
sine miserabili Catherine casu atque adeo interitu. 
Polyd. Virg. p. 687. 

3 Utrum staret ad te an contra te ? Le Grand, 
Preuves, p. 2. 

4 What had been here provided for taking away 
the impediment of that marriage. (State Papers, 
i. p. 199.) Le Grand, (i. p. 17,) discredits the ob- 
jections of the bishop of Tarbes ; but this letter 
from Wolsey to Henry VIII. establishes them in- 
controvertibly. And besides, Du Bellay, in a 
letter afterwards quoted by Le Grand himself, 
states the matter still more strongly than Wolsey. 

5 Wherewith the pope could not dispense, nisi ex 
urgentisaima causa. Wolsey to Hen**y . VIIL, 
dated 8th July. State Papers, i. p. 199. 



" Have you English a different gospel from 
ours?" 1 

The king, when he heard these words 
(as he informs us himself), was filled with 
fear and horror. 2 Three of the most re- 
spected bishops of Christendom united to 
accuse him of incest ! He began to speak 
of it to certain individuals : " The scruples 
of my conscience have been terribly in- 
creased (he said) since the bishop spoke 
of this matter before my council in exceed- 
ingly plain words." 3 There is no reason 
to believe that these terrible troubles of 
which the king speaks were a mere inven- 
tion on his part. A disputed succession 
might again plunge England into civil 
war. Even if no pretenders should spring 
up, might they not see a rival house, a 
French prince, for instance, wedded to 
Henry's daughter, reigning over England ? 
The king, in his anxiety, had recourse to 
his favourite author, Thomas Aquinas, and 
this angel of the schools declared his mar- 
riage unlawful. Henry next opened the 
Bible, and found this threat against the 
man who took his brother's wife : " He 
shall be childless 1" The denunciation in- 
creased his trouble, for he had no heir. In 
the midst of this darkness a new perspec- 
tive opened before him. His conscience 
might be unbound ; his desire to have a 
younger wife might be gratified ; he might 

have a son ! The king resolved to lay 

the matter before a commission of lawyers, 
and this commission soon wrote volumes. 4 

During all this time Catherine, suspect- 
ing no evil, was occupied in her devotions. 
Her heart, bruised by the death of her 
children and by the king's coldness, sought 
consolation in prayer both privately and in 
the royal chapel. She would rise at mid- 
night and kneel down upon the cold stones, 
and never missed any of the canonical ser- 
vices. But one day (probably in May or 
June 1527) some officious person informed 
her of the rumours circulating in the city 
and at court. Bursting with anger and 
alarm, and all in tears, she hastened to the 
king, and addressed him with the bitterest 
complaints. 5 Henry was content to calm 
her by vague assurances ; but the unfeel- 
ing Wolsey, troubling himself still less 
than his master about Catherine's emo- 
tion, called it, with a smile, " a short 
tragedy/' 

The offended wife lost no time : it was 
necessary that the emperor should be in- 



1 Anglos, qui tuo imperio subsunt, hoc idem 
evangelium colere quod nos colimus. Sanders, 12. 

2 Quae oratio quanto metu ac horrore animum 
nostrum turbaverit. Henry's speech to the Lord 
Mayor and common council at his palace of Briie- 
well, 8th November 1528. Hall, p. 754; Wilkins, 
Concil. iii. p. 714. 

3 Du Bellay's letter in Le Grand. Preuves, p. 
218. 

4 So as the books excrescunt in magna volumina. 
Wolsey to Henry VIIL State Papers, i. p. 200. 

5 The queen hath broken with your grace there- 
of. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



727 



formed promptly, surely, and accurately 
of this unprecedented insult. A letter 
would be insufficient, even were it not in- 
tercepted. Catherine therefore determined 
to send her servant Francis Philip, a Span- 
iard, to her nephew ; and to conceal the 
object of his journey, they proceeded, after 
the tragedy, to play a comedy in the Span- 
ish style. " My mother is sick and desires 
to see me," said Philip. Catherine begged 
the king to refuse her servant's prayer ; 
and Henry, divining the stratagem, resolved 
to employ trick against trick. 1 " Philip's 
request is very proper," he made answer ; 
and Catherine, from regard to her husband, 
consented to his departure. Henry mean- 
time had given orders that, " notwith- 
standing any safe-conduct, the said Philip 
should be arrested and detained at Calais, 
in such a manner, however, that no one 
should know whence the stoppage pro- 
ceeded." 

It was to no purpose that the queen 
indulged in a culpable dissimulation ; a 
poisoned arrow had pierced her heart, and 
her words, her manners, her complaints, 
her tears, the numerous messages she sent, 
now to one and now to another, betrayed 
the secret which the king wished still to 
conceal. 2 Her friends blamed her for this 
publicity ; men wondered what Charles 
would say when he heard of his aunt's 
distress ; they feared that peace would be 
broken ; but Catherine, whose heart was 
" rent in twain," was not to be moved 
by diplomatic considerations. Her sorrow 
did not check Henry ; with the two mo- 
tives which made him eager for a divorce 
— the scruples of his conscience and the 
desire of an heir — was now combined a 
third still more forcible. A woman was 
about to play an important part in the des- 
tinies of England. 

Anne Boleyn, who had been placed by 
her father at the court of France, had re- 
turned to England with Sir Thomas, then 
ambassador at Paris, at the time that an 
English army made an incursion into Nor- 
mandy (1522). It would appear that she 
was presented to the queen about this 
period, and appointed one of Catherine's 
maids of honour. The following year was 
a memorable one to her from her first 
sorrow. 

Among the young noblemen in the cardi- 
nal's household was Lord Percy, eldest son 
of the Earl of Northumberland. While 
Wolsey was closeted with the king, Percy 
was accustomed to resort to the queen's 
apartments, where he passed the time 
among her ladies. He soon felt a sincere 
passion for Anne, and the young maid of 
honour, who had been cold to the addresses 



' The king's highness knowing great collusion 
and dissimulation between them, doth also dissem- 
ble. Knight to Wolsey. Ibid. p. 215. 

2 By her behaviour, manner, words, and messa- 
ges sent to diverse, hath published, divulged, <fcc. 
State Papers, i. p. 200. 
47 



of the gentlemen at the court of Francis, 
replied to the affections of the heir of Nor- 
thumberland. The two young people al- 
ready indulged day-dreams of- a quiet, ele- 
gant, and happy life in their noble castles 
of the north ; but such dreams were fated 
to be of short duration. 

Wolsey hated the Norfolks, and- conse- 
quently the Boleyns. It was to counter- 
balance their influence that he had been 
first introduced at court. He became angry, 
therefore, when he saw one of his house- 
hold suing for the hand of the daughter 
and niece of his enemies. Besides, certain 
partisans of the clergy accused Anne of 

being friendly to the Reformation. 1 It 

is generally believed that even at this 
period Wolsey had discovered Henry's 
eyes turned complacently on the young 
maid of honour, and that this induced him 
to thwart Percy's love ; but this'seems im- 
probable. Of all the women of England, 
Anne was the one whose influence Wolsey 
would have had most cause to fear, and he 
did fear it ; and he would have been but 
too happy to see her married to Percy. It 
has been asserted that Henry prevailed on 
the cardinal to thwart the affection of the 
two young people ; but in that case did he 
confide to Wolsey the real motive of his 
opposition ? Did the latter entertain crimi- 
nal intentions ? Did he undertake to yield 
up to dishonour the daughter and niece of 
his political adversaries ? This would be 
horrible, but it is possible, and may even 
be deduced from Cavendish's narrative ; 
yet we will hope that it was not so. If it 
were, Anne's virtue successfully baffled the 
infamous plot. 

Be that as it may, one day when Percy 
was in attendance upon the cardinal, the 
latter rudely addressed him : "I marvel at 
your folly, that you should attempt to con- 
tract yourself with that girl without your 
father's or the king's consent. I command 
you to break with her." Percy burst into 
tears, and besought the cardinal to plead 
his cause. " I charge you to resort no more 
into her company," was Wolsey's cold re- 
ply, 2 after which he rose up and left the 
room. Anne received an order at the 
same time to leave the court. Proud 
and bold, and ascribing her misfortune to 
Wolsey's hatred, she exclaimed as she 
quitted the palace, " I will be revenged for 
this insult." But she had scarcely taken 
up her abode in the gothic halls of Hever 
Castle, when news still more distressing 
overwhelmed her, Percy was married to 
Lady Mary Talbot. She wept long and 
bitterly, and vowed against the young no- 
bleman who had deserted her a contempt 
equal to her hatred of the cardinal. Anne 
was reserved for a more illustrious, but 
more unhappy fate. 



1 Meteren's Hist, of the Low Countries, folio, 20. 

2 Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 123. Cavendish waa 
present at this conversation. 



728 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



This event necess-arily rendered her resi- 
dence in this country far from attractive to 
Anne Boleyn. " She did not stay long in 
England/' says Burnet, following Camden : 
" She served Queen Claude of France till 
her death, and after that she was taken in- 
to service by king Francis' sister." Anne 
Boleyn, lady-in-waiting to Margaret of Va- 
lois, was consoled at last. She indulged in 
gaieties with all the vivacity of her age, and 
glittered among the youngest and fairest 
at all the court festivities. 

In Margaret's house she met the most 
enlightened men of the age, and her un- 
derstanding and heart were developed sim- 
ultaneously with the graces. She began to 
read, without thoroughly understanding it, 
the holy book in which her mistress (as 
Brantome informs us) found consolation 
and repose, and to direct a few light and 
passing thoughts to that "mild Emanuel," 
to whom Margaret addressed such beautiful 
verses. 

At last Anne returned definitively to 
England. It has been asserted that the 
queen-regent, fearing that Henry after the 
battle of Pavia would invade France, had 
sent Anne to London to dissuade him from 
it. But it was a stronger voice than hers 
which stopped the king of England. " Re- 
main quiet," wrote Charles V. to him ; "I 
have the stag in my net, and we have only 
to think of sharing the spoils." Margaret 
of Valois having married the king of 
Navarre at the end of January, 1527, and 
quitted Paris and her brother's court, it is 
supposed that Sir Thomas Boleyn, who was 
unwilling that his daughter should take up 
her abode in the Pyrenees, recalled her to 
England probably in the winter or spring 
of the same year. " There is not the least 
evidence that she came to it earlier," says 
a modern author. 1 She appeared once more 
at court, and the niece of the duke of Nor- 
folk soon eclipsed her companions, " by her 
excellent gesture and behaviour," 2 as we 
learn from a contemporary unfriendly to the 
Boleyns. All the court was struck by the 
regularity of her features, the expression of 
her eyes, the gentleness of her manners, 
and the majesty of her carriage. 5 " She 
was a beautiful creature," says an old his- 
torian, " well proportioned, courteous, ami- 
able, very agreeable, and a skilful musi- 
cian." 4 

While entertainments were following 
close upon each other at the court of Henry 
VIII. , a strange rumour filled all England 
with surprise. It was reported that the im- 
perialist soldiers had taken Rome by as- 
sault, and that some Englishmen were 
among those who had mounted the breach. 
One Thomas Cromwell was specially named 5 



1 Turner, Hist. Henry VIII. ii. p. 185. 

2 Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 120. 

3 Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in Cavendish's 
Life of Wolsey, p. 424. 

4 Meteren's Hist, of the Low Countries, folio 20. 
* Foxe voL v. p. 365. 



— the man who nearly twenty years before 
had obtained certain indulgences from Ju- 
lius II., by offering him some jars of English 
confectionery. This soldier carried with him 
the New Testament of Erasmus, and he is 
said to have learnt it by heart during the 
campaign. Being gay, brave, and intelli- 
gent, he entertained, from reading the gos- 
pel and seeing Rome, a great aversion for 
the policy, superstitions, and disorders of 
j the popedom. The day of the 7th May, 
1527, decided the tenor of his life. To des- 
troy the papal power became his dominant 
idea. On returning to England he entered 
the cardinal's household. 

However, the captive pope and cardinals 
wrote letters "filled with tears and groans." 1 
Full of zeal for the papacy, Wolsey ordered 
a public fast. " The emperor will never 
release the pope, unless he be compelled," 
he told the king. " Sir, God has made you 
defender of the faith ; save the church and 
its head !" " My lord," answered the king 
with a smile, " 1 assure you that this war 
between the emperor and the pope is not 
for the faith, but for temporal possessions 
and dominions." 

But Wolsey would not be discouraged ; 
and on the 3d of Jul}-, he passed through 
the streets of London, riding a richly ca- 
parisoned mule, and resting his feet on gilt 
stirrups, while twelve hundred gentlemen 
accompanied him on horseback. He was 
going to entreat Francis to aid his master 
in saving Clement VII. He had found no 
difficulty in prevailing upon Henry ; Charles 
talked of carrying the pope to Spain, and 
cf permanently establishing the apostolic 
see in that country. 2 Now, how could they 
obtain the divorce from a Spanish pope ? 
During thn procession, Wolsey seemed op- 
pressed with grief, and even shed tears ; 3 
but he soon raised his head and exclaimed : 
" My heart is inflamed, and I wish that it 
may be said of the pope per secula sempi- 
ierna, 

" Rediit Henrici octavi virtute serena." 

Desirous of forming a close union between 
France and England for the accomplish- 
ment of his designs, he had cast his eyes 
on the Princess Renee, daughter of Louis 
XII., and sister-in-law to Francis I., as the 
future wife of Henry VIII. Accordingly 
the treaty of alliance between the two 
crowns having been signed at Amiens on 
the 18th of August (1527), Francis, with 
his mother and the cardinal, proceeded to 
Compiegne, and there Wolsey, styling 
Charles the most obstinate defender of 
Lutheranism, 4 promising " perpetual con- 



1 Plenas lacrymarum et miseria?. State Papers, 
vol. i. 

3 The see apostolic should perpetually remain in 
Spain. Ibid. i. p. 227. 

3 I saw the lord cardinal weep very tenderly. 
Cavendish, p. 151. 

4 Omnium maxime dolosusethaeresis Liv'heriana 
fautor acerrimua. State Papers, i. p. 274. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



729 



junction on the one hand [between France 
and England,] and perpetual disjunction 
on the other" [between England and Ger- 
many,] 1 demanded Renee's hand for King 
Henry. Staffileo, dean of Rota, affirmed 
that the pope had been able to permit the 
marriage between Henry and Catherine 
only by an error of the keys of St. Peter. 2 
This avowal, so remarkable on the part of 
the dean of one of the first jurisdictions of 
Rome, induced Francis' mother to listen fa- 
vourably to the cardinal's demand. But 
whether this proposal was displeasing to 
Renee, who was destined on a future day 
to profess the pure faith of the Gospel with 
greater earnestness than Margaret of Valois, 
or whether Francis was not over-anxious 
for a union that would have given Henry 
rights over the duchy of Brittany, she was 

f remised to the son of the Duke of Ferrara. 
t was a check to the cardinal ; but it was 
his ill fortune to receive one still more se- 
vere on his return to England. 

The daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
(who had been created Viscount Rochford 
in-1525,) was constantly at court, "where 
she flourished in great estimation and fa- 
vour," says Cavendish, " having always a 
private indignation against the cardinal for 
breaking off the pre-contract made between 
Lord Percy and her," little suspecting that 
Henry had had any share in it. 3 Her beau- 
ty, her graceful carriage, her black hair, 
oval face, and bright eyes, her sweet voice 
in singing, her skill and dignity in the 
dance, her desire to please, which was not 
entirely devoid of coquetry, her sprightli- 
ness, the readiness of her repartees, and, 
above all, the amiability of her character, 
won every heart. She brought to Green- 
wich and to London the polished manners 
of the court of Francis I. Every day (it 
was reported) she invented a new style of 
dress, and set the fashion in England. But 
to all these qualities, she added modesty, 
and even imposed it on others by her ex- 
ample. The ladies of the court, who had 
hitherto adopted a different fashion (says 
her greatest enemy), covered the neck and 
bosom as she did ; 4 and the malicious, un- 
able to appreciate Anne's motives, ascribed 
this modesty on the young lady's part to a 
desire to hide a secret deformity. 5 Nu- 



1 Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Prcu- 
ves, i. p. 186. 

3 Nisi clave errante. State Papers, i. p. 272. 

3 For all this while she knew nothing of the king's 
intended purpose, said one of his adversaries. Ca- 
vendish's Wolsey, p. 129. 

4 Ad illius imitationem reliquae regiae ancillae 
colli et pectoris superiora, quae antea nuda gesta- 
bant, operire coeperunt. Sanders, p. 16. 

6 See Sanders, ibid. It is useless to refute San- 
ders' stories. We refer our readers to Burnet's 
Hist, of the Reformation, to Lord Herbert's Life 
of Henry VIII., to Wyatt, and others. We need 
only' read Sanders to estimate at their true value 
the foul calumnies, as these writers term them, of 
tho man whom they style the Boman legendary. 



merous admirers once more crowded round 
Anne Boleyn, and among others, one of the 
most illustrious noblemen and poets of 
England, Sir Thomas Wyatt, a follower of 
Wickliffe. He, however, was not the man 
destined to replace the son of the Percies. 

Henry, absorbed in anxiety about his 
divorce from Catherine, had become low- 
spirited and melancholy. The laughter, 
songs, repartees, and beauty of Anne Bo- 
leyn struck and captivated him, and his 
eyes were soon fixed complacently on the 
young maid of honour. Catherine was 
more than forty years old, and it was 
hardly to be expected that so susceptible a 
man as Henry would have made, as Job 
says, a covenant with his eyes not to think 
upon a maid. Desirous of showing his ad- 
miration, he presented Anne, according to 
usage, with a costly jewel ; she accepted 
and wore it, and continued to dance, laugh, 
and chatter as before, without attaching 
particular importance to the royal present. 
Henry's attentions became more continu- 
ous ; and he took advantage of a moment 
when he found Anne alone to declare his 
sentiments. With mingled emotion and 
alarm, the young lady fell trembling at the 
king's feet, and exclaimed, bursting into 
tears : " I think, most noble and worthy 
king, your majesty speaks these words in 

mirth to prove me 1 will rather lose my 

life than my virtue." 1 Henry gracefully 
replied, that he should at least continue to 
hope. But Anne, rising up, proudly made 
answer: "I understand not, most mighty- 
king, how you should retain any such 
hope ; your wife I cannot be, both in re- 
spect of mine own unworthiness, and also 
because you have a queen already. Your 
mistress I will not be." Anne kept her 
word. She continued to show the king, 
even after this interview, all the respect 
that was due to him ; but on several occa- 
sions she proudly, violently even, repelled 
his advances. 2 In this age of gallantry, we 
find her resisting for nearly six years all 
the seductions Henry cast round her. Such 
an example is not often met with in the 
history of courts. The books she had reaa 
in Margaret's palace gave her a secret; 
strength. All looked upon her with re- 
spect ; and even the queen treated her with 
politeness. Catherine showed, however, 
that she had remarked the king's prefer- 
ence. One day, as she was playing at 
cards with -her maid of honour, while 
Henry was in the room, Anne frequently 
holding the king, she said: "My Lady 
Anne, you have good hap to stop ever at a 
king; but you are not like others, you will 
have all or none." Anne blushed: from 
that moment Henry's attentions acquired 



1 Sloane MSS. No. 2495 ; Turner's Hist. Eng. 
ii. p. 196. 

* Tanto vehementius preces regias ilia repulit 
Sanders, p. 17. 



730 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



more importance ; she resolved to withdraw 
from them, and quitted the court with Lady 
Rochford. 

The king, who was not accustomed to 
resistance, was extremely grieved ; and 
having learnt that Anne would not return 
to the court either with or without her 
mother, sent a courier to Hever with a mes- 
sage and a letter for her. If we recollect 
the manners of the age of Henry VIII., 
and how far the men, in their relations 
with the gentler sex, were strangers to that 
reserve which society now imposes upon 
them, we cannot but be struck by the 
king's respectful tone. He writes thus in 
French : — 

" As the time seems to be very long since 
I heard from you or concerning your 
health, the great love I have for you has 
constrained me to send this bearer to be 
better informed both of your health and 
pleasure ; particularly, because since my 
last parting with you, I have been told that 
you have entirely changed the mind in 
which I left you, and that you neither 
mean to come to court with your mother 
nor any other way ; which report, if true, 
I cannot enough marvel at, being persuaded 
in my own mind that I have never commit- 
ted any offence against you ; and it seems 
hard, in return for the great love I bear 
you, to be kept at a distance from the per- 
son and presence of the woman in the 
world that I value the most. And if you 
love me with as much affection as I hope 
you do, I am sure the distance of our two 
persons would be equally irksome to you, 
though this does not belong so much to the 
mistress as to the servant. 

" Consider well, my mistress, how greatly 
your absence afflicts me. I hope it is not 
your will that it should be so : but if I 
heard for certain that you yourself desired 
it, I could but mourn my ill-fortune, and 
strive by degrees to abate of my great folly. 

" And so for lack of time I make an end 
of this rude letter, beseeching you to give 
the bearer credence in all he will tell you 
from me. Written by the hand of your en- 
tire servant, 

" H. R." 1 

The word servant (serviteur) employed in 
this letter explains the sense in which 
Henry used the word mistress. In the lan- 
guage of chivalry, the latter term expressed 
a person to whom the lover had surrendered 
his heart. 

It would seem that Anne's reply to this 



1 Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 347. It is difficult to 
fix the order and chronology of Henry's letters to 
Anne Boleyn. This is the second in the Vatican 
Collection, but it appears to us to be of older date. 
It is considered as written in May 1528 ; we are 
inclined to place it in the autumn of 1527. The 
originals of these letters, chiefly in old French, are 
srill preserved in the Vatican, having been stolen 
from the royal cabinet and conveyed thither. 



letter was the same she had made to the 
king from the very first ; and Cardinal Pole 
mentions more than once her obstinate re- 
fusal of an adulterous love. 1 At last Henry 
understood Anne's virtue ; but he was far 
from abating of his great folly, as he had 
promised. That tyrannical selfishness, 
which the prince often displayed in his life, 
was shown particularly in his amours. 
Seeing that he could not attain his end by 
illegitimate means, he determined to break, 
as quickly as possible., the bonds which 
united him to the queen. Anne's virtue 
was the third cause of Henry's divorce. 

His resolution being once taken, it must 
needs be carried out. Henry having suc- 
ceeded in bringing Anne back to court, pro- 
cured a private interview with her, offered 
her his crown, and seizing her hand, took 
off one of her rings. But Anne, who would 
not be the king's mistress, refused also to 
be his wife. The glory of a crown could 
not dazzle her, said Wyatt, and two motives 
in particular counterbalanced all the pros- 
pects of greatness which were set before her 
eyes. The first was her respect for the 
queen : " How could I injure a princess of 
such great virtue?" she exclaimed. 2 The 
second was the fear that a union with "one 
that was her lord and her king," would not 
give her that freedom of heart and that lib- 
erty which she would enjoy by marrying a 
man of the same rank with herself. 3 

Yet the noblemen and ladies of Henry's 
court whispered to one another that Anne 
would certainly become queen of England. 
Some were tormented by jealousy ; others, 
her friends, were delighted at the prospect 
of a rapid advancement. Wolsey's ene- 
mies in particular were charmed at the 
thought of ruining the favourite. It was at 
the very moment when all these emotions 
were so variously agitating the court that 
the cardinal, returning from his embassy to 
Francis, re-appeared in London, where an 
unexpected blow struck him. 

Wolsey was expressing his grief to Henry 
at having failed in obtaining either Marga- 
ret or Renee for him, when the king inter- 
rupted him : " Console yourself, I shall 
marry Anne Boleyn." The cardinal re- 
mained speechless for a moment. What 
would become of him, if the king placed the 
crown of England on the head of the daugh- 
ter and niece of his greatest enemies ? 
What would become of the church, if a 
second Anne of Bohemia should ascend the 
throne ? Wolsey threw himself at the feet 
of his master, and entreated him to re- 



1 Concubina enim tua fieri pudiea mulier nole- 
bat, uxor volebat. Ilia cujus amore rex deperibat, 
pertinacissime negabat sui corporis potestatem. 
Polus ad Regem, p. 176. Cardinal Pole is a far 
more trustworthy authority than Sanders. 

2 The love she bare even to the queen whom she 
served, that was also a personage of great virtue. 
Wyatt, Mem. of A. B. p. 42S. 

3 Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



7.31 



nounce so fatal a project. 1 It was then no 
doubt that he remained (as he afterwards 
said) anhour or two on his knees before the 
king in his privy chamber, 2 but without 
prevailing on Henry to give up his design. 
Wolsey, persuaded that if he continued 
openly to oppose Henry's will, he would for 
ever lose his confidence, dissembled his 
vexation, waiting an opportunity to get rid 
of this unfortunate rival by some intrigue. 
He began by writing to the pope, informing 
him that a young lady, brought up by the 
queen of Navarre, and consequently tainted 
by the Lutheran heresy, had captivated the 
king's heart ; 3 and from that hour Anne 
Boleyn became the object of the hatred and 
calumnies of Rome. But at the same time, 
to conceal his intentions, Wolsey received 
Henry at a series of splendid entertain- 
ments, at which Anne outshone all the la- 
dies of the court. 

While these passions were agitating 
Henry's palace, the most moving scenes, 
produced by Christian faith, were stirring 
the nation. Bilney, animated by that 
courage which God sometimes gives to the 
weakest men, seemed to have lost his natu- 
ral timidity, and preached for a time with 
an energy quite apostolic. He taught that 
all men should first acknowledge their sins 
and condemn them, and then hunger and 
thirst after that righteousness which Jesus 
Christ gives. 4 To this testimony borne to 
the truth, he added his testimony against 
error. " These five hundred years," he 
added, " there hath been no good pope ; 
and in all the times past we can find but 
fifty : for they have neither preached nor 
lived well, nor conformably to their dignity ; 
wherefore, unto this day, they have borne 
the keys of simony/' 5 

As soon as he descended from the pulpit, 
this pious scholar, with his friend Arthur, 
visited the neighbouring towns and villages. 
" The Jews and Saracens would long ago 
have become believers," he once said at 
Wilsdon, " had it not been for the idolatry 
of Christian men in offering candles, wax, 
and money to stocks and stones. " One day 
when he visited Ipswich, where there was 
a Franciscan convent, he exclaimed : " The 
cowl of St. Francis wrapped round a dead 

body hath no power to take away sins 

Ecce agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi." 
(John i. 29.) The poor monks, who were 
little versed in Scripture had recourse to 
the Almanac to convict the Bible of error. 
"St. Paul did rightly afiirm," said Friar 
John Brusierd, " that there is but one me- 
diator of God and man, because as yet 
there was no saint canonized or put into the 



1 Whose persuasion to the contrary, made to the 
king upon his knees. Cavendish, p. 204. 

* Ibid. p. 388. 

3 Meteren, Hist, of the Low Countries, folio, 20. 

4 Ut omnes primutn peccata sua agnoscant et 
da anient, deinde esuriant et sitiant justitiain illam. 
Foxe, iv. p. 634. 

* Ibid. p. 627. 



calender." — " Let us ask of the Father in 
the name of the Son," rejoined Bilney, 
" and he will give unto us." " You are al- 
ways speaking of the Father and never of 
the saints," replied the friar ; " you are like 
a man who has been looking so long upon 
the sun, that he can see nothing else." 2 As 
he uttered these words the monk seemed 
bursting with anger. " If I did not know 
that the saints would take everlasting ven- 
geance upon you. I would surely with 
these nails of mine be your death." 2 Twice 
in fact did two monks pull him out of his 
pulpit. He was arrested and taken to 
London. 

Arthur, instead of fleeing, began to visit 
the Hocks which his friend had converted. 
" Good people," said he, " if I should suffer 
persecution for the preaching of the gospel, 
there are seven thousand more that would 
preach it as I do now. Therefore, good 
people ! good people !" (and he repeated 
these words several times in a sorrowful 
voice,) " think not that if these tyrants and 
persecutors put a man to death, the preach- 
ing of the gospel therefore is to be forsaken. 
Every Christian man, yea every layman, is 
a priest. Let our adversaries preach by 
the authority of the cardinal ; others by 
the authority of the universit} 7 ; others by the 
pope's ; we will preach by the authority of 
God. It is not the man who brings the 
word that saves the soul, but the word, 
which the man brings. Neither bishops 
nor popes have the right to forbid any man 
to preach the gospel ; 3 and if they kill him 
he is not a heretic but a martyr." 4 The 
priests were horrified at such doctrines. 
In their opinion, there was no God out of 
their church, no salvation out of their sa- 
crifices. Arthur was thrown into the same 
prison as Bilney. 

On the 27th of November 1527, the car- 
dinal and the archbishop of Canterbury, 
with a great number of bishops, divines, and 
lawyers, met in the chapter-house of West- 
minster, when Bilney and Arthur were 
brought before them. But the king's prime 
minister thought it beneath his dignity to 
occupy his time with miserable heretics. 
Wolsey had hardly commenced the exami- 
nation when he rose, saying : " The affairs 
of the realm call me away ; all such as are 
found guilty you will compel them to ab- 
jure, and those who rebel you will deliver 
over to the secular power." After a few 
questions proposed by the bishop of London, 
the two accused men were led back to prison. 

Abjuration or death — that was Wolsey 'a 
order. But the conduct of the trial was 
confided to Tonstall ; Bilney conceived some 
hope. 5 " Is it possible," he said to himself, 
" that the bishop of London, the friend of 



1 Foxe, iv. p. 629. 

3 Ibid. p. 630. . 3 Ibid. p. 623. 

* Collyer's Church History, ii. p. 26. 

* In talem nunc me judicem incidis.se gratuloe. 
Foxe, iv. p. 633. 



732 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Erasmus, will gratify the monks? 1 

must tell him that it was the Greek Testa- 
ment of his learned master that led me to 
the faith." Upon which the humble evan- 
gelist, having obtained paper and ink, set 
about writing to the bishop from his gloomy 
prison those admirable letters which have 
been transmitted to posterity. Tonstall, 
who was not a cruel man, was deeply moved, 
and then a strange struggle took place ; a 
judge wishing to save the prisoner, the pri- 
soner desiring to give up his life. Tonstall, 
by acquitting Bilney, had no desire to com- 
promise himself. " Submit to the church," 
said the bishop, " for God speaks only 
through it." But Bilney, who knew that 
God speaks in the Scriptures, remained in- 
flexible. "Very well, then," said Tonstall, 
taking up the prisoner's eloquent letters, 
"in discharge of my conscience I shall lay 
these letters before the court." He hoped, 
perhaps, that they would touch his col- 
leagues, but he was deceived. He deter- 
mined, therefore, to make a fresh attempt. 
On the 4th of December, Bilney was brought 
again before the court. " Abjure your er- 
rors," said Tonstall. Bilney refusing by a 
shake of the head, the bishop continued : 
" Retire into the next room and consider." 
Bilney withdrew, and returning shortly af- 
ter with joy beaming in his eyes, Tonstall 
thought he had gained the victory. " You 
will return to the church, then ?" said he. 

The doctor answered calmly : " Fiat 

judicium in nomine Domini." 1 " Be quick," 
continued the bishop, " this is the last mo- 
ment, and you will be condemned." " Hcec 
est dies quam fecit Dominus" answered Bil- 
ney, " exv.ltemus et Icetemur in ea /" (Ps. 
cxviii. 24.) Upon this Tonstall took off his 
cap, and said : " In nomine Patris et Filii et 

Spiritus Sancti Exsurgat Beits et dissi- 

pentur inimici ejus !" (Ps. lxviii. 1 ) Then 
making the sign of the cross upon his fore- 
head and on his breast, he gave judgment : 
" Thomas Bilney, I pronounce thee con- 
victed of heresy." He was about to name 

the penalty a last hope restrained him ; 

he stopped: "For the rest of the sentence 
we take deliberation until to-morrow." 
Thus was the struggle prolonged between 
two men, one of whom desired to walk to 
the stake, the other to bar the way as it 
were with his own body. 

" Will you return to the unity of the 
church ?" asked Tonstall the next day. " I 
hope' I was never separated from the church," 
answered Bilney. " Go and consult with 
some of your friends," said the bishop, who 
was resolved to save his life ; " I will give 
you till one o'clock in the afternoon." In 
the afternoon Bilney made the same answer. 
" 1 will give you two nights' respite to de- 
liberate," said the bishop ; " on Saturday, 
at nine o'clock in the forenoon, the court 
will expect a plain definitive answer." 



1 Let judgment be done in the name of the 
Lord. 



Tonstall reckoned on the night with its 
dreams, its anguish, and its terrors, to 
bring about Bilney's recantation. 

This extraordinary struggle occupied 
many minds both in court and city. Anne 
Boleyn and Henry VIII. watched with in- 
terest the various phases of this tragic his- 
tory. What will happen ? was the general 
question. Will he give way ? Shall we 
see him live or die ? One day and two 
nights still remained ; every thing was tried 
to shake the Cambridge doctor. His friends 
crowded to his prison ; he was over- 
whelmed with arguments and examples ; 
but an inward struggle, far more terrible 
than those without, agitated the pious Bil- 
ney. " Whoever will save his soul shall 
lose it," Christ had said. That selfish love 
of his soul, which is found even in the ad- 
vanced Christian, — that self, which after 
his conversion had been not absorbed, but 
overruled by the Spirit of God, gradually 
recovered strength in his heart, in the pre- 
sence of disgrace and death. His friends 
who wished to save him, not understand- 
ing that the fallen Bilney would be Bilney 
no longer, conjured him with tears to have 
pity on himself; and by these means his 
firmness was overcome. The bishop pressed 
him, and Bilney asked himself: " Can a 
young soldier like me know the rules of 
war better than an old soldier like Tons- 
tall ? Or can a poor silly sheep know his 
way to the fold better than the chief paster 
of London?" 1 His friends quitted him 
neither night nor day, and, entangled by 
their fatal affection, he believed at last 
that he had found a compromise which 
would set his conscience at rest. " I will 
preserve my life," he said, "to dedicate it 
to the Lord." This delusion had scarcely 
laid hold of his mind before his views were 
confused, his faith was veiled: the Holy 
Ghost departed from him ; God gave him 
over to his carnal thoughts, and under the 
pretext of being useful to Jesus Christ for 
many years, Bilney disobeyed him at the 
present moment. Being led before the 
bishops on the morning of Saturday the 
7th of December, at nine o'clock, he fell. 
....(Arthur had fallen before him), and 
whilst the false friends who had misled 
him hardly dared raise their eyes, the 
living church of Christ in England uttered 
a cry of anguish. " If ever you come in 
danger," said Latimer, " for God's quarrel, 
I would advise you, above all things, to ab- 
jure all your friendships ; leave not one 
unabjured. It is they that shall undo you, 
and not your enemies. It was his very 
friends that brought Bilney to it." 2 

On the following day (Sunday, 8th De- 
cember) Bilney was placed at the head of 
a procession, and the fallen disciple, bare- 
headed, with a fagot on his shoulders, stood 
in front of St. Paul's cross, while a priest 



Foxe, ir. p. 638. 

Latimer's Sermons (Parker's Society,) p. 222 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



733 



from the ptilpit exhorted him to repen- 
tance ; after which he was led back to 
prison. 

What a solitude for the wretched man ! 
At one time the cold darkness of his cell 
appeared to him as a burning fire ; at an- 
other he fancied he heard accusing voices 
crying to him ' in the silence of the night. 
Death, the very enemy he had wished to 
avoid, fixed his icy glance upon him and 
filled him with fear. He strove to escape 
from the horrible spectre, but in vain. 
Then the friends who had dragged him into 
this abyss crowded round and endeavoured 
to console him ; but if they gave utterance 
to any of Christ's gentle promises, Bilney 
started back with affright and shrank to the 
farthest part of the dungeon, with a cry 
" as though a man had run him through 
the heart with a sword/' 1 Having denied 
the word of God, he could no longer 
endure to hear it. The curse of the Apo- 
calypse : Ye mountains, hide me from the 
wrath of the Lamb I was the only passage 
of Scripture in harmony with his soul. 
His mind wandered, the blood froze in his 
veins, he sank under his terrors ; he lost 
all sense, and almost his life, and lay mo- 
tionless in the arms of his astonished 
friends. " God/' exclaimed those unhappy 
individuals who had caused his fall, " God, 
by a just judgment, delivers up to the tem- 
pests of their conscience all who deny his 
truth." 

This was not the only sorrow of the 
church. As soon as Richard Bayfield, the 
late chamberlain of Bury, had joined Tyn- 
dale and Fryth, he said to them : "lam at 
your disposal ; you shall be my head and I 
will be your hand ; I will sell your books 
and those of the German reformers in the 
Low Countries,. France, and England." It 
was not long indeed before he returned to 
London. But Pierson, the priest whom he 
had formerly met in Lombard Street, found 
him again, and accused him to the bishop. 
The unhappy man was brought before 
Tonstall. " You are charged," said the 
prelate, " with having asserted that praise 
is due to God alone, and not to saints as crea- 
tures." 2 Bayfield acknowledged the charge 
to be true; "You are accused of maintain- 
ing that every priest may preach the word 
of God by the authority of the gospel with- 
out the license of the pope or cardinals." 
This also Bayfield acknowledged. A pen- 
ance was imposed on him ; and then he was 
sent back to his. monastery with orders to 
show himself there on the 25th of April. 
But he crossed the sea once more, and 
hastened to join Tyndale. 

The New Testaments however sold by him, 
and others, remained in England. At that 
time the bishops subscribed to supress the 
Scriptures, as so many persons have since 

1 Latimer's Sermons (Parker's Society,) p. 222. 

2 That all laud and praise should be given to God 
alone. Foxe, iv. p. 682. 



done to circulate them ; and, accordingly. 
a great number of the copies brought over 
by Bayfield and his friends were bought 
up. 1 A scarcity of food was erelong added 
to the scarcity of the word of God ; for as 
the cardinal was endeavouring to foment 
a war between Henry and the emperor, the 
Flemish ships ceased to enter the English 
ports. It was in consequence of this that 
the lord mayor and aldermen of London 
hastened to express their apprehensions to 
Wolsey almost before he had recovered 
from the fatigues of his return from France. 
" Fear nothing," he told them : " the king 
of France assured me, that if he had three 
bushels of wheat, England should have 
two of them." But none arrived, and the 
people were on the point of breaking out 
into violence, when a fleet of ships suddenly 
appeared off the mouth of the Thames. 
They were German and Flemish vessels 
laden with corn, in which the worthy peo- 
ple of the Low Countries had also concealed 
the New Testament. An Antwerp book- 
seller, named John Raimond or Ruremond, 
from his birthplace, had printed a fourth 
edition more beautiful than the previous 
ones. It was enriched with references and 
engravings on wood, and each page bor- 
dered with red lines. Raimond himself 
had embarked on board one of the ships 
with five hundred copies of his New Testa- 
ment. 2 About Christmas, 1527, the book 
of God was circulated in England along with 
the bread that nourishes the body. But 
certain priests and monks having discovered 
the Scriptures among the sacks of corn, they 
carried several copies to the bishop of Lon- 
don, who threw Raimond into prison. The 
greater part, however, of the new edition 
escaped him. The New Testament was 
read everywhere, and even the court did 
not escape the contagion. Anne Boleyn, 
notwithstanding her smiling face, often 
withdrew to her closet at Greenwich or at 
Hampton Court, to study the gospel. Frank, 
courageous, and proud, she did not conceal 
the pleasure she found in such reading; 
her boldness astonished the courtiers, and 
exasperated the clergy. * In the city things 
went still farther: the New Testament was 
explained in frequent conventicles, particu- 
larly in the house of one Russell, and great 
was the joy among the faithful. " It is 
sufficient only to enter London," said the 
priests, " to become a heretic !" The Re- 
formation was taking root among the peo- 
ple before it arrived at the upper classes. 

The sun of the word of God, which daily 
grew brighter in the sky of the sixteenth 
century, was sufficient to scatter all the 
darkness in England ; but popery, like an 
immense wall, intercepted its rays. Bri- 
tain had hardly received the Scriptures in 
Greek and Latin, and then in English, be- 
fore the priests began to make war upon 



1 Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i. p. 158. 
a Foxe, v. p. 27. 



734 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



them with indefatigable zeal. It was rie- j 
cessary that the wall should be thrown I 
down in order that the sun might pene- 
trate freely among the Anglo-Saxon people. 
And now events were ripening in England, | 
destined to make a great breach in popery. ] 
The negotiations of Henry VIII. with Cle- J 
ment VII. play an important part in the j 
Reformation. By showing up the Court j 
of Rome, they destroyed the respect which 
the people felt for it : they took away that 
power and strength, as Scripture says, which 
the monarchy had given it ; and the throne 
of the pope once fallen in England, Jesus 
Christ uplifted and strengthened his own. 

Henry, ardently desiring an heir, and 
thinking that he had found the woman 
that would ensure his own and England's 
happiness, conceived the design of sever- 
ing the ties that united him to the queen, 
and with this view he consulted his most 
favourite councillors about the divorce. 
There was one in particular whose ap- 
proval he coveted: this was Sir Thomas 
More. One day as Erasmus's friend was 
walking with his master in the beautiful 
gallery at Hampton Court, giving him an 
account of a mission he had just executed 
on the continent, the king suddenly in- 
terrupted him : " My marriage with the 
queen," he said, " is contrary to the laws 
of God, of the church, and of nature." 
He then took up the Bible, and pointed 
out the passages in his favour. 1 " I am not 
a theologian," said More, somewhat embar- 
rassed ; "your majesty should consult a 
council of doctors." 

Accordingly, by Henry's order, Warham 
assembled the most learned canonists at 
Hampton Court ; but weeks passed away 
before they could agree. 2 Most of them 
quoted in the king's favour those passages 
in Leviticus (xviii. 16 ; xx. 21,) which for- 
bid a man to take his brother's wife. 3 But 
Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and the other 
opponents of the divorce, replied that ac- 
cording to Deuteronomy (xxv. 5,) when a 
woman is left a widow without children, 
her brother-in-law ought to take her to 
wife, to perpetuate his brother's name in 
Israel. " This law concerned the Jews 
only," replied the partisans of the divorce ; 
they added that its object was " to main- 
tain the inheritances distinct, and the 
genealogies intact, until the coming of 
Christ. The Judaical dispensation has 
passed' away ; but the law of Leviticus, 
which is a moral law, is binding upon all 
men in all ages." 

To free themselves from their embar- 
rassment, the bishops demanded that the 

1 Laid the Bible open before me, and showed me 
the words. More to Cromwell, Strype, i. 2d part, 
p. 197. 

2 Consulting from day to day, and time to time. 
Cavendish, p. 209. 

Ex his doctoribus asseritur quod Papa non po- 
test dispensare in primo gradu amnitatis. Burnet's 
E .form. ii. Records, p. 8 (Lond. 1841). 



most eminent universities should be con 
suited ; and commissioners were forthwith 
despatched to Oxford, Cambridge, Paris, 
Orleans, Toulouse, Louvain, Padua, and 
Bologna, furnished with money to reward 
the foreign doctors for the time and trouble 
this question would cost them. This caused 
some little delay, and every means was 
new to be tried to divert the king from his 
purpose. 

Wolsey, who was the first to suggest the 
idea of a divorce, was now thoroughly 
alarmed. It appeared to him that a nod 
from the daughter of the Boleyns would 
hurl him from the post he had so labo- 
riously won, and this made him vent his 
ill-humour on all about him, at one time 
threatening Warham, and at another per- 
secuting Pace. But fearing to oppose 
Henry openly, he summoned from Paris, 
Clarke, bishop of Bath and Wells, at that 
time ambassador to the French court. The 
latter entered into his views, and after 
cautiously preparing the way, he ventured 
to say to the king : " The progress of the 
inquiry will be so slow, your majesty, that 
it will take more than seven years to bring 
it to an end !" — " Since my patience has 
already held out for eighteen years," the 
king replied coldly, " I am willing to wait 
four or five more." 1 

As the political party had failed, the 
clerical party set in motion a scheme of 
another kind. A young woman, Elizabeth 
Barton, known as the holy maid of Kent, 
had been subject from childhood to epilep- 
tic fits. The priest of her parish, named 
Masters, had persuaded her that she was 
inspired of God, and confederating with 
one Booking, a monk of Canterbury, he 
turned the weakness of the prophetess to 
account. Elizabeth wandered over the 
country, passing from house to house, and 
from convent to convent ; on a sudden her 
limbs would become rigid, her features dis- 
torted ; violent convulsions shook her body, 
and strange unintelligible sounds fell from 
her lips, which the amazed bystanders re- 
ceived as revelations from the Virgin and 
the saints. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, 
Abel, the queen's ecclesiastical agent, and 
even Sir Thomas More, were among the 
number of Elizabeth's partisans. Rumours 
of the divorce having reached the saint's 
ears, an angel commanded her to appear 
before the cardinal. As soon as she stood 
in his presence, the colour fled from her 
cheeks, her limbs trembled, and falling into 
an ecstasy, she exclaimed : " Cardinal of 
York, God has placed three swords in your 
hand : the spiritual sword, to range the 
church under the authority of the pope ; 
the civil sword, to govern the realm ; and 
the sword of justice, to prevent the divorce 

of the king If you do not wield these 

three swords faithfully, God will lay it sore 

1 Since his patience had already held out for 
eighteen years. Collyer, ii. p. 24. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



735 



to your charge." 1 After these words the 
prophetess withdrew. 

But other influences were then dividing 
Wolsey's breast ; hatred, which induced 
him to oppose the divorce ; and ambition, 
which foreboded his ruin in this opposition. 
At last ambition prevailed, and he resolved 
to make his objections forgotten by the 
energy of his zeal. 

Henry hastened to profit by this change. 
" Declare the divorce yourself," said he to 
Wolsey; "has not the pope named you his 
vicar-general ?" 2 The cardinal was not 
anxious to raise himself so high. " If I 
were to decide the affair," said he, " the 
queen would appeal to the pope ; we must 
therefore either apply to the holy father for 
special powers, or persude the queen to 
retire to a nunnery. And if we fail in 
either of these expedients, we will obey the 
voice of conscience, even in despite of the 
pope." 3 It was arranged to begin with the 
more regular attempt, and Gregory Da 
Casale, secretary Knight, and the prothon- 
otary Gambara, were appointed to an ex- 
traordinary mission at the pontifical court. 
Casale was Wolsey's man, and Knight was 
Henry's. Wolsey told the envoys : " You 
will demand of the pope, \stly, a commis- 
sion authorizing me to inquire into this 
matter ; Idly, his promise to pronounce the 
nullity of Catherine's marriage with 
Henry, if we should find that her marriage 
with Arthur was consummated ; and Zdly, 
a dispensation permitting the king to marry 
again." In this manner Wolsey hoped to 
make sure of the divorce without damaging 
the papal authority. It was insinuated 
that false representations, with regard to 
the consummation of the first marriage, 
had been sent from England to Julius II., 
which had induced the pontiff to permit 
the second. The pope being deceived as to 
the fact, his infallibility was untouched. 
Wolsey desired something more ; knowing 
that no confidence could be put in the good 
faith of the pontiff, he demanded a fourth 
instrument, by which the pope should bind 
himself never to recall the other three; he 
only forgot to take precautions in case 
Clement should withdraw the fourth. 
" With these four snares, skilfully com- 
bined," said the cardinal, " I shall catch 
the hare ; if he escapes from one, he will 
fall into the other." The courtiers antici- 
pated a speedy termination of the affair. 
Was not the emperor the declared enemy 
of the pontiff ? - Had not Henry, on the 
contrary, made himself protector of the 
Clementine league f Could Clement hesitate, 

1 Strype, vol. i. part i. p. 279. 

3 When Napoleon, from similar motives, desired 
to separate from Josephine, fearing the unwilling- 
ness of the pope (as Henry did), he entertained, 
like him. the design of doing without the pontiff, 
and of getting his marriage annulled by the French 
bishops. As he was more powerful, he succeeded. 

3 Quid possit clam fieri quoad forum conscientiae. 
Colly er, ii. p 24. 



when called upon, to choose between his 
jailer and his benefactor ? 

Indeed, Charles V., at this moment, was 
in a very embarrassing position. It is true, 
his guards were posted at the gates of the 
castle of St. Angelo, where Clement was a 
prisoner, and people in Rome said to one 
another with a smile : " Now indeed it is 
true. Papa non potest errare." 1 But it was 
not possible to keep the pope a prisoner in 
Rome ; and then what was to be done with 
him ? The viceroy of Naples proposed to 
Alercon, the governor of St. Angelo, to re- 
move Clement to Gaeta ; but the affrighted 
colonel exclaimed : "Heaven forbid that I 
should drag after me the very body of 
God !" Charles thought one time of trans- 

j porting the pontiff to Spain ; but might not 
an enemy's fleet carry him off on the road ? 
The pope in prison was far more embarras- 
ing to Charles than the pope at liberty. 

It was at this critical time that Francis 
Philip, Queen Catherine's servant, having 
escaped the snares laid by Henry VIII. and 
Wolsey, arrived at Madrid, where he passed 
a whole day in conference with Charles V. 
This prince was at first astonished, shocked 
even, by the designs of the king of England. 
The curse of God seemed to hang over his 
house. His mother was a lunatic : his sis- 
ter of Denmark expelled from her domi- 
nions ; his sister of Hungary made a widow 
by the battle of Mohacz ; the Turks were 
encroaching upon his territories ; Lautreo 
was victorious in Italy, and the catholics, 
irritated by the pope's captivity, detested 
his ambition. This was not enough. Henry 
VIII. was striving to divorce his aunt, and 
the pope would naturally give his aid to 
this criminal design. Charles must choose 
between the pontiff and the king. The 
friendship of the king of England might 
aid him in breaking the league formed to 
expel him from Italy, and by sacrificing 
Catherine he would be sure to obtain his 
support ; but placed betAveen reasons of 
state and his aunt's honor, the emperor did 
not Ifesitate ; he even renounced certain 
projects of reform that he had at heart. 
He suddenly decided for the pope, and from 
that very hour followed a new course. 

Charles, who possessed great discern- 
ment, had understood his age : he had seen 
that concessions were called for by the 
movement of the human mind, and would 

j have desired to carry out the change from 
the middle ages to modern times by a care- 
fully managed transition. He had conse- 
quently demanded a council to reform the 
church and weaken the Romish dominion 
in Europe. But very different was the 
result. If Charles turned away from 
Henry, he was obliged to turn towards 
Clement ; and after having compelled the 
head of the church to enter a prison, it was 

necessary to place him once more upon the 

• 

1 The pope cannot err, -a play upon the double 
meaning of the word errare. 



736 



HISTOKY OF THE EEFOKMATION. 



throne. Charles V. sacrificed the interests 
of Christian society to the interests of his 
. own family. This divorce, which in Eug- 
land has been looked upon as the ruin of 
the popedom, was what saved it in conti- 
nental Europe. 

But how could the emperor win the heart 
of the pontiff, filled as it was with bitter- 
ness and anger? He selected for this diffi- 
cult mission a friar of great ability, De An- 
gelis, general of the Spanish Observance, 
and ordered him to proceed to the castle of 
St. Angelo under the pretext of negotiating 
the liberation of the holy father. The cor- 
delier was conducted to the strongest part 
of the fortress, called the rock, where 
Clement was lodged ; and the two priests 
brought all their craft to bear on each 
other. The monk, assisted by the artful 
Moncade, adroitly mingled together the 
pope's deliverance and Catherine's mar- 
riage. He affirmed that the emperor wished 
to open the gates of the pontiff's prison, 
and had already given the order ; l and 
then he added immediately : " The em- 
peror is determined to maintain the rights 
of his aunt, and will never consent to 
the divorce." 2 — " If you are a good shep- 
herd to me," wrote Charles to the pope 
with his own hand on the 22d of November, 
" I will be a good sheep to you." Clement 
smiled as he read these words ; he under- 
stood his position ; the emperor had need 
of the priest, Charles was at his captive's 
feet ; Clement was saved ! The divorce was 
a rope fallen from the skies which could not 
fail to drag him out of the pit ; he had only 
to cling to it quietly in order to reascend 
his throne. Accordingly from that hour 
Clement appeared less eager to quit the 
castle than Charles to liberate him. " So 
long as the divorce is in suspense," thought 
the crafty De Medici, " I have two great 
friends ; but as soon as I declare for one, 
\ I shall have a mortal enemy in the other." 
He promised the monk to come to no deci- 
sion in the matter without informing the 
emperor. 

Meantime Knight, the envoy of the im- 
patient monarch, having heard, as he 
- crossed the Alps, that the pope was at lib- 
erty, hastened on to Parma, where he met 
Gambara : " He is not free yet," replied 
the prothonotary ; " the general of the 
Franciscans hopes to terminate his captiv- 
ity in a few days. 3 Continue your jour- 
ney," he added. Knight could not do so 
without great danger. He was told at Fo- 
ligno, Fixty miles from the metropolis, that 
if he had not a safe-conduct he could not 



1 La Csesarea Majesta si come grandamente de- 
sidera la liberatione de nostro signor, cosi efficace- 
mente la manda. Capituli, 'etc. Le Grand, iii. 
p. 48. 

a That in anywise he should not consent to the 
same. State Papers, vii. p. 29. 

3 Quod sperabat intra paucos dies auferre suae 
Sanetitati squalorem et tenebras. State Papers, 
vii. p. 13. 



reach Rome without exposing his life ; 
Knight halted. Just then a messenger 
from Henry brought him despatches more 
pressing than ever ; Knight started again 
with one servant and a guide. At Monte 
Rotondo he was nearly murdered by the in- 
habitants : but on the next day (25th No- 
vember), protected by a violent storm of 
wind and rain, 1 Henry's envoy entered 
Rome at ten o'clock without being observed, 
and kept himself concealed. 

It was impossible to speak with Clement, 
for the emperor's orders were positive. 
Knight, therefore, began to practise upon 
the cardinals ; he gained over the cardinal 
of Pisa, by whose means his despatches 
were laid before the pontiff. Clement after 
reading them laid them down with a smile 
of satisfaction. 2 " Good !" said he, " here 
is the other coming to me now !" But night 
had hardly closed in before the cardinal of 
Pisa's secretary hastened to Knight and 
told him : " Don Alercon is informed of 
your arrival ; and the pope intreats you to 
depart immediately." The officer had 
scarcely left him, when the prothonotary 
Gambara arrived in great agitation : " His 
holiness presses you to leave ; as soon as 
he is at liberty, he will attend to your 
master's request." Two hours after this, 
two hundred Spanish soldiers arrived, sur- 
rounded the house in which Knight had 
concealed himself, and searched it from top 
to bottom, but to no purpose ; the English 
agent had escaped. 3 

Knight's safety was not the true motive 
which induced Clement to urge his depart- 
ure. The very day on which the pope re- 
ceived the message from the king of Eng- 
land, he signed a treaty with Charles V., 
restoring him, under certain conditions, to 
both his powers. At the same time the 
pontiff, for greater security, pressed the 
French general Lautrec to hasten his 
march to Rome in order to save him from 
the hands of the emperor. Clement, a dis- 
ciple of Machiavelli, thus gave the right 
hand to Charles and the left to Francis ; 
and as he had not another for Henry, he 
made him the most positive promises. Each 
of the three princes could reckon on the 
pope's friendship, and on the same grounds. 

The 10th of December (1527) was the 
day * on which Clement's imprisonment 
would terminate ; but he preferred owing 
his freedom to intrigue rather than to the 
emperor's generosity. He therefore pro- 
cured the dress of a tradesman, and, on the 
evening before the day fixed for his deliv- 
erance, his ward being already much re- 
laxed, he escaped from the castle, and, ao 



1 Veari trobelous with wynde and rayne, and 
therefore more mete for our voyage. State Papers, 
vii. p. 16. 

2 Reponed the same saufiy, as Gambara showed 
unto me. Ibid. p. 17. 

3 1 was not passed out of Rome, by the space of 
two hours, ere two hundred Spaniards invaded and 
searched the house. Burnet, Records, ii. p. 12. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



737 



companied only by Louis of Gonzago in his 
flight, he made his way to Orvieto. 

While Clement was experiencing all the 
joy of a man just escaped from prison, 
Henry was a prey to the most violent agi- 
tation. Having Ceased to love Catherine, 
he persuaded himself that he was the victim 
of his father's ambition, a martyr to duty, 
and the champion of conjugal sanctity. 
His very gait betrayed his vexation, and 
even among the gay conversation of the 
court, deep sighs would escape from his 
bosom. He had frequent interviews with 
Wolsey. " I regard the safety of my soul 
above all things, ' ;1 he said; "but I am 
concerned also for the peace of my king- 
dom. For a long while an unceasing re- 
morse has been gnawing at my conscience, 2 
and my thoughts dwell upon my marriage 
with unutterable sorrow. 3 God, in his 
wrath, has taken away my sons, and if I 
persevere in this unlawful union, he will 
visit me with still more terrible chastise- 
ments. 4 My only hope is in the holy 
father." Wolsey replied with a low bow : 
" Please your majesty, I am occupied with 
this business, as if it were my only means 
of winning heaven.'-' 

And indeed he redoubled his exertions. 
He wrote to Sir Gregory Da Casale on the 
5th of December (1527): "you will pro- 
cure an audience of the pope at any price. 
Dieguise yourself, appear before him as the 
servant of some nobleman, 5 or as a messen- 
ger from the duke of Ferrara. Scatter 
money plentifully ; sacrifice every thing, 
provided you procure a secret interview 
with his holiness ; ten thousand ducats are 
at your disposal, You will explain to 
Clement the king's scruples, and the neces- 
sity of providing for the continuance of his 
house and the peace of his kingdom. You 
will tell him that in order to restore him to 
liberty, the king is ready to declare war 
against the emperor, and thus show himself 
to all the world to be a true son of the 
church." 

Wolsey saw clearly that it was essential 
to represent the divorce to Clement VII. as 
a means likely to secure the safety of the 
popedom. The cardinal, therefore, wrote 
again to Da Casale on the 6th of December : 
" Night and day, I revolve in my mind the 
actual condition of the church, 6 and seek 
the means best calculated to extricate the 
pope from the gulf into which he has fallen. 
While I was turning these thoughts over 

1 Deumque primo et ante omnia ac aniinae suse 
quietem et saluternrespiciens. Burnet's.Reforina- 
tion, ii. Records, p. vii. 

a Longo jam tempore intimo suae conscientise re- 
morsu. Ibid. 

3 Ingenti cum molestia cordisque perturbatione. 
Ibid. 

* Graviusque a Deo supplicium expavescit. Ibid. 
p. viii. 

5 Mutato habitu et tanquam alicujus minister. 
Ibid. 

6 Diuque ac noctu mente volvens quo facto. 
State Papers, vii. p. 18 



in my mind during a sleepless night 

one way suddenly occurred to me. I said 
to myself, the king must be prevailed upon 
to undertake the defence of the holy father. 
This was no easy matter, for his majesty is 
strongly attached to the emperor ; J however, 
I set about my task. I told the king that 
his holiness was ready to satisfy him ; I 
staked my honour ; I succeeded... ...To save 

the pope, my master will sacrifice his trea- 
sures, subjects, kingdom, and even his 

life 2 1 therefore conjure his holiness to 

entertain our just demand." 

Never before had such pressing entrea- 
ties been made to a pope. 

The envoys of the king of England appeared 
in the character of the saviours uf Rome . This 
was doubtless no stratagem ; and Wolsey 
probably regarded that thought as coming 
from heaven, which had visited him during 
the weary sleepless night. The zeal of his 
agents increased. The pope was hardly 
set at liberty, before Knight and Da Casale 
appeared at the foot of the precipitous rock 
on which Orvieto is built, and demanded to 
be introduced to Clement YII. Nothing 
could be more compromising to the pontiff 
than such a visit. Huw could he appear 
on good terms with England, when Rome 
and all his states were still in the hands of 
Catherine's nephew ? The pope's mind 
was utterly bewildered by the demand of 
the two envoys. He recovered however ; 
to reject the powerful hand extended to 
him by England was not without its danger ; 
and as he knew well how to bring .a diffi- 
cult negotiation to a successful conclusion, 
Clement regained confidence in his skill, 
and gave orders to introduce Henry's am- 
bassadors. 

Their discourse was not without eloquence. 
" Never was the church in a more critical 
position," said they. " The unmeasured 
ambition of the kings who claim to dispose 
of spiritual affairs at their own pleasure 
(this was aimed at Charles Y.) holds the 
apostolical bark suspended over an abyss. 
The only port open to it in the tempest is. 
the favour of the august prince whom we 
represent, and who has always been the 
shield of the faith. But, alas ! this monarch, 
the impregnable bulwark of your holiness, 
| is himself the prey of tribulations almost 
j equal to your own. His conscience torn by 
i remorse, his crown without an heir, his 
| kingdom without security, his people ex- 
posed once more to perpetual disorders 

Nay, the whole Christian world given up 

to the most cruel discord. 8 Such are the 

consequences of a fatal union which God 

has marked with his displeasure There 

are also," they added in a lower tone, 
" certain things of which his majesty can- 
not speak in his letter certain incurable 



1 Adeo tenaciter Caesari adharebat. State Pa- 
pers, vii. p. 18. 

3 Usque ad mortem. Ibid. p. 19. 

3 Dist-ordiaj erudelissima? per omneui christia 
num orbem. Ibid. 



738 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



disorders under which the queen suffers, 
which will never permit the king to look 
upon her again as his wife. 1 If your holi- 
ness puts an end to such wretchedness by 
annulling his unlawful marriage, you will 
attach his majesty by an indissoluble bond. 
Assistance, riches, armies, crown, and even 
Tife — the king our master is ready to em- 
ploy all in the service of Rome, fie stretch- 
es out his hand to you, most holy father 

stretch out yours to him; by your 

union the church will be saved, and Europe 
will be saved with it." 

Clement was cruelly embarrassed. His 
policy consisted in holding the balance be- 
tween the two princes, and he was now 
called upon to decide in favour of one of 
them. He began to regret that he had ever 
received Henry's ambassadors. "Consider 
my position," he said to them, " and en- 
treat the king to wait until more favourable 
events leave me at liberty to act." " What \" 
replied Knight proudly, " has not your ho- 
liness promised to consider his majesty's 
prayer ? If you fail in your promise now, 
how can I persuade the king that you will 
keep it some future day ?" 2 Da Casale 
thought the time had come to strike a de- 
cisive blow. " What evils," he exclaimed, 
" what inevitable misfortunes your refusal 
will create ! . . . . The emperor thinks only 
of depriving the church of its power, and 
the king of England alone has sworn to 
maintain it." Then speaking lower, more 
slowly, and dwelling upon every word, he 
continued: " We fear that his majesty, re- 
duced to such extremities of the two 

evils will choose the least, 3 and supported 
by the purity of his intentions, will do of 
his own authority . . . . what he now so re- 
spectfully demands — . What should we see 

then ? 1 shudder at the thought Let 

not your holiness indulge in a false security 
which will inevitably drag you into the 

abyss Read all remark all divine 

all take note of all. 4 Most holy fa- 
ther, this is a question of life and death." 
And Da Casale's tone said more than his 
words. 

Clement understood that a positive refu- 
sal would expose him to lose England. 
Placed between Henry and Charles, as be- 
tween the hammer and the forge, he resolved 
to gain time. " Well then," he said to 
Knight and Da Casale, " I will do what you 
ask ; but I am not familiar with the forms 
these dispensations require 1 will con- 
sult the Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor on the 
subject. . . .and then will inform you." 

Knight and Da Casale, wishing to antici- 



1 Nonnulla sunt secreta S.D.N, secreto expon- 

eiida et non credenda scriptis ob morbos non- 

nullos quibus absque remedio regina laborat. Ibid. 

2 Perform the promise once broken. Burnet's 
Ref. ii. Records, p. xiii. 

s Ex duobus malis minus malum eligat. State 
Papers, vii. p. 20. 

4 TJt non gravetur, cuncta legere, et bene notare. 
Ibid. p. 18. 



pate Clement VII., hastened to Lorenzo 
Pucci, cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor, and 
intimated to him that their master would 
know how to be grateful. The cardinal 
assured the deputies of his affection for 
Henry VIII. , and they, in the fullness of 
their gratitude, laid before him the four 
documents which they were anxious to get 
executed. But the cardinal had hardly 
looked at the first — the proposal that Wol- 
sey should decide the matter of divorce in 
England — when he exclaimed: "Impossi- 
ble ! a bull in such terms would cover 

with eternal disgrace not only his holiness 
and the king, but even the cardinal of York 
himself." The deputies were confounded, 
for Wolsey had ordered them to ask the 
pope for nothing but his signature. 1 Re- 
covering themselves, they rejoined: "All 
that we require is a, competent commission." 
On his part, the pope wrote Henry a letter, 
in which he managed to say nothing. 2 

Of the four required documents there were 
two on whose immediate despatch Knight 
and Da Casale insisted ; these were the 
commission to pronounce the divorce, and 
the dispensation to contract a second mar- 
riage. The dispensation without the com- 
mission was of no value; this the pope 
knew well ; accordingly he resolved to give 
the dispensation only. It was as if Charles 
had granted Clement when in prison per- 
mission to visit his cardinals, but denied 
him liberty to leave the castle of St. Angelo. 
It is in such a manner as this that a reli- 
gious system transformed into a political 
system has recourse, when it is without 
power, to stratagem. " The commission" 
said the artful Medici to Knight, " must be 
corrected according to the style of our 
court ; but here is the dispensation" Knight 
took the document ; it was addressed to 
Henry VIII. and ran thus : " We accord 
to you, in case your marriage with Cather- 
ine shall be declared null, 3 free liberty to 
take another wife, provided she have not 

been the wife of your brother " The 

Englishman was duped by the Italian. " To 
my poor judgment," he said, " this docu- 
ment will be of use to us." After this 
Clement appeared to concern himself solely 
about Knight's health, and suddenly mani- 
fested the greatest interest for him. " It is 
proper that you should hasten your depart- 
ure." said he, "for it is necessary that you 
should travel at your ease. Gambara will 
follow your post, and bring the commis- 
sion." Knight thus mystified, took leave 
of the pope, who got rid of Da Casale and 
Gambara in a similar manner. He then 
began to breathe once more. There was no 
diplomacy in Europe which Rqme, even in 
its greatest weakness, could not easily dupe. 



1 Alia nulla re esset opus, prgeterquam ejus Sane- 
titatis signatura. State Papers, vii. p. 29. 

2 Cbarissime in Christo fili, &c, dated 7th Deer. 
1527. Ibid. p. 27. 

" Matrimonium cum Catharina nullum fuisse eX 
esse declarari. Herbert's Henry VIII. p. 280. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



739 



It had now become necessary to elude the 
commission. While the king's envoys were 
departing in good spirits, reckoning on the 
document that was to follow them, the gen- 
eral of the Spanish Observance reiterated 
to the pontiff in every tone : "Be careful to 
give no document authorizing the divorce, I 
and above all, do not permit this affair to | 
be judged in Henry's states." The cardi- 
nals drew up the document under the in- 
fluence of De Angelis, and made it a master- 
piece of insignificance. If good theology j 
ennobles the heart, bad theology, so fertile ! 
in subtleties, imparts to the mind a skill by | 
no means common ; and hence, the most 
celebrated diplomatists have often been | 
churchmen. The act being thus drawn up, I 
the pope despatched three copies, to Knight, I 
to Da Casale, and to Gambara. Knight 
was near Bologna when the courier over- 
took him. He was stupified, and taking ! 
post-horses, returned with all haste to Or- 1 
vieto. 1 Gambara proceeded through France 
to England with the useless dispensation 
which the pope had granted. 

Knight. had thought to meet with more 
good faith at the court of the pope than with 
kings, and he had been outwitted. What 
would Wolsey and Henry say of his folly ? 
His wounded self-esteem began to make 
him believe all that Tyndale and Luther 
said of the popedom. The former had just 
published the Obedience of a Christian Man, 
and the Parable of the Wicked Mammon, in 
which he represented Rome as one of the 
transformations of Antichrist. " Anti- 
christ," said he in the latter treatise, "is 
not a man that should suddenly appear 
with wonders ; he is a spiritual thing, who 
was in the Old Testament, and also in the 
time of Christ and the apostles, and is now, 
and shall (I doubt not) endure till the 
world's end. His nature is (when he is 
overcome with the word of God) to go out 
of the play for a season, and to disguise 
himself, and then to come in again with a 
new name and new raiment. The Scribes 
and Pharisees in the gospel were very 
Antichrists ; popes, cardinals, and bishops 
have gotten their new names, but the thing 
is all one. Even so now, when we have 
uttered [vanquished] him, he will change 
himself once more, and turn himself into an 
angel of light. Already the beast, seeing 
himself now to be sought for, roareth and 
seeketh new holes to hide himself in, and 
changeth himself into a thousand fash- 
ions." 2 ThivS -idea, paradoxical at first, 
gradually made its way into men's minds. 
The Romans, by their practices, familiar- 
ized the English to the somewhat coarse 
descriptions of the reformers. England 
was to have many such lessons, and thus 
by degrees to learn to set Rome aside for 
the sake of her own glory and prosperity. 

Knight and Da Casale reached Orvieto 



Burnet's Reformation, Records, ii. p. xiii. 
Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 42, 43. 



about the same time. Clement replied 
with sighs: "Alas! I am the emperor's 
prisoner. The imperialists are every day 
pillaging towns and castles in our neigh- 
bourhood. 1 .... Wretch that I am! I 

have not a friend except the king your 

master, and he is far away If I should 

do any thing now to displease Charles, I 
am a lost man To sign the commis- 
sion would be to sign an eternal rupture 
with him." But Knight and Da Casale 
pleaded so effectually with Cardinal Sanc- 
torum Quatuor and so pressed Clement, 
that the pontiff, without the knowledge of 
the Spaniard De Angelis, gave them a 
more satisfactory document, but not such 
as Wolse} 7 required. " In giving you this 
commission," said the pope, " I am giving 
away my liberty, and perhaps my life. I 
listen not to the voice of prudence, but to 
that of affection only. I confide in the 
generosity of the -king of England, he is 
the master of my destiny-" He then be- 
gan to weep, 2 and seemed ready to faint. 
Knight, forgetting his vexation, promised 
Clement that the king would do every 
thing to save him. — " Ah !" said the pope, 
" there is one effectual means." — "What 
is that?" inquired Henry's agents — " M. 
Lautrec, who says daily that he will come, 
but never does," replied Clement, "has 
only to bring the French army promptly 
before the gates of Orvieto ; then I could 
excuse myself by saying that he con- 
strained me to sign the commission." 3 — 
" Nothing is easier," replied the envoys, 
" we will go and hasten his arrival." 

Clement was not even now at ease. The 
safety of the Roman church troubled him 

not less than his own Charles might 

discover the trick, and make the popedom 
suffer for it. There was danger on all 
sides. If the English spoke of indepen- 
dence, did not the emperor threaten a 

reform f The catholic princes, said the 

papal councillors, are capable, without per- 
haps a single exception, of supporting the 
cause of Luther to gratify a criminal ambi- 
tion. 4 The pope reflected, and withdraw- 
ing his word, promised to give the com- 
mission when Lautrec was under the walls 
of Orvieto ; but the English agents in- 
sisted on having it immediately. To con- 
ciliate all, it was agreed that the pope 
should give the required document at once, 
but as soon as the French army arrived, 
he should send another copy bearing the 



' The imperialists do daily spoil castles and 

towns about Rome they have taken within three 

days two castles lying within six miles of this. 
Burnet's Ref. vol. ii. Records, p. xiii. 

2 Cum suspiriis et lacrymis. Burnet's Ref. vol. 
ii. Records, p. 12. 

3 And by this colour he would cover the matter. 
Ibid. 

* Non potest Sua Sanctitas sibi persuadere ipsos 
principes (ut forte aliqui jactant) a&sumpturos sec- 
tarn Lutheranam contra ecclesiam. State Papers, 
vii. p. 47. 



740 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



date of the day on which he saw Lautrec. 
" Beseech the king to keep secret the com- 
mission I give you," 1 said Clement VII. to 
Knight r " if he begins the process imme- 
diately he receives it, I am undone for 
ever." 2 The pope thus gave permission to 
act, on condition of not acting at all. 
Knight took leave on the first of January 
1528 ; he promised all the pontiff desired, 
and then, as if fearing some fresh diffi- 
culty, he departed the same day. Da 
Casale, on his side, after having offered the 
Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor a gift of 4000 
crowns, which he refused, repaired to Lau- 
trec, to beg him to constrain the pope to 
sign a document which was already on its 
way to England. 

But while the business seemed to be 
clearing at Rome, it was becoming more 
complicated in London. The king's project 
got wind, and Catherine gave way to the 
liveliest sorrow. " I shall protest/' said 
she, " against the commission given to the 
cardinal of York. Is he not the king's 
subject, the vile flatterer of his pleasures ?" 
Catherine did not resist alone ; the people, 
who hated the cardinal, could not with 
pleasure see him invested with such autho- 
rity. To obviate this inconvenience, Henry 
resolved to ask the pope for another cardi- 
nal, who should be empowered to termi- 
nate the affair in London with or without 
Wolsey. 

The latter agreed to the measure: it is 
even possible that he was the first to sug- 
gest Ft. for he feared to bear alone the re- 
sponsibility of so hateful an inquiry. Ac- 
cordingly, on the 27th of December, he 
wrote to the king's agents at Rome : " Pro- 
cure the envoy of a legate, and particularly 
of an able, easy, manageable legate desi- 
rous of meriting the king's favour, 3 Campeg- 
gio for instance. You will earnestly request 
the cardinal who may be selected, to travel 
with all diligence, and you will assure him 
that the king will behave liberally towards 
him." 4 

Knight reached Asti on the 10th of 
January, where he found letters with fresh 
orders. This was another check: at one 
time it is the pope who compels him to re- 
trograde, at another it is the king. Henry's 
unlucky valetudinarian secretary, a man 
very susceptible of fatigue, and already 
wearied and exhausted by ten painful 
journeys, was in a very bad humour. He 
determined to permit Gambara to carry the 
two documents to England ; to commission 
Da Casale, who had not left the pope's 
neighbourhood, to solicit the despatch of 
the legate ; and as regarded himself, to go 

1 State Papers, vii. p. 36. 

a Is fully in your puissance with publishing of 
the commission to destroy for ever. State Papers, 
vii. p. 36. 

3 Eruditus, indifferens, tractabilis, de regia ma- 
jestate bene merendi cupidus. Ibid. p. 33. 

* Regia majestas sumptus, labores, atque moles- 
tias liberalissime compenset. Ibid. p. 34. 



and wait for further orders at Turin ; — "If 
it be thought good unto the king's high- 
ness that I do return unto Orvieto, I shall 
do as much as my -poor carcass may en- 
dure." 1 

When Da Casale reached Bologna, he 
pressed Lautrec to go and constrain the 
pontiff to sign the act which Gambara was 
already bearing to England. On receiving 
the new despatches he returned in all haste 
to Orvieto, and the pope was very much 
alarmed when he heard of his arrival. He 
had feared to grant a simple paper, destined 
to remain secret; and now he is required 
to send a prince of the church ! Will Henry 
never be satisfied? ' : The mission you de- 
sire would be full of dangers," he replied ; 
" but we have discovered another means, 
alone calculated to finish this business. 
Mind you do not say that I pointed it out 
to you," added the pope in a mysterious 
tune ; " but that it was suggested by Car- 
dinal Sanctorum Quatuor and Simonetta." 
Da Casale was all attention. " There is 
not a doctor in the world who can better 
decide on this matter, and on its most 
private circumstances, than the king him- 
self. 2 If therefore he sincerely believes 
that Catherine had really become his bro- 
ther's wife, let him empower the cardinal 
of York to pronounce the divorce, and let 
him take another wife without any further 
ceremony ; 3 he can then afterwards demand 
the confirmation of the consistory. The 
affair being concluded in this way, I will 
take the rest upon myself." — " But," said 
Da Casale, somewhat dissatisfied with this 
new intrigue, " I must fulfil my mission, 
and the king demands a legate." — " And 
whom shall I send '?" asked Clement. " Da 
Monte? he cannot move. De Cassis? he is 
at Naples. Ara Cceli ? he has the gout. 
Piccolomini ? he is of the imperial party 

Campeggio would be the best, but he is 

at Rome, where he supplies my place, and 
cannot leave without peril to the church." 

And then with some emotion h*e added, 

"I throw myself into his majesty's arms. 
The emperor will never forgive what I am 
doing. If he hears of it he will summon 
me before his council ; I shall have no rest 
until he has deprived me of my throne and 
my life." 4 

Da Casale hastened to forward to Lon- 
don the result of the conference. Clement 
being unable to untie the knot, requested 
Henry to cut it. Will this prince hesitate 
to employ so easy a means, the pope (Cle- 
ment declared it himself) being willing to 
ratify every thing? 

Here closes Henry's first campaign in 



1 Burnet's Kef. vol. ii., Records, p. xiii. 
3 Nullus doctor in mundo est, qui de hac re me- 
lius decernere possit quam ipse rex. Ibid. p. xiv. 

3 Aliam uxorem ducat. Ibid. 

4 Vocabit eum ad concilium, vel nihil aliud quae- 
ret, nisi ut eum omni statu et vita privet. Burnet, 
ii., Records, p. xxvi. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



741 



the territories of the popedom. We shall 
now see the results of so many efforts. 

Never was disappointment more com- 
plete than that felt by Henry and Wolsey 
after the arrival of Gambara with the com- 
mission ; the king was angry, the cardinal 
vexed. What Clement called the sacrifice 
of life was in reality but a sheet of paper 
fit only to be thrown into the fire. " This 
commission is of no value/" said Wolsey. — 
"And even to put it into execution," added 
Henry, " we must wait until the imperial- 
ists have quitted Italy ! The pope is put- 
ting us off to the Greek calends." — " His 
holiness/' observed the cardinal, " does 
not bind himself to pronounce the divorce ; 
the queen will therefore appeal from our 
judgment." — "And even if the pope had 
bound himself," added the king, " it would 
be sufficient for the emperor to smile upon 
him, to make him retract what he had pro- 
mised." — " It is all a cheat and a mock- 
ery," concluded both king and minister. 

What was to be done next ? The only 
way to make Clement ours, thought Wol- 
sey, is to get rid of Charles ; it is time his 
pride was brought down. Accordingly, on 
the 21st of January 1528, France and Eng- 
land declared hostilities against the empe- 
ror. When Charles heard of this proceed- 
ing, he exclaimed : " I know the hand that 
has flung the torch of war into the midst 
of Europe. My crime is not having 
placed the cardinal of York on St. Peter's 
throne." 

A mere declaration of war was not 
enough for Wolsey ; the bishop of Ba- 
yonne, ambassador from France, seeing 
him one day somewhat excited, 2 whispered 
in his ear: "In former times popes have 
deposed emperors for smaller offences." 
Charles's deposition would have delivered 
the king of France from a troublesome 
rival ; but Du Bellay, fearing to take the 
initiative in so bold an enterprise, sug- 
gested the idea to the cardinal. Wolsey 
reflected: such a thought had never before 
occurred to him. Taking the ambassador 
aside to a window, he there swore stoutly, 
said Du Bellay, that he should be delighted 
to use all his influence to get Charles de- 
posed by the pope. " No one is more 
likely than yourself," replied the bishop, 
" to induce Clement to do it." — " I will use 
all my credit," rejoined Wolsey, and the 
two priests separated. This bright idea 
the cardinal never forgot. Charles had 
robbed him of the tiara ; he will retaliate 
by depriving Charles of his crown. An eye 
for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Staf- 
fileo, dean of the Rota, was then in Lon- 
don, and, still burning with resentment 
against the author of the sack of Rome, he 
favourably received the suggestions Wol- 

- * Nullius sit roboris vel effectus. State Papers, 
vii. p. 50. 

2 Du Bellay to Francis I. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p 64. 



sey made to him ; and, finally, the envoy 
from John Zapolya, king-elect of Hungary, 
supported the project. But the kings of 
France and England were not so easily in- 
duced to put the thrones of kings at the 
disposal of the priests. It appears, how- 
ever, that the pope was sounded on the 
subject, and if the emperor had been 
beaten in Italy, it is probable that the bull 
would have been fulminated against him. 
His sword preserved his crown, and the 
plot of the two bishops failed. 

The king's councillors began to seek for 
less heroic means. "We must prosecute 
the affair at Rome," said some — " No," 
said others, "in England. The pope is too 
much afraid of the emperor to pronounce 
the divorce in person." — " If the pope fears 
the emperor more than the king of Eng- 
land," exclaimed the proud Tudor, "we 
shall find some other way to set him at 
ease." 1 Thus, at the first contradiction, 
Henry placed his hand on his sword, and 
threatened to sever the ties which bound 
his kingdom to the throne of the Italian 
pontiff. 

" I have hit it !" said Wolsey at length ; 
" we must combine the two plans — judge 
the affair in London, and at the same time 
bind the pontiff at Rome." And then the 
able cardinal proposed the draft of a bull, 
by which the pope, delegating his authority 
to two legates, should declare that the acts 
of that delegation should have a perpetual 
effect, notwithstanding any contrary decrees 
that might subsequently emanate from his 
infallible authority. 2 A new mission was 
decided upon for the accomplishment of this 
bold design. 

Wolsey, annoyed by the folly of Knight 
and his colleagues, desired men of another 
stamp. He therefore cast his eyes on his 
own secretary, Stephen Gardiner, an active 
man, intelligent, supple, and crafty, a 
learned canonist, desirous of the king's 
favour, and, above all, a good Romanist, 
which at Rome was not without its advan- 
tage. Gardiner was in small the living 
image of his master ; and hence the cardi- 
nal sometimes styled him the half of him- 
self. 3 Edward Fox, the chief almoner, was 
joined with him — a moderate, influential 
man, a particular friend of Henry's, and a 
zealous advocate of the divorce. Fox was 
named first in the commission ; but it was 
agreed that Gardiner should be the real head 
of the embassy. " Repeat without ceas- 
ing," Wolsey told them, " that his majesty 
cannot do otherwise than separate from the 
queen. . Attack each one on his weak side. 
Declare to the pope that the king promises 
to defend him against the emperor ; and to 
the cardinals that their services will be nobly 



1 Burnet's Reformation, i. p. 50. 

a Non obstantibus quibuscunque decretis revo- 
catoriis prassentis concessionis nostras. Burnet, 
Records, ii. p. xvii. 

x< Mei (iimidium. Ibid. p. xv. 



742 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rewarded.' If that does not suffice, let the 
energy of your words be such as to excite 
a wholesome fear in the pontiff." 

Fox and Gardiner, after a gracious recep- 
tion at Paris (23d February) by Francis I., 
arrived at Orvieto on the 20th of March, 
after many perils, and. with their dress in 
such disorder, that no one could have 
taken them for ambassadors of Henry VIII. 
" What a city V* they exclaimed, as they 
passed through its streets ; " what ruins, 
what misery ! It is indeed truly called 
Orvieto (urbs vetus) I" The state of the 
town gave them no very grand idea of the 
state of the popedom, and they imagined 
that with a pontiff so poorly lodged, their 
negotiation could not be otherwise than 
easy. " I give you my house/' said Da 
Casale, to whom they went, " my room and 
my own bed ;" and as they made some 
objections, he added : " It is not possible 
to lodge you elsewhere ; I have even been 
forced to borrow what was necessary to re- 
ceive you." 2 Da Casale, pressing them to 
change their clothes, which were still drip- 
ping (they had just crossed a river on their 
mules), they replied, that being obliged to 
travel post, they had not been able to bring 
a change of raiment. " Alas \" said Ca- 
sale, " what is to be done ? there are few 
persons in Orvieto who have more garments 
than one ; 3 even the shopkeepers have no 
cloth for sale ; this town is quite a prison. 
People say the pope is at liberty here. A 
pretty liberty indeed ! Want, impure air, 
wretched lodging, and a thousand other in- 
conveniences, keep the holy father closer 
than he was in the Castle of St. Angelo. 
Accordingly, he told me the other day, it 
was better to be in captivity at Rome than 
at liberty here." 4 

In two days, however, they managed to 
procure some new clothing ; and being now 
in a condition to show themselves, Henry's 
agents were admitted to an after-dinner au- 
dience on Monday the 22d of March (1528). 

Da Casale conducted them to an old 
building in ruins. " This is where his 
holiness lives," he said. They looked at 
one another with astonishment, and cross- 
ing the rubbish lying about, passed through 
three chambers whose ceilings had fallen in, 
whose windows were curtainless, and in 
which thirty persons, " riff-raff, were stand- 
ing against the bare walls for a garnish- 
ment." 5 This was the pope's court. 

At length the ambassadors reached the 
pontiff's room, and placed Henry's letters 
in his hands. " Your holiness," said Gar- 
diner, " when sending the king a dispensa- 
tion, was pleased to add, that if this docu- 
ment were not sufficient, you would will- 

1 Money to present the cardinals. Strype's Mem. 
i. p. 137. 

J Borrowing of divers men so much as might 
furnish three beds. Ibid. p. 139. 

3 Ibid. 

* State Papers, vii. r>. 63. 

* Strype, i. p. 139. 



I i Q gly g^e a better. It is that favour the 
king now desires." The pope with embar- 
rassment strove to soften his refusal. " I 
am informed," he said, " that the king is 
led on in this affair by a secret inclination, 
and that the lady he loves is far from being 
worthy of him." Gardiner replied with 
firmness : " The king truly desires to marry 
again after the divorce, that he may have 
an heir to the crown : but the woman he 
proposes to take is animated by the noblest 
sentiments ; the cardinal of York and all 
England do homage to her virtues."' The 
pope appeared convinced. " Besides," 
continued Gardiner, " the king has written 
a book on the motives of his divorce." — 
'• Good ! come and read it to me to-morrow," 
rejoined Clement. 

The next day the English envoys had 
hardly appeared before Clement took Hen- 
ry's book, ran it over as he walked up and 
down the room, and then seating himself 
on a long bench covered with an old carpet, 
" not worth twenty pence," says an anna- 
j list, he read the book aloud. He counted 
I the number of arguments, made objections 
as if Henry were present, and piled them 
! one upon another without waiting for an 
answer. " The marriages forbidden in Le- 
viticus," said he, in a short and quick tone 
of voice, " are permitted in Deuteronomy ; 
now Deuteronomy coming after Leviticus, 
we are bound by the latter. The honour 
of Catherine and the emperor is at stake, 
and the divorce would give rise to a terrible 
I war." 2 The pope continued speaking, and 
I whenever the Englishman attempted to re- 
ply, he bade them be silent, and kept on 
reading. " It is an excellent book," said 
he, however, in a courteous tone, when he 
had ended ; "I shall keep it to read over 
again at my leisure." Gardiner then pre- 
senting a draft of the commission which 
Henry required, Clement made answer : 
" It is too late to look at it now ; leave it 
with me." — " But we are in haste," added 
Gardiner, — "Yes, yes, I know it," said the 
pope. All his efforts tended to protract the 
business. 

On the 28th of March, the ambassadors 
were conducted to the room in which the 
pope slept ; the cardinal Sanctorum Qua- 
tuor and De Monte, as well the coun- 
cillor of the Rota, Simonetta, were then 
with him. Chairs were arranged in a semi- 
circle. " Be seated," said Clement, who 
stood in the middle. 3 " Master Gardiner, 
now tell me what you want." — "There is 
no question between us but one of time. 
You promised to ratify the divorce, as soon 
as it was pronounced ; and we require you 
to do before what you engage to do after. 
What is right on one day, must be right on 

1 The cardinal's judgment as to the good qualities 
of the gentlewoman. Ibid. p. 111. 

3 Quis preestabitne hoc divortium magni alicujua 
belli causam prasbeat. Sanderus, p. 26. 

* In medio semicirculi. Strype, Records, i. p. 81. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



743 



another." Then, raising his voice, the 
Englishman added : " If his majesty per- 
ceives that no more respect is paid to him 
than to a common man. 1 he will have re- 
course to a remedy which I will not name, 
but which will not fail in its effect." 

The pope and his councillors looked at 
one another in silence ; 2 they had under- 
stood him. The imperious Gardiner, re- 
marking the effect which he had produced, 
then added in an absolute tone : " We have 
our instructions, and are determined to 
keep to them." " I am ready to do every- 
thing compatible with my honour," ex- 
claimed Clement, in alarm. " What your 
honour would not permit you to grant/'" 
said the proud ambassador, " the houour 
of the king, my master, would not permit 
him to ask." Gardiner's language became 
more imperative every minute. "Well, 
then," said Clement, driven to extremity, 
" I will do what the king demands, and if 
the emperor is angry, I cannot help it." 
The interview, which had commenced with 
a storm, finished with a gleam of sunshine. 

That bright gleam soon disappeared : 
Clement, who imagined he saw in Henry a 
Hannibal at war with Rome, wished to play 
the temporizer, the Fabius Cunciaior. "Bis 
dot qui cito dat," 5 said Gardiner sharply, 
who observed this manoeuvre. — " It is a 
question of law," replied the pope, " and as 
I am very ignorant in these matters, I 
must give the doctors of the canon law the 
necessary time to make it all clear." — " By 
his delays Fabius Maximus saved Rome," 
rejoined Gardiner ; " you will destroy it by 
yours." 4 — " Alas I" exclaimed the pope, " if 
I say the king is right, I shall have to go 
back to prison." 5 — "When truth is con- 
cerned," said the ambassador, " of what 
consequence are the opinions of men V 
Gardiner was speaking at his ease, but 
Clement found that the castle of St. Angelo 
was not without weight in the balance. 
" You may be sure that I shall do every- 
thing for the best," replied the modern Fa- 
bius. With these words the conference 
terminated. 

Such were the struggles of England with 
the popedom — struggles which were to end 
in a definitive rupture. Gardiner knew 
that he had a skilful adversary to deal with ; 
too cunning to allow himself to be irritated, 
he coolly resolved to frighten the pontiff; 
that was in his instructions. On the Friday 
before Palm Sunday he was ushered into 
the pope's closet ; there he found Clement 
attended by DeMonte, Sanctorum Quatuor, 
Simonetta, Staffileo, Paul, auditor of the 
Rota, and Gambara. " It is impossible," 
said the cardinals, " to grant a decretal 
ccmmission in which the pope pronounces 

1 Promiscute plebis. Ibid. p. 82. 

3 Every man looked on other and so stayed. Ibid. 

3 He gives twice who gives quickly. 

4 In Fabio Maximo qui rem Romanam cunc- 
tando restituit. Strype, p. 90. 

* Materia novse capiivitatis. Ibid. p. 86. 
48. 



de jure in favour of the divorce, with a 
promise of confirmation de facto." Gardi- 
ner insisted ; but no persuasion, " neither 
dulce nor poynante," 1 could move the pon- 
tiff. The envoy judged the moment had 
come to discharge his strongest battery. 
"0 perverse race," said he to the pontiff's 
ministers, " instead of being harmless as 
doves, you are as full of dissimulation and 
malice as serpents ; promising everything 
but performing nothing. 2 England will be 
driven to believe that God has taken from 
you the key of knowledge, and that the 
laws of the popes, ambiguous to the popes 
themselves, are only fit to be cast into the 
fire. 5 The king has hitherto restrained his 
people, impatient of the Romish yoke ; but 
he will now give them the rein." A long 
and gloomy silence followed. Then the 
Englishman, suddenly changing his tone, 
softly approached Clement, who had left his 
seat, and conjured him in a low voice to 
consider carefully what justice required of 
him. " Alas i" replied Clement, " I tell 
you again, I am ignorant in these matters. 
According to the maxims of the canon law 
the pope carries all laws in the tablets of his 
heart, 4 but unfortunately God has never 
given me the key that opens them." As he 
could not escape by silence, Clement re- 
treated under cover of a jest, and heedlessly 
pronounced the condemnation of the pope- 
dom. If he had never received the famous 
key, there was no reason why other pontiffs 
should have possessed it. The next day he 
found another loophole ; for when the am- 
bassadors told him that the king would 
carry on the matter without him, he sighed, 
drew out his handkerchief, and said as he 
wiped his eyes: 5 "Would to God that I 
were dead !" Clement employed tears as 
a political engine. 

" We shall not get the decretal commis- 
sion," (that which pronounced the divorce), 
said Fox and Gardiner after this, " and it 
is not really necessary. Let us demand 
the general commission (authorizing the 
legates to pronounce it), and exact a pro- 
mise tfm^ shall supply the place of the act 
which is denied us." Clement, who was 
ready to make all the promises in the world, 
swore to ratify the sentence of the legates 
without delay. Fox and Gardiner then 
presented to Simonetta a draft of the act re- 
quired. The dean, after reading it, returned 
it to the envoys, saying, " It is very well, 
I think, except the aid; 6 show it Sanc- 
torum Quatuor." The next morning they 



1 Strype, Records, p. 114. 

2 Pleni omni dolo et versatione et dissimulatione. 
Verbis omnia pollicentur, reipsa nihil prsestant. 
Ibid. p. 98. 

3 Digna esse qua; mandeutur flammis pontificia 
jura. Ibid. 

4 Pontifex habet omnia jura in scrinio pectoris. 
Ibid. p. 90. 

5 Ibid. p. 100. 

8 The matter was good saving in the latter end. 
Strype, p. 103. 



r 44 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



carried the draft to that cardinal: " How 
long has it been the rule for the patient to 
write the prescription ? I always thought 
it was the physician's business/'' " Xo one 
knows the disease so well as the patient/"' 
replied Gardiner : " and this disease may 
be of such a nature that the doctor cannot 
prescribe the remedy without taking the 
patient's advice." Sanctorum Quatuor read 
the prescription, and then returned it, say- 
ing: " It is not bad, with the exception of 
the beginning} Take the draft to De Monte 
and the other councillors." The latter 
liked neither beginning, middle, nor end. 
" We will send for you this evening," said 
De Monte. 

Three or four days having elapsed, Hen- 
ry's envoys again waited on the pope, who 
showed them the draft prepared by his 
councillors. Gardiner remarking in it ad- 
ditions, retrenchments, and collections, 
threw it disdainfully from him, and said 
coldly : " Your holiness is deceiving us ; 
you have selected these men to be the in- 
struments of your duplicity." Clement, in 
alarm, sent for Simonetta ; and after a warm 
discussion, 2 the envoys, more discontented 
than ever, quitted the pope at one in the 
morning. 

The night brings wisdom. " I only de- 
sire two little words more in the commis- 
sion," said Gardiner next day to Clement 
and Simonetta. The pope requested Si- 
monetta to wait upon the cardinals imme- 
diately ; the latter sent word that they 
were at dinner, and adjourned the business 
until the morrow. 

When Gardiner heard of this epicurean 
message, he thought the time had come for 
striking a decisive blow. A new tragedy 
began. 3 " We are deceived," exclaimed 
he, " you are laughing at us. This is not 
the way to gain the favour of princes. 
Walter mixed with wine spoils it ; 4 your 
corrections nullify our document. These 
ignorant and suspicious priests have spelled 
over our draft as if a scorpion was hidden 
under every word. 5 You made us come to 
Italy," said he to Staffileo and Gambara, 
" like hawks which the fowler lures by 
holding out to them a piece of meat ; 6 and 
now that we are here, the bait has disap- 
peared, and, instead of giving us what we 
sought, you pretend to lull us to sleep by 
the sweet voice of the sirens." 7 Then, 
turning to Clement, the English envoy 
added, " Your holiness will have to answer 
for this." The pope sighed and wiped 
away his tears. " It was God's pleasure," 
continued Gardiner, whose tone became 
more threatening every minute, "that we 

1 The beginning pleased him not. Strype, p. 103. 

2 Incalescente disputation e. Ibid. p. 104. 
Here began a new tragedy. Ibid. p. 105. 

4 Vinum conspurcat infusa aqua. Ibid. 
1 Putantes sub omni verbo latere scorpionem. 
Ibid. 

6 Praetendere pugno carnem. Ibid. 

1 Dulcibus sirenuni vocibus ineantare. Ibid. 



should see with our own eyes the disposi- 
tion of the people here. It is time to have 
done. Henry is not an ordinary prince — 
bear in mind that you are insulting the 

Defender of the Faith You are going to 

lose the favour of the only monarch who 
protects you, and the apostolical chair, al- 
ready tottering, will fall into dust, and dis- 
appear entirely amidst the applause of all 
Christendom." 

Gardiner paused. The pope was moved. 
The state of Italy seemed to confirm but too 
strongly the sinister predictions of the en- 
voy of Henry VIII. The imperial troops, 
terrified and pursued by Lautrec, had 
abandoned Rome and retired on Naples. 
The French general was following up this 
wretched army of Charles V., decimated 
by pestilence and debauchery ; Doria, at 
the head of his galleys, had destroyed the 
Spanish fleet ; Gaeta and Naples only were 
left to the imperialists : and Lautrec, who 
was besieging the latter place, wrote to 
Henry on the 26th of August that all would 
soon be over. The timid Clement VII. had 
attentively watched all these catastrophes. 
Accordingly, Gardiner had hardly de- 
nounced the danger which threatened the 
popedom, before he turned pale with af- 
fright, rose from his seat, stretched out his 
arms in terror, as if he had desired to repel 
some monster ready to devour him, and 
exclaimed, " Write, write ! Insert what- 
ever words you please." As he said this, 
he paced up and down the room, raising 
his hands to heaven and sighing deeply, 
while Fox and Gardiner, standing motion- 
less, looked on in silence. A tempestuous 
wind seemed to be stirring the depths of 
the abyss ; the ambassadors waited until 
the storm was abated. At last Clement 
recovered himself, 1 made a few trivial ex- 
cuses, and dismissed Henry's ministers. It 
was an hour past midnight. 

It was neither morality nor religion, nor 
even the laws of the church which led 
Clement to refuse the divorce ; ambition 
and fear were his only motives. He would 
have desired that Henry should first con- 
strain the emperor to restore him his terri- 
tories. But the king of England, who felt 
himself unable to protect the pope against 
Charles, required, however, this unhappy 
pontiff to provoke the emperor's anger. 
Clement reaped the fruits of that fatal sys- 
tem which had transformed the church of 
Jesus Christ into a pitiful combination of 
policy and cunning. 

On the next day, the tempest having 
thoroughly abated, 2 Sanctorum Quatuor 
corrected the commission. It was signed, 
completed by a leaden seal attached to a 
piece of string, and then handed to Gar- 
diner, who read it. The bull was addressed 
to Wolsey, and " authorized him, in case 
he should acknowledge the nullity of 

1 Compositis affectibus. Strype, p. 106. 

2 The divers tempests passed over. Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



745 



Henry's marriage, to pronounce judicially 
the sentence of divorce, but without noise 
or display of judgment ; x for that purpose 
he might take any English bishop for his 
colleague." — " All that we can do you can 
do," said the pope. " We are very doubt- 
ful," said the importunate Gardiner after 
reading the bull, " whether this commis- 
sion, without the clauses of confirmation 
and revocation, will satisfy his majesty ; 
but we will do all in our power to get 
him to accept it." — " Above all, do not 
speak of our altercations," said the pope. 
Gardiner, like a discreet diplomatist, did 
i<ot scruple to note down every particular 
in cipher in the letters whence these details 
are procured. " Tell the king," continued 
the pontiff, " that this commission is on my 
part a declaration of war against the em- 
peror, and that I now place myself under 
his majesty's protection." The chief 
almoner of England departed for London 
with the precious document. 

But one storm followed close upon an- 
other. Fox had not long quitted Orvieto 
when new letters arrived from Wolsey, de- 
manding the fourth of the acts previously 
requested, namely, the engagement to ratify 
at Rome whatever the commissioners might 
decide in England. Gardiner was to set 
about it in season and out of season ; the 
verbal promise of ^he pope counted for 
nothing ; this document must be had. 
whether the pope was ill, dying, or dead. 2 
" Ego et Rex mens, his majesty and I com- 
mand you," said Wolsey ; " this divorce 
is of more consequence to us than twenty 
popedoms." 3 The English envoy renewed 
the demand. " Since you refuse the decre- 
tal," he said, " there is the greater reason 
why you should not refuse the engagement." 
This application led to fresh discussion and 
fresh tears. Clement gave way once more ; 
but the Italians, more crafty than Gardiner, 
reserved a loophole in the document 
through which the pontiff might escape. 
The messenger Thaddeus carried it to Lon- 
don ; and Gardiner left Orvieto for Rome to 
confer with Campeggio. 

Clement was a man of penetrating mind, 
and although he knew as well as any how 
to deliver a clever speech, he was irresolute 
and timid ; and accordingly the commission 
had not long been despatched, before he re- 
pented. Full of distress, he paced the 
ruined chambers of his old palace, and im- 
agined he saw hanging over his head that 
terrible sword of Charles the Fifth, whose 
edge he had already felt. " Wretch that I 
am," said he ; " cruel wolves surround me ; 
they open their jaws to swallow me up. 
I see none but enemies around me. 



1 Sine strepitu et figura judicii sententiam di- 
vortii judicialiter proferendam. Ryrner, Foedera, 
vi. pars ii. p. 95. 

2 In casu mortis pontificis, quod Deus avertat. 
Burnet, Records, p. xxviii. 

8 The thing which the king's highness and I 
more esteem than twenty papalities. Ibid. p. xxv. 



At their head is the emperor What 

will he do ? Alas ! I have yielded that 
fatal commission which the general of the 
Spanish observance had enjoined me to re- 
fuse. 'Behind Charles come the Venetians, 

the Florentines, the Duke of Ferrara 

They have cast lots upon my vesture. 1 
Next comes the king of France, who pro- 
mises nothing, but looks on with folded 
arms ; or rather, what perfidy ! calls upon 
me at this critical moment to deprive 

Charles V. of his crown And last, but 

not least, Henry VIII., the defender of 
the faith, indulges in frightful menaces 

against me The emperor desires to 

maintain the queen on the throne of Eng- 
land ; the latter, to put her away 

Would to God that Catherine were in her 

grave ! But, alas ! she lives to be the 

apple of discord dividing the two greatest 
monarchies, and the inevitable cause of 

the ruin of the popedom Wretched 

man that I am ! how cruel is my perplexity, 
and around me I can see nothing but hor- 
rible confusion." 2 

During this time Fox was making his 
way to England. On the 27th of April he 
reached Paris ; on the 2d of May he landed 
at Sandwich, and hastened to Greenwich, 
where he arrived the next day at five in the 
evening, just as Wolsey had left for London. 
Fox's arrival was an event of great im- 
portance. " Let him go to Lady Anne's 
apartments," said the king, " and wait for 
me there." Fox told Anne Boleyn of his 
and Gardiner's exertions, and the success 
of their mission, at which she expressed 
her very great satisfaction. Indeed, more 
than a year had elapsed since her return 
to England, and she no longer resisted 
Henry's project. "Mistress Anne always 
called me Master Stephen," wrote Fox to 
Gardiner, "her thoughts were so full of 
you." The king appeared and Anne with- 
drew. 

" Tell me as briefly as possible what you 
have done," said Henry. Fox placed in 
the king's hands the pope's insignificant 
letter, which he bade his almoner read ; 
then that from Staffileo, which was put on 
one side ; and, lastly, Gardiner's letter, 
which Henry took hastily and read himself. 
" The pope has promised us," said Fox, as 
he terminated his report, " to confirm the 
sentence of the divorce, as soon as it has 
been pronounced by the commissioners." — 
"Excellent!" exclaimed Henry ; and then 
he ordered Anne to be called in. " Repeat 
before this lady," he said to Fox, "what 
you have just told me." The almoner did 
so. " The pope is convinced of the justice 
of your cause," he said in conclusion, " and 
the cardinal's letter has convinced him 
that my lady is worthy of the throne of 



1 .Novo tcedere mito super vestem suam miseruut 
sortem. Strype, Records, i. p. 109. 

2 His holiness findeth himself in a marvellous 
perplexity and confusion. Ibid. p. 108. 



746 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



England." — " Make your report to Wolsey 
this very night," said the king. 

It was ten o'clock when the chief almoner 
reached the cardinal's palace ; he had gone 
to bed, but immediate orders were given 
that Fox should be conducted to his room. 
Being a churchman, Wolsey could under- 
stand the pope's artifice better than Henry ; 
accordingly, as soon as he learnt that Fox 
had brought the commission only, he be- 
came alarmed at the task imposed upon 
him. " What a misfortune !" he exclaimed, 
" your commission is no better than Gam- 

bara's However, go and rest yourself: I 

will examine these papers to-morrow." Fox 
withdrew in confusion. " It is not bad," 
said Wolsey, the next day, " but the whole 
business still falls on me alone ! Never 
mind, I must wear a contented look, or 

else " In the afternoon he summoned 

into his closet Fox, Dr. Bell, and Viscount 
Rochford : " Master Gardiner has surpassed 
himself," said the crafty supple cardinal ; 
" what a man ! what an inestimable trea- 
sure ! what a jewel in our kingdom I" 1 

He did not mean a word he was saying. 
Wolsey was dissatisfied with every thing — 
with the refusal of the decretal, and with 
the drawing up of the commission, as well 
as of the engagement (which arrived soon 
after in good condition, so far as the out- 
side was concerned). But the king's ill 
humour would infallibly recoil on Wolsey; 
so, putting a good face on a bad matter, he 
ruminated in secret on the means of ob- 
taining what had been refused him. " Write 
to Gardiner," said he to Fox, " that every 
thing makes me desire the pope's decretal — 
the need of unburdening my conscience, of 
being able to rely to the calumniators who 
will attack my judgment, 2 and the thought 
of the accidents to which a man's life is 
exposed. Let his holiness, then, pronounce 
the divorce himself; we engage on our part 
to keep his resolution secret. But order 
Master Stephen to employ every kind of 
persuasion that his rhetoric can imagine." 
In case the pope should positively refuse 
the decretal, Wolsey required that at least 
Campeggio should share the responsibility 
of the divorce with him. 

This was not all : while reading the en- 
gagement, Wolsey discovered the loophole 
which had escaped Gardiner, and this is 
what he contrived : " The engagement which 
the pope has sent us," he wrote to Gardi- 
ner, " is drawn up in such terms that he 
can retract it at pleasure ; we must there- 
fore find some good way to obtain another. 
You may do it under this pretence. You will 
appear before his holiness with a dejected air 
arid tell him that the courier, to whom the 
conveyance of said engagement was intrus- 
ted, fell into the water with his dispatches, so 



' non aestimandum tbesaurum margaritamque 
regn ; nostri. Strype, Records, i. p. 119. 

2 Justissiine obstruere ora calumniantium et te- 
crere dissentientium. "Ibid. p. 120. 



that the receipts were totally defaced and ille- 
gible ; that I have not dared deliver it into 
the king's hands, and unless his holiness 
will grant you a duplicate, some notable 
blame will be imputed unto you for not 
taking better care of its transmission. And 
further, you will continue ; I remember 
the expressions of the former document, 
and to save your holiness trouble, I will 
dictate them to your secretary. Then," 
added Wolsey, "while the secretary is wri- 
ting, you will find means to introduce, with- 
out its being perceived, as many fat, preg- 
nant, and available words as possible, to 
bind the pope and enlarge my powers, the 
politic handling of -which the king's high- 
ness and I commit you unto your good dis- 
cretion." 1 

Such was the expedient invented by Wol. 
sey. The papal secretary, imagining he 
was making a fresh copy of the original 
document (which was, by the way, in per- 
fect condition), was at the dictation of the 
ambassador to draw up another of a differ- 
ent tenor. The "politic handling" of the 
cardinal-legate, which was not very unlike 
forgery, throws a disgraceful light on the 
policy of the sixteenth century. 

Wolsey read this letter to* the chief 
almoner ; and then, to set his conscience at 
rest, he added piously : " In an affair of 
such high importance, on which depends 
the glory or ruin of the realm, — my hon- 
our or my disgrace, — the condemnation of 
my soul or my everlasting merit, — I will 
listen solely to the voice of my conscience, 3 
and I shall act in such a manner as to be 
able to render an account to God without 
! fear." 

Wolsey did more ; it seems that the bold- 

j ness of his declarations reassured him with 

I regard to the baseness of his works. Being 

' at Greenwich on the following Sunday, ho 

j said to the king in the presence of Fox, 

I Bell, W r olman, and Tuke: "I am bound to 

your royal person more than any subject 

was ever bound to his prince. I am ready 

to sacrifice my goods, my blood, my life 

for you But my obligations towards God 

are greater skill. For that cause, rather 
than act against his will, I would endure 
the extremest evils. 3 I would suffer your 
royal indignation, and, if necessary, deliver 
my body to the executioners that they might- 
cut it in pieces." What could be the spirit- 
then impelling Wolsey ? Was it blindness 
or impudence ? He may have been sincere 
in the words he addressed to Henry ; at 
the bottom of his heart he may have desired 
to set the pope above the king, and the 
church of Rome above the kingdom of En- 
gland ; and this desire may have appeared 
to him a sublime virtue, such as would 



1 Burnet, Records, p. xxx. 

2 Reclaruante conscientia. Strype, Records, i. p. 
124. 

3 Extrema quaeque contra conscientiam euauu 

Ibid. p. 12fi 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'47 



bide a multitude of sins. What the public 
conscience would have called treason was 
heroism to the Romish priest. This zeal 
for the papacy is sometimes met with in 
conjunction with the most flagrant im- 
morality. If Wolsey deceived the pope, 
it was to save popery in the realm of En- 
gland. Fox, Bell, Wolman, and Tuke lis- 
tened to him with astonishment. 1 Henry, 
who thought he knew his man, received 
these holy declarations without alarm ; and 
the cardinal, having thus eased his con- 
science, proceeded boldly in his iniquities. 
It seems, however, that the inward re- 
proaches which he silenced in public, had 
their revenge in secret. One of his officers 
entering his closet shortly afterwards, pre- 
sented a letter addressed to Campeggio for 
his signature. It ended thus: " I hope all 
things shall be done according to the will 
of God, the desire of the king, the quiet of 
the kingdom, and to our honour with a good 
conscience." The cardinal having read the 
letter dashed out the four last words. 2 Con- 
science has a sting from which none can 
escape, not even a Wolsey. 

However, Gardiner lost no time in Italy. 
When he met Campeggio (to whom Henry 
VIII. had given a palace at Rome, and a 
bishopric in England), he entreated him to 
go to London and pronounce the divorce. 
This prelate, who was to be empowered in 
1530 with authority to crush Protestantism 
in Germany, seemed bound to undertake a 
mission that would save Romanism in Bri- 
tain. But proud of his position at Rome, 
where he acted as the pope's representative, 
he cared not for a charge that would un- 
doubtedly draw upon him either Henry's 
hatred or the emperor's anger. He begged 
to be excused. The pope spoke in a similar 
tone. When he was informed of this, the 
terrible Tudor, beginning to believe that 
Clement desired to entangle him, as the 
hunter entangles the lion iu his toils, gave 
vent to his anger on Tuke, Fox, and Gar- 
diner, but particularly on Wolsey. Nor 
were reasons wanting for this explosion. 
The cardinal, perceiving that his hatred 
against Charles had carried him too far, 
pretended that it was without his orders 
that Clarencieux, bribed by France, had 
combined with the French ambassador to 
declare war against the emperor ; and added 
that he would have the English king-at- 
arms put to death as he passed through 
Calais. This was an infallible means of 
preventing disagreeable revelations. But 
the herald, who had been forewarned, 
crossed by way of Boulogne, and, without 
the cardinal's knowledge, obtained an in- 
terview with Henry, before whom he placed 
the orders he had received from Wolsey in 
three consecutive letters. The king, aston- 
ished at his minister's impudence, exclaimed 



1 To my great mervail and no less joy and com- 
fort. Ibid. 

2 Burnet's Ref. vol. i. p. 41. 



profanely : " Lord Jesu, the man in whom 
I had most confidence told me quite the 
contrary." He then summoned Wolsey be- 
fore him, and reproached him severely for 
his falsehoods. The wretched man shook 
like a leaf. Henry appeared to pardon him, 
but the season of his favour had passed 
away. Henceforward he kept the cardinal 
as one of those instruments we make use 
of for a time, and then throw away when 
we have no further need of them. 

The king's anger against the pope far 
exceeded that against Wolsey ; he trem- 
bled from head to foot, rose from his seat, 
then sat down again, and vented his wrath 
in the most violent language : — " What V* 
he exclaimed, " I shall exhaust my politi- 
cal combinations, empty my treasury, make 
war upon my friends, consume my forces 
.... and for whom ? .... for a heartless 
priest who, considering neither the exi- 
gencies of my honour, nor the peace of my 
conscience, nor the prosperity of my king- 
dom, nor the numerous benefits which I 
have lavished on him, refuses me a favour, 
which he ought, as the common father of 
the faithful, to grant even to an enemy .... 

Hypocrite ! You cover yourself with the 

cloak of friendship, you flatter us by crafty 
practices, 1 but you give us only a bastard 
document, and you say like Pilate : It mat- 
ters little to me if this king perishes, and 
all his kingdom with him ; take him and 
judge him according to your law ! . . . . 

I understand you you wish to entangle 

us in the briers, 2 to catch us in a trap, to 
lure us into a pit-fall But we have dis- 
covered the snare ; we shall escape from 
your ambuscade, and brave your power/' 

Such was the language then heard at 
the court of England, says an historian.' 
The monks and priests began to grow 
alarmed, while the most enlightened minds 
already saw in the distance the first gleams 
of religious liberty. One day, at a time 
when Henry was proving himself a zealous 
follower of the Romish doctrines, Sir 
Thomas More was sitting in the midst of 
his family, whqn his son-in-law, Roper, 
now become a warm papist, exclaimed : 
" Happy kingdom of England, where no 
heretic dares show his face !" — "That is 
true, son Roper/' said More ; " we seem to 
sit now upon the mountains, treading the 
heretics under our feet like ants ; but I pray 
God that some of us do not live to see the 
day when we gladly would wish to be at 
league with them, to suffer them to have 
their churches quietly to themselves, so 
that they would be content to let us have 
ours peaceably to ourselves." Roper ang- 
rily replied : 4 " By my word, sir, that is 



1 By crafty means and under the face and visage 
of entire amity. Strype, i. p. 166. 

a To involve and cast us so in the briers and 
fetters. Ibid. 

:1 Strype. 

4 My uncle said in a rage. More's Life, p. 132. 



748 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



very desperately spoken !" More, how- 
ever, was in the right; genius is sometimes 
a great diviner. The Reformation was on 
the point of inaugurating religious liberty, 
and "by that means placing civil liberty on 
an immovable foundation. 

Henry himself grew wiser by degrees. 
He began to have doubts about the Roman 
hierarchy, and to ask himself, whether a 
priest-king, embarrassed in all the political 
complications of Europe, could be head of 
the church of Jesus Christ. Pious indivi- 
duals in his kingdom recognised in Scrip- 
ture and in conscience a law superior to 
the law of Rome, and refused to sacrifice 
at the command of the church their moral 
conviction, sanctioned by the revelation 
of God. The hierarchical system, which 
claims to absorb man in the papacy, had 
oppressed the consciences of Christians for 
centuries. When the Romish Church had 
required from such as Berengarius. John 
Huss, Savonarola, John "Wesel, and Luther, 
the denial of their consciences enlightened 
by the word, that is to say, by the voice 
of God, it had shown most clearly how 
great is the immorality of ultramontane 
socialism. " If the Christian consents to 
this enormous demand of the hierarchy, " 
said the most enlightened men ; " if he 
renounces his own notions of good and 
evil in favour of the clergy ; if he reserves 
not his right to obey God, who speaks to 
him in the Bible, rather than men, even 
if their agreement were universal ; if Henry 
VIII., for instance, should silence his con- 
science, which condemns his union with 
his brother's widow, to obey the clerical 
voice which approves of it ; by that very 
act he renounces truth, duty, and even God 
himself." But we must add, that if the 
rights of conscience were beginning to be 
understood in England, it was not about 
such holy matters as these that the pope 
and Henry were contending. They were 
both intriguers — both dissatisfied, the one 
desirous of love, the other of power. 

Be that as it may, a feeling of disgust 
for Rome then took root in the king's heart, 
and nothing could afterwards eradicate it. 
He immediately made every exertion to 
attract Erasmus to London. Indeed, if 
Henry separated from the pope, his old 
friends, the humanists, must be his auxil- 
iaries, and not the heretical doctors. But 
Erasmus, in a letter dated 1st June, alleged 
the weak state of his health, the robbers 
who infested the roads, the wars and ru- 
mours of wars then afloat. " Our destiny 
leads us," he said; "let us yield to it." 1 
It is a fortunate thing for England that 
Erasmus was not its reformer. 

Wolsey noted this movement of his mas- 
ter's, and resolved to make a strenuous ef- 
fort to reconcile Clement and Henry ; his 
own safety was at stake. He wrote to the 



1032. 



Fatis agimur, fatis cedendum. Erasm. Epp. p. 



pope, to Campeggio, to Da Casale, to all 
Italy. He declared that if he was ruined, 
the popedom would be ruined too, so far 
at least as England was concerned : " I 
would obtain the decretal bull with my own 
blood, if possible," 1 he added. "Assure 
the holy father on my life that no mortal 
eye shall see it." Finally, he ordered the 
chief almoner to write to Gardiner: "If 
Campeggio does not come, you shall never 
return to England :" 2 an infallible means 
of stimulating the secretary's zeal. 

This was the last effort of Henry VIII. 
Bourbon and the prince of Orange had not 
employed more zeal a year before in scal- 
ing the walls of Rome. Wolsey's fire had 
inflamed his agents : they argued, entreated, 
stormed, and threatened. The alarmed 
cardinals and theologians, assembling at 
the pope's call, discussed the matter, mix- 
ing political interests with the affairs of the 
church. 3 At last they understood what 
Wolsey now communicated to them. 
" Henry is the most energetic defender of 
the faith," they said. " It is only by acced- 
ing to his demand that we can preserve the 
kingdom of England to the popedom. The 
army of Charles is in full flight, and that 
of Francis triumphs." The last of these 
arguments decided the question ; the pope 
suddenly felt a great sympathy for Wolsey 
and for the English church : the emperor 
was beaten, therefore he was wrong. 
Clement granted everything. 

First, Campeggio was desired to go to 
London. The pontiff knew that he might 
reckon on his intelligence and inflexible 
adhesion to the interests of the hierarchy ; 
even the cardinal's gout was of use, for it 
might help to innumerable delays. Next, 
on the 8th of June, the pope, then at Yi- 
terbo, gave a new commission, by which 
he conferred on Wolsey and Campeggio the 
power to declare null and void the marriage 
between Henry and Catherine, with liberty 
for the king and queen to form new matri- 
monial ties. 4 A few days later he signed 
the famous decretal by which he himself 
annulled the marriage between Henry and 
Catherine ; but instead of intrusting it to 
Gardiner, he gave it to Campeggio, with 
orders not to let it go out of his hands. 
Clement was not sure of the course of 
events ; if Charles should decidedly lose 
his power, the bull would be published in 
the face of Christendom ; if he should re- 
cover it, the bull would be burnt. 5 In fact, 
the flames did actually consume some time 
afterwards this decree which Clement had 



1 Ut vel proprio sanguine id vellemus posse a 
S. D. N. impetrare. Burnet, Records, ii. p. 19. 

3 Neither should Gardiner ever return. Strype, 
i. p. 167. 

3 Negotia ecclesiastica politicis rationibus inter- 
polates. Sanders, p. 27. 

4 Ad alia vota eommigrandi. Herbert, p. 262. 

s State Papers, vii. p. 78. Dr. Lingard acknow- 
ledges the existence of this bull and the order to 
I burn it. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'49 



wetted with his tears as he put his name to j 
it. Finally, on the 23d of July, the pope i 
signed a valid engagement, by "which he de- 1 
clared beforehand that all retractation of i 
these acts should be null and void. 1 Cam- 
peggio and Gardiner departed. Charles's j 
defeat was as complete at Rome as at Na- 
ples ; the justice of his cause had vanished 
with his army. 

Nothing, therefore, was wanting to Hen- 
ry's desires. He had Campeggio, the com- 
mission, the decretal bull of divorce signed 
by the pope, and the engagement giving an 
irrevocable value to all these acts. "VVolsey 
was conqueror, — the conqueror of Clement ! j 

He had often wished to mount the res- J 

live courser of the popedom and to guide it 
at his will, but each time the unruly steed 
had thrown him from the saddle. Now he 
was firm in his seat, and held the horse in 

- x Si (quod absit) aiiquid contra prsemissa facia- 
mus, illud pro casso, irrito, inani et vacuo ornnino 
haberi volumus. Herbert, p. 250. 



hand. Thanks to Charles's reverses, he 
was master at Rome. The popedom, 
whether it was pleased or not, must take 
the road he had chosen, and before which 
it had so long recoiled. The king's joy was 
unbounded, and equalled only by Wolsey's. 
The cardinal, in the fulness of his heart, 
wishing to show his gratitude to the offi- 
cers of the Roman court, made them pres- 
ents of carpets, horses, and vessels of gold. 1 
All near Henry felt the effects of his good 
humour. Anne smiled, the court indulged 
in amusements ; the great affair was about 
to be accomplished ; the New Testament to 
be delivered to the flames. The uniun be- 
tween England and the popedom appeared 
confirmed for ever, and the victory which 
Rome seemed about to gain in the British 
isles might secure her triumph in the west. 
Vain omens ! far different were the events 
in the womb of the future. 

1 Num illi, aulsea, vas aureum aut equi maxima 
probentur. Burnet, Records, i. p. xv. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK XX. 

THE TWO DIVORCES. 

Progress of t..e Reformation — The two Divorces — Entreaties to Anne Boleyn — The Letters in the 
Vatican — Henry to Anne — Henry's Second Letter — Third — Fourth — Wolsey's Alarm — His fruitless 
Proceedings — He turns — The Sweating Sickness — Henry's Fears — New Letters to Anne — Anne falls 
sick; her Peace — Henry writes to Pier — Wolsey's Terror — Campeggio does not arrive — All dissem- 
ble at Court — Coverdale and Inspiration — He undertakes to translate the Scriptures — His Joy and 
Spiritual Songs — Tyball and the Laymen — Coverdale preaches at Bumpstead — Revival at Colchester 
— Incomplete Societies and the New Testament — Persecution — Monmouth arrested and released — 
Political Changes — Fresh Instructions from the Pope to Campeggio — His Delays — He unbosoms 
himself to Francis — A Prediction — Arrival of Campeggio — Wolsey's Uneasiness — Henry's Satisfac- 
tion — The Cardinal's Project — Campeggio's Reception — First interview with the Queen and with the 
King — Useless Efforts to make Campeggio part with the Decretal — The Nuncio's Conscience — Public 
Opinion — Measures taken by the King — His Speech to the Lords and Aldermen — Festivities — 
Wolsey seeks French support — Contrariety — True Catholicity — Wolsey — Harman's Matter — West 
sent to Cologne — Labours of Tyndale and Fryth — Rincke at Frankfort — He makes a Discovery — 
Tyndale at Marburg — West returns to England — His Tortures in the Monastery — Necessity of the 
Reformation — Wolsey's earnestness with Da Casale — An Audience with Clement VII. — Cruel Posi- 
tion of the Pope — A Judas Kiss — A new Brief — Bryan and Vannes sent to Rome — Henry and Du 
Bellay — Wolsey's Reasons against the Brief — Excitement in London — Metamorphosis — Wolsey's 
Decline — His Anguish — The Pope's Illness — Wolsey's Desire — Conference about the Members of 
the Conclave — Wolsey's Instructions — The Pope recovers — Speech of the English Envoys to the 
Pope — Clement willing to abandon England — The English demand the Pope's denial of the Brief — 
Wolsey's Alarm — Intrigues — Bryan's Clearsightedness — Henry's Threats — Wolsey's new Efforts — 
He calls for an Appeal to Rome, and retracts — Wolsey and Du Bellay at Richmond — The Ship of 
the State — Discussion between the Evangelicals and the Catholics — Union of Learning and Life — 
The Laity : Tewkesbury — His Appearance before the Bishop's Court — He is Tortured — Two Classes 
of Opponents — A Theological Duel — Scripture and the Church — Emancipation of the Mind — Mis- 
sion to the Low Countries — Tyndale's Embarrassment — Tonstall wishes to buy the Books — Packing- 
ton's Stratagem — Tyndale departs for Antwerp — His Shipwreck — Arrival at Hamburg — Meets 
Coverdale— The Royal Session — Sitting of the 18th June ; the Queen's Protest — Sitting of the 21st 
June — Summons to the King and Queen — Catherine's Speech — She retires — Impression on the 
Audience — The King's Declaration — Wolsey's Protest — Quarrel between the Bishops — New Sitting 
■ — Apparition to the Maid of Kent — Wolsey chafed by Henry — The Earl of Wiltshire at Wolsey's — 
Private Conference between Catherine and the two Legates — The Trial resumed — Catherine sum- 
moned — Twelve Articles — The Witnesses' Evidence — Arthur and Catherine really married — Cam- 
peggio opposes the Argument of Divine Right — Other Arguments — The Legates required to deliver 
Judgment — Their Tergiversations — Change in Men's Minds — Final Session — General Expectation 
—Adjournment during Harvest — Campeggio excuses this Impertinence — the King's Indignation — 
Suffolk's Violence — Wolsey's Reply — He is ruined — General Accusations — The Cardinal turns to an 
Episcopal Life — Anne Boleyn at Hever — She reads the Obedience of a Christian Man — Is recalled 
to Court — Miss Gainsford and George Zouch — Tyndale's Book converts Zouch — Zouch in the Chapel- 
Royal — The Book seized — Anne replies to Henry — The King reads the Book — Pretended Influence 
of the Book on Henry — The Court at Woodstock — The Park and its Goblins — Henry's Esteem for 
Anne — Embarrassment of the Pope — The Triumphs of Charles decide him — He traverses the Cause 
to Rome — Wolsey's Dejection — Henry's Wrath — His Fears — Wolsey obtains Comfort — Arrival of 
the two Legates at Grafton — Wolsey's Reception by Henry — Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner — Henry 
with Anne — Conference between the King and the Cardinal — Wolsey's Joy and Grief — The Supper 
at Euston — Campeggio's Farewell Audience — Wolsey's Disgrace — Campeggio at Dover — He is Ac- 
cused by the Courtiers — Leaves England — Wolsey foresees his own Fall and that of the Papacy — 
A Meeting at Waltham — Youth of Thomas Cranmer — His early Education — Studies Scripture for 
three years — His Functions as Examiner — The Supper at Waltham — New View of the Divorce — 
Fox communicates it to Henry — Cranmer's Vexation — Conference with the King — Cranmer at the 
Boleyns — Wolsey in the Court of Chancery — Accused by the Dukes — Refuses to give up the Great 
Seal — His Despair — He gives up the Seal — Order to Depart — His Inventory — Alarm — The Scene 
of Departure — Favourable Message from the King — Wolsey's Joy — His Fool — Arrival at Esher — 
Thomas More elected Chancellor — A lay Government one of the great Facts of the Reformation — 
Wolsey accused of subordinating Engla,nd to the Pope — He implores the King's clemency — His 
Condemnation — Cromwell at Esher — His Character — He sets out for London — Sir Christopher Hales 
recommends him to the King — Cromwell's Interview with Henry in the Park — A New Theory — 
Cromwell elected Member of Parliament — Opened by Sir Thomas More — Attack on Ecclesiastical 
Abuses — Reforms pronounced by the Convocation — Three Bills — Rochester attacks them — Resist- 
ance of the House of Commons — Struggles — Henry Sanctions the three Bills — Alarm of the Clergy 
and Disturbances — The last Hour — More's Fanaticism — Debates in Convocation — Royal Proclama- 
tion — The Bishop of Norwich — Sentences condemned — Latimer's Opposition — The New Testament 
burnt — The Persecution begins — Hitton — Bayfield — Tonstall and Packington — Bayfield arrested — 
The Rector Patmore — Lollards' Tower — Tyndale and Patmore — a Musician — Freese the Painter — 
Placards and Martyrdom of Bennet — Thomas More and John Petit — Bilney — Wolsey's Terror — 
Impeachment by the Peers — Cromwell saves him — The Cardinal's Illness — Ambition returns to him 
— His Practices in Yorkshire — He is arrested by Northumberland — His Departure — Arrival of the 
Constable of the Tower — Wolsey at Leicester Abbey — Persecuting Language — He dies — Three 
Movements : Supremacy, Scripture, and Faith. 




rROBASCO.Pi E A SH/W 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



751 



While England seemed binding herself 
to the court of Rome, the general course 
of the church and of the world gave stronger 
presage every day of the approaching eman- 
cipation of Christendom. The respect which 
for so' many centuries had hedged in the 
Roman pontiff was every where shaken ; 
the Reform, already firmly established in 
several states of Germany and Switzerland, 
was extending in France, the Low Coun- 
tries, >yand Hungary, and beginning in Swe- 
den, Denmark, arid Scotland. The South 
of Europe appeared indeed submissive to 
the Romish church ; but Spain, at heart, 
cared little for the pontifical infallibility ; 
and even Italy began to inquire whether 
the papal dominion Avas not an obstacle to 
her prosperity. England, notwithstanding 
appearances, was also going to throw off 
the yoke of the bishops of the Tiber, and 
many faithful voices might already be 
heard demanding that the word of God 
should be acknowledged the supreme autho- 
rity of the church. 

The conquest of Christian Britain by the 
papacy occupied all the seventh century, as 
we have seen. The sixteenth was the coun- 
terpart of the seventh. The struggle which 
England then had to sustain, in order to 
free herself from the power that had en- 
slaved her during nine hundred years, was 
full of sudden changes ; like those of the 
times of Augustine and Oswy. This strug- 
gle indeed took place in each of the coun- 
tries where the church was reformed ; but 
nowhere can it be traced in all its diverse 
phases so distinctly as in Great Britain. 
The positive work of the Reformation — 
that which consisted in recovering the truth 
and life so long lost — was nearly the same 
every where ; but as regards the negative 
work — the struggle with the popedom — we 
might almost say that other nations com- 
mitted to England the task by which they 
were all to profit. An unenlightened piety 
may perhaps look upon the relations of the 
court of London with the court of Rome, 
at the period of the Reformation, as void 
of interest to the faith ; but history will 
not think the same. It has been too often 
forgotten that the main point in this con- 
test was not the divorce (which was only 
the occasion), but the contest itself and its 
important consequences. The divorce of 
Henry Tudor and Catherine of Aragon is 
a secondary event ; but the divorce of Eng- 
land and the popedom is a primary event, | 
one of the great evolutions of history, a 
creative act (so to speak) which still exer- 
cises a normal influence over the destinies 
of mankind. And accordingly every thing 
connected with it is full of instruction for 
us. Already a great number of pious men 
had attached themselves to the authority 
of God ; but the king, and with him that 
part of the nation, strangers to the evan- 
gelical faith, clung to Rome, which Henry 
had so valiantly defended. The word of 
God had spiritually separated England from 



the papacy ; the great matter separated it 
materially. There is a close relationship 
between these two divorces, which gives 
extreme importance to the process between 
Henry and Catherine. When a great revo- 
lution is to be effected in the bosom of a 
people (we have the Reformation particu- 
larly in view), God instructs the minority 
by the Holy Scriptures, and the majority 
by the dispensations of the divine govern- 
ment. Facts undertake to push forward 
those whom the more spiritual voice of the 
word leave behind. England, profiting by 
this great teaching of facts, has thought it 
her duty ever since- to avoid all contact 
with a power that had deceived her ; she 
has thought that popery could not have 
the dominion over a people without infring- 
ing on its vitality, and that it was only by 
emancipating themselves from this priestly 
dictatorship that modern nations could ad- 
vance safely in the paths of liberty, order, 
and greatness. 

For more than a year, as Henry's com' 
plaints testify, Anne continued deaf to his 
homage. The despairing king saAv that he 
must set other springs to work, and taking 
Lord Rochford aside, he unfolded his plans 
to him. The ambitious father promised 
to do all in his power to influence his 
daughter. " The divorce is a settled 
thing/' he said to her ; " you have no 
control over it. The only question is, 
whether it shall be you or another who 
shall give an heir to the crown. Bear in 
mind that terrible revolutions threaten Eng- 
land, if the king has no son." Thus did 
every thing combine to weaken Anne's re- 
solution. The voice of her father, the in- 
terests of her country, the king's love, and 
doubtless some secret ambition, influenced 
her to grasp the proffered sceptre. These 
thoughts haunted her in society, in solitude, 
and even in her dreams. At one time she 
imagined herself on the throne, distribut- 
ing to the people her charities and the 
word of God ; at another, in some obscure 
exile, leading a useless life, in tears and 
ignominy. When, in the sports of her 
imagination, the crown of England ap- 
peared all glittering. before her, she at first 
rejected it ; but afterwards that regal orna- 
ment seemed so beautiful, and the power 
it conferred so enviable, that she repelled 
it less energetically. Anne still refused, 
however, to give the so ardently solicited 
assent. 

Henry, vexed by her hesitation, wrote to 
her frequently, and almost always in 
French. As the court of Rome makes usa " 
of these letters, which are kept in the Va- 
tican, to abuse the Reformation, Ave think 
it our duty to quote them. The theft com- 
mitted b} r a cardinal has preserved them 
for us; and we shall see that, far from sup- 
porting the calumnies that have been 
spread abroad, they- tend, on the contrary, 
to refute them. We are far from approving 
their contents as a whole ; but Ave cannot 



/52 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



deny to the young lady, to whom they are 
addressed, the possession of noble and 
generous sentiments. 

Henry, unable to support the anguish 
caused by Anne's refusal, wrote to her, as 
it is generally supposed, in May, 1528 r 1 

" By revolving in my mind the contents 
of your last letters, I have put myself into 
great agony, not knowing how to interpret 
them, whether to my disadvantage, as I 
understand some passages, or not, as I 
conclude from others. I beseech you 
earnestly to let me know your real mind as 
to the love between us two. It is needful 
for me to obtain this answer of you, having 
been for a whole year wounded with the 
dart of love, and not yet assured whether I 
shall succeed in finding a place in your 
heart and affection. This uncertainty has 
hindered me of late from declaring you my 
mistress, lest it should prove that you only 
entertain for me an ordinary regard. But if 
you please to do the duty of a true and loyal 
mistress, I promise you that not only the 
name shall be given to you, but also that I 
will take you for my mistress, casting off 
all others that are in competition with you, 
out of my thoughts and affection, and serv- 
ing you only. I beg you to give an entire 
answer to this my rude letter, that I may 
know on what and how far I may depend. 
But if it does not please you to answer me 
in writing, let me know some place where 
I may have it by word of mouth, and I will 
go thither with all my heart. No more for 
fear of tiring you. Written by the hand 
of him who would willingly remain yours, 

" H. Rex." 

Such were the affectionate, and we may 
add (if we think of the time and the man) 
the respectful terms employed by Henry in 
writing to Anne Boleyn. The latter, with- 
out making any promises, betrayed some 
little affection for the king, and added to 
her reply an emblematical jewel, represent- 
ing a " solitary damsel in a boat tossed by 
the tempest/' wishing thus to make the 
prince understand the dangers to which his 
love exposed her. Henry was ravished, 
and immediately replied : — 

" For a present so valuable, that nothing 
could be more (considering the whole of it), 
I return you my most hearty thanks, not 
only oh account of the costly diamond, and 
the ship in which the solitary damsel is 
tossed about, but chiefly for the fine inter- 
pretation, and the too humble submission 
which your goodness hath made to me. 
Your favour I will always seek to preserve, 
and this is my firm intention and hope, ac- 
cording to the matter, aut illic aut nullibi. 

" The demonstration of your affections 



1 Vatican Letters. Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 114. 
The date in the text is that assigned by the editor; 
wt- are inclined to place it somewhat earlier. 



are such, the fine thoughts of your letter 
so cordially expressed, that they oblige me 
for ever to honour, love, and serve you sin- 
cerely. I beseech you to continue in the 
same firm and constant purpose, and assur- 
ing you that, on my part, I will not only 
make you a suitable return, but outdo you, 
so great is the loyalty of the heart that de- 
sires to please you. I desire, also, that if, 
at any time before this, I have in any way 
offended you, that you would give me the 
same absolution that you ask, assuring you, 
that hereafter my heart shall be dedicated 
to you alone. I wish my person were so 
too. God can do it, if he pleases, to whom 
I pray once a-day for that end, hoping that 
at length my prayers will be heard. I wish 
the time may be short, but I shall think it 
long till we see one another. Written by 
the hand of that secretary, who in heart, 
body, and will, is 

" Your loyal and most faithful Servant, 
"H. T. Rex." 1 

Henry was a passionate lover, and his- 
tory is not called upon to vindicate that 
cruel prince ; but in the preceding letter we 
cannot discover the language of a seducer. 
It is impossible to imagine the king pray- 
ing to God once a-day for anything but a 
lawful union. These daily prayers seem 
to present the matter in a different light 
from that which Romanist writers have 
imagined. 

Henry thought himself more advanced 
than he really was. Anne then shrank 
back ; embarrassed by the position she held 
at court, she begged for one less elevated. 
The king submitted, although very vexed 
at first : 

" Nevertheless that it belongeth not to a 
gentleman." he wrote to her, " to put his 
■mistress in the situation of a servant, yet by 
following your wishes, I would willingly 
concede it, if by that means you are less 
uncomfortable in the place you shall choose 
than in that where you have been placed 
by me. I thank you most cordially that 
you are pleased still to bear me in your 
remembrance. 

"H. T." 

Anne, having retired in May to Hever 
castle, her father's residence, the king wrote 
to her as follows : — 

" My Mistress and my Friend, 

" My heart and I surrender ourselves 



1 Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 1 15. After the signa- 
ture comes the following deviee. 



Nulle autre que 




ne cherche H. T. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



753 



into your hands, and we supplicate to be 
commended to your good graces, and that 
by absence your affections may not be di- 
minished to us. For that would be to aug- 
ment our pain, which would be a great 
pity, since absence gives enough, and more 
than I ever thought could be felt. This 
brings to my mind a fact in astronomy, 
which is, that the longer the days are, the 
farther off is the sun, and yet the more 
scorching is his heat. Thus is it with our 
love ; absence has placed distance between 
us, nevertheless fervour increases, at least 
on my part. I hope the same from you, 
assuring you that in my case the anguish 
of absence is so great that it would be in- 
tolerable were it not for the firm hope I 
have of your indissoluble affection tOAvards 
me. In order to remind you of it, and be- 
cause I cannot in person be in your pre- 
sence, 1 send you the thing which comes 
nearest that is possible, that is to say, my 
picture, and the whole device, which 3-ou 
already know of, 1 set in bracelets ; wishing 
myself in their place when it pleases you. 
This is from the hand of 

'" Your Servant and Friend, 

" H. T. Rex." 

Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by 
Henry, Anne's firmness was shaken. That 
crown, rejected by Renee and by Margaret, 
dazzled the young Englishwoman ; every 
day she found some new charm in it ; and 
gradually familiarizing herself with her 
new future, she said at last : " If the king 
becomes free, I shall be willing to marry 
him." This was a great fault; but Henry 
was at the height of joy. 

The courtiers watched with observant 
eyes these developments of the king's af- 
fection, and were already preparing the 
homage which they proposed to lay at Anne 
Boleyn's feet. But there was one man at 
court whom Henry's resolution filled with 
sorrow ; this was Wolsey. He had been 
the first to suggest to the king the idea of 
separating from Catherine ; but if Anne is 
to succeed her, there must be no divorce. 
He had first alienated Catherine's party ; 
he was now going to irritate that of the 
Boleyns ; accordingly he began to fear that 
whatever might be the issue of this affair, 
it would cause his ruin. He took frequent 
walks in his park at Hampton Court, ac- 
companied by the French ambassador, the 
confidant of his sorrows : " I would wil- 
lingly lose one of my fingers," he said, " if 
I could only have two hours' conversation 
with the king of France." At another 
time, fancying all England was pursuing 
him, he said with alarm, " The king my 
master, and all his subjects will cry murder 
against me ; they will fall upon me more 
fiercely than on a Turk, and all Christen- 
dom will rise against me !" The next day 



. 9 2^ April? 152 g j bi(L p 9S> 

1 Doubtless the aut illic aut nullibi. For this 3 Quel que petit coup de J'onet. 24t 
letter see the Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 346. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Ibid, p, 



Wolsey, to gain the French ambassador, 
gave him a long history of what he had 
done for France against the wishes of all 
England: " I need much dexterity in my 
affairs," he added, "and must use a terri- 
ble alchymy." 1 But alchymy could not 
save him. Rarely has so much anguish 
been veiled beneath such grandeur. Du 
Bellay was moved with pity at the -sight of 
the unhappy man's sufferings. " When he 
gives way," he wrote to Montmorency, " it 
lasts a day together: — he is continually 
sighing. — You have never seen a man in 
such anguish of mind." 2 

In truth Wolsey's reason was tottering. 
That fatal idea of the divorce was the 
cause of all his woes, and to be able to re- 
call it, he would have given, not a finger 
only, but an arm, and perhaps more. It 
was too late ; Henry had started his car 
down the steep, and whoever attempted to 
stop it would have been crushed beneath 
its wheels. However, the cardinal tried to 
obtain something. Francis I. had inter- 
cepted a letter from Charles V. in which 
the emperor spoke of the divorce as likely 
to raise the English nation in revolt. Wol- 
sey caused this letter to be read to the king, 
in the hope that it would excite his serious 
apprehensions ; but Henry only frowned, 
and Du Bellay, to whom the monarch as- 
cribed the report on those troubles fore- 
boded by Charles, received " a gentle 
lash." 3 This was the sole result of the 
manoeuvre. 

Wolsey now resolved to broach this im- 
portant subject in a straightforward man- 
ner. The step might prove his ruin ; but 
if he succeeded he was saved and the pope- 
dom with him. Accordingly, one day 
(shortly before the sweating sickness broke 
out, says Du Bellay, probably in June 
1528) Wolsey openly prayed the king to 
renounce his design ; his own reputation, 
he told him, the prosperity of England, the 
peace of Europe, the safety of the church, 
— all required it ; besides the pope would 
never grant the divorce. While the cardi- 
nal was speaking, Henry's face grew black ; 
and before he had concluded the king's 
anger broke out. " The king used terrible 
words." said Du Bellay. He would have 
given a thousand Wolseys for one Anne 
Boleyn. " No other than God shall take 
her from me" was his most decided resolu- 
tion. 

Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his 
disgrace, began to take his measures ac- 
cordingly. He commenced building in 
several places, in order to win the affections 
of the common people ; he took great care 
of his bishoprics, in order that they might 
ensure him an easy retreat ; he was atfable 

1 line terrible Alquemie. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 157. 

a 26th April, 1528. ' Ibid, p 9S. 

3 Quel que petit coup de fouet. 24th May, 1523. 
Du Bellay to Montmorency. Ibid. p. lt)2. 



'54 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



to the courtiers ; and thus covered the 
earth with flowers to deaden his fall. Then 
he would sigh as if he were disgusted with 
honours, and would celebrate the charms of 
solitude. 1 He did more than this. Seeing 
plainly that the best way of recovering the 
king's favour would be to conciliate Anne 
Bole}'n, he made her the most handsome 
presents, 2 and assured her that all his 
efforts would now be directed to raise 
her to the throne of England. Anne, be- 
lieving these declarations, replied, that she j 
would help him in her turn. " As long as | 
any breath was in her body." 3 Even Henry i 
had no doubt that the cardinal had profited ( 
by his lesson. 

Thus were all parties restless and uneasy 
— Henry desiring to marry Lady Anne, 
the courtiers to get rid of Wolsey. and the 
latter to remain in power — when a serious 
event appeared to put every one in harmony 
with his neighbour. About the middle of 
June, the terrible sweating sickness (sudor 
anglicus) broke out in England. The citi- 
zens of London, " thick as flies," said 
Du Bellay, 4 suddenly feeling pains in the 
head and heart, rushed from the streets or 
shops to their chambers, began to sweat, 
and took to their beds. The disease made 
frightful and rapid progress, a burning 
heat preyed on their limbs ; if they chanced 
to uncover themselves, the perspiration 
ceased, delirium came on, and in four hours 
the victim was dead and "stiff as a wall/' 5 
says the French ambassador. Every family 
was in mourning. Sir Thomas More, kneel- 
ing by his daughter's bedside, burst into 
tears, and called upon God to' save his be- 
loved Margaret." Wolsey, who was at 
Hampton Court, suspecting nothing amiss, 
arrived in London as usual to preside in 
the Court of Chancery ; but he ordered his 
horses to be saddled again immediately and 
rode back. In four days, 2000 persons 
died in Londou. 

The court was at first safe from the con- 
tagion : but on the fourth day one of Anne 
Boleyn's ladies was attacked ; it was as if 
a thunderbolt had fallen on the palace. 
The king removed with all haste, and staid 
at a place twelve miles off, for he was not 
prepared to die. He ordered Anne to re- 
turn to her father, invited the queen to join 
him, and took up his residence at Wiltham. 
His real conscience awoke only in the pre- 
sence of death. Four of his attendants and 
a friar J Anne's confessor as it would ap- 
pear, 7 falling ill, the king departed for 
Hunsdon. He had been there two days 



1 20th August 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. 
Le Grand, Preuves, p. 165. 

2 Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150. 

3 Ibid. 

* Drue comme mouches. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 138. 

6 Raide comme un pan de tnur. Ibid. 

1 More's Life. p. 136. 

' Votre pere niaitre Jesonere est torabe malade. 
Henry to Anne. Pamphleteer, No 42, p. 347. 



only when Powis, Carew, Carton, and 
others of his court, were carried off in two 
or three hours. Henry had met an enemy 
whom. he could not vanquish. He quitted 
the place attacked by the disease ; he re- 
moved to another quarter ; and when the 
sickness laid hold of any of his attendants 
in his new retreat, he again left that for a 
new asylum. Terror froze his blood ; he 
wandered about pursued by that terrible 
scythe whose sweep might perhaps reach 
him : he cut off all communication even 
with his servants ; shut himself up in a 
room at the top of an isolated tower ; ate 
all alone, and would see no one but his 
physician ;' he prayed, fasted, confessed, 
became reconciled with the queen ; took 
the sacrament every Sunday and feast day ; 
received has Maker, 2 to use the words of a 
gentleman of his chamber ; and the queen 
and Wolsey did the same. Nor was that 
all : his councillor, Sir Brian Tuke, was 
sick in Essex ; but that mattered not ; the 
king ordered him to come, even in his litter ; 
and on the 20th of June, Henry after hear- 
ing three masses (he had never done so 
much before in one day.) said to Tuke*: " I 
want you to write my will." He was not 
the only one who took that precaution. 
" There were a hundred thousand made," 
says Du Bellay. 

During this time, Anne in her retirement 
at Hever, was calm and collected ; she 
prayed much, particularly for the king and 
for Wolsey. 3 But Henry, far less submis- 
sive, was very anxious. " The uneasiness 
my doubts about your health gave me," he 
wrote to her. " disturbed and frightened 
me exceedingly : but now, since you as yet 
felt nothing, I hope it is with you as 

it is with us I beg you, my entirely 

beloved, not to frighten yourself, or be 
too uneasy at our absence, for wherever 
I am, I am yours. And yet we must 
sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for 
whoever will struggle against fate, is gen- 
erally but so much the farther from gain- 
ing his end. Wherefore ; comfort yourself 
and take courage, and make this misfor- 
tune as easy to you as you can." 4 

As he received no news, Henry's uneasi- 
ness increased ; he sent to Anne a messen- 
ger and a letter : " To acquit myself of the 
duty of a true servant, I send you this let- 
ter, beseeching you to apprize me of your 
welfare, which I pray may continue as long 
as I desire mine own." 

Henry's fears were well founded : the 
malady became more severe ; in four hours 
eighteen persons died at the archbishop of 
Canterbury's ; Anne Boleyn herself and 



1 With his physician iu a chamber within a tower 
to sup apart. State Papers, i. p. 296. 

2 Ibid. p. 290. 

3 I thank our Lord that them that I desired and 
prayed for are escaped, and that is the king's grace 
and vou. Anne to Wolsey. Pamphleteer, No. 43, 
p. 150. 

* Ibid. No. 42, p. 347. 



HISTORY OF TIFE REFORMATION. 



'55 



her brother also caught the infection. The 
king was exceedingly agitated ; Anne alone 
appeared calm ; the strength of her charac- 
ter raised her above exaggerated fears ; but 
her enemies ascribed her calmness to other 
motives. " Her ambition is stronger than 
death," they said. " The king, queen, and 

cardinal tremble for their lives, but she 

she would die content if she died a queen." 
Henry once more changed his residence. 
All the gentlemen of his privy-chamber 
were attacked, with one exception; "he re- 
mained alone, keeping himself apart," says 
Du Bellay, and confessed every day. He 
wrote again to Anne, sending her his phy- 
sician, Dr. Butts: 1 "The most displeasing 
news that could occur came to me suddenly 
at night. On three accounts I must lament 
it. One, to hear of the illness of my mis- 
tress, whom I esteem more than all the 
world, and whose health I desire as I do 
my own. I would willingly bear half of 
what you suffer to cure you. The second, 
from the fear that I shall have to endure 
my wearisome absence much longer, which 
has hitherto given me all the vexation that 
was" possible ; and when gloomy thoughts 
fill my mind, then I pray God to remove far 
from me such troublesome and rebellious 
ideas. The third, because my physician, in 
whom I have most confidence, is absent. 
Yet, from the want of him, I send you my 
second, and hope that he will soon make 
you well. I shall then love him more than 
ever. I beseech you to be guided by his 
advice in your illness. By your doing this, 
I hope soon to see you again, which will be 
to me a greater comfort than all the pre- 
cious jewels in the world." 

The pestilence soon broke out with more 
violence around Henry; he fled in alarm to 
Hatfield, taking with him only the gentle- 
men of his chamber ; he next quitted this 
place for Tittenhanger, a house belonging 
to Wolsey, whence he commanded general 
processions throughout the kingdom in 
order to avert this scourge of God- 2 At 
the same time he wrote to Wolsey : " As 
soon as any one falls ill in the place where 
you are, fly to another; and go thus from 
place to place." The poor cardinal was 
still more alarmed than Henry. As soon 
as he felt the slightest perspiration, he fan- 
cied himself a dead man. " I entreat your 
highness," he wrote trembling to the king 
on the 5th of July, "to show yourself full 
of pity for my soul ; these are perhaps the 

last words I shall address to you The 

whole world will see by my last testament 
that you have not bestowed your favour on 
an ungrateful man." The king, perceiving 
that Wolsey's mind was affected, bade him 
" put apart fear and fantasies," 3 and wear 
a cheerful humour in the midst of death. 
At last the sickness began to diminish, 



1 Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 120. 
■ State Papers, i. p. 30S. 
1 I'uid. p 314. 



and immediately the desire to see Anne 
revived in Henry's bosom. On the 18th of 
August she reappeared at court, and all 
the king's thoughts were now bent on the 
divorce. 

But this business seemed tc proceed in 
inverse ratio to his desires. There was no 
news of Campeggio ; was he lost in the 
Alps or at sea ? Did his gout detain him 
in some village, or was the announcement 
of his departure only a feint ? Anne Bo- 
leyn herself was uneasy, for she attached 
great importance to Campeggio's coming. 
If the church annulled the king's first mar- 
riage, Anne, seeing the principal obstacle 
removed, thought she might accept Henry's 
hand. She therefore wrote to Wolsey : "I 
long to hear from you news of the legate, 
for I do hope (an' they come from you) 
they shall be very good." The king added 
in a postscript : " The not hearing of the 
legate's arrival in France causeth us some- 
what to muse. Notwithstanding Ave trust 
by your diligence and vigilancy (with the 
assistance of Almighty God) shortly to be 
eased out of that trouble." 1 

But still there was no news. While 
waiting for the long-desired ambassador, 
every one at the English court played his 
part as well as he could. Anne, whether 
from conscience, prudence or modesty, re- 
fused the honours which the king would 
have showered upon her, and never ap- 
proached Catherine but with marks of pro- 
found respect. AVolsey had the look of 
desiring the divorce, while in reality he 
dreaded it, as fated to cause his ruin and 
that of the popedom. Henry strove to con- 
ceal the motives which impelled him to 
separate from the queen ; to the bishops, 
he spoke of his conscience, to the nobility 
of an heir, and to all of the sad obligation 
which compelled him to put away so justly 
beloved a princess. In the meanwhile, he 
seemed to live on the best terms with her, 
from what Du Bellay says. 2 But Catherine 
was the one who best dissembled her sen- 
timents ; she lived with the king as during 
their happiest days, treated Anne with 
every kindness, adopted an elegant costume, 
encouraged music and dancing in her 
apartments, often appeared in public, and 
seemed desirous of captivating by her gra- 
cious smiles the good-will of England. 
This was a mournful comedy, destined to 
end in tragedy full of tears and agony. 

While these scenes were acting in the 
royal palaces, far different discussions were 
going on among the people. After having 
dwelt for some time on the agitations of the 
court, we gladly return to the lowly dis- 
ciples of the divine word. The Reforma- 
tion of England (and this is its character- 
istic) brings before us by turns the king 
upon his throne, and the laborious artisan 

1 Pamphleteer, No.4S, p. 149. 
* 16th October 1528. Du ]5ellay to Montmo- 
rency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 170. 



'56 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



in his humble cottage ; and between these 
two extremes we meet with the doctor in 
his college, and the priest in his pulpit. 

Among the young men trained at Cam- 
bridge under Barnes's instruction, and who 
had aided him at the time of his trial, was 
Miles Coverdale, afterwards bishop of 
Exeter, a man distinguished by his zeal fur 
the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some time 
after the prior's fall, on Easter Eve, 1527, 
Coverdale and Cromwell met at the house 
of Sir Thomas More, when the former ex- 
horted the Cambridge student to apply 
himself to the study of sacred learning. 1 
The lapse of his unhappy master had 
alarmed Coverdale, and he felt the neces- 
sity of withdrawing from that outward 
activity which had proved so fatal to 
Barnes. He therefore turned to the Scrip- 
tures, read them again and again, and per- 
ceived, like Tyndale, that the reformation 
of the church must be effected by the word 
of God. The inspiration of that word, the 
only foundation of its sovereign authority, 
had struck Coverdale. " Wherever the 
Scripture is known it reformeth all things. 
And why ? Because it is given by the in- 
spiration of God." 2 This fundamental 
principle of the Reformation in England 
must, in every age, be that of the church. 

Coverdale found happiness in his studies : 
" Now," he said, " I begin to taste of 
Holy Scriptures ! Now, honour be to God ! 
I am set to the most sweet smell of holy 
letters." 3 He did not stop there, but 
thought it his duty to attempt in England 
the work which Tyndale was prosecuting 
in Germany. The Bible was so important 
in the eyes of these Christians, that two 
translations were undertaken simultane- 
ously. " Why should other nations," said 
Coverdale, " be more plenteously provided 
for with the Scriptures in their mother- 
tongue than we?" 4 — "Beware of transla- 
ting the Bible !" exclaimed the partisans 
of the schoolmen ; "your labour will only 
make divisions in the faith and in the peo- 
ple of God." 5 — " God has now given his 
church," replied Coverdale, "the gifts of 
translating and of printing ; we must im- 
prove them." And if any friends spoke of 
Tyndale's translation, he answered: "Do 
not you know that when many are starting 
together, every one doth his best to be 
nighestthe mark?" 6 — " But Scripture ought 
to exist in Latin only," objected the 
priests. — " No," replied Coverdale again, 
" the Holy Ghost is as much the author of 
it in the Hebrew, Greek, French, Dutch, 

and English, as in Latin The word of 

God is of like authority, in what language 
soever the Holy Ghost speaketh it." 7 This 

1 Coverdale's Remains (Park. Soc), p. 490. The 
editor of the " Remains" dates this letter to Crom- 
well, 1st May 1527. Others assign it to a later 
period. 

2 Coverdale's Remains, p. 10. 

8 Ibid. p. 490. * Ibid. p. 12. 

1 Ibid. s Ibid. p. 14. f Ibid. p. 26. 



does not mean that translations of Holy 
Scripture are inspired, but that the word 
of God, faithfully translated, always pos- 
sesses a divine authority. 

Coverdale determined therefore to trans- 
late the Bible, and, to procure the neces- 
sary books, he wrote to Cromwell, who, 
during his travels, had made a collection 
of these precious writings. " Nothing in 
the world I desire but books," he wrote ; 
" like Jacob, you have drunk of the dew of 

heaven I ask to drink of your waters." 1 

Cromwell did not refuse Coverdale his 
treasures. " Since the Holy Ghost moves 
you to bear the cost of this work," ex- 
claimed the latter, " God gives me boldness 
to labour in the same." 2 He commenced 
without delay, saying: "Whosoever be- 
lieveth not the Scripture, believeth not 
Christ ; and whoso refuseth it, refuseth God 
also." 3 Such were the foundations of the 
reformed church of England. 

Coverdale did not undertake to translate 
the Scriptures as a mere literary task : the 
Spirit which had inspired him spoke to his 
heart ; and tasting their life-giving promises 
he expressed his happiness in pious songs: 

Be glad now, all ye Christen men, 

And let us rejoyce unfaynedly. 
The kinduesse cannot be written with penne, 

That we have receaved of God's mercy ; 
Whose love towarde us hath never ende : 
He hath done for us as a frende ; 

Now let us thanke him hartely. 

These lovynge wordes he spake to me : 
I wyll delyver thy soule from payne ; 

I am desposed to do for thee, 

And to myne owne selfe thee to retayne. 

Thou shalt be with me, for thou art myne; 

And I with thee, for I am thyne ; 
Such is my love, I can not layne. 

They wyll shed out my precyous bloude, 

And take away my lyfe also ; 
"Which I wyll suffre all for thy good : 

Beleve this sure, where ever thou go. 
For I will yet ryse up agayne ; 
Thy synnes I beare, though it be payne, 

To make thee safe and free from wo. 

Coverdale did not remain long in the 
solitude he desired. The study of the Bible 
which had attracted him to it, soon drew 
him out of it. A revival was going on in 
Essex ; John Tyball, an inhabitant of 
Bumpstead, having learnt to find in Jesus 
Christ the trve bread from heaven, did not 
stop there. One day as he was reading the 
first epistle to the Corinthians, these words : 
" eat of this bread," and " drink of this 
cup" repeated four times within a few 
verses, convinced him that there was no 
transubstantiation. " A priest has no power 
to create the body of the Lord," said he : 
" Christ truly is present in the Eucharist, 
but he is there only for him that believeth, 
and by a spiritual presence and action 



1 De tuo ipso torrente maxime potare exopto. 
Coverdale's Remains, p. 491. 
a Ibid. p. 10. Ibid. p. 19. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'57 



only." Tyball, disgusted with the Romish 
clergy and worship, and convinced that 
Christians are called to a universal priest- 
hood, soon thought that men could do with- 1 
out a special ministry, and without denying j 
the offices mentioned in Scripture, as some 
Christians have done since, he attached no \ 
importance to them. " Priesthood is not i 
necessary," 1 he said : "every layman may) 
administer the sacraments as well as a i 
priest." The minister of Bumpstead, one 
Richard Foxe, and next a greyfriar of Col- j 
Chester named Meadow, were successively 
converted by Tyball' s energetic preaching. 

Coverdale, who was living not far from 
these parts, having heard speak of this re- 
ligious revival, came to Bumpstead, and 
went into the pulpit on the 29th of March 
1528, to proclaim the treasures contained 
in Scripture. Among his hearers was an 
Augustine monk, named Topley, who was 
supplying Foxe's place during his absence. 
This monk, while staying at the parsonage, 
had found a copy of Wickliffe's Wicket, 
which he read eagerly. His conscience 
was wounded by it, and all seemed to totter 
about him. 2 He had gone to church full 
of doubt, and after divine service he waited 
upon the preacher, exclaiming : " my 
sins, my sins \" " Confess yourself to 
God," said Coverdale, " and not to a priest. 
God accepteth the confession which cometh 
from the heart, and blotteth out all your 
sins." 3 The monk believed in the forgive- 
ness of God, and became a zealous evange- 
list for the surrounding country. 

The divine word had hardly lighted one 
torch, before that kindled another. At Col- 
chester, in the same county, a worthy man 
named Pykas, had received a copy of the 
Epistles of Saint Paul from his mother, 
with this advice : " My son, live according 
to these writings, and not according to the 
teaching of the clergy." Some time after, 
Pykas having bought a New Testament, 
and "read it thoroughly many times/' 4 a 
total change took place in him. " We must 
be baptized by the Holy Ghost," he said, 
and these words passed like a breath of 
life over his simple-minded hearers. One 
day, Pykas having learnt that Bilney, the 
first of the Cambridge doctors who had 
known the power of God's word, was preach- 
ing at Ipswich, he proceeded thither, for he 
never refused to listen to a priest, when that 
priest proclaimed the truth. " 0, what a 
sermon ! how full of the Holy Ghost !" ex- 
claimed Pykas. - 

From that period meetings of the bro- 
thers in Christ (for thus they were called) 
increased in number. They read the New 
Testament, and each imparted to the others 
what he had received for the instruction 



1 Strype, Records, i. p. 51. 

* I felt in iny conscience a great wavering. An- 
derson's Annals of the Bible, vol. i. p. 185. 

3 Coverdale's Remains, p. 481. 

* Strype, vol. L ch. i. p. 121. 



of all. One day when the twenty-fourth 
chapter of Matthew had been read, Pykas, 
who was sometimes wrong in the spiritual 
interpretation of Scripture, remarked : 
" "When the Lord declares that not one 
stone of the temple shall be left upon another, 
he speaks of those haughty priests who 
persecute those whom they call heretics, 
and who pretend to be the temple' of God. 
God will destroy them all." After pro- 
testing against the priest, he protested 
against the host : " The real body of Jesus 
Christ is in the Word," he said : " God is 
in the Word, the Word is in God. 1 God 
and the Word cannot be separated. Christ 
is the living Word that nourishes the 
soul." These humble preachers increased. 
Even women knew the Epistles and Gos- 
pels by heart : Marion Matthew, Dorothy 
Long, Catherine Swain, Alice Gardiner, 
and above all, Gyrling's wife, who had 
been in service with a priest lately burnt 
for heresy, took part in these gospel meet- 
ings. And it was not in cottages only 
that the glad tidings were then proclaimed; 
Bower Hall, the residence of the squires 
of Bumpstead, was open to Foxe, Topley, 
and Tyball, who often read the Holy Scrip- 
tures in the great hall of the mansion, in 
the presence of the master and all their 
household : a humble Reformation more 
real than that effected by Henry VIII. 

There was, however, some diversity of 
opinion among these brethren. " All who 
have begun to believe," said Tyball, Py- 
kas, and others, " ought to meet together 
to hear the word and increase in faith. 
We pray in common and that consti- 
tutes a church." Coverdale, Bilney, and 
Latimer willingly recognised these incom- 
plete societies, in which the members met 
simply as disciples ; they believed them ne- 
cessary at a period when the church was 
forming. These societies (in the reformer's 
views) proved that organization has not the 
priority in the Christian church, as Rome 
maintains, and that this priority belongs to 
the faith and the life. But this imperfect 
form they also regarded as provisional. 
To prevent numerous dangers, it was ne- 
cessary that this society should be suc- 
ceeded by another, the church of the New 
Testament, with its elders or bishops, and 
deacons. The word, they thought, ren- 
dered a ministry of the word necessary ; 
and for its proper exercise not only piety 
was required, but a knowledge of the 
sacred languages, the gift of eloquence, its 
exercise and perfection. However, there 
was no division among these Christians 
upon secondary matters. 

For some time the bishop of London 
watched this movement with uneasiness. 
He caused Hacker to be arrested, who, for 
six years past, had gone from house to 
house reading the Bible in London and 
Essex ; examined and threatened him, in- 



Strype, vol. i. ch. i. p. 130. 



758 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



quired carefully after the names of those 
who had shown him hospitality ; and the 
poor man in alarm had given up about 
forty of his brethren. Sebastian Harris, 
priest of Kensington, Furman, rector of 
All Hallows, John and William Pykas, 
and many others, were summoned before 
the bishop. They were taken to prison ; 
they were led before the judges ; they were 
put in the stocks ; they were tormented in 
a thousand ways. Their minds became 
confused ; their thoughts wandered ; and 
many made the confessions required by 
their persecutors. 

The adversaries of the gospel, proud of 
this success, now desired a more glorious 
victory. If they could not reach Tyndale, 
had they not in London the patron of his 
work, Monmouth, the most influential of 
the merchants, and a follower of the true 
faith ? The clergy had made religion their 
business, and the Reformation restored it 
to the people. Nothing offended the priests 
so much, as that laymen should claim the 
right to believe without their intervention, 
and even to propagate the faith. Sir 
Thomas More, one of the most amiable 
men of the sixteenth century, participated 
in their hatred. He wrote to Cochla^us : 
" Germany now daily bringeth forth mon- 
sters more deadly than what Africa was 
wont to do ;' but, alas ! she is not alone. 
Numbers of Englishmen, who would not a 
few years ago even hear Luther's name 
mentioned, are now publishing his praises ! 
England is now like the sea, which swells 
and heaves before a great storm, without 
any wind stirring it." 2 More felt particu- 
larly irritated, because the boldness of the 
gospellers had succeeded to the timidity 
of the Lollards. " The heretics," he said, 
" have put off hypocrisy, and put on impu- 
dence." He therefore resolved to set his 
hand to the work. 

On the 14th of May, 1529, Monmouth 
was in his shop, when an usher came and 
summoned him to appear before Sir J. 
Dauncies, one of the privy council. The 
pious merchant obeyed, striving to persuade 
himself that he was wanted on some matter 
of business ; but in this he was deceived, as 
he soon found out. " What letters and 
books have you lately received from 
abroad ?" 3 asked, with some severity, Sir 
Thomas More, who, with Sir William 
Kingston, was Sir John's colleague. — 
" None," replied Monmouth. " What aid 
have you given to any persons living on the 
continent?" — "None, for these last three 
years. William Tyndale abode with me six 
months," he continued, " and his life was 
what a good priest's ought to be. I gave 
him ten pounds at the period of his depart- 
ure, but nothing since. Besides, he is not 
the only one I have helped ; the bishop of 



1 More's Life, p. 82. 

2 Ibid. p. 117. 

* Strype, Records, p. 363. 



j London's chaplain, for instance, has re 
ceived of me more than <£50." — "Wha* 
books have you in your possession ?" The 
merchant named the New Testament and 
some other works. " All these books have 
j lain more than two years on my table, and 
1 1 never heard that either priest, friars, or 
laymen learnt any great errors from them."- 
j More tossed his head. " It is a hard mat- 
ter," he used to say, " to put a dry stick in 
the fire without its burning, or to nourish a 
snake in our bosom and not be stung by it. 2 
— That is enough," he continued, " we 
shall go and search your house." Not a 
paper escaped their curiosity ; but they 
found nothing to compromise Monmouth ; 
he was however sent to the Tower. 

After some interval the merchant was 
again brought before his judges. " You 
are accused," said More, " of having 
bought Martin Luther's tracts; of main- 
taining those who are translating the 
Scriptures into English ; of subscribing to 
get the New Testament printed in Eng- 
lish, with or without glosses ; of having im- 
ported it into the kingdom ; and, lastly, of 
having said that faith alone is sufficient to 
save a man." 3 

There was matter enough to burn seve- 
ral men. Monmouth, feeling convinced 
that Wolsey alone had power to deliver him, 
resolved to apply to him. " What will be- 
come of my poor workmen in London and 
in the country during. my imprisonment?" 
he wrote to the cardinal. " They must have 
their money every week ; who will give it 

them ? Besides, I make considerable 

sales in foreign countries, which bring large 
returns to his majesty's customs. 4 If I re- 
main in prison, this commerce is stopped, 
and of course all the proceeds for the ex- 
chequer." Wolsey, who was as much a 
statesman as a churchman, began to melt ; 
on the eve of a struggle with the pope and 
the emperor, he feared, besides, to make the 
people discontented. Monmouth was re- 
leased from prison. As alderman, and then 
as sheriff of London, he was faithful until 
death, and ordered in his last will that 
thirty sermons should be preached by the 
most evangelical ministers in England, " to 
make known the holy word of Jesus Christ." 
— "That is better," he thought, "than 
founding masses." The Reformation 
showed, in the sixteenth century, that great 
activity in commerce might be allied to 
great piety. 

While these persecutions were agitating 
the fields and the capital of England, all had 
changed in the ecclesiastical world because 
all had changed in the political. The pope, 
pressed by Henry VIII. and intimidated by 
the armies of Francis I., had granted the 
decretal and despatched Campeggio. But, 



1 Strype, Records, p. 365. 

2 More's Life, p. 116. 

8 Strype's Mem. i. p. 490. 
4 Strype, Records, i. p. 367 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



759 



on a sudden, there was a new evolution ; 
a change of events brought a change of 
counsels. Doria had gone over to the em- 
peror ; his fleet had restored abundance 
to Naples ; the army of Francis L, ravaged 
by famine and pestilence, had capitulated ; 
and Charles V., triumphant in Italy, had 
said proudly to the pope : " We are deter- 
mined to defend the queen of England 
against King Henry's injustice." 1 

Charles having recovered his superiority, 
the affrighted pope opened his eyes to the 
justice of Catherine's cause. " Send four 
messengers after Campeggio," said he to 
his officers ; " and let each take a different 
road ; bid them travel with all speed and 
deliver our despatches to him." 2 They 
overtook the legate, who opened the pope's 
letters. " In the first place," said Clement 
VII. to him, " protract your journey. In 
the second place, when you reach England, 
use every endeavour to reconcile the king 
and queen. In the third place, if you do 
not succeed, persuade the queen to take the 
veil. And in the last place, if she refuses, 
do not pronounce any sentence favourable 
to the divorce without a new and express 
order from me. This is the essential : 
Summum et maximum mandatum." The 
ambassador of the sovereign pontiff had a 
mission to do nothing. This instruction is 
sometimes as effective as any. 

Campeggio, the youngest of the cardi- 
nals, was the most intelligent and the slow- 
est ; and this slowness caused his selection 
by the pope. He understood his master. 
If Wolsey was Henry's spur to urge on 
Campeggio, the latter was Clement's bridle 
to check Wolsey. 3 One of the judges of 
the divorce was about to pull forwards, the 
other backwards ; thus the business stood 
a chance of not advancing at all, which was 
just what the pope required. 

The legate, very eager to relax his speed, 
6pent three months on his journey from 
Italy to England. He should have em- 
barked for France on the 23d of July ; but 
the end of August was approaching, and 
no one knew in that country what had be- 
come of him. 4 At length they learnt 
that he had reached Lyons on the 22d of 
August. The English ambassador in France 
sent him horses, carriages, \plate, and 
money, in order to hasten his progress ; the 
legate complained of the gout, and Gardiner 
found the greatest difficulty in getting him 
to move. Henry wrote every day to Anne 
Boleyn, complaining of the slow progress 
of the nuncio. " He arrived in Paris last 
Sunday or Monday," he says at the begin- 
ning of September ; " Monday next we 
shall hear of his arrival in Calais, and then 

' Cum Caesar inaterterae suae causam contra in- 
jurias Henrici propugnaverit. Sanders, p. 28. 

4 Quatuor nuncios celerrimo cursu diversis itin- 
eribus ad Campegiuin misit. Ibid, et Herbert, p. 
253. " 

3 Fuller, book v. p. 172. 

4 State Papers, vii= p. 91, 92. 



I shall obtain what I have so longed for, to 
God's pleasure and both our comforts." 1 

At the same time this impatient prince 
sent message after message to accelerate 
the legate's rate of travelling. 

Anne began to desire a future which 
surpassed all that her youthful imagina- 
tion had conceived, and her agitated heart 
expanded to the breath of hope. She .wrote 
to Wolsey : 

" This shall be to give unto your grace, 
as I am most bound, my humble thanks for 
the great pain and travail that your grace 
doth take in studying, by your wisdom and 
great diligence, how to bring to pass 
honourably the greatest wealth [well-being] 
that is possible to come to any creature 
living ; and in especial remembering how 
wretched and unworthy I am in comparison 

to his« highness Now, good my lord, 

your discretion may consider as yet how 
little it is in my power to recompense you 
but alonely [only] with my good will ; the 
which I assure you, look what thing in 
this world I can imagine to do you pleasure 
in, you shall find me the gladdest woman in 
the world to do it." 2 

But the impatience of the king of Eng- 
land and of Anne seemed as if it would 
never be satisfied. Campeggio, on his way 
through Paris, told Francis I. that the di- 
vorce would never take place, and that he 
should soon go to Spain to see Charles V. 
.... This was significative. " The king of 
England ought to know," said the indig- 
nant Francis to the duke of Suffolk, " that 
Campeggio is imperialist at heart, and that 
his mission in England will be a mere 
mockery." 3 

In truth, the Spanish and Roman fac- 
tions tried every manoeuvre to prevent a 
union they detested. Anne Boleyn, queen 
of England, signified not only Catherine 
humbled, but Charles offended ; the clerical 
party weakened, perhaps destroyed, and 
the evangelical party put in its place. The 
Romish faction found accomplices even in 
Anne's own family. Her brother George's 
wife, a proud and passionate woman, and 
a rigid Roman-catholic, had sworn an im- 
placable hatred against her young sister. 
By this means wounds might be inflicted, 
even in the domestic sanctuary, which 
would not be the less deep because they 
were the work of her own kindred. One 
day we are told that Anne found in her 
chamber a book of pretended prophecies, 
in which was a picture representing a king, 
a queen shedding tears, and at their feet a 
lady headless. Anne turned away her eyea 
with disgust. She desired, however, to 
know what this emblem signified, and offi- 
cious friends brought to her one of those 



: Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 117. 

3 Pamphleteer, p. 151. 

3 The cardinal intended not that your Grace'i 
matter should take effect, but only to use dissimu- 
lation with your Grace, for he is entirely imperial. 
Suffolk to lienry, State Papers, vii. p. 183. 



760 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pretended wise men, so numerous at all 
times, who abuse the credulity of the ignorant 
by professing to interpret such mysteries. 
" This prophetic picture," he said, " repre- 
sents the history of the king and his wife." 
Anne was not credulous, but she under- 
stood what her enemies meant to insinuate, 
and dismissed the mock interpreter with- 
out betraying any signs of fear ; then 
turning to her favourite attendant, Anne 
Saville, " Come hither, Nan," said she, 
"look at this book of prophecies ; this is 
the king, this is the queen wringing her 
hands and mourning, and this (putting her 
fingers on the bleeding body) is myself, 
with my head cut off." — The young lady 
answered with a shudder: " If I thought 
it were true, I would not myself have him 
were he an emperor." — " Tut, Nan," re- 
plied Anne Boleyn with a sweet smile, " I 
think the book a bauble, and am resolved 
to have him, that my issue may be royal, 
whatever may become of me." 1 This story 
is based on good authority, and there were 
so many predictions of this kind afloat that 
it is very possible one of them might come 
true ; people afterwards recollect only the 
prophecies confirmed by the -events. But, 
be that as it may, this young lady, so 
severely chastised in after days, found in 
her God an abundant consolation. 

At length Campeggio embarked at Calais 
on the 29th of September, and unfortu- 
nately for him he had an excellent passage 
across the Channel. A storm to drive him 
back to the French coast would have 
suited him admirably. But on the 1st of 
October he was at Canterbury, whence he 
announced his arrival to the king. At this 
news, Henry forgot all the delays which 
bad so irritated him. " His majesty can 
never be sufficiently grateful to your holi- 
ness for so great a favour," wrote Wolsey 
to the pope : " but he will employ his riches, 
his kingdom, his life even, and deserve the 
name of Restorer of the Church as justly as 
he has gained that of Defender of the 
Faith" This zeal alarmed Campeggio, for 
the pope wrote to him that any proceeding 
which might irritate Charles would inevit- 
ably cause the ruin of the church. 2 The 
nuncio became more dilatory than ever, 
and although he reached Canterbury on the 
1st of October, he did not arrive at Dart- 
ford until the 5th, thus taking four days for 
a journey of about thirty miles. 3 

Meanwhile preparations were making to 
receive him in London. Wolsey, feeling 
contempt for the poverty of the Roman 
cardinals, and very uneasy about the equi- 
page with which his colleague was likely to 
make his entrance into the capital, sent a 
number of showy chests, rich carpets, litters 
hung with drapery, and harnessed mules. 



1 Wyatt, p. 430. 

3 Sanga to Campeggio, from Viterbo, 27th Sep- 
tember. Ranke, Deutsche Gesch. iii. p. 135. 
3 State Papers, vii. p. U, 95. 



On the other hand Campeggio, whose secret 
mission was to keep in the back-ground, 
and above all to do nothing, feared these 
banners, and trappings, and all the parade 
of a triumphal entry. Alleging therefore 
an attack of gout in order to escape from 
the pomps his colleague had prepared for 
him, he quietly took a boat, and thus 
reached the palace of the bishop of Bath, 
where he was to lodge. 

While the nuncio was thus proceeding 
unnoticed up the Thames, the equipages 
sent by Wolsey entered London through 
the midst of a gaping crowd, who looked 
on them with curiosity as if they had come 
from the banks of the Tiber. Some of the 
mules however took fright and ran away, 
the coffers fell off and burst open, when 
there was a general rush to see their con- 
tents ; but to the surprise of all they were 
empty. This was an excellent jest for the 
citizens of London. " Fine outside, empty 
inside ; a just emblem of the popedom, its 
embassy, and foolish pomps," they said; 
" a sham legate, a procession of masks, and 
the whole a farce !" 

Campeggio was come at last, and now 
what he dreaded most was an audience. 
" I cannot move," he said, " or endure the 
motion of a litter." 1 Never had an attack 
of gout been more seasonable. Wolsey, 
who paid him frequent visits, soon found 
him to be his equal in cunning. To no 
purpose did he treat him with every mark 
of respect, shaking his hand and making 
much of him ; 2 it was labour lost, the 
Roman nuncio would say nothing, and 
Wolsey began to despair. The king, on 
the contrary, was full of hope, and fancied 
he already had the act of divorce in his 
portfolio, because he had the nuncio in his 
kingdom. 

The greatest effect of the nuncio's arrival 
was the putting an end to Anne Boleyn's 
indecision. She had several relapses : the 
trials which she foresaw, and the grief 
Catherine must necessarily feel, had agita- 
ted her imagination and disturbed her 
mind. But when she saw the church and 
her own enemies prepared to pronounce 
the king's divorce, her doubts were re- 
moved, and she regarded as legitimate the 
position that was offered her. The king, 
who suffered from her scruples, was de- 
lighted at this change. " I desire to in- 
form you," he wrote to her in English, 
" what joy it is to me to understand of 
your conformableness with reason, and of 
the suppressing of your inutile and, vain 
thoughts and fantasies with the bridle of 
reason. I assure you all the greatness of 
this world could not counterpoise for my 
satisfaction the knowledge and certainty 
thereof. The unfeigned sickness of this 



1 Despatch from the bishop of Bayonne, 16th 
October 1529. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 169. 

a Quern ssepius visitavi et amantissime sum com- 
plexus. State Papers, vii. p. 103. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



761 



well-willing legate doth somewhat retard 
his access to your person." 1 It was there- 
fore the determination of the pope that 
made Anne Boleyn resolve to accept 
Henry's hand; this is an important lesson 
for which we are indebted to the Vatican 
letters. "We should be grateful to the pa- 
pacy for having so carefully preserved 
them. 

But the more Henry rejoiced, the more 
Wolsey despaired ; he would have desired 
to penetrate into Clement's thoughts, but 
could not succeed. Imagining that De 
Angelis, the general of the Spanish Obser- 
vance, knew all the secrets of the pope and 
of the emperor, he conceived the plan of 
kidnapping him. " If he goes to Spain by 
sea," said he to Du Bellay, " a good brigan- 
tine or two would do the business ; and if 
by land, it will be easier still." Du Bellay 
failed not (as he informs us himself) "to 
tell him plainly that by such proceedings 
he would entirely forfeit the pope's good 
will." — "What matter?" replied Wolsey, 
" I have nothing to lose." As he said this, 
tears started to his eyes. 2 At last he made 
up his mind to remain ignorant of the pon- 
tiff's designs, and wiped his eyes, awaiting, 
not without fear, the interview between 
Henry and Campeggio. 

On the 22d of October, a month after his 
arrival, the nuncio, borne in a sedan chair 
of red velvet, was carried to court. He 
was placed on the right of the throne, and 
his secretary in his name delivered a high- 
sounding speech, saluting Henry with the 
name of Saviour of Rome, Liberator urbis. 
" His majesty," replied Fox in the king's 
name, "has only performed the duties in- 
cumbent on a Christian prince, and he 
hopes the holy see will bear them in mind." 
— " Well attacked, well defended," said 
Du Bellay. For the moment, a few Latin 
declamations got the papal nuncio out of 
his difficulties. 

Campeggio did not deceive himself: if 
the divorce were refused, he foresaw the 
reformation of England. Yet he hoped 
still, for he was assured that Catherine 
would submit to the judgment of the 
church ; and being fully persuaded that 
the queen would refuse the holy father 
nothing, the nuncio began "his approaches," 
as Du Bellay calls them. On the 27th of 
October, the two cardinals waited on Cath- 
erine, and in flattering terms insinuated 
that she might prevent the blow which 
threatened her by voluntary retirement 
into a convent. And then, to end all inde- 
cision in the queen's mind, Campeggio put 
on a severe look and exclaimed: " How is 
it, madam, explain the mystery to us ? 
From the moment the holy father appointed 
us to examine the question of your divorce, 
you have been seen not only at court, but 



in public, wearing the most magnificent 
ornaments, participating with an appear- 
ance of gayety and satisfaction at amuse- 
ments and festivities which you had never 

tolerated before The church is in the 

most cruel embarrassment with regard to 
you ; the king, your husband, is in the 
greatest perplexity ; the princess-, your 
daughter, is taken from you and in- 
stead of shedding tears, you give yourself 
up to vanity. Renounce the world, madam ; 
enter a nunnery. Our holy father himself 
requires this of you." 1 

The agitated queen was almost fainting ; 
stifling her emotion, however, she said 
mildly but firmly : " Alas ! my lords, is it 
now a question whether I am the king's 
lawful wife or not, when I have been mar- 
ried to him almost twenty years and no 

objection raised before? Divers prelates 

and lords are yet alive who then adjudged 
our marriage good and lawful, — and now 
to say it is detestable ! this is a great 
marvel to me, especially when I consider 
what a wise prince the king's father was, 
and also the natural love and affection my 
father, King Ferdinand, bare unto me. I 
think that neither of these illustrious prin- 
ces' would have made me contract an illicit 
union." At these words Catherine's emo- 
tion compelled her to stop. " If I weep, 
my lords," she continued almost immedi- 
ately, " it is not for myself, it is for a person 
dearer to me than my life. What ! I 
should consent to an act which deprives 
my daughter of a crown ? No, I will not 
sacrifice my child. I know what dangers 
threaten me. I am only a weak woman, a 
stranger, without learning, advisers, or 

friends.. and my enemies are skilful, 

learned in the laws, and desirous to merit 
their master's favour...... ..and more than 

that my judges are my enemies. Can I 
receive as such," she said as she looked at 
Campeggio, " a man extorted from the pope 

by manifest lying? And as for you," 

added she, turning haughtily to Wolsey, 
" having failed in attaining the tiara, you 
have sworn to revenge yourself on my 

nephew the emperor and you have 

kept him true promise ; for of all his wars 
and vexations, he may only thank you. 
One victim was not enough for you. Forg- 
ing abominable suppositions, you desire to 

plunge his aunt into a frightful abyss 

But my cause is just, and I trust it in the 
Lord's hand." After this bold language, 
the unhappy Catherine withdrew to her 
apartments. The imminence of the danger 
effected a salutary revolution in her ; she 
laid aside her brilliant ornaments, assumed 
the sober garments in which she is usually 
represented, and passed days and nights in 
mourning and in tears.* 



1 Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 123. 
* Du Bellay to Montmorency, 21st October. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 185. 



1 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 1st November. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 195. 

a Regina in luctu et lacrymis noctes diesque egiL 
Sanders, p. 29. 



762 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Thus Campeggio saw his hopes deceived ; 
he had thought to find a nun, and had met 
a queen and a mother. — He now pro- 
ceeded to set every imaginable spring at 
work ; as Catherine would not renounce 
Henry, he must try and prevail upon Henry 
to renounce his idea of separating from the 
queen. The Roman legate therefore 
changed his batteries, and turned them 
against the king. 

Henry, always impatient, went one day 
unannounced to Campeggio's lodging, ac- 
companied by Wolsey only i 1 "As we are 
without witnesses, " he said, taking his seat 
familiarly between the two cardinals, " let 
us speak freely of our affairs. 2 — How shall 
you proceed ?" But to his great astonish- 
ment and grief, 3 the nuncio prayed him, 
with all imaginable delicacy, to renounce 
the divorce. 4 At these words the fiery Tu- 
dor burst out : " Is this how the pope 
keeps his word? He sends me an ambas- 
sador to annul my marriage, but in reality 
to confirm it." He made a pause. Cam- 
peggio knew not what to say. Henry and 
Catherine being equally persuaded of the 
justice of their cause, the nuncio was in a 
dilemma. Wolsey himself suffered a mar- 
tyrdom. 5 The king's anger grew fiercer ; 
he had thought the legate would hasten to 
withdraw an imprudent expression, but 
Campeggio was dumb. " I see that you 
have chosen your part/ 7 said Henry to the 
nuncio ; " mine, you may be sure, will soon 
be taken also. Let the pope only persevere 
in this way of acting, and the apostolical 
see, covered with perpetual infamy, will be 
visited with a frightful destruction." 6 The 
lion had thrown off the lamb's skin which 
he had momentarily assumed. Campeggio 
felt that he must appease the monarch. 
"Craft and delay" were his orders from 
Rome ; and with that view the pope had 
provided him with the necessary arms. He 
hastened to produce the famous decretal 
which pronounced the divorce. " The holy 
father," he told the king, " ardently desires 
that this matter should be terminated by a 
happy reconciliation between you and the 
queen ; but if that is impossible, you shall 
judge yourself whether or not his holiness 
can keep his promises." He then read the 
bull, and even showed it to Henry, without 
permitting it, however, to leave his hands. 
This exhibition produced the desired effect : 
Henry grew calm. " Now I am at ease 
again," he said ; " this miraculous talisman 
revives all my courage. This decretal is 



1 Regia majestas et ego ad eum crebro accessi- 
mus. State Papers, vii. p. 103. 

3 Rex et duo cardinales, reuiotis arbitris, de suis 
rebus multum et dis collocuti. Sanders, p. 29. 

3 Ineredibili utriusque nostrum animi moerore. 
State Papers, vii. p. 104. 

* Conatus est omne divortium inter regiam ma- 
jestatem et reginam dissuadere. Ibid. 

1 Non absque ingenti cruciatu. Ibid. 

s Ingemiscendum excidium, perpetua infamia. 
IbicL 



the efficacious remedy that will restore 
peace to my oppressed conscience, and joy 
to my bruised heart. 1 Write to his holi- 
ness, that this immense benefit binds me to 
him so closely, that he may expect from me 
more than his imagination can conceive." 

And yet a few clouds gathered shortly 
after in the king's mind. 

Campeggio having shown the bull had 
hastened to lock it up again. Would he 
presume to keep it in his own hands ? 
Henry and Wolsey will leave no means un- 
tried to get possession of it ; that point 
gained, and victory is theirs. 

Wolsey having returned to the nuncio, 
he asked him for the decretal with an air 
of candour as if it was the most natural 
thing in the world. He desired, he said, to 
show it to the king's privy councillors. 
" The pope," replied Campeggio, " has 
granted this bull, not to be used, but to be 
kept secret ;* he simply desired to show the 
king the good feeling by which he was ani- 
mated." Wolsey having failed, Henry 
tried his skill. " Have the goodness to 
hand me the bull which you showed me," 
said he. The nuncio respectfully refused. 
" For a single moment," he said. Cam- 
peggio still refused. The haughty Tudor 
retired, stifling his anger. Then Wolsey 
made another attempt, and founded his de- 
mand on justice. " Like you, I am delega- 
ted by his holiness to decide this affair." he 
said, " and I wish to study the important 
document which is to regulate our proceed- 
ings." — This was met by a new refusal. 
" What !" exclaimed the minister of Henry 

VIII., " am I not, like you, a cardinal '? 

like you, a judge? your colleague?" It 
mattered not, the nuncio would not, by any 
means, let the decretal go. 3 Clement was 
not deceived in the choice he had made of 
Campeggio ; the ambassador was worthy 
of his master. 

It was evident that the pope in granting 
the bull had been acting a part: this trick 
revolted the king. It was no longer anger 
that he felt, but disgust. Wolsey knew 
that Henry's contempt was more to be 
feared than his wrath. He grew alarmed, 
and paid the nuncio another visit. " The 
general commission," he said, "is insuffi- 
cient, the decretal commission alone can be 
of service, and you do not permit us to read 
a word of it. 4 . . . .The king and I place the 
greatest confidence in the good intentions 
of his holiness, and yet we find our expec- 
tations frustrated. 5 Where is that paternal 
affection with which we had flattered our- 



1 Rernedium levamenque afflictae oppressaeque 
conscientiae. State Papers, vii. p. 104. 

2 Non ut ea uteremur, sed ut secreta haberetur. 
Ibid. • 

3 Nullo pacto adduci vult, ut mihi, suo colleges, 
commission em hanc decretalem e suis manibus 
credat. State Papers, vii. p. 105. 

* Nee ullum verbum nee mentionem ullam. Ibid. 

* Esse omni spe frustratos quam in praafata Sanc- 
titate tarn ingenue reposueramus. Ibid. 






HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



63 



selves? What prince has ever been trifled 
with as the king of England is now ? If 
this is the way in which the Defender of 
the Faith is rewarded, Christendom will 
know what those who serve Rome Mill have 
to expect from her, and every power will 
withdraw its support. Do not deceive your- 
selves : the foundation on which the holy 
see is placed is so very insecure that the 
least movement will suffice to precipitate it 
into everlasting ruin. 1 What a sad futurity ! 

what inexpressible torture ! whether 

I wake or sleep, gloomy thoughts continu- 
ally pursue me like a frightful nightmare." 2 
This time Wolsey spoke the truth. 

But all his eloquence was useless ; Cam- 
peggio refused to give up the so much de- 
sired bull. When sending him, Rome had 
told him : " Above all, do not succeed !" 
This means having failed, there remained 
for Wolsey one other way of effecting the 
divorce. " Well, then," he said to Campeg- 
gio, " let us pronounce it ourselves." "Far 
be it from us," replied the nuncio ; " the 
anger of the emperor will be so great, that 
the peace of Europe will be broken for 
ever." " I know how to arrange all that," 
replied the English cardinal, " in political 
matters you may trust to me." 3 The nuncio 
then took another tone, and proudly wrap- 
ping himself up in his morality, he said: 
" I shall follow the voice of my conscience ; 
if I see that the divorce is possible, I shall 
leap the ditch ; if otherwise, I shall not." 
" Your conscience ! that may be easily 
satisfied," rejoined Wolsey. " Holy Scrip- 
ture forbids a man to marry his brother's 
widow ; and no pope can grant what is for- 
bidden by the law of God." " The Lord 
preserve us from such a principle," ex- 
claimed the Roman prelate ; " the power 
of the pope is unlimited." The nuncio had 
hardly put his conscience forward before it 
stumbled ; it bound him to Rome and not 
to heaven. But for that matter, neither 
public opinion nor Campeggio's own friends 
had any great idea of his morality ; they 
thought that to make him leap the ditch, it 
was only requisite to know the price at 
which he might be bought. The bishop 
of Bayonne wrote to Montmorency : " Put 
at the close of a letter which I can show 
Campeggio something promissory, that he 

shall have benefices That will cost you 

nothing, and may serve in this matter of 
the marriage ; for I know that he is longing 
for something of the sort." " What is to 
be done then ?" said Wolsey at last, aston- 
ished at meeting with a resistance to which 
he was unaccustomed. "I shall inform 
the pope of what I have seen and heard," 
replied Campeggio, " and I shall wait mi- 
nis instructions." Henry was forced to 



A fundamento tarn levi, incertaque staterapen- 
deat, ut in sempiternam ruinara. Ibid. p. 106. 

a Quanto aniini cruciatu vigilans doriniensque. 

Ibid. p. 108. 

3 Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 266. 



consent to this new course, for the nuncio 
hinted, that if it were opposed he would go 
in person to Rome to ask the pontiff's or- 
ders, and he never would have returned. 
By this means several months were gained. 

During this time men's minds were 
troubled. The prospect of a divorce be- 
tween the king and queen had stirred the 
nation ; and the majority, particularly 
among the women, declared against the 
king. " Whatever may be done," the peo- 
ple said boldly, " whoever marries the prin 
cess Mary will be king of England." 1 Wol- 
sey's spies informed him that Catherine and 
Charles V. had many devoted partisans 
even at the court. He wished to make sure 
of this. " It is pretended," he said one 
day in an indifferent tone, " that the em- 
peror has boasted that he will get the king 
driven from his realm, and that by his ma- 
jesty's own subjects What do you think 

of it, my lords?" "Tough against the 
spur," says Du Bellay, the lords remained 
silent. At length, however, one of them 
more imprudent than the rest, exclaimed : 
" Such a boast will make the emperor lose 
more than a hundred thousand English- 
men." This was enough for Wolsey. To 
lose .them, he thought, Charles must have 
them. If Catherine thought of levying war 
against her husband, following the example 
of former queens of England, she would 
have, then, a party ready to support her ; 
this became dangerous. 

The king and the cardinal immediately 
took their measures. More than 15,000 of 
Charles's subjects were ordered to leave 
London ; the arms of the citizens were 
seized, " in order that they might have no 
worse weapon than the tongue ; 2 the Flem- 
ish councillors accorded to Catherine were 
dismissed, after they had been heard by the 
king and Campeggio, " for they had no com- 
mission to speak to the other [Wolsey]" — and 
finally, they kept " a great and constant 
watch" upon the country. Men feared an in- 
vasion of England, and Henry was not of a 
humour to subject his kingdom to the pope. 

This was not enough ; the alarmed king 
thought it his duty to come to an explana- 
tion with his people ; and having sum- 
moned the lords spiritual and temporal, 
the judges, the members of the privy-coun- 
cil, the mayor and aldermen of the city, 
and many of the gentry, to meet him at 
his palace of Bridewell on the 13th of No- 
vember, 8 he said to them with a very con- 
descending air ; " You know, my lords 
and gentlemen, that for these twenty 
years past divine Providence has granted 
our country such prosperity as it had 
never known before. But in the midst of 
all the glory that surrounds me, the thought 



1 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 8th November, 
1528. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 204. 

5 Ibid. p. 232. 

3 This act is dated Idibus Novembris. TVilkina, 
Concilia, iii. p. 714. Herbert and Collyer say tha 
8th November. 



764 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of my last nour often occurs to me, 1 and I 
fear that if I should die without an heir, 
my death would cause more damage to my 
people than my life has done them good. 
God forbid, that for want of a legitimate 
king England should be again plunged into 
the horrors of civil war?" Then calling 
to mind the illegalities invalidating his 
marriage with Catherine, the king con- 
tinued: "These thoughts have filled my 
mind with anxiety, and are continually 
pricking my conscience. This is the only 
motive, and God is my witness, 2 which has 
made me lay this matter before the pontiff. 
As touching the queen, she is a woman in- 
comparable in gentleness, humility, and 
buxomness, as I these twenty years have 
had experiment of; so that if I were to 
marry again, if the marriage might be 
good, I would surely choose her above all 
other women. But if it be determined by 
judgment that our marriage was against 
God's law, and surely void, then I shall 
not only sorrow in departing from so good 
a lady and loving companion, but much 
more lament and bewail my unfortunate 
chance, that I have so long lived in adul- 
tery, to God's great displeasure, and have 
no true heir of my body to inherit this 

realm Therefore I require of you all to 

pray with us that the very truth may be 
known, for the discharging of our con- 
science and the saving of our soul." 3 These 
words, though wanting in sincerity, were 
well calculated to soothe men's minds. 
Unfortunately, it appears that after this 
speech from the crown, the official copy of 
which has been preserved, Henry added a 
few words of his own. " If however," he 
said, according to Du Bellay, casting a 
threatening glance around him, " there 
should be any man whatsoever who speaks 
of his prince in other than becoming terms, 
I will show him that I am the master, and 
there is no head so high that I will not roll 
it from his shoulders." 4 This was a speech 
in Henry's style ; but we cannot give un- 
limited credit to Du Bellay's assertions, 
this diplomatist being very fond, like others 
of his class, of " seasoning" his despatches. 
But whatever may be the fact as regards 
the postscript, the speech on the divorce 
produced an effect. From that time there 
were no more jests, not even on the part of 
the Boleyns' enemies. Some supported 
the king, others were content to pity the 
queen in secret ; the majority prepared to 
take advantage of a court-revolution which 
everyone foresaw. "The king so plainly 
gave them to understand his pleasure," 
says the French ambassador, " that they 



1 In mentem una venit et concurrit mortis cogi- 
tatio. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 714. 

3 Hsecunares quod Deo teste et in regis oraeulo 
affirmamus. Ibid. 

3 Hall, p. 754. 

4 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 17th November 
1528. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 218. 



speak more soberly than they have done 
hitherto." 

Henry wishing to silence the clamours of 
the people, and to allay the fears felt by the 
higher classes, gave several magnificent 
entertainments at one time in London, at 
another at Greenwich, now at Hampton 
Court, and then at Richmond. The queen 
accompanied him, but Anne generally re- 
mained " in a very handsome lodging which 
Henry had furnished for her," says Du 
Bellay. The cardinal, following his mas- 
ter's example, gave representations of 
French plays with great magnificence. All 
his hope was in France. " I desire noth- 
ing in England, neither in word nor in 
deed, which is not French," 1 he said to the 
bishop of Bayonne. At length Anne Boleyn 
had accepted the brilliant position she had 
at first refused, and every day her stately 
mansion (Suffolk House) was filled with a 
numerous court, — " more than ever had 
crowded to the queen." " Yes, yes," said 
Du Bellay, as he saw the crowd turning 
towards the rising sun, " they wish by 
these little things to accustom the people to 
endure her, that when great ones are at- 
tempted, they may not be found so strange." 

In the midst of these festivities the grand 
business did not slumber. When the 
French ambassador solicited the subsidy 
intended for the ransom of the sons of 
Francis I., the cardinal required of him in 
exchange a paper proving that the marriage 
had never been valid. Du Bellay excused 
himself on the ground of his age, and the 
want of learning ; but being given to un- 
derstand that he could not have the subsidy 
without it, he wrote the memoir in a single 
day. The enraptured cardinal and king 
entreated him to speak with Campeggio. 2 
The ambassador consented, and succeeded 
beyond all expectation. The nuncio, fully 
aware that a bow too much bent will break, 
made Henry by turns become the sport of 
hope and fear. " Take care how you as- 
sert that the pope had not the right to grant 
a dispensation to the king," said he to the 
French bishop ; " this would be denying 
his power, which is infinite. But," added 
he in a mysterious tone, " I will point out 
a road that will infallibly lead you to 
the mark. Show that the holy father has 
been deceived by false information. Push 
me hard on that," he continued, " so as to 
force me to declare that the dispensation 
was granted on erroneous grounds." 3 Thus 
did the legate himself reveal the breach by 
which the fortress might be surprised. 
" Victory !" exclaimed Henry, as he entered 
Anne's apartments all beaming with joy. 

But this confidence on the part of Cam- 
peggio was only a new trick. " There is a 



1 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 1st January. L« 
Grand, Preuves, p. 268. 

3 Ibid. p. 200. 

3 Poussez-moi cela raide. Du Bellay to Mont- 
morency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 217. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



765 



great rumour at court," wrote Du Bellay, 
soon after, " that the emperor and the king 
of France are coming together, and leaving 
Henry alone, so that all will fall on his 
shoulders." 1 Wolsey, finding that the in- 
trigues of diplomacy had failed, thought it 
his duty to put fresh springs in motion, 
" and l.y all good and honest means to gain 
the pope's favour." 2 He saw, besides, to 
his great sorrow, the new catholicity then 
forming in the world, and uniting by the 
closest bonds, the Christians of England to 
those of the continent. To strike down one 
of the leaders of this evangelical movement 
might incline the court of Rome in Henry's 
favour. The cardinal undertook, there- 
fore, to persecute Tyndale ; and this resolu- 
tion will now transport us to Germany. 

The residence of Tyndale and his friends 
in foreign countries, and the connexions 
there formed with pious Christians, testify 
to the fraternal spirit which the Reforma- 
tion then restored to the church. It is in 
protestantism that true catholicity is to be 
found. The Romish church is not a catho- 
lic church. Separated from the churches 
of the east, which are the oldest in Christen- 
dom, and from the reformed churches, 
which are the purest, it is nothing but a 
sect, and that a degenerated one. A church 
which should profess to believe in an epis- 
copal unity, but which kept itself separate 
from the episcopacy of Rome and of the 
East, and from the evangelical churches, 
would be no longer a catholic church ; it 
would be a sect more sectarian still than 
that of the Vatican, a fragment of a frag- 
ment. The church of the Saviour requires 
a truer, a diviner unity than that of priests, 
who condemn one another. It was the re- 
formers, and particularly Tyndale, 3 who 
proclaimed throughout Christendom the ex- 
istence of a body of Christ, of which all the 
children of God are members. The disci- 
ples of the Reformation are the true catho- 
lics. 

It was a catholicity of another sort that 
Wolsey desired to uphold. He did not re- 
ject certain reforms in the church, particu- 
larly such as brought him any profit ; but, 
before all, he wished to preserve for the 
hierarchy their privileges and uniformity. 
The Romish church in England was then 
personified in him, and if he fell, its ruin 
would be near. His political talents and 
multiplied relations with the continent, 
caused him to discern more clearly than 
others the dangers which threatened the 
popedom. The publication of the Scrip- 
tures of God in English appeared to some a 
cloud without importance, which would 
soon disappear from the horizon ; but to 
the foreseeing glance of- Wolsey, it be- 
tokened a mighty tempest. Besides, he 



1 Le Grand, Preuves, p. 219. a Ibid. p. 225. 

8 The Church of Christ is the multitude of all 
them that believe in Christ, <fcc. Exposition of 
Matthew, Prologue. 



loved not the fraternal relations then form- 
ing between the evangelical Christians of 
Great Britain and of other nations. An 
noyed by this spiritual catholicity, he re- 
solved to procure the arrest of Tyndale, 
who was its principal organ. 

Already had Hackett, Henry's envoy to 
the Low Countries, caused the imprison- 
ment of Harman, an Antwerp merchant, 
one of the principal supporters of the Eng- 
lish reformer. But Hackett had in vain 
asked Wolsey for such documents as would 
convict him of treason (for the crime of 
loving the Bible was not sufficient to pro- 
cure Harman's condemnation in Brabant) ; 
the envoy had remained without letters 
from England, and the last term fixed by 
the law having expired, Harman and his 
wife were liberated after seven months' 
imprisonment. 

And yet Wolsey had not been inactive. 
The cardinal hoped to find elsewhere the 
co-operation which Margaret of Austria 
refused. It was Tyndale that he wanted, 
and everything seemed to indicate that he 
was then hidden at Cologne or in its 
neighbourhood. Wolsey, recollecting sena- 
tor Rincke and the services he had already 
performed, determined to send to him one 
John West, a friar of the Franciscan con- 
vent -at Greenwich. West, a somewhat 
narrow-minded but energetic man, was very 
desirous of distinguishing himself, and he 
had afteady gained some notoriety in Eng- 
land among the adversaries of the Refor- 
mation. Flattered by his mission, this 
vain monk immediately set off for Ant- 
werp, accompanied by another friar, in 
order to seize Tyndale, and even Roy, once 
his colleague at Greenwich, and against 
whom he had there ineffectually contended 
in argument. 

While these men were conspiring his 
ruin, Tyndale composed several works, got 
them printed, and sent to England, and 
prayed God night and day to enlighten his 
fellow countrymen. " Why do you give 
yourself so much trouble?" said some of 
his friends. " They will burn your books 
as they have burnt the Gospel." — " They 
will only do what I expect," replied he, 
"if they burn me also." Already he be- 
held his own burning pile in the distance ; 
but it was a sight which only served to in- 
crease his zeal. Hidden, like Luther at the 
Wartburg, not however in a castle, but in a 
humble lodging, Tyndale, like the Saxon 
reformer, spent his days and nights trans- 
lating the Bible. But not having an elec- 
tor of Saxony to protect him, he was 
forced to change his residence from time 
to time. 

At this epoch, Fryth, who had escaped 
from the prisons of Oxford, rejoined Tyn- 
dale, and the sweets of friendship softened 
the bitterness of their exile. Tyndale hav- 
ing finished the New Testament, and begun 
the translation of the Old, the learned 
Fryth was of great use to him. The more 



766 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



they studied the word of God, the more 
they admired it. In the beginning of 1529, 
they published the books of Genesis and 
Deuteronomy, and addressing their fellow- 
countrymen, they said : " As thou readest, 
think that every syllable pertaineth to 
thine ownself, and suck out the pith of the 
Scripture." 1 Then denying that visible 
signs naturally impart grace, as the school- 
men had pretended, Tyndale maintained 
that the sacraments are effectual only when 
the Holy Ghost sheds his influence upon 
them. " The ceremonies of the law," he 
wrote, " stood the Israelites in the same 
stead, as the sacraments do us. We are 
saved not by the power of sacrifice or the 
deed itself, but by virtue of faith in the 
promise, whereof the sacrifice or ceremony 
was a token or sign. The Holy Ghost is no 
dumb God, no God that goeth a-mumming. 
Wherever the word is proclaimed, this 
inward witness worketh. If baptism preach 
me the washing in Christ's blood, so doth 
the Holy Ghost accompany it ; and that 
deed of preaching through faith doth put 
away my sins. The ark of Noah saved 
them in the water through faith." 2 

The man who dared address England in 
language so contrary to the teaching of the 
middle ages must be imprisoned. John 
West, who had been sent with this object, 
arrived at Antwerp ; Hackett procured for 
him as interpreter a friar of English des- 
cent, made him assume a secular dress, and 
gave him " three pounds " on the cardinal's 
account ; the less attention the embassy 
attracted, the more likely it would be to 
succeed. But great was West's vexation, 
on reaching Cologne, to learn that Rincke 
was at Frankfort. But that mattered not ; 
the Greenwich monk could search for Tyn- 
dale at Cologne, and desire Rincke to do 
the same at Frankfort ; thus there would 
be two searches instead of one. West pro- 
cured a "swift" messenger, (he was a 
monk), and gave him the letter Wolsey had 
addressed to Rincke. 

It was a fair-time at Frankfort, and the 
city was filled with merchants and their 
wares. As soon as Rincke had finished 
reading Wolsey's letter, he hastened to the 
burgomasters, and required them to confis- 
cate the English translations of the Scrip- 
tures, and, above all, to seize " the here- 
tic who was troubling England as Luther 
troubled Germany." " Tyndale and his 
friends have not appeared in our fairs since 
the month of March 1528," replied the ma- 
gistrates, " and we know not whether they 
are dead or alive." 

Rincke was not discouraged. John Schoot 
of Strasburgh, who was said to have 
printed Tyndale's books, and who cared 
less about the works he published than the 



1 Prologue to the Book of Genesis (Doctr. Tr.) 
p. 400. 

9 Prolosrue to the Book of Leviticus (Doetr. Tr.) 
p. 423, 424, 426. 



money he drew from them, happened to be 
at Frankfort. " Where is Tyndale ?" Rincke 
asked him. " I do not know," replied the 
printer ; but he confessed that he had 
printed a thousand volumes at the request 
of Tyndale and Roy. " Bring them to me,'' 
continued the senator of Cologne. — " If a 
fair price is paid me, I will give them 
up to you." Rincke paid all that was de- 
manded. 

Wolsey would now be gratified, for the 
New Testament annoyed him almost as 
much as the divorce; this book, so dan- 
! gerous in his eyes, seemed on the point of 
! raising a conflagration which would infal- 
i libly consume the edifice of Roman tradi- 
tionalism. Rincke, who participated in his 
patron's fears, impatiently opened the vo- 
lumes made over to him ; but there was a 
sad mistake, they were not the Now Testa- 
ment, not even a' work of Tyndale's, but 
one written by William Roy, a changeable 
and violent man, whom the reformer had 
employed for some time at Hamburg, and 
who had followed him to Cologne, but with 
whom he had soon become disgusted. " I 
bade him farewell for our two lives," said 
Tyndale, " and a day longer." Roy, on 
quitting the reformer, had gone to Strus- 
burg, where he boasted of his relations 
with him, and had got printed in that city 
a satire against Wolsey and the mon ictie 
orders, entitled the Burial of the Mass : 
this was the book delivered to Rincke. The 
monk's sarcastic spirit had exceeded the 
legitimate bounds of controversy, an<t the 
senator accordingly dared not send the 
volumes to England. He did not however 
discontinue his inquiries, but sesi'ched 
every place where he thought he could 
discover the New Testament, and having 
seized all the suspected volumes, set off for 
Cologne. 1 

Yet he was not satisfied. He wanted 
Tyndale, and went about asking every one 
if they knew where to find him. ISut the 
reformer, whom he was seeking in ho many 
places, and especially at Frankfort and Co- 
logne, chanced to be residing at about 
equal distances from these two tjtvns ; so 
that Rincke, while travelling from one to 
the other, might have met him face to face, 
as Ahab's messenger met Elijah. 2 Tyn- 
dale was at Marburg, whither he had been 
drawn by several motives. Prince Philip 
of Hesse was the great protector of the 
evangelical doctrines. The university had 
attracted attention in the Reform by the 
paradoxes of Lambert of Avignon. Here 
a young Scotsman named Hamilton, after- 
wards illustrious as a martyr, had studied 
shortly before, and here too the celebrated 
printer, John Luft, had his presses. In 
this city Tyndale and Fryth had taken up 



1 Anderson, Annals of the Bible, i. p. 203 : "I 
gathered together and packed up all the books 
from every quarter." 

3 1 Kings xviii. 7. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



767 



their abode in September 1528, and, hidden 
on the quiet banks of the Lahn, were trans- 
lating the Old Testament. If Rincke had 
searched this place he could not have failed 
to discover them. But either he thought 
not of it, or was afraid of the terrible land- 
grave. The direct road by the Rhine was 
that which he followed, and Tyndale 
escaped. 

When he arrived at Cologne, Rincke 
had an immediate interview with West. 
Their investigations having failed, they 
must have recourse to more vigorous mea- 
sures. The senator, therefore, sent the 
monk back to England, accompanied by 
his son Hermann, charging them to tell 
Wolsey : "To seize Tyndale we require 
fuller powers, ratified b} r the emperor. The 
traitors who conspire against the life of the 
king of England are not tolerated in the 
empire, much less Tyndale and all those 
who conspire against Christendom. He 
must be put to death ; nothing but some 
striking example can check the Lutheran 
heresy. — And as to ourselves," they were 
told to add, " by the favour of God there 
may possibly be an opportunity for his 
royal highness and your grace to recom- 
pense us." 1 Rincke had not forgotten the 
subsidy of ten thousand pounds which he 
had received from Henry VII, for the Turk- 
ish war, when he had gone to London as 
Maximilian's envoy. 

West returned to England sorely vexed 
that he had failed in his mission. What 
would they say at court and in his monas- 
tery ? A fresh humiliation was in reserve 
for him. Roy, whom West had gone to 
look for on the banks of the Rhine, had 
paid a visit to his mother on the banks of 
the Thames ; and to crown all, the new 
doctrines had penetrated into his own con- 
vent. The warden, Father Robinson, had 
embraced them, and night and day the 
Greenwich monks read that New Testa- 
ment which West had gone to Cologne to 
burn. The Antwerp friar, who had accom- 
panied him on his journey, was the only 
person to whom he could confide his sor- 
rows ; but the Franciscans sent him back 
again to the continent, and then amused 
themselves at poor West's expense. If he 
desired to tell of his adventures on the 
banks of the Rhine, he was laughed at ; if 
he boasted of the names of Wolsey and 
Henry VIII., they jeered him still more. 
He desired to speak to Roy's mother, 
hoping to gain -some useful information 
from her ; this the monks prevented. " It 
is my commission," he said. They ridi- 
culed him more and more. Robinson, per- 
ceiving that the commission made West 
assume unbecoming airs of independence, 
requested Wolsey to withdraw it ; and 
West, fancying he was about to be thrown 
into prison, exclaimed in alarm : " I am 



1 Cotton MSS., Vitellius, B. xxi. fol. 43. Bible 
Annals, i. p. 204. 



weary of my life !" and conjured a friend 
whom he had at court to procure him be- 
fore Christmas an obedience under his lord- 
ship's hand and seal, enabling him to leave 
the monastery : " What you pay him for 
it," he added, " I shall see you be reim- 
bursed." Thus did West expiate the fana- 
tical zeal which had urged him to pursue 
the translator of the oracles of God. What 
became of him, we know not : he is never 
heard of more. 

At that time Wolsey had other matters 
to engage him than this "obedience." 
While West's complaints were going to 
London, those of the king were travelling 
to Rome. The great business in the car- 
dinal's eyes was to maintain harmony be- 
tween Henry and the church. There was 
no more thought about investigations in 
Germany, and for a time Tyndale was 
saved. 

The king and a part of his people still 
adhered to the popedom, and so long as 
these bonds were not broken the word of 
God could not have free course. But to 
induce England to renounce Rome, there 
must indeed be powerful motives : and these 
were not wanting. 

Wolsey had never given such pressing 
orders to any of Henry's ambassadors : 
" The king," he wrote to Da Casale on the 
1st of November 1528, "commits this busi- 
ness to your prudence, dexterity, and 
fidelity; and I conjure you to employ all 
the powers of your genius, and even to 
surpass them. Be very sure that you have 
done nothing and can do nothing that will 
be more agreeable to the king, more de- 
sirable by me, and more useful and glo- 
rious for you and your family." 1 

Da Casale possessed a tenacity which jus- 
tified the cardinal's confidence, and an 
active excitable mind : trembling at the 
thought of seeing Rome lose England, he 
immediately requested an audience of Cle- 
ment VII. " What !" said he to the pope, 
"just as it was proposed to go on with the 
divorce, your nuncio endeavours to dissuade 
the king ! There is no hope that Cathe- 
rine of Aragon will ever give an heir to the 
crown. Holy father, there must be an end 
of this. Order Campeggio to place the 
decretal in his majesty's hands." " What 
say you !" exclaimed the pope. " I would 
gladly lose one of my fingers to recover it 
again, and you ask me to make it public 

it would be my ruin." 2 Da Casale 

insisted: "We have a duty to perform," 
he said ; " we remind you at this last hour 
of the perils threatening the relations which 
unite Rome and England. The crisis is at 
hand. We knock at your door, we cry, we 
urge, we entreat, we lay before you the 
present and future dangers which threaten 



1 Vobis vestraeque familias utilius aut honorifi- 
centius. State Papers, vii. p. 114. 

3 Burnet, Records, ii. p. 20. Unius digiti jactura 
quod factum fuit revocarem. 



768 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the papacy. 1 . . . .The world shall know that 
the king at least has fulfilled the duty of a 
devoted son of the church. If your holiness 
desires to keep England in St. Peter's fold. 

I repeat now is the time now is the 

time." 2 At these words, Da Casale, unable 
to restrain his emotion, fell down at the 
pope's feet, and begged him to save the 
church in Great Britain. The pope was 
moved. " Rise," said he, with marks of 
unwonted grief. 3 " I grant you all that is 
in my power ; I am willing to confirm the 
judgment which the legates may think it 
their duty to pass ; but I acquit myself of 
all responsibility as to the untold evils 

which this matter may bring with it If 

the king, after having defended the faith 
and the church, desires to ruin both, on 
him alone will rest the responsibility of so 
great a disaster." Clement granted noth- 
ing. Da Casale withdrew disheartened, and 
feeling convinced that the pontiff was about 
to treat with Charles V. 

Wolsey desired to save the popedom ; but 
the popedom resisted. Clement VII. was 
about to lose that island which Gregory the 
Great had won with such difficulty. The 
pope was in the most cruel position. The 
English envoy had hardly left the palace 
before the emperor's ambassador entered 
breathing threats. The unhappy pontiff 
escaped the assaults of Henry only to be 
exposed to those of Charles ; he was thrown 
backwards and forwards like a ball. " I 
shall assemble a general council," said the 
emperor through his ambassador, " and if 
you are found to have infringed the canons 
of the church in any point, you shall be 
proceeded against with every rigour. Do 
not forget," added his agent in a low tone, 
" that your birth is illegitimate, and conse- 
quently excludes you from the pontificate." 
The timid Clement, imagining that he saw 
the tiara falling from his head, swore to re- 
fuse Henry everything. " Alas !" he said 
to one of his dearest confidants, " I repent 
in dust and ashes that I ever granted this 
decretal bull. If the king of England so 
earnestly desires it to be given him, cer- 
tainly it cannot be merely to know its con- 
tents. He is but too familiar with them. 
It is only to tie my hands in this matter of 
the divorce ; I would rather die a thou- 
sand deaths." Clement, to calm his agi- 
tation, sent one of his ablest gentlemen 
of the bed-chamber, Francis Campana, ap- 
parently to feed the king with fresh prom- 
ises, but in reality to cut the only thread 
on which Henry's hopes still hung. " We 
embrace your majesty," wrote the pope in 
the letter given to Campana, " with the 
paternal love your numerous merits de- 
serve." 4 Now Campana was sent to Eng- 



land to burn clandestinely the famous 
decretal ; l Clement concealed his blows by 
an embrace. Rome had granted many di 
vorces not so well founded as that of 
Henry VIII. ; but a very different matter 
from a divorce was in question here ; the 
pope, desirous of upraising in Italy his 
shattered power, was about to sacrifice the 
Tudor and prepare the triumph of the Re- 
formation. Rome was separating herself 
from England. 

All Clement's fear was, that Campana 
would arrive too late to burn the bull ; he 
was soon reassured ; a dead calm prevented 
the great matter from advancing. Campeg- 
gio, who took care to be in no hurry about 
his mission, gave himself up, like a skilful 
diplomatist, to his worldly tastes ; and 
when he could not, due respect being had 
to the state of his legs, indulge in the chase, 
of which he was very fond, he passed his 
time in gambling, to which he was much 
addicted. Respectable historians assert 
that he indulged in still more illicit plea- 
sures. 2 But this could not last for ever, and 
the nuncio sought some new means of de- 
lay, which offered itself in the most unex- 
pected manner. One day an officer of the 
queen's presented to the Roman legate a 
brief of Julius II., bearing the same date 
as the bull of dispensation, signed too, like 
that, by the secretary Sigismond, and in 
which the pope expressed himself in such 
a manner, that Henry's objections fell of 
themselves. " The emperor," said Cathe- 
rine's messenger, " has discovered this 
brief among the papers of Puebla, the 
Spanish ambassador in England, at the 
time of the marriage." — " It is impossible 
to go on," said Campeggio to Wolsey ; 
" all your reasoning is now cut from un- 
der you. We must wait for fresh instruc- 
tious." This was the cardinal's conclusion 
at every new incident, and the journey 
from London to the Vatican being very long 
(without reckoning the Roman dilatoriness) 
the expedient was infallible. 

Thus there existed two acts of the same 
pope, signed on the same day — the one se- 
cret, the other public, in contradiction to 
I each other. Henry determined to send a 
new mission to Rome. Anne proposed for 
this embassy one of the most accomplished 
gentlemen of the court, her cousin, Sir 
Francis Bryan. With him was joined an 
Italian, Peter Vannes, Henry's Latin sec- 
retary. " You will search all the registers 
of the time of Julius II.," said Wolsey to 
them ; " you will study the handwriting of 
Secretary Sigismond, and you will atten- 
tively examine the ring of the fisherman 
used by that pontiff. 3 — Moreover, you will 



1 Admonere, exclamare, rogare, instare, urgere, 
pulsare, pericula prassentia et futura demonstrare. 
State Papers, vii. p. 112. 

2 Tempus jam in promptu adest. Ibid. 

3 Burnet's Ref. i. p. 44. Records, p. xx. 

4 Nos ilium paterna charitate complecti, ut sua 



erga nos atque hanc sedem plurima merita requi- 
runt. State Papers, vii. 116. 

1 To charge Campegius to burn the decretal. 
Herbert, p. 250. Burnet's Ref. i. 47. 

2 Hunting and gaming all the day long, and fol« 
lowing harlots all the night. Burnet, i. p. 52. 

3 State Papers, vii. p. 126, note. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



769 



inform the pope that it is proposed to set a 
certain greyfriar, named De Angelis, in his 
place, to whom Charles would give the 
spiritual authority, reserving the temporal 
for himself. You will manage so that 
Clement takes alarm at the project, and you 
will then offer him a guard of 2000 men to 
protect him. You will ask whether, in case 
the queen should desire to embrace a reli- 
gious life, on condition of the king's doing 
the same, and Henry should yield to this 
wish, 1 he could have the assurance that the 
pope would afterwards release him from his 
vows. And, finally, you will inquire 
whether, in case the queen should refuse to 
enter a convent, the pope would permit the 
king to have two wives, as we see in the 
Old Testament." 2 The idea which has 
brought so much reproach on the landgrave 
of Hesse was not a new one ; the honour of 
it belongs to a cardinal and legate of Rome, 
whatever Bossuet may say. " Lastly," 
continued Wolsey, " as the pope is of a 
timid disposition, you will not fail to season 
your remonstrance with threats. You, Pe- 
ter, will take him aside and tell him that, 
as an Italian, having more at heart than 
any one the glory of the holy see, it is your 
duty to warn him, that if he persists, the 
king, his realm, and many other princes, 
will for ever separate from the papacy." 

It was not on the mind of the pope 
alone that it was necessary to act ; the ru- 
mour that the emperor and the king of 
France were treating together disturbed 
Henry. "Wolsey had vainly tried to sound 
Du Bellay ; these two priests tried craft 
against craft. Besides, the Frenchman 
was not always seasonably informed by his 
court, letters taking ten days to come from 
Paris to London. 3 Henry resolved to have 
a conference with the ambassador. He 
began by speaking to him of his matter," 
says Du Bellay, " and I promise you," he 
added, " that he needs no advocate, he un- 
derstands the whole business so well." 
Henry next touched upon the wrongs of 
Francis I., " recalling so many things that 
the envoy knew not what to say." — " I 
pray you, Master Ambassador," said Henry 
in conclusion, "to beg the king, my 
brother, to give up a little of his amuse- 
ments during a year only for the prompt 
despatch of his affairs. Warn those whom 
it concerns." Having given this spur to 
the king of France, Henry turned his 
thoughts towards Rome. 

In truth, the fatal brief from Spain tor- 



1 Only thereby to conduce the queen thereunto. 
State Papers, vii. p. 136, note. 

* De duabus uxoribus. Henry's Instructions to 
Knight, in the middle of December 1528. Ibid, 
p. 137. Some great reasons and precedents of the 
Old Testament appear. Instructions to same, 1st 
Dec. Ibid. p. 136, note. 

3 La dite lettre du roi, combien qu'elle fut du 3, 
je l'ai recue sinon le 13 ; le pareil m'advint quasi 
de toutes autres. Du Bellay to Montmorency, 20 
Dec. Le Grand; Preuves. 



mented him day and night, and the cardi 
nal tortured his mind to find proofs of its 
non-authenticity ; if he could do so, he 
would acquit the papacy of the charge of 
duplicity, and accuse the emperor of for- 
gery. At last he thought he had suc- 
ceeded. " In the first place," he said to 
the king, " the brief has the same date as 
the bull. Now, if the errors in the latter 
had been found out on the day it was 
drawn up, it would have been more natural 
to make another than to append a brief 
pointing out the errors. What ! the same 
pope, the same day, at the petition of the 
same persons, give out two rescripts for 
one effect, 1 one of which contradicts the 
other! Either the bull was good, and then, 
why the brief ? or the bull was bad, and 
then, why deceive princes by a worthless 
bull ? Many names are found in the brief 
incorrectly spelt, and these are faults which 
the pontifical secretary, whose accuracy is 
so well known, could not have committed. 2 
Lastly, no one in England ever heard men- 
tion of this brief ; and yet it is here that it 
ought to be found." Henry charged 
Knight, his principal secretary, to join the 
other envoys with all speed, in order to 
prove to the pope the supposititious charac- 
ter of the document. 

This important paper revived the irrita- 
tion felt in England against Charles V., 
and it was resolved to come to extremities. 
Every one discontented with Austria took 
refuge in London, particularly the Hunga- 
rians. The ambassador from Hungary pro- 
posed to Wolsey to adjudge the imperial 
crown of Germany to the elector of Saxony 
or the landgrave of Hesse, the two chiefs 
of protestantism. 3 Wolsey exclaimed in 
alarm: "It will be an inconvenience to 
Christendom, they are so Lutheran." But 
the Hungarian ambassador so satisfied 
him, that in the end he did not find the 
matter quite so inconvenient. These schemes 
were prospering in London, when suddenly 
a new metamorphosis took place under the 
eyes of Du Bellay. The king, the cardinal, 
and the ministers appeared in strange con- 
sternation. Vincent da Casale had just ar- 
rived from Rome with a letter from his 
cousin the prothonotary, informing Henry 
that the pope, seeing the triumph of Charles 
V., the indecision of Francis I., the isola- 
tion of the king of England, and the dis- 
tress of his cardinal, had flung himself 
into the arms of the emperor. At Rome 
they went so far as to jest about Wolsey, 
and to say that since he could not be 
St. Peter, they would make him St. 
Paul. 



1 State Papers, vol. vii. p. 130. 

3 Queen Isabella was called Elizabeth in the 
brief; but I have seen a document from the court 
of Madrid in which Queen Elizabeth of England 
was called Isabella;. it is not therefore an error 
without a parallel. 

3 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 12 Jan. 1529. Lo 
Grand, Preuves, p. 279. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



While they were ridiculing Wolsey at 
Rome, at St. Germain's they were joking 
about Henry. " I will make him get rid 
of the notions he has in his head," said 
Francis ; and the Flemings, who were 
again sent out of the country, said as they 
left London, " that this year they would 
carry on the war so vigorously, that it 
would be really a sight worth seeing." 

Besides these public griefs, Wolsey had 
his private ones. Anne Boleyn, who had 
already begun to use her influence on be- 
half of the despotic cardinal's victims, 
gave herself no rest until Cheyney, a cour- 
tier disgraced by Wolsey, had been restored 
to the king's favour. Anne even gave ut- 
terance to several biting sarcasms against 
the cardinal, and the duke of Norfolk and 
his party began " to speak big," says Du 
Bellay. At the moment when the pope, 
scared by Charles V., was separating from 
England, Wolsey himself was tottering. 

Who shall uphold the papacy ? After 

Wolsey, nobody ! Rome was on the point 
of losing the power which for nine centuries 
she had exercised in the bosom of this il- 
lustrious nation. The cardinal's anguish 
cannot be described ; unceasingly pursued 
by gloomy images, he saw Anne on the 
throne causing the triumph of the Refor- 
mation : This nightmare was stifling him. 
" His grace, the legate, is in great trouble," 
wrote the bishop of Bayonne. " However 
... .he is still more cunning than they are. 1 " 

To still the tempest Wolsey had only one 
resource left ; this was to render Clement 
favourable to his master's designs. The 
crafty Campana, who had burnt the decre- 
tal, conjured him not to believe all the re- 
ports transmitted to him concerning Rome. 
" To satisfy the king," said he to the cardi- 
nal, "the holy father will, if necessary, de- 
scend from the pontifical throne." 2 Wol- 
sey therefore resolved to send to Rome a 
more energetic agent than Vannes, Bryan, 
or Knight, and cast his eyes on Gardiner. 
His courage began to revive, when an un- 
expected event fanned once more his loftiest 
hopes. 

On the 6th of January 1599, the feast of 
Epiphany, just as the pope was performing 
mass, he was attacked by a sudden illness ; 
he was taken to his room, apparently in a 
dying state. When this news reached 
London, the cardinal resolved to hasten to 
abandon England, when the soil trembled 
under his feet, and to climb boldly to the 
throne of the pontiffs. Bryan and Vannes, 
then at Florence, hurried on to Rome 
through roads infested with robbers, At 
Orvieto they were informed the pope was 
better ; at Viterbo, no one knew whether 
he was alive or dead ; at Ronciglione, they 
were assured that he had expired ; and, 
finally, when they reached the metropolis 
of the popedom, they learnt that Clement 

1 Le Grand, Preuves, p. 295, 296. 
9 Burnet, Hist. Kef. vol. i. p. 60. 



j could not survive, and that the imperialists, 
supported by the Colonnas, were striving 
to have a pope devoted to Charles V. 1 

But great as might be the agitation at 
Rome, it was still greater at Whitehall. If 
God caused De' Medeci to descend from the 
pontifical throne, it could only be, thought 
Wolsey, to make him mount it. " It is ex- 
pedient to have such a pope as may save 
the realm," said he to Gardiner. " And 
although it cannot but be incommodious to 
me in this mine old age to be the common 
father, yet, when all things be well pon- 
dered, the qualities of all the cardinals well 
considered, I am the only one, without 
boasting, that can and will remedy the 
king's secret matter. And were it not for 
the redintegration of the state of the church, 
and especially to relieve the king and his 
realm from their calamities, all the riches 
and honour of the world should not cause 
me to accept the said dignity. Neverthe- 
less, I conform myself to .the necessities of 
the times. Wherefore, Master Stephen, 
that this matter may succeed, I pray you 
to apply all your ingenuity, spare neither 
money nor labour. I give you the amplest 
powers, without restriction or limitation." 2 
Gardiner departed to win for his master the 
coveted tiara. 

Henry VIII. and Wolsey, who could 
hardly restrain their impatience, soon heard 
of the pontiff's death from different quar- 
ters. 3 " The emperor has taken away 
Clement's life," 4 said Wolsey, blinded by 
hatred. " Charles," rejoined the king, " will 
endeavour to obtain by force or fraud a 
pope according to his own desires." " Yes, 
to make him his chaplain," replied Wolsey, 
" and to put an end by degrees both to pope 
and popedom." 5 " We must fly to the de- 
fence of the church," resumed Henry, " and 
with that view, my lord, make up your mind 
to be pope." " That alone," answered the 
cardinal, '"'can bring your Majesty's weighty 
matter to a happy termination, and by sav- 
ing you, save the church and myself 

also," he thought in his heart. " Let us 
see, let us count the voters." 

Henry and his minister then wrote down 
on a strip of parchment the names of all 
the cardinals, marking with the letter A 
those who were on the side of the kings of 
England and France, and with the letter B 
all who favoured the emperor. " There 
was no C" says a chronicler, sarcastically, 
" to signify any on Christ's side." The let- 
ter N designated the neutrals. "The car- 
dinals present," said Wolsey, "will not 



1 State Papers, vii. p. 148-150. 
3 Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 601. 

3 By sundry ways hath been advertised of th« 
death of our holy fathe. Ibid. The king's In- 
structions. 

4 By some detestable act committed for the lata 
pope's destruction. Ibid. 603. 

6 By little and little utterly to exclude and ex- 
tinguish him and his authority. Foxe, Acts, iv. 
p. 603. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



m 



exceed thirty-nine, and we must have two- 
thirds, that is, twenty-six. Now, there are 
twenty upon whom we can reckon ; we 
must therefore, at any price, gain six of 
the neutrals." 

Wolsey, deeply sensible of the impor- 
tance of an election that would decide 
whether England was to be reformed or not, 
carefully drew up the instructions, which 
Henry signed, and which history must reg- 
ister. "We desire and ordain/' the ambas- 
sadors were informed by them, " that you 
secure the election of the cardinal of York ; 
not forgetting that next to the salvation of 
his own soul, there is nothing the king de- 
sires more earnestly. 

" To gain over the neutral cardinals you 
will employ two methods in particular. 
The first is, the cardinals being present, and 
having God and the Holy Ghost before 
them, you shall remind them that the car- 
dinal of York alone can save Christendom. 

" The second is, because human fragility 
suffereth not all things to be pondered and 
weighed in a just balance, it appertain- 
ed in matter of so high importance, to the 
comfort and relief of all Christendom, to 
succour the infirmity that may chance .... 

not for corruption, you will understand 

but rather to help the lacks and defaults 
of human nature. And, therefore, it shall 
be expedient that you promise spiritual 
offices, dignities, rewards of money, or other 
things which shall seem meet to the pur- 
pose. 

" Then shall you, with good dexterity, 
combine and knit those favourable to us in 
a perfect fastness and indissoluble knot. 
And that they may be the better animated 
to finish the election to the king's desire, 
you shall offer them a guard of 2000 or 
3000 men from the kings of England and 
France, from the viscount of Turin, and 
the republic of Venice. 

" If, notwithstanding all your exertions, 
the election should fail, then the cardinals 
of the king's shall repair to some sure 
place, and there proceed to such an election 
as may be to God's pleasure. 

" And to win more friends for the king, 
you shall promise, on the one hand, to the 
Cardinal de' Medici and his party our 
special favour ; and the Florentines, on the 
other hand, you shall put in comfort of the 
exclusion of the said family De' Medici. 
Likewise you shall put the cardinals in 
perfect hope of recovering the patrimony 
of the church $ and you shall contain the 
Venetians in good trust of a reasonable 
way to be taken for Cervia and Ravenna 
(which formed part of the patrimony) to 
their contentment." 1 

Such were the means by which the car- 
dinal hoped to win the papal throne. To 
the right he said yes, to the left he said no. 
"What would it matter that these perfidies 
"were one day discovered, provided it were 

1 Foxe, iv. p. 604-608. 



after the election. Christendom might be 
very certain that the choice of the future 
pontiff would be the work of the Holy 
Ghost. Alexander VI. had been a poi- 
soner ; Julius II. had given way to ambi- 
tion, anger, and vice ; the liberal Leo X. 
had passed his life in worldly pursuits ; 
the unhappy Clement VII. had lived on 
stratagems and lies ; Wolsey would be 
their worthy successor ; 

" All the seven deadly sins have worn the triple 
crown." 1 

Wolsey found his excuse in the thought, 
that if he succeeded, the divorce was se- 
cured, and England enslaved for ever to 
the court of Rome. 

Success at first appeared probable. 
Many cardinals spoke openly in favour of 
the English prelate ; one of them asked for 
a detailed account of his life, in order to 
present it as a model to the church ; another 
worshipped him (so he said) as a divinity 

Among the gods and popes adored at 

Rome there were some no better than he. 
But erelong alarming news reached Eng- 
land. What grief! the pope was getting 
better. " Conceal your instructions," wrote 
the cardinal, "and reserve them in omnem 
eventum." 

Wolsey not having obtained the tira, it 
was necessary at least to gain the divorce. 
" God declares," said the English ambassa- 
dors to the pope, " Except the Lord, build the 
house, they labour in vain that build it. 2 
Therefore, the king, taking God alone for 
his guide, requests of you, in the first place, 
an engagement to pronounce the divorce in 
the space of three months, and in the 
second the avocation to Rome." — " The 
promise first, and only after that the avoca- 
tion," Wolsey had said ; " for I fear that 
if the pope begins with the avocation, he 
will never pronounce the divorce." — "Be- 
sides," added the envoys, " the king's 
second marriage admits of no refusal, what- 
ever bulls or briefs there may be. 3 The 
only issue of this matter is the divorce ; 
the divorce in one way or another must be 
procured." 

Wolsey had instructed his envoys to 
pronounce these words with a certain air 
of familiarity, and at the same time with a 
gravity calculated to produce an effect. 4 
His expectations were deceived : Clement 
was colder than ever. He had determined 
to abandon England in order that he might 
secure the States of the Church, of which 
Charles was then master, thus sacrificing 
the spiritual to the temporal. " The pope 



1 Les sept peches mortels ont port6 la tiare. Ca- 
simir Delavigne, Derniers chants, le Conclave. 

2 Where Christ is not the foundation, surely no 
building can be of good work. State Fapers, riL 
p. 122. 

s Convocare ad secundas nuptias non platitur 
negativum. Ibid. p. 138. 

4 Which words, fashioned with a familiarity and 
somewhat with earnestness and gravity. Ibid. 



772 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



will not do the least thing for your 
majesty," wrote Bryan to the king ; "your 
matter may well be in his Pater noster, but 
it certainly is not in his Credo ."' " In- 
crease in importunity," answered the king ; 
"the cardinal of Verona should remain 
about the pope's person and counterbalance 
the influence of De Angelis and the arch- 
bishop of Capua. I would rather lose my 
two crowns than be beaten by these two 
friars." 

Thus was the struggle about to become 
keener than ever, when Clement's relapse 
once more threw doubt on every thing. 
He was always between life and death ; 
and this perpetual alternation agitated the 
king and the impatient cardinal every way. 
The latter considered that the pope had 
need of merits to enter the kingdom of 
heaven. " Procure an interview with the 
pope," he wrote to the envoys, " even 
though he be in the very agony of death ; 2 
and represent to him that nothing will be 
more likely to save his soul than the bill 
of divorce." Henry's commissioners were 
not admitted ; but towards the end df March, 
the deputies appearing in a body, 3 the 
pope promised to examine the letter from 
Spain. Vannes began to fear this docu- 
ment ; he represented that those who had 
fabricated it would have been able to give 
it an appearance of authenticity. " Rather 
declare immediately that this brief is not a 
brief," said he to the pope. " The king of 
England, who is your holiness's son, is not 
so like the rest of the world. We cannot 
put the same shoe on every foot." 4 This 
rather vulgar argument did not touch Cle- 
ment. " If to content your master in this 
business," said he, " I cannot employ my 
head, at least I will my finger." 5 — " Be 
pleased to explain yourself," replied Van- 
nes, who found the finger a very little mat- 
ter — " I mean," resumed the pontiff, " that 
I shall employ every means, provided they 
are honourable." Vannes withdrew dis- 
heartened. 

He immediately conferred with his col- 
leagues, and altogether, alarmed at the idea 
of Henry's anger, returned to the pontiff; 
they thrust aside the lackeys, who endea- 
voured to stop them, and made their way 
into his bedchamber. Clement opposed 
them with that resistance of inertia by 
which the popedom has gained its greatest 
victories : siluit, he remained silent. Of 
what consequence to the pontiff were Tudor, 
his island, and his church, when Charles 
of Austria was threatening him with his 
armies ? Clement, less proud than Hilde- 
brand, submitted willingly to the emperor's 

1 State Papers, vol. i. p. 330. 

* Burnet's Ref. i. p. 49. 

* Postquam conjunctim. omnes. State Papers, 
vii. p. 154. 

* Uno eodemque calceo omnium pedes velle 
vestire. Ibid. p. 156. 

* Quod forsan non licebit toto capite assequi, in 
eo digitum imponam. Ibid. p. 157. 



! power, provided the emperor would pro- 
j tect him. " I had rather," he said, " be 
j Caesar's servant, not only in a temple, 
I but in a stable if necessary, than be ex- 
I posed to the insults of rebels and vaga- 
] bonds." 1 At the same time he wrote to 
| Campeggio: "Do not irritate the king, but 
! spin out this matter as much as possible ; 2 
| the Spanish brief gives us the means." 

In fact, Charles V. had twice shown 
\ Lee the original document, and Wolsey, 
j after this ambassador's report, began to 
! believe that it was not Charles who had 
j forged the brief, but that Pope Julius II. 
I had really given two contradictory docu- 
j ments on the same day. Accordingly the 
i cardinal now feared to see this letter in 
the Pontiff's hands. " Do all you can to 
j dissuade the pope from seeking the origi- 
| nal in Spain," wrote he to one of his am- 
] bassadors ; " it may exasperate the em- 
; peror." We know how cautious the cardinal 
was towards Charles. Intrigue attained its 
> highest point at this epoch, and English- 
men and Romans encountered craft with 
j craft. " In such ticklish negotiations," 
says Burnet, (who had some little experi- 
j ence in diplomacy,) " ministers must say 
j and unsay as they are instructed, which 
j goes of course as a part of their business." 3 
Henry's envoys to the pope intercepted the 
letters sent from Rome, and had Campeg- 
gio's seized. 4 On this part the pope in- 
■ dulged in flattering smiles and perfidious 
equivocations. Bryan wrote to Henry VIII. : 
I " Always your grace hath done for him in 
deeds, and he hath recompensed you with 
fair words and fair writings, of which 
both I think your grace shall lack none ; 
but as for the deeds, I never believe to see 
them, and especially at this time." 5 Bryan 
had comprehended the court of Rome 
better perhaps than many politicians. Fi- 
nally, Clement himself, wishing to prepare 
the king for the blow he was about to in- 
flict, wrote to him: "We have been able 
to find nothing that would satisfy your 
ambassadors." 6 

Henry thought he knew what this mes- 
sage meant : that he had found nothing, 
and would find nothing ; and accordingly 
this prince, who, if we may believe Wolsey, 
had hitherto shown incredible patience and 
gentleness, 7 gave way to all his violence. 
" Very well then," said he ; " my lords and 



1 Malle Oassari a stabulo nedum a sacris inser- 
vire, quam inferiorum hominum subditorum, vas- 
salorum, rebellium injurias sustinere. Herbert, 
vol. i. p. 261. 

a Le Grand, vol. i. p. 131. 

3 Burnet's Ref. vol. i. p. 54. 

4 De intercipiendis Uteris. State Papers, vol. vii. 
p. 1S5. 

* State Papers, vol. vii. p. 167. 

8 He added : Tametsi noctes ac dies per nos ipsi, 
ac per juris-peritissimos viros omnes vias tente- 
mus. Ibid. p. 165. 

1 Incredibili patientia et humanitate. Burnet, 
Records, p. xxxii. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



773 



I well know how to withdraw ourselves from 
the authority of the Roman see." "Wolsey 
turned pale, and conjured his master not 
to rush into that fearful abyss :' Campeggio, 
too, endeavoured to revive the king's hopes. 
But it was all of no use. Henry recalled 
his ambassadors. 

Henry, it is true, had not yet reached the 
age when violent characters become inflex- 
ible from the habit they have encouraged 
of yielding to their passions. But the car- 
dinal, who knew his master, knew also that 
his inflexibility did not depend upon the 
number of his years ; he thought Rome's 
power in England was lost, and, placed be- 
tween Henry and Clement, he exclaimed : 
" How shall 1 avoid Scylla, and not fall into 
Charybdis ?" 2 He begged the king to make 
one last effort by sending Dr. Bennet to the 
pope' with orders to support the avocation 
to Rome, and he gave him a letter in which 
he displayed all the resources of his elo- 
quence. " How can it be imagined," he 
wrote, " that the persuasions of sense urge 
the king to break a union in which the ar- 
dent years of his youth were passed with 
such purity? 3 . . . .The matter is very differ- 
ent. I am on the spot, I know the state of 

men's minds Pray, believe me .... The 

divorce is the secondary question ; the pri- 
mary one is the fidelity of this realm to the 
papal see. The nobility, gentry, and citi- 
zens all exclaim with indignation : Must our 
fortunes, and even our lives, depend upon 
the nod of a foreigner ? We must abolish, 
or at the very least diminish, the authority 

of the Roman pontiff. 4 Most holy father, 

we cannot mention such things without a 
shudder.". .. .This new attempt was also 
unavailing. The pope demanded of Henry 
how he could doubt his good will, seeing 
that the king of England had done so much 
for the apostolic see. 5 This appeared a 
cruel irony to Tudor ; the king requested a 
favour of the pope, and the pope replied by 
calling to mind those which the papacy had 
received from his hands. " Is this the way," 
men asked in England, " in which Rome 
pays her debts ?" 

Wolsey had not reached the term of his 
misfortunes. Gardiner and Bryan had just 
returned to London : they declared that to 
demand an avocation to Rome was to lose 
their cause. Accordingly Wolsey, who 
turned to every wind, ordered Da Casale, 
in case Clement should pronounce the avo- 
cation, to appeal from the pope, the false 
head of the church, to the true vicar of Jesus 



1 Ne praeceps hue vel illuc rex hie ruat curamus. 
Ibid. p. xxxiii. 

2 Hanc Charybdin et bos scopulos evitasse. Ibid, 
p. xxxii. 

1 Sensuum suadola earn abrumpere cupiat eon- 
Buetudinem. Ibid. p. xxxiii. 

4 Qui nullam aut certe diniinutam hie Romani 
pontiiicis au c tori ta tern. Burnet, Records, p. xxxiii. 

1 Dubitare non debes si quidem volueris recor- 
dare tua erga nos merita. State Papers, vii. p. 178. 



Christ.^ This was almost in Luther's style. 
Who was this true vicar ? Probably a pope 
nominated by the influence of England. 

But this proceeding did not assure the 
cardinal: he was losing his judgment. A 
short time before this, Du Bellay, who had 
just returned from Paris, whither he had 
gone to retain France on the side of Eng- 
land, had been invited to Richmond by 
Wolsey. As the two prelates were walking 
in the park, on that hill whence the eye 
ranges over the fertile and undulating fields 
through which the winding Thames pours 
its tranquil waters, the unhappy cardinal 
observed to the bishop : " My trouble is the 

greatest that ever was ! 1 have excited 

and carried on this matter of the divorce, 
to dissolve the union between the two houses 
of Spain and England, by sowing misun- 
derstanding between them, as if I had no 
part in it. 2 You know it was in the interest 
of France ; I therefore entreat the king your 
master and her majesty to do everything 
that may forward the divorce. I shall 
esteem such a favour more than if they 
made me pope ; but if they refuse me, 
my ruin is inevitable." And then giving 
way to despair, he exclaimed : " Alas ! 
would that I were going to be buried to- 
morrow !" 

The wretched man was drinking the bit- 
ter cup his perfidies had prepared for him. 
All seemed to conspire against Henry, and 
Bennet was recalled shortly after. It was 
said at court and in the city : " Since the 
pope sacrifices us to the emperor, let us 
sacrifice the pope." Clement VII., intimi- 
dated by the threats of Charles V., and 
tottering upon his throne, madly repelled 
with his foot the bark of England. Europe 
was all attention, and began to think that 
the proud vessel of Albion, cutting the 
cable that bound her to the pontiffs, would 
boldly spread her canvass to the winds, 
and ever after sail the sea alone, wafted 
onwards by the breeze that comes from 
heaven. 

The influence of Rome over Europe is in 
great measure political, It loses a king- 
dom by a royal quarrel, and might in this 
same way lose ten. 

Other circumstances from day to day 
rendered the emancipation of the church 
more necessary. If behind these political 
debates there had not been found a Chris- 
tian people, resolved never to temporize 
with error, it is probable that England, 
after a few years of independence, would 
have fallen back into the bosom of Rome. 
The affair of the divorce was not the only 
one agitating men's minds ; the religious 
controversies, which for some years filled 
the continent, were always more animated 



1 A non vicario ad verum vicarium Jesu Christi. 
Ibid. p. 191. 

2 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 22d May. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 319. 



774 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



at Oxford and Cambridge. The Evangeli- 
cals and the Catholics (not very catholic 
indeed) warmly discussed the great ques- 
tions which the progress of events brought 
before the world. The former maintained 
that the primitive church of the apostles 
and the actual church of the papacy were 
not identical ; the latter affirmed, on the 
contrary, the identity of popery and apos- 
tolic Christianity. Other Romish doctors 
in later times, finding this position some- 
what embarrassing, have asserted that Ca- 
tholicism existed only in the germ in the 
apostolic church, and had subsequently 
developed itself. But a thousand abuses, 
a thousand errors may creep into a church 
under cover of this theory. A plant springs 
from the seed and grows up in accordance 
with immutable laws ; whilst a doctrine 
cannot be transformed in the mind of man 
without falling under the influence of 
sin. It is true that the disciples of po- 
pery have supposed a constant action of 
the Divine Spirit in the Catholic Church, 
which excludes every influence of error. 
To stamp on the development of the 
church the character of truth, they have 
stamped on the church itself the cha- 
racter of infallibility ; quod erat demon- 
strandum. Their reasoning is a mere beg- 
ging of the question. To know whether 
the Romish development is identical with 
the gospel, we must examine it by Scrip- 
ture. 

It was not university men alone who oc- 
cupied themselves with Christian truth. 
The separation which has been remarked 
in other times between the opinions of the 
people and of the learned, did not now ex- 
ist. What the doctors taught, the citizens 
practised ; Oxford and London embraced 
each other. The theologians knew that 
learning has need of life, and the citizens 
believed that life has need of that learning 
which derives the doctrine from the wells 
of the Scriptures of God. It was the har- 
mony between these two elements, the one 
theological, the other practical, which con- 
stituted the strength of the English reform- 
ation. 

The evangelical life in the capital alarmed 
the clergy more than the evangelical doc- 
trine in the colleges. Since Monmouth had 
escaped, they must strike another. Among 
the London merchants was John Tewkes- 
bury, one of the oldest friends of the Scrip- 
tures in England. As early as 1512 he 
had become possessor of a manuscript copy 
of the Bible, and had attentively studied it; 
When Tyndale's New Testament appeared, 
he read it with avidity ; and, finally, The 
Wicked Mammon had completed the work 
of his conversion. Being a man of heart 
and understanding, clever in all he under- 
cook, a ready and fluent speaker, and liking 
to get to the bottom of everything, Tewkes- 
bury like Monmouth became very influen- 
tial in the city, and one of the most learned 
in Scripture of any of the evangelicals. 



These generous Christians, being deter- 
mined to consecrate to God the good things 
they had received from him, were the first 
among that long series of la}~men who 
were destined to be more useful to the 
truth than many ministers and bishops. 
They found time to interest themselves 
about the most trifling details of the king- 
dom of God ; and in the history of the Re- 
formation in Britain their names should be 
inscribed beside those of Latimer and 
Tyndale. 

The activity of these laymen could not 
escape the cardinal's notice. Clement VII. 
was abandoning England : it was necessary 
for the English bishops, by crushing the 
heretics, to show that they would not aban- 
don the popedom. We can understand the 
zeal of these prelates, and without ex- 
cusing their persecutions, we. are disposed 
to extenuate their crime. The bishops 
determined to ruin Tewkesbury. One day 
in April 1529, as he was busy among his 
peltries, the officers entered his warehouse, 
arrested him, and led him away to the 
bishop of London's chapel, where, besides 
the ordinary (Tonstall), the bishops of Ely, 
St. Asaph, Bath, and Lincoln, with the 
abbot of Westminster, were on the bench. 
The composition of this tribunal indicated 
the importance of his case. The emancipa- 
tion of the laity, thought these judges, is 
perhaps a more dangerous heresy than jus- 
tification by faith. 

"John Tewkesbury," said the bishop of 
London, "I exhort you to trust less to your 
own wit and learning, and more unto the 
doctrine of the holy mother the church." 
Tewkesbury made answer, that in his judg- 
ment he held no other doctrine than that 
of the church of Christ. Tonstall then 
broached the principal charge, that of 
having read the Wicked Mammon, and 
after quoting several passages, he ex- 
claimed : " Renounce these errors." — " I 
find no fault in the book," replied Tewkes- 
bury. " It has enlightened my conscience 
and consoled my heart. But it is not my 
gospel. I have studied the Holy Scriptures 
these seventeen years, and as a man sees 
the spots of his face in a glass, so by read- 
ing them I have learned the faults of my 
soul. 1 If there is a disagreement between 
you and the New Testament, put your- 
selves in harmony with it, rather than 
desire to put that in accord with you." 
The bishops were surprised that a leather- 
seller should speak so well, and quote 
Scripture so happily that they were unable 
to resist him. 2 Annoyed at being cate- 
chised by a layman, the bishops of Bath, 
St. Asaph, and Lincoln thought they could 
conquer him more easily by the rack than 
by their arguments. ■ He was taken to the 
Tower, where they ordered him to be put 
to the torture. His limbs were crushed, 
which was contrary to the laws of Eng- 



1 Foxe, iv. p. 690. a Ibid. p. 6S9. 



HISTORY OF THE 'REFORMATION. 



land, and the violence of the rack tore from 
him a cry of agony to which the priests 
replied by a shout of exultation. The in- 
flexible merchant had promised at last to 
renounce Tyndale's Wicked Mammon. 
Tewkesbury left the Tower " almost a crip- 
ple/' 1 and returned to his house to lament 
the fatal word which the question had ex- 
torted from him, and to prepare in the 
silence of faith to confess in the burning 
piie the precious name of Christ Jesus. 

We must, however, acknowledge that the 
" question" was not Rome's only argument. 
The gospel had two classes of opponents in 
the sixteenth century, as in the first ages of 
the church. Some attacked it with the tor- 
ture, others with their writings. Sir Thomas 
More, a few years later, was to have re- 
course to the first of these arguments ; but 
for the moment he took up his pen. He had 
first studied the writings of the Fathers of 
the, church, and of the Reformers, but 
rather as an advocate than as a theologian ; 
and then, armed at all points, he rushed 
into the arena of polemics, and in his at- 
tacks dealt those " technical convictions 
and that malevolent subtlety," says one of 
his greatest admirers, 2 " from which the 
honestest men of his profession are not 
free." Jests and sarcasms had fallen from 
his pen in his discussion with Tyndale, as 
in his controversy with Luther. Shortly 
after Tewkesbury's affair (in June 1529) 
there appeared A Dialogue of Sir Thomas 
More, Knt., touching the pestilent Sect of 
Lather and Tyndale, by the one begun in 
Saxony, and by the other laboured to be 
brought into England? 

Tyndale soon became informed of More's 
publication, and a remarkable combat en- 
sued between these two representatives of 
the two doctrines that were destined to 
divide Christendom — Tyndale the cham- 
pion of Scripture, and More the champion 
of the church. More having called his 
book a dialogue, Tyndale adopted this form 
in his reply, 4 and the two combatants 
valiantly crossed their swords, though wide 
seas lay between them. This theological 
duel is not without importance in the 
history of the Reformation. The strug- 
gles of diplomacy, of sacerdotalism, and of 
royalty were not enough ; there must be 
struggles of doctrine. Rome had set the 
hierarchy above the faith ; the Reformation 
was to restore faith to its place above the 
hierarchy. 

More. Christ said not, the Holy Ghost 
shall write but shall teach. Whatsoever the 
church says, it is the word of God, though 
it be not in Scripture. 



1 Foxe, iv. p. 689. 

a Nisard, Homines illustres de la renaissance. 
Revue des Deux Mondes. 

3 The Dialogue consisted of 250 pages, and was 
printed by John Rastell, More's brother-in-law. 
Tyndale's answer did not appear until later ; we 
have thought it our duty to introduce it here. 

* Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue. 
50 



Tyndale. What ! Christ and the apos 
ties not spoken of Scriptures ! . . . . These are 
written, says St. John, that ye believe, and 
through belief have life. (1 John ii. 1 ; 
Rom. xv. 4; Matthew xxii. 29. ) l 

More. The apostles have taught by 
mouth many things they did not write, be- 
cause they should not come into the hands 
of the heathen for mocking. 

Tyndale. I pray you what thing more 
to be mocked by the heathen could they 
teach than the resurrection; and that 
Christ was God and man, and died between 
two thieves ? And yet all these things the 
apostles wrote. And again, purgatory, 
penance, and satisfaction for sin, t.nd pray- 
ing to saints, are marvellous agreeable unto 
the superstition of the heathen people, so 
that they need not to abstain from writing 
of them for fear lest the heathen should 
have mocked them. 2 

More. We must not examine the teach- 
ing of the church by Scripture, but under- 
stand Scripture by means of what the 
church says. 

Tyndale. What! Does the air give 
light to the sun, or the sun to the air ? Is 
the church before the gospel, or the gospel 
before the church ? Is not the father older 
than the son ? God begat us with his oivn 
will, with ike word of truth, says St. James 
(i. 18.) If he who begetteth is before him 
who is begotten, the ivord is before the 
church, or, to speak more correctly, before 
the congregation. 

More. Why do you say congregation 
and not church ? 

Tyndale. Because by that word church, 
you understand nothing but a multitude of 
shorn and oiled, which we now call the 
spirituality or clergy ; while the word of 
right is common unto all the congregation 
of them that believe in Christ. 3 

More. The church is the pope and his 
sect or followers. 

Tyndale. The pope teacheth us to trust 
in holy works for salvation, as penance, 
saints' merits, and friars' coats. 4 Now, he 
that hath no faith to be saved through 
Christ, is not of Christ's church. 5 

More. The Romish church from which 
the Lutherans came out, was before them, 
and therefore is the right one. 

Tyndale. In like manner you may say, 
the church of the Pharisees, whence Christ 
and his apostles came out, was before them, 
and was therefore the right church, and 
consequently Christ and his disciples are 
heretics. 

More. No : the apostles came out from 
the church of the Pharisees because they 
found not Christ there ; but your priests 
in Germany and elsewhere have come out 
of our church because they wanted wives. 

Tyndale. Wrong these priests were 



1 Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 101. 
a Ibid. p. 28, 29. 3 Ibid. p. 12, 13 

1 Ibid. p. 40. " Ibid. p. 39. 



776 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



at first attached to what you call heresies, 
and then they took wives ; but yours were 
first attached to the holy doctrine of the 
pope, and then they took harlots. 1 

More. Luther's books be open, if ye 
will not believe us. 

Tyndale. Nay, ye have shut them up, 
and have even burnt them. 2 

More. I marvel that you deny purga- 
tory, Sir William, except it be a plain point 
with you to go straight to hell. 3 

Tyndale. I know no other purging but 
faith in the cross of Christ ; while you, for 
a groat or a sixpence, buy some secret pills 
[indulgences] which you take to purge 
yourselves of your sins. 4 

More. _ Faith, then, is your purgatory, 
you say ; there is no need, therefore, of 
works — a most immoral doctrine ! 

Tyndale. It is faith alone that saves us, 
but not a bare faith. When a horse bear- 
eth a saddle and a man thereon, we may 
well say that the horse only and alone 
beareth the saddle, but we do not mean 
the saddle empty, and no man thereon. 5 

In this manner did the catholie and the 
evangelical carry u on the discussion. Ac- 
cording to Tyndale, what constitutes the 
true church is the work of the Holy Ghost 
within ; according to More, the constitution 
of the papacy without. The spiritual cha- 
racter of the gospel is thus put in opposi- 
tion to the formalist character of the Ro- 
man church. The Reformation restored to 
our belief the solid foundation of the word 
of God ; for the sand it substituted the rock. 
In the discussion to which we have just 
been listening, the advantage remained not 
with the catholic. Erasmus, a friend of 
More's, embarrassed by the course the lat- 
ter was taking, wrote to Tonstall : " I can- 
not heartily congratulate More." 6 

Henry interrupted the celebrated knight 
in these contests to send him to Cambray, 
where a peace was negotiating between 
France and the empire. Wolsey would 
have been pleased to go himself; but his 
enemies suggested to the king, " that it 
was only that he might not expedite the 
matter of the divorce." Henry, therefore, 
despatched More, Knight, and Tonstall ; 
but Wolsey had created so many delays 
that they did not arrive until after the con- 
clusion of the Ladies' Peace (August 1529). 
The king's vexation was extreme. Du 
Bellay had in vain helped him to spend a 
good preparatory July to make him swallow 
the dose? Henry was angry with Wolsey, 
Wolsey threw the blame on the ambassa- 
dor, and the ambassador defended himself, 
he tells us, " with tooth and nail." 8 



1 Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 104. 

2 Ibid. p. 189. 3 Ibid. p. 214. 
4 Ibid. 5 Ibid. p. 197. 

s Thomse Moro non admodurn gratulor. Erasm. 
Epp. p. 1478. 

1 Juillet preparatoire pour lui faire avaler la me- 
decine. 

8 Du bee et des ongles. Du Bellay to Montmo- 
rency. Le Grand, iii. p. 328. 



By way of compensation, the English en- 
voys concluded with the emperorli treaty 
prohibiting on both sides the printing and 
sale of " any Lutheran books." 1 Some of 
them could have wished for a good perse- 
cution, for a few burning piles, it may be. 
A singular opportunity occurred. In the 
spring of 1529, Tyndale and Fryth had 
left Marburg for Antwerp, and were thus 
in the vicinity of the English envoys. 
What West had been unable to effect, it 
was thought the two most intelligent men 
in Britain could not fail to accomplish. 
" Tyndale must be captured," said More 
and Tonstall. — "You do not know what 
sort of a country you are in," replied Hack- 
ett. " Will you believe that on the 7th 
of April, Harman arrested me at Antwerp 
for damages, caused by his imprisonment ? 
If you can lay any thing to my charge as a 
private individual, I said to the officer, I 
am ready to answer for myself; but if you 
arrest me as ambassador, I know no judgo 
but the emperor. Upon which the procu- 
rator had the audacity to reply, that I was 
arrested as ambassador ; and the lords of 
Antwerp only set me at liberty on condi- 
tion that I should appear again at the first 
summons. 2 These merchants are so proud 
of their franchises, that they would resist 
even Charles himself." This anecdote was 
not at all calculated to encourage More ; 
and not caring about a pursuit, which pro- 
mised to be of little use he returned to 
England. But the bishop of London, who 
was left behind, persisted in the project, 
and repaired to Antwerp to put it in exe- 
cution. 

Tyndale was at that time greatly embar- 
rassed ; considerable debts, incurred with 
his printers, compelled him to suspend his 
labours. Nor was this all : the prelate who 
had spurned him so harshly in London, had 
just arrived in the very city where he lay 

concealed What would become of him ? 

A merchant, named Augustin Pack- 

ington, a clever man, but somewhat in- 
clined to dissimulation, happening to be at 
Antwerp on business, hastened to pay his 
respects to the bishop. The latter observed, 
in the course of conversation: "I should 
like to get hold of the books with which 
England is poisoned." — " I can perhaps 
serve you in that matter," replied the mer- 
chant. " I know the Flemings, who have 
bought Tyndale's books ; so that if your 
lordship will be pleased to pay for them, I 
will make sure of them all." — Oh, oh !" 
thought the bishop, " Now, as the proverb 
says, I shall have God by the toe. 3 Gentle 
Master Packington," he added in a flatter- 
ing tone, " I will pay for them whatsoever 
they cost you. I intend to burn them 
at St. Paul's cross." The bishop, having 
his hand already on Tyndale's Testaments, 



1 Herbert, p. 316. 

2 Hackett to Wolsey, Brussels, 13th April, 1529. 
Bible Annals, vol. i. p. 199. 

3 Eoxe, iv. p. 670. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



777 



fancied himself on the point of seizing 
Tyndale himself. 

Packington, being one of those men who 
love to conciliate all parties, ran off to 
Tyndale. with whom he was intimate, and 
said : " William I know you are a poor 
man, and have a heap of New Testaments 
and books by you, for which you have beg- 
gared yourself; and I have now found a 
merchant who will buy them all, and with 
ready money too." — " Who is the mer- 
chant ?" said Tyndale. — " The bishop of 
London." — " Tonstall ?. . . .If he buys my 
books, it can only be to burn them." " No 
doubt," answered Packington ; " but what 
will he gain by it ? The whole world will 
ery out against the priest who burns God's 
word, and the eyes of many will be opened. 
Come, make up your mind, William ; the 
bishop shall have the books, you the money, 

and I the thanks." Tyndale resisted the 

proposal ; Packington became more press- 
ing. " The question comes to this," he 
said ; " shall the bishop pay for the books 
or shall he not? for, make up your mind. 
....he will have them." "I consent," 
said the reformer at last ; " I shall pay my 
debts, and bring out a new and more cor- 
rect edition of the Testament." The bar- 
gain was made. 

Erelong the danger thickened around 
Tyndale. Placards, posted at Antwerp and 
throughout the province, announced that 
the emperor, in conformity with the treaty 
of Cam bray, was about to proceed against 
the reformers and their writings. Not an 
officer of justice appeared in the street but 
Tyndale's friends trembled for his liberty. 
Under such circumstances, how could he 
print his translation of Genesis and Deu- 
teronomy ? He made up his mind about 
the end of August to go to Hamburg, and 
took his passage in a vessel loading for that 
port. Embarking with his books, his manu- 
scripts, and the rest of his money, he glided 
down the Scheldt, and soon found himself 
afloat on the German Ocean. 

But one danger followed close upon 
another. He had scarcely passed the mouth 
of the Meuse when a tempest burst upon 
him, and his ship, like that of old' which 
bore St. Paul, was almost swallowed up 
by the waves. " Satan envying the happy 
course and success of the gospel," says a 
chronicler, " set to his might how to hinder 
the blessed labours of this man." 1 The 
seamen toiled, Tyndale prayed, all hope 
was lost. The reformer alone was full of 
courage, not doubting that God would pre- 
serve him for the accomplishment of his 
work. All the exertions of the crew proved 
useless : the vessel was dashed on the 
coast, and the passengers escaped with 
their lives. Tyndale gazed with sorrow 
upon that ocean which had swallowed up 
his beloved books and precious manuscripts, 



Foxe, v. p. 120. 



and deprived him of his resources. 1 What 
labours, what perils ! banishment, poverty, 
thirst, insults, watchings, persecution, im- 
prisonment, the stake ! Like Paul, he was 

in perils by his own countrymen, in perils 
among strange people, in perils in the city, 
in perils in the sea. Recovering his spirits, 
however, he went on board another ship, en- 
tered the Elbe, and at last reached Hamburg. 

Great joy was in store for him in that 
city. Coverdale, Foxe informs us, was wait- 
ing there to confer with him and to help 
him in his labours. 2 It has been supposed 
that Coverdale went to Hamburg to invite 
Tyndale, in Cromwell's name, to return to 
England ; 3 but it is merely a conjecture, 
and requires confirmation. As early as 
1527, Coverdale had made known to Crom- 
well his desire to translate the Scriptures. 4 
It was natural that, meeting with difficulties 
in this undertaking, he should desire to con- 
verse with Tyndale. The two friends lodged 
with a pious woman named Margaret van 
Emmersen, and spent some time together 
in the autumn of 1529, undisturbed by the 
sweating sickness which was making such 
cruel havoc all around them. Coverdale 
returned to England shortly after ; the two 
reformers had, no doubt, discovered that it 
was better *for each of them to translate the 
Scriptures separately. 

Before Coverdale's return, Tonstall had 
gone back to London, exulting at carrying 
with him the books he had bought so dearly. 
But when he reached the capital, he thought 
he had better defer the meditated auto da 
fe until some striking event should give it 
increased importance. And besides, just 
at that moment, very different matters were 
engaging public attention on the banks of 
the Thames, and the liveliest emotions agi- 
tated every mind. 

Affairs had changed in England during 
the absence of Tonstall and More ; and 
even before their departure, events of a 
certain importance had occurred. Henry, 
finding there was nothing more to hope 
from Rome, had turned to Wolsey and Cam- 
peggio. The Roman nuncio had succeeded 
in deceiving the king. " Campeggio is very 
different from what he is reported," said 
Henry to his friends : " he is not for the 
emperor as I was told ; I have said some- 
what to him which has changed his mind." 5 
No doubt he had made some brilliant pro- 
mise. 

Henry, therefore, imagining himself sure 
of his two legates, desired them to proceed 
with the matter of the divorce without de- 
lay. There was no time to lose, for the 
king was informed that the pope was on 



1 Lost both his money, his copies Foxe, v. 

p. 120. 

2 Coverdale tarried for him and helped him. Ibid. 

3 Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i. p. 240. 

4 This is the date assigned in Coverdale's Re- 
mains (Park. Soc), p. 490. 

s Burnet, Records, p.,xxxv. 



778 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the point of recalling the commission given 
to the two cardinals ; and as early as the 
19th of March, Salviati, the pope ; s uncle 
and secretary of state, wrote to Oampeggio 
about it. 1 Henry's process, once in the 
court of the pontifical chancery, it would 
have been long before it got out again. 
Accordingly, on the 31st of May, the king, 
"by a warrant under the great seal, gave the 
legates leave to execute their commission, 
" without any regard to his own person, and 
having the fear of God only before their 
eyes." 2 The legates themselves had sug- 
gested this formula to the king. 

On the same day the commission was 
opened ; but to begin the process was not 
to end it. Every letter which the nuncio 
received forbade him to do so in the most 
positive manner. " Advance slowly and 
never finish," were Clement's instructions. 3 
The trial was to be a farce, played by a 
pope and two cardinals. 

The ecclesiastical court met in the great 
hall of the Blackfriars, commonly called 
the " parliament chamber." The two le- 
gates having successively taken the com- 
mission in their hands, devoutly declared 
that they were resolved to execute it (they 
should have said, to elude it), made the re- 
quired oaths, and ordered a peremptory 
citation of the king and queen to appear on 
the 18th of June at nine in the morning. 
Campeggio was eager to proceed sloivly ; 
the session was adjourned for three weeks. 
The citation caused a great stir among the 
people. "What!" said they, "'a king and 
a queen constrained to appear, in their own 
realm, before their own subjects." The 
papacy set an example which was to be 
strictly followed in after-years both in Eng- 
land and in France. 

On the 18th of June, Catherine, appeared 
before the commission in the parliament 
chamber, and stepping forward with dig- 
nity, said with a firm voice : " I protest 
against the legates as incompetent judges, 
and appeal to the pope." 4 This proceeding 
of the queen's, her pride and firmness, 
troubled her enemies, and in their vexation 
they grew exasperated against her, " In- 
stead of praying God to bring this matter 
to a good conclusion," they said, " she 
endeavours to turn away the people's affec- 
tions from the king. Instead of showing 
Henry the love of a youthful wife, she keeps 
away from him night and day. There is 
even cause to fear," they added, "that she 
is in concert with certain individuals who 



1 E quanto altro non si possa, forse si pensera 
ad avvocare la causa a se. Lettere di XIII. uomini 
illustri, 19th March 1529. 

2 Ut solum Deum prse oculis habentis. Rymer, 
Acta ad annum. 

a Sua beatitudine ricorda, che il procedere sia 
lento ed in modo alcuno non si venglii al giudicio. 
To Card. Campeggio, 29th May 1529. Lett, di 
Principi. 

* Se in illos tanquam judices suos non assentire, 
ad papixm provocavit. Sanders, p. 32. 



have formed the horrible design of killing 
the king and the cardinal." 1 But persons 
of generous heart, seeing only a queen, a 
wife, and a mother, attacked in her dearest 
affections, showed themselves full of sym- 
pathy for her. 

On the 21st of June, the day to which 
the court adjourned, the two legates entered 
the parliament chamber with all the pomp 
belonging to their station, and took their 
seats on a raised platform. Near them sat 
the bishops of Bath and Lincoln, the abbot 
of Westminster, and Doctor Taylor, master 
of the Rolls, whom they had added to their 
commission. Below them were the secre- 
taries, among whom the skilful Stephen 
Gardiner held the chief rank. On the right 
hung a cloth of estate where the king sat 
surrounded by his officers ; and on the left, 
a little lower, was the queen, attended by 
her ladies. The archbishop of Canterbury 
and the bishops were seated between the 
legates and Henry VIII., and on both sides 
of the throne were stationed the counsellors 
of the king and queen. The latter were 
Fisher, bishop of Rochester, Standish of St. 
Asaph, West of Ely, and Doctor Ridley 
The people, when they saw this processioi 
defile before them, were far from being daz 
zled by the pomp. "Less show and more 
virtue," they said, " would better become 
such judges." 

The pontifical commission having been 
read, the legates declared that they would 
judge without fear or favour, and would 
admit of neither recusation nor appeal.* 
Then the usher cried : " Henry, king of 
England, come into court." The king, 
cited in his own capital to accept as judges 
two priests, his subjects, repressed the 
throbbing of his proud heart, and replied, 
in the hope that this strange trial would 
have a favourable issue : " Here I am." 
The usher continued : " Catherine, queen 
of England, come into court." The queen 
handed the cardinals a paper in which she 
protested against the legality of the court, 
as the judges were the subjects of her op- 
ponent, 3 and appealed to Rome. The car- 
dinals declared they could not admit this 
paper, and consequently Catherine was 
again called into court.- At this second 
summons she rose, devoutly crossed her- 
self, made the circuit of the court to where 
the king sat, bending with dignity as she 
passed in front of the legates, and fell on 
her knees before her husband. Every eye 
was turned upon her. Then speaking in 
English, but with a Spanish accent, which 
by recalling the distance she was from her 
native home, pleaded eloquently for her, 
Catherine said with tears in her eyes, and 
in a tone at once dignified and impas- 
sioned : 

1 Burnet's Ref. i. p. 54. 

3 The king's letter to his ambassadors at Rome, 
23d June. Burnet's Ref., Records, p. liv. 

3 Personas judicum non solum regi devincta? 
verum et subjectas esse. Sanders, p. 35. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



77a 



" Sir, — I beseech you, for all the love 
that hath been between us, and for the love 
of God, let me have justice and right; take 
some pity on me, for I am a poor woman 
and a stranger, born, out of your dominions. 
I have here no assured friend, much less 
impartial counsel, and I flee to you as to 
the head of justice within this realm. Alas ! 
Sir, wherein have I offended you, or what 
occasion have I given you of displeasure, 
that you should wish to put me from you ? 
I take God and all the world to witness, 
that I have been to you a true, humble, and 
obedient wife, ever conformable to your 
will and pleasure. Never have I said or 
done ought contrary thereto, being always 
well pleased and content with all things 
wherein you had delight ; neither did I 
ever grudge in word or countenance, or 
show a visage or spark of discontent. I 
loved all those whom you loved, only for 
your sake. This twenty years I have been 
your true wife, and by me ye have had di- 
vers children, although it hath pleased God 
to call them out of this world, which yet 
hath been no default in me." 

The judges, and even the most servile of 
the courtiers, were touched when they 
heard these simple and eloquent words, and 
the queen's sorrow moved them almost to 
tears. Catherine continued : — 

" Sir, — When ye married me at the first, 
I take God to be my judge, I was a true 
maid ; and whether it be true or not, I put 

it to your conscience If there can beany 

just cause that ye can allege against me, I 
am contented to depart from your kingdom, 
albeit to my great shame and dishonour; 
and if there be none, then let me remain in 
my former estate until death. Who united 
us ? The king, your father, who was called 
the second Solomon ; and my father, Fer- 
dinand, who was esteemed one of the wisest 
princes that, for many years before, had 
reigned in Spain. It is not, therefore, to 
be doubted that the marriage between you 
and me is good and lawful. Who are my 
judges ? Is not one the man that has put 

sorrow between you and me ?' a judge 

whom I refuse and abhor ! Who are the 
counsellors assigned me ? Are they not 
officers of the crown, who have made oath 
to you in your own council ? Sir, I con- 
jure you not to call me before a court so 
formed. Yet, if you refuse me this favour 

your will be done I shall be silent, 

I shall repress the emotions of my soul, and 
remit my just cause to the hands of God." 

Thus spoke Catherine through her tears ; 8 
humbly bending, she seemed to embrace 
Henry's knees. She rose and made a low 
obeisance to the king. It was expected 
that she would return to' her seat ; but 
leaning on the arm of Griffiths, her receiv- 



1 Qui dissensionem inter ipsam et virum suutn. 
Poly.l. Virg. p. 688. 

3 UcTc ilia flebiliter dicente. Ibid. p. 6S6, and 
Cavendish 



er-general, she moved towards tl e door. 
The king observing this, ordered her to be 
recalled ; and the usher following her, 
thrice cried aloud : " Catherine, queen of 
England, come into court." " Madam," 
said Griffiths, " you are called back." " t 
hear it well enough," replied the queen, 
" but go you on, for this is no court wherein 
I can have justice : let us proceed." Cath- 
erine returned to the palace, and never 
again appeared before the eourt either by 
proxy or in person. 1 

She had gained her cause in the minds of 
many. The dignity of her person, the 
quaint simplicity of her speech, the propri- 
ety with which, relying upon her innocence, 
she had spoken of the most delicate sub- 
jects and the tears which betrayed her 
emotion, had created a deep impression. 
But " the sting in her speech," as an histo- 
rian says, 2 was her appeal to the king's 
conscience, and to the judgment of Al- 
mighty God, on the capital point in the 
cause. " How could a person so modest, 
so sober in her language," said many, 
" dare utter such a falsehood? Besides, 
the king did not contradict her." 

Henry was greatly embarrassed : Cathe- 
rine's words had moved him. Catherine's 
defence, one of the most touching in his- 
tory, had gained over the accuser himself. 
He therefore felt constrained to render 
this testimony to the accused : " Since the 
queen has withdrawn, I will, in her absence, 
declare to you all present, that she has been 
to me as true and obedient a wife as I 
could desire. She has all the virtues and 
good qualities that belong to a woman. 
She is as noble in character as in birth." 

But Wolsey was the most embarrassed 
of all. When the queen had said, without 
naming him, that one of her judges was the 
cause of all her misfortunes, looks of indig- 
nation were turned upon him. 3 He was 
unwilling to remain under the weight of 
this accusation. As soon as the king had 
finished speaking, he said : " Sir, I hum- 
bly beg your majesty to declare before this 
audience, whether I was the first or chief 
mover in this business." Wolsey had for- 
merly boasted to Du Bellay, " that the first 
project of th>e divorce was set on foot by 
himself, to create a perpetual separation 
between the houses of England and Spain ;'' 4 
but now it suited him to affirm the contrary. 
The king, who needed his services, took 
care not to contradict him. " My lord car- 
dinal," he said, " I can well excuse you 
herein. Marry, so far from being a mover, 
ye have been rather against me in attempt- 
ing thereof. It was the bishop of Tarbes, 
the French ambassador, who begot the first 

1 Burnet, Records, p. 36. In this letter the king 
says : Both we and the queen appeared in person. 

2 Fuller, p. 173. 

3 Vidisses Wolsettm in-festi? fere omnium oculis 
eonsi>ioi. Pol.yd. Virg. p. 688. 

4 Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preurec, 
p. ISO, 319. 



'80 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



scruples in my conscience by his doubts on 
the legitimacy of the Princess Mary." This 
was not correct. The bishop of Tarbes was 
not in England before the year 1527, and 
we have proofs that the king was meditat- 
ing a divorce in 1526. ' " From that hour," 
he continued, " I was much troubled, and 
thought myself in danger of God's heavy 
displeasure, who, wishing to punish my in- 
cestuous marriage, had taken away all the 
sons my wife had borne me. I laid my 
grief before you, my lord of Lincoln, then 
being my ghostly father ; and by your ad- 
vice I asked counsel of the rest of the bish- 
ops, and you all informed me, under your 
seals, that you shared in my scruples.' 7 — 
" That is the truth," said the archbishop of 
Canterbury. — " No, Sir, not so, under cor- 
rection," quoth the bishop of Rochester, 
" you have not my hand and seal." — " No ?" 
exclaimed the king, showing him a paper 
which he held in his hand ; " is not this 
your hand and seal?" — " No, forsooth," he 
answered. "Henry's surprise increased, 
and turning with a frown to the archbishop 
of Canterbury, he asked him : " What say 
you to that?" " Sir, it is his hand and 
seal," replied Warham. — " It is not," re- 
joined Rochester; "I told you I would 
never consent to any such act." — " You say 
the truth," responied the archbishop, " but 
you were fully resolved at the last, that I 
should subscribe your name and put your 
seal." — " All whieh is untrue," added Ro- 
chester, in a passion. The bishop was not 
very respectful to his primate. " Well, 
well," said the king, wishing to end the 
dispute, "we will not stand in argument 



ith you ; for you are but one nn 



The 



court adjourned. The day had been better 
for Catherine than for the prelates. 

In proportion as the first sitting had 
been pathetic, so the discussions in the 
second between the lawyers and bishops 
were calculated to revolt a delicate mind. 
The advocates of the two parties vigorously 
debated pro and con respecting the con- 
summation of Arthur's marriage with Cath- 
erine " It is a very difficult question," 
said one of the counsel ; " none can know 
the truth." — "But I know it," replied the 
bishop of Rochester." — " What do you 
mean ?" asked Wolsey. — " My lord," he an- 
swered, " he was the very Truth who said : 
What God hath joined together, let not man 
put asunder: that is enough for me." — 
"So everybody thinks," rejoined Wolsey ; 
" but whether it was God who united Henry 
of England and Catherine of Aragon, hoc 
restat probandum, that remains to be proved. 
The king's council decided that the mar- 



1 See Pace's letter to Henry in 1526. Le Grand, 
Preuves, p. 1. Pace there shows that it is incor- 
rect to say : D enter onomi urn abrogare Leviticum 
(Deuteronomy abrogates Leviticus), so far as con- 
cerns the prohibition to take the wife of a deceased 
brother. 

3 Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 223. 



riage is unlawful, and, consequently, it was 
not God toho joined them together." The 
two bishops then exchanged a few words 
less edifying than those of the preceding 
day. Several of the hearers expressed a 
sentiment of disgust. " It is a disgrace to 
the court," said Doctor Ridley, with no little 
indignation, " that you dare discuss ques- 
tions which fill every right-minded man 
with horror." This sharp reprimand put 
an end to the debate. 

The agitations of the court spread to the 
convents ; priests, monks, and nuns were 
everywhere in commotion. It was not long 
before astonishing revelations began to cir- 
culate through the cloisters. There was no 
talk then of an old portrait of the Virgin 
that winked its eyes ; but other miracles 
were invented. " An angel," it was ru- 
moured, " has appeared to Elizabeth Bar- 
ton, the maid of Kent, as he did formerly 
to Adam, to the patriarchs, and to Jesus 
Christ." At the epochs of the creation and 
of the redemption, and in the times which 
lead from one to the other, miracles are 
natural ; God then appeared, and his coming 
without any signs of power, would be as 
surprising as the rising of the sun unat- 
tended by its rays of light. But the Ro- 
mish Church does not stop there ; it claims 
in every age, for its saints, the privilege of 
miraculous powers, and the miracles are 
multiplied in proportion to the ignorance 
of the people. And accordingly the angel 
said to the epileptic maid of Kent : " Go to 
the unfaithful king of England, and tell him 
there are three things he desires, which I 
forbid now and for ever. The first is the 
power of the pope ; the second the new 
doctrine ; the third Anne Boleyn. If he 
takes her for his wife, God will visit him." 
The vision-seeing maid delivered the mes- 
sage to the king, 1 whom nothing could now 
stop. 

On the contrary, he began to find out 
that Wolsey proceeded too slowly, and the 
idea sometimes crossed his mind that he was 
betrayed by this minister. One fine sum- 
mer's morning, Henry as soon as he rose, 
summoned the cardinal to him at Bride- 
well. Wolsey hastened thither, and re- 
mained closeted with the king from eleven 
till twelve. The latter gave way to all the 
fury of his passion and the violence of his 
despotism. " We must finish this matter 
promptly," he said, "we must positively." 
Wolsey retired very uneasy, and returned 
by the Thames to Westminster. The sun 
darted his bright rays on the water. The 
bishop of Carlisle, who sat by the cardinal's 
side, remarked, as he wiped his forehead : 
" A very warm day, my lord." " Yes," 
replied the unhappy Wolsey, " if you had 
been chafed for an hour as I have been, you 
would say it was a hot day." When he 
reached his palace, the cardinal lay down 



1 She showed this unto the king. Letter to 
Cromwell in Strype, vol. i. p. 272. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIOIST. 



781 



on his Ibed to seek repose ; he was not quiet 
long. 

Catherine had grown in Henry's eyes, 
as well as in those of the nation. The king 
shrank from a judgment ; he even began to 
doubt of his success. He wished that the 
queen would consent to a separation. This 
idea occurred to his mind after Wolsey's 
departure, and the cardinal had hardly 
closed his eyes before the earl of Wiltshire 
(Anne Boleyn's father) was announced to 
him with a message from the king. " It is 
his majesty's pleasure," said Wiltshire, 
" that you represent to the queen the shame 
that will accrue to her from a judicial con- 
demnation, and persuade her to confide in 
his wisdom." Wolsey, commissioned to 
execute a task he knew to be impossible, 
exclaimed : " Why do you put such fancies 
in the king's head ?" and then he spoke so 
reproachfully that Wiltshire, with tears in 
his eyes, fell on his knees beside the car- 
dinal's bed. 1 Boleyn, desirous of seeing 
his daughter queen of England, feared per- 
haps that he had taken a wrong course. 
" It is well," said the cardinal, recollecting 
that the message came from Henry VIII., 
" I am ready to do every thing to please his 
majesty." He rose, went to Bath Place to 
fetch Campeggio, and together they waited 
on the queen. 

The two legates found Catherine quietly 
at work with her maids of honour. Wol- 
sey addressed the queen in Latin : " Nay, 
my lord," she said, " speak to me in Eng- 
lish ; I wish all the world could hear you." 
" We desire, madam, to communicate to you 
alone our counsel and opinion." " My 
lord," said the queen, " you are come to 
speak of things beyond my capacity ;" and 
then, with noble simplicity, showing a skein 
of red silk hanging about her neck, she con- 
tinued : " These are my occupations, and 
all that I am capable of. I am a poor wo- 
man, without friends in this foreign coun- 
try, and lacking wit to answer persons of 
wisdom as ye be ; and yet, my lords, to 
please you, let us go to my withdrawing 
room." 

At these -words the queen rose, and Wol- 
sey gave her his hand. Catherine earnestly 
maintained her rights as a woman and a 
queen. " We who were in the outer cham- 
ber," says Cavendish, " from time to time 
could hear the queen speaking very loud, 
but could not. understand what she said." 
Catherine, instead of justifying herself, 
boldly accused her judge. " I know, Sir 
Cardinal," she said with noble candour, 
'" I know who has given the king the ad- 
vice he is following : it is you. I have not 
ministered to your pride — I have blamed 
your conduct — I have complained of your 
tyranny, and my nephew the emperor has 
not made yo\i pope Hence .all my mis- 
fortune. To revenge yourself you have 
kindled a war in Europe, and have stirred 



! Cavendish, p. 226 



up against me this most wicked matter. 
God will be my judge.... and yours!" 
Wolsey would have replied, but Catherine 
haughtily refused to hear him, and while 
treating Campeggio with great civility, de- 
clared that she would not acknowledge either 
of them as her judge. The cardinals with- 
drew, Wolsey full of vexation, and Cam- 
peggio beaming with joy, for the business 
was getting more complicated. Every hope 
of accommodation was lost : nothing re- 
mained now but to proceed judicially. 

The trial was resumed. The bishop of 
Bath and Wells waited upon the queen at 
Greenwich, and peremptorily summoned 
her to appear in the parliament-chamber. 1 
On the day appointed Catherine limited 
herself to sending an appeal to the pope. 
She was declared contumacious, and the 
legates proceeded with the cause. 

Twelve articles were prepared, which 
were to serve for the examination of the 
witnesses, and the summary of which was, 
that the marriage of Henry with Cathe- 
rine, being forbidden both by the law .of 
God and the church, was null and void. 2 

The hearing of the witnesses began, and 
Dr. Taylor, arch-deacon of Buckingham, 
conducted the examination. Their evidence, 
which would now be taken only with 
closed doors, may be found in Lord Her- 
bert of Cherbury's History of Henry VIII. 
The duke of Norfolk, high-treasurer of 
England, the duke of Suffolk, Maurice St. 
John, gentleman-carver to Prince Arthur, 
the viscount Fitzwalter and Anthony Wil- 
loughby, his cup-bearers, testified to their 
being present at the morrow of their wed- 
ding at the breakfast of the prince, then 
in sound health, and reported the conver- 
sation that took place. 3 The old duchess 
of Norfolk, the earl of Shrewsbury, and 
the marquis of Dorset, confirmed the de- 
clarations, which proved that Arthur and 
Catherine were really married. It was also 
called to mind that, at the time of Arthur's 
death, Henry was not permitted to take the 
title of prince of Wales, because Cathe- 
rine hoped to give an heir to the crown of 
England. 4 

" If Arthur and Catherine were really 
married," said the king's counsellors after 
these extraordinary depositions, "the mar- 
riage of this princess with Henry, Arthur's 
brother, was forbidden by the divine law, 
by an express oommand of God contained 
in Leviticus, and no dispensation could per- 
mit what God had forbidden." Campeggio 
would never concede this argument, which 



1 In quadam superiori camera : the queen'* dining 
chamber, nuncupata, 26 die mensis.juuii. Itymer, 
Acta, p. 119. 

a Divino, ecclesiastico jnre nullo omnino et 

invalidum. Herbert, p. 263. 

3 Quod Arthurus mane postridie potnm flagitarot, 
idque ut, aiebant. quoniara dieeret se ilia nocta in 
calida Hispaniarum regione peregrinatuui fnisse. 
Sander?, p. 43. 

4 Foxe, v. p. 51, 



782 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



limited the right of the popes ; it was ne- 
cessary therefore to abandon the divine right 
(which was in reality to lose the cause), 
Rnd to seek in the buil of Julius II. and in 
his famous brief, for flaws that would inval- 
idate them both ; ] and this the king's consel 
did, although they did not conceal the 
weakness of their position. " The motive 
alleged in the dispensation," they said, " is 
the necessity of preserving a cordial rela- 
tion between Spain and England ; now, 
there was nothing that threatened their 
harmony. Moreover, it is said in this doc- 
ument that the pope grants it at the prayer 
of Henry, prince of Wales. Now as this 
prince was only thirteen years old, he was 
not of age to make such a request. As for 
the brief, it is found neither in England 
nor in Rome ; we cannot therefore admit 
its authenticity." It was not difficult for 
Catherine's friends to invalidate these ob- 
jections. "Besides," they added, "a union 
that has lasted twenty years sufficiently es- 
tablishes its own lawfulness. And will you 
declare the Princess Mary illegitimate, to 
the great injury of this realm ?" 

The king's advocates then changed their 
course. Was not the Roman legate pro- 
vided with a decretal pronouncing the di- 
vorce, in case it should be proved that 
Arthur's marriage had been really consum- 
mated ? Now, this fact had been proved 
by the depositions. " This is the moment 
for delivering judgment," said Henry and 
his counsellors to Campeggio. "Publish 
the pope's decretal." But the pope feared 
the sword of Charles V., then hanging over 
his head ; and accordingly, whenever the 
king advanced one step, the Romish prelate 
took several in an opposite direction. " I 
will deliver judgment in Jive days," said 
he ; and when the five days were expired, 
he bound himself to deliver it in six. " Re- 
store peace to my troubled conscience," 
exclaimed Henry. The legate replied in 
courtly phrase ; he had gained a few days' 
delay, and that was all he desired. 

Such conduct on the part of the Roman 
legate produced an unfavourable effect in 
England, and a change took place in the 
public mind. The first movement had been 
for Catherine ; the second was for Henry. 
Clement's endless delays and Campeggio's 
stratagems exasperated the nation. The 
king's argument was simple and popular : 
" The pope cannot dispense with the laws 
of God ;" while the queen, by appealing to 
the authority of the Roman pontiff, dis- 
pleased both high and low. " No precedent," 
said the lawyers, " can justify the king's 
marriage with his brother's widow." 

There were, however, some evangelical 
Christians who thought Henry was " trou- 
bled" more by his passions than by his 
conscience ; and they asked how it happened 
that a prince, who represented himself to 
be so disturbed by the possible transgres- 



Herbert gives them at length, p. 264-267. 



sion of a law of doubtful interpretation, 
could desire, after twenty years, to violate 
the indisputable law which forbade the 

divorce? t.On the 21st of July, the day 

fixed ad concludendum, the cause was ad- 
journed until the Friday following, and no 
one doubted that the matter would then be 
terminated. 

All prepared for this important day. The 
king ordered the dukes of Norfolk and Suf- 
folk to be present at the sitting of the 
court ; and being himself impatient to hear 
the so much coveted judgment, he stole into 
a gallery of the parliament chamber facing 
the judges. 

The legates of the holy see having taken 
their seats, the attorney-general signified to 
them, " that every thing necessary for the 
information of their conscience having been 
judicially laid before them, that day had 
been fixed for the conclusion of the trial." 
There was a pause ; every one feeling the 
importance of this judgment, waited for it 
with impatience. " Either the papacy pro- 
nounces my divorce from Catherine," the 
king had said, "or I shall divorce myself 
frDm the papacy." That was the " way 
Henry put the question. All eyes, and par- 
ticularly the king's, were turned on the 
judges ; Campeggio could not retreat ; he 
must now say yes or no. For some time 
he was silent. He knew for certain that 
the queen's appeal had been admitted by 
Clement VII., and that the latter had con- 
cluded an alliance with the emperor. It 
was no longer in his power to grant the 
king's request. Clearly foreseeing that a 
no would perhaps forfeit the power of Rome 
in England, while a yes might put an end 
to the plans of religious emancipation which 
alarmed him so much, he could not make 
up his mind to say either yes or no. 

At last the nuncio rose slowly from hia 
chair, and all the assembly listened with 
emotion to the oracular decision which foi 
so many years the powerful king of Eng- 
land had sought from the Roman pontiff. 
" The general vacation of the harvest and 
vintage," he said, " being observed every 
year by the court of Rome, dating from to- 
morrow the 24th of July, the beginning of 
the dog-days, we adjourn, to some future 
period, the conclusion of these pleadings." 1 
The auditors were thunderstruck. "What! 
because the malaria renders the air of Rome 
dangerous at the end of July, and compels 
the Romans to close their courts, must a 
trial be broken off on the banks of the 
Thames, when its conclusion is looked for 
so impatiently ?" The people hoped for a 
judicial sentence, and they were answered 
with a jest; it was thus Rome made sport 
of Christendom. Campeggio, to disarm 
Henry's wrath, gave utterance to some 
noble sentiments ; but his whole line of 
conduct raises legitimate doubts as to hia 



1 Ferite generates messium et Tindeniiarum. 
Herbert, p. 278 ; Cavendish, p. 229. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION' 



783 



sincerity. " The queen," he said, " denies 
the competency of the court ; I must there- 
fore make my report to the pope, who is 
the source of life and honour, and wait his 
sovereign orders. I have not come so far to 
please any man, be he king or subject. I 
am an old man, feeble and sickly, and fear 
none but the Supreme Judge, before whom I 
must soon appear. I therefore adjourn 
this court until the 1st of October." 

It was evident that this adjournment was 
only a formality intended to signify the de- 
finitive rejection of Henry's demand. The 
same custom prevails in the British legis- 
lature. 

The king, who from his place of conceal- 
ment had heard Campeggio's speech, could 
scarcely control his indignation. He wanted 
a regular judgment ; he clung to forms ; he 
desired that his cause should pass success- 
fully through all the windings of ecclesias- 
tical procedure, and yet here it is wrecked 
upon the vacations of the Romish court. 
Henry was silent, however, either from 
prudence, or because surprise deprived him 
of the power of speech, and he hastily left 
the gallery. 

Norfolk, Suffolk, and the other courtiers, 
did not follow him. The king and his 
ministers, the peers and the people, and 
even the clergy, were almost unanimous, 
and yet the pope pronounced his veto. 
He humbled the Defender of the Faith to 
flatter the author of the sack of Rome. 
This was too much. The impetuous Suffolk 
started from his seat, struck his hand vio- 
lently on the table in front of him, cast a 
threatening look upon the judges, and ex- 
claimed : " By the mass, the old saying is 
confirmed to-day, that no cardinal has ever 
brought good to England."'— " Sir, of all 
men in this realm," replied Wolsey, "you 
have the. least cause to disparage cardinals, 
for if I, poor cardinal, had not been, you 
would not have a head on your shoulders." 2 
It would seem that Wolsey pacified Henry, 
at the time of the duke's marriage with the 
Princess Mary. " I cannot pronounce sen- 
tence," continued Wolsey, " without know- 
ing the good pleasure of his holiness." 
The two dukes and the other noblemen left 
the hall in anger, and hastened to the 
palace. 3 The legates, remaining with their 
officers, looked at each other for a few mo- 
ments. At last Campeggio, who alone had 
remained calm during this scene of violence, 
arose, and the audience dispersed. 

Henry did not allow himself to be crushed 
by this blow. Rome, by her strange pro- 
ceedings, aroused in him that suspicious 
and despotic spirit, of which he gave such 
tragic proofs in after- years. The papacy 

1 Mensam quse proponebatur magno ictu concu- 
tiens : Per sacrarn. iuquit, raissam, nemo unquam 
legatorum ant cardinaliura quicqmim boni ad An- 
gliam apportavit. Sanders, p. 49. 

■ Cavendish, p. 233. 

3 Duces ex judicio discedentes, ut ipsi omnibus 
iracundise flammis urebantur. Sanders, p. 49. 



was making sport of him. Clement and 
Wolsey tossed his divorce from one to the 
other like a ball which, now at Rome and 
now in London, seemed fated to remain 
perpetually in the air. The king thought 
he had been long enough the plaything of 
his holiness and of the crafty cardinal ; his 
patience was exhausted, and he resolved to 
show his adversaries that Henry VIII; was 
more than a match for these bishops. We 
shall find him seizing this favourable op- 
portunity, and giving an unexpected solu- 
tion to the matter. 

Wolsey sorrowfully hung his head : by 
taking part with the nuncio and the pope, 
he had signed the warrant of his own de-. 
struction. So long as Henry had a single 
ray of hope, he thought proper still to dis- 
semble with Clement VII. ; but he might 
vent all his anger on Wolsey. From the 
period of the Roman Vacations the cardinal 
was ruined in his master's mind. Wolsey's 
enemies seeing his favour decline, hastened 
to attack him. Suffolk and Norfolk in par- 
ticular, impatient to get rid of an insolent 
priest who had so long chafed their pride, 
told Henry that Wolsey had been continu- 
ally playing false ; they went over all his 
negotiations month by month and day by 
day, and drew the most overwhelming con- 
clusions from them. Sir William Kingston 
and Lord Manners laid before the king one 
of the cardinal's letters which Sir Francis 
Bryan had obtained from the papal ar- 
chives. In it the cardinal desired Clement 
to spin out the divorce question, and finally 
to oppose it, seeing (he added) that if 
Henry was separated from Catherine, a 
friend to the reformers would become queen 
of England. 1 This letter clearly expressed 
Wolsey's inmost thoughts : Rome at any 

price and perish England and Henry 

rather than the popedom ! We can imagine 
the king's anger. 

Anne Boleyn's friends were not working 
alone. There was not a person at court 
whom Wolsey's haughtiness and tyranny 
had not offended ; no one in the king's 
council in whom his continual intrigues 
had not raised serious suspicions. He had 
(they said) betrayed in France the cause of 
England ; kept up in time of peace and 
war secret intelligence with Madam, mother 
of Francis I. ; received great presents from 
her f oppressed the nation, and trodden 
under foot the laws of the kingdom. The 
people called him Frencliman and traitor, 
and all England seemed to vie in throwing 
burning brands at the superb edifice which 
the pride of this prelate had so laboriously 
erected. 3 

AVolsey was too clearsighted not to dis- 
cern the signs of his approaching fall. 
" Both the rising and setting sun (for thus 



1 Edm. Campion De divortio. Herbert, p 2S9. 
5 Du Bellay's Letters. Le Grand, Preuves, \ . 374. 
3 Novis etiam iuroris et insania faoibua iicen- 
derunt. Sanders, p. 49. 



734 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



an historian calls Anne Boleyn and Cathe- 
rine of Aragon) frowned upon him," 1 and 
the sky, growing darker and darker around 
him, gave token of the storm that was to 
overwhelm him. If the cause failed, Wol- 
sey incurred the vengeance of the king ; if 
it succeeded, he would be delivered up to 
the vengeance of the Boleyns, without 
speaking of Catherine's, the emperor's, and 
the pope's. Happy Campeggio ! thought 
the cardinal, he has nothing to fear. If 
Henry's favour is withdrawn from him, 
Charles and Clement will make him com- 
pensation. But Wolsey lost everything 
when he lost the king's good graces. De- 
tested by his fellow-citizens, despised and 
hated by all Europe, he saw to whatever 
side he turned nothing but the just reward 
of his avarice and falseness. He strove in 
vain, as on other occasions, to lean on the 
ambassador of France : Du Bellay was soli- 
cited on the other side. " I am exposed 
here to such a heavy and continual fire that 
I am half dead," exclaimed the bishop of 
Bayonne ; 2 and the cardinal met with an 
unusual reserve in his former confidant. 

Yet the crisis approached. Like a skilful 
but affrighted pilot, Wolsey cast his eyes 
around him to discover a port in which he 
could take refuge. He could find none but 
his see of York. He therefore began once 
more to complain of the fatigues of power, 
of the weariness of the diplomatic career, 
and to extol the sweetness of the episcopal 
life. On a sudden he felt a great interest 
about the flock of whom he had never 
thought before. Those around him shook 
their heads, well knowing that such a re- 
treat would be to Wolsey the bitterest of 
disgraces. One single idea supported him : 
if he fell, it would be because he had clung 
more to the pope than to the king : he would 
be the martyr of his faith. What a faith ! 
what a martyr ! 

While these things were taking place, 
Anne was living at Hever Castle in retire- 
ment and sadness. Scruples from time to 
time still alarmed her conscience. It is true, 
the king represented to her unceasingly 
that his salvation and the safety of his peo- 
ple demanded the dissolution of a union 
condemned by the divine law, and that what 
he solicited several popes had granted. Had 
not Alexander VI. annulled, after ten years, 
the marriage of Ladislaus and Beatrice of 
Naples ? Had not Louis XII., the father 
of his people, been divorced from Joan of 
France ? Nothing was more common, he 
said, than to see the divorce of a prince 
authorized by a pope ; the security of the 
state must be provided for before every 
thing else. Carried away by these argu- 
ments and dazzled by the splendour of a 
throne, Anne Boleyn consented to usurp 
at Henry's side the rank belonging to 



1 Fuller, p. 176. 

a Du Bellay to Montmorency, 15th June. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 324. 



another. Yet, if she was imprudent and 
ambitious, she was feeling and generous, 
and the misfortunes of a queen whom she 
respected soon made her reject with terror 
the idea of taking her place. The fertile 
pastures of Kent and the gothic halls of 
Hever Castle were by turns the witnesses 
of the mental conflicts this young lady ex- 
perienced. The fear she entertained of 
seeing the queen again, and the idea that 
the two cardinals, her enemies, were plotting 
her ruin, made her adopt the resolution of 
not returning to court, and she shut herself 
up in her solitary chamber. 

Anne had neither the deep piety of a 
Bilney, nor the somewhat vague and mystic 
spirituality observable in Margaret of Va- 
lois ; it was not feeling Avhich prevailed in 
her religion, it was knowledge, and a horror 
of superstition and pharisaism. Her mind 
required light and activity, and at that 
time she sought in reading the consolations 
so necessary to her position. One day she 
opened one of the books prohibited in Eng- 
land, which a friend of the Reformation 
had given her : The Obedience of a Christian 
Man. Its author was William Tyndale, 
that invisible man whom Wolsey's agents 
were hunting for in Brabant and Germany, 
and this was a recommendation to Anne. 
" If thou believe the promises," she read, 
"then God's truth justifieth thee; that is, 
forgiveth thy sins and sealeth thee with his 
Holy Spirit. If thou have true faith, so 
seest thou the exceeding and infinite love 
and mercy which God hath shown thee 
freely in Christ : then must thou needs love 
again : and love cannot but compel thee to 
work. If when tyrants oppose thee thou 
have power to confess, then art thou sure 
that thou art safe. 1 If thou be fallen from 
the way of truth, come thereto again and 
thou art safe. Yea, Christ shall save thee, 
and the angels of heaven shall rejoice at 
thy coming." 2 These words did not change 
Anne's heart, but she marked with her nail, 
as was her custom, 3 other passages which 
struck her more, and which she desired to 
point out to the king if, as she hoped, she 
was ever to meet him again. She believed 
that the truth was there, and took a lively 
interest in those whom W r olsey, Henry, and 
the pope were at that time persecuting. 

Anne was soon dragged from these pious 
lessons, and launched into the midst of a 
world full of dangers. Henry, convinced 
that he had nothing to expect henceforward 
from Campeggio, neglected those proprie- 
ties which he had hitherto observed, and 
immediately after the adjournment ordered 
Anne Boleyn to return to court ; he restored 
her to the place she had formerly occupied, 
and even suiTOunded her with increased 
splendour. Every one saw that Anne, in 
the king's mind, was queen of England , 



Tyndale and Fryth's Works, vol. i. p. 295. 
! Tyndale's Works, vol. i. p. 300. 
'• Wyatt's Memoirs, p. 438. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'35 



and a powerful party was formed around 
her which proposed to accomplish the de- 
finitive ruin of the cardinal. 

After her return to court, Anne read 
much less frequently The Obedience of a 
Christian Man and the Testament of Jesus 
Christ, Henry's homage, her friends' in- 
trigues, and the whirl of festivities, bade 
fair to stifle the thoughts which solitude 
had aroused in her heart. One day having 
left Tyndale's book in a window, Miss 
Gainsford, a fair young gentlewoman' at- 
tached to her person, took it up and read 
it. A gentleman of handsome mien, cheer- 
ful temper, and extreme mildness, named 
George Zouch, also belonging "to Anne's 
household, and betrothed to Miss Gains- 
ford, profiting by the liberty his position 
gave him, indulged sometimes in " love 
tricks." 2 On one occasion when George 
desired to have a little talk with her, he was 
annoyed to find her absorbed by a book of 
whose contents he knew nothing ; and ta- 
king advantage of a moment when the 
young lady had turned away her head, he 
laughingly snatched it from her. Miss 
Gainsford ran after Zouch to recover her 
book ; but just at that moment she heard 
her mistress calling her, and she left George, 
threatening him with her finger. 

As she did not return immediately, 
George withdrew to his room, and opened 
the volume : it was the Obedience of a 
Christian Man. He glanced over a few 
lines, then a few pages, and at last read 
the book through more than once. He 
seemed to hear the voice of God. " I feel 
the Spirit of God," he said, " speaking in 
my heart as he has spoken in the heart of 
him who wrote the book." 3 The words 
which had only made a temporary impres- 
sion on the preoccupied mind of Anne Bo- 
leyn, penetrated to the heart of her equerry 
and converted him. Miss Gainsford, fear- 
ing that Anne would ask for her book, en- 
treated George to restore it to her ; but he 
positively refused, and even the young 
lady's tears failed to make him give up a 
volume in which he had found the life of 
his soul. Becoming more serious, he no 
longer jested as befoi*e ; and when Miss 
Gainsford peremptorily demanded the book 
he was, says the chronicler, " ready to weep 
himself." 

Zouch, finding in this volume an edifica- 
tion -which empty forms and ceremonies 
could not give,' used to carry it with him to 
the king's chapel. Dr. Sampson, the dean, 
generally officiated ; and while the choir 
chanted the service, George would be ab- 
sorbed in his book, where he read : " If 
when thou seest the celebration of the sa- 
crament of the Lord's Supper, thou believ- 
est in this promise of Christ: This is my 
body that is broken for y<>u, and if thou have 
this promise fast in thine heart, thou art 



saved and justified thereby: thou patest his 
body and drinkest his blood. If not, so 
helpeth it thee not, though thou hearest a 
thousand masses in a day ; no more than it 
should help thee in a dead thirst to behold 
a bush at a tavern door, if thou knewest 
not thereby that there was wine within to 
be sold." 1 The young man dwelt urxm 
these words: by faith he ate the body and 
drank the blood of the Son of God. This 
was what was passing in the palace of 
Henry VIII. ; there were saints in the 
household of Csesar. 

"Wolsey, desirous of removing from the 
court everything that might favour the Re- 
formation, had recommended extreme vigi- 
lance to Dr. Sampson, so as to prevent the 
circulation of the innovating books. Ac- 
cordingly, one day when George was in the 
chapel absorbed in his book, the dean, who, 
even while officiating, had not lost sight of 
the young man, called him to him after the 
service, and rudely taking the book from his 
hands, demanded : " What is your name 
and in whose service are you ?" Zouch having 
replied, the dean withdrew with a very an- 
gry look, and carried his prey to the cardinal. 
"When Miss Gainsford heard of this mis- 
hap, her grief was extreme ; she trembled 
at the thought that the Obedience of a 
Christian Man was in Wolsey's hands. Not 
long after this, Anne having asked for her 
book, the young lady fell on her knees, con- 
fessed all, and begged to be forgiven. 2 
Anne uttered not a word of reproach ; her 
quick mind saw immediately the advantage 
she might derive from this affair. " Well," 
said she, " it shall be the dearest book to 
them that ever the dean or cardinal took 
away." 

"The noble lady," as the chronicler 
styles her, immediately demanded an inter- 
view of the king, and on reaching his pre- 
sence she fell at his feet, 3 and begged his 
assistance. " What is the matter Anne ?" 
said the astonished monarch. She told him 
what had happened, and Henry promised 
that the book should not remain in Wol- 
sey's hands. Anne had scarcely quitted 
the royal apartments when the cardinal ar- 
rived with the famous volume, with the in- 
tention of complaining to Henry of certain 
passages which he knew could not fail to 
irritate him, and to take advantage of it 
even to attack Anne, if the king should be 
offended. 4 Henry's icy reception closed 
his mouth ; the king confined himself to 
taking the book, and bowing out the cardi- 
nal. This was precisely what Anne had 
hoped for.. She begged the king to read 
the book, which he promised to do. 

And Henry accordingly shut himself up 
in his closet, and read the Obedience of a 



>trype, 



4 Ibid. p. 172. 



p. 171. 



Ibid. 



1 Tyndale and Fryth'a Works, vol. i. p. 286. 
a She on her knees told it all. Strype, vol. L 
p. 172. 

3 Upon her knees she desireth the king's help 
for ber book. Ibid. 

4 Wyatt'a Memoirs, p. 441. 



786 



HISTORY OF TIIE REFORMATION. 



Christian Man. There were few works 
better calculated to enlighten him, and 
none, after the Bible, that has had more 
influence upon the Beformation in Eng- 
land. Tyndale treated of obedience, " the 
essential principle," as he terms it, " of 
every political or religious community." 
He declaimed against the unlawful power 
of the popes, who usurped the lawful 
authority of Christ and of his Word. He 
professed political doctrines too favourable 
doubtless to absolute power, but cal- 
culated to show that the reformers were 
not, as had been asserted, instigators of re- 
bellion. Henry read as follows : — 

" The king is in the room of God in this 
world. He that resisteth the king, resist- 
eth God; he that judgeth the king, judgeth 
God. He is the minister of God to defend 
thee from a thousand inconveniences ; 
though he be the greatest tyrant in the 
world, yet is he unto thee a great benefit 
of God ; for it is better to pay the tenth 
than to lose all, and to suffer wrong of one 
man than of every man." 1 

These are indeed strange doctrines for 
rebels to hold, thought the king; and he 
continued : — 

" Let kings, if they had leaver [rather] 
be Christians in deed than so to be called, 
give themselves altogether to the wealth 
[well-being] of their realms after the en- 
sample of Jesus Christ ; remembering that 
the people are God's, and not theirs ; yea, 
are Christ's inheritance, bought with his 
blood. The most despised person in his 
realm (if he is a Christian) is equal with 
him in the kingdom of God and of Christ. 
Let the king put off all pride, and become 
a brother to the poorest of his subjects." 2 

It is probable that these words were less 
satisfactory to the king. He kept on read- 
ing : — 

" Emperors and kings are nothing now-a- 
days, but even hangmen unto the pope and 
bishops, to kill whomsoever they condemn, 
as Pilate was unto the scribes and phari- 
sees and high bishops to hang Christ." 3 

This seemed to Henry rather strong lan- 
guage. 

" The pope hath received no other author- 
ity of Christ than to preach God's word. 
Now, this word should rule only, and not 
bishop's decrees or the pope's pleasure. In 
prcesentia majoris cessat potestas minoris, in 
the presence of the greater the less hath 
no power. 4 The pope, against all the doc- 
trine of Christ, which saith, My kingdom is 
not of this world, hath usurped the right of 
the emperor. Kings must make account 
of their doings only to God. 5 No person 
may be exempt from this ordinance of God ; 
neither can the profession of monks and 
friars, or anything that the popes or bish- 



ops can lay for themselves, except them 
from the sword of the emperor or king, if 
they break the laws. For it is written, 
(Rom. xiii.) Let every soul submit himself 
unto the authority of the higher powers." 1 



What excellent readi 



.■lab 



212. 



Tyndale's Works, edited by Russel, vol. i. p. 



Ibid. p. 233. 
Ibid. p. 243. 



3 Ibid. p. 274. 
* Ibid. p. 220. 



Henry, when he had finished : " this is 
truly a book for all kings to read, and for 
me particularly." 2 

Captivated by Tyndale's work, the king 
began to converse with Anne about the 
church and the pope ; and she who had 
seen Margaret of Valois unassumingly en- 
deavour to instruct Francis I. strove in like 
manner to enlighten Henry VIII. She did 
not possess the influence over him she de- 
sired ; this unhappy prince was, to the 
very end of his life, opposed to the evan- 
gelical reformation ; protestants and catho- 
lics have been equally mistaken when they 
have regarded him as being favourable to 
it. " In a short time," says the annalist 
quoted by Strype at the end" of his narra- 
tive, "the king, by the help of this virtuous 
lady, had his eyes opened to the truth. 
He learned to seek after that truth, to ad- 
vance God's religion and glory, to detest 
the pope's doctrine, his lies, his pomp, and 
pride, and to deliver his subjects from the 
Egyptian darkness and Babylonian bonds 
that the pope had brought him and his 
subjects under. Despising the rebellions 
of his subjects and the rage of so many 
mighty potentates abroad, he set forward a 
religious reformation, which, beginning 
with the triple-crowned head, came down 
to all the members of the hierarchy." 
History has rarely delivered a more erro- 
neous judgment. Henry's eyes were never 
opened to the truth, and it was not he who 
made the Reformation. it was accom- 
plished first of all by Scripture, and then 
by the ministry of simple and faithful men 
baptized of the Holy Ghost. 

Yet Tyndale's book and the conduct of 
the legates had given rise in the king's 
mind to new thoughts which he sought 
time to mature. He desired also to con- 
ceal his anger from Wolsey and Campeg- 
gio, and dissipate his spleen, says the 
historian Coilyer ; he therefore gave orders 
to remove the court to the palace of Wood- 
stock. The magnificent park attached to 
this royal residence, in which was the ce- 
lebrated bower constructed (it is said) by 
Henry VII. to conceal the fair Rosamond, 
offered all the charms of the promenade, 
the chase, and solitude. 3 Hence he could 
easily repair to Langley, Grafton, and other 
country-seats. It was not long before the 
entertainments, horse-races, and other ru- 
ral sports began. The world with its plea- 
sures and its grandeur, were at the bottom 



1 Tyndale's Works, p. 213. 

* Strype, i. p. 172. 

3 The letters from the king's secretaries Gardiner 
and Tuke to Wolsey, dated Woodstock, run from 
4th August to 8th September. State Papers, i. p, 
335-347. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



'87 



the idols of Anne Boleyn's heart ; but yet 
she felt a certain attraction for the new 
doctrine, which was confounded in her 
mind with the great cause of all know- 
ledge, perhaps even with her own. More 
enlightened than the generality of women, 
she was distinguished by the superiority 
of her understanding not only over her own 
sex, but even over many of the gentlemen 
of the court. While Catherine, a member 
of the third order of St. Francis, indulged 
in trifling practices, the more intelligent, 
if not the more pious Anne, cared but 
little for amulets which the friars had 
blessed, for apparitions, or visions of angels. 
Woodstock furnished her with an oppor- 
tunity of curing Henry VIII. of the super- 
stious ideas natural to him. There was a 
place in the forest said to be haunted by 
evil spirits ; not a priest or a courtier dared 
approach it. A tradition ran that if a king 
ventured to cross the boundary, he would 
fall dead. Anne resolved to take Henry 
there. Accordingly, one morning she led 
the way in the direction of the place where 
these mysterious powers manifested their 
presence (as it was said) by strange appa- 
ritions ; they entered the wood ; they ar- 
rived at the so much dreaded spot ; all 
hesitated ; but Anne's calmness reassured 
her companions ; they advanced ; they 

found nothing but trees and turf, and, 

laughing at their former terrors, they ex- 
plored every corner of this mysterious re- 
sort of the evil spirits. Anne returned to 
the ^palace, congratulating herself on the 
triumph Henry had gained over his imag- 
inary fears. 1 This prince, who could as 
yet bear with superiority in others, was 
struck with Anne Boleyn's. 

Never too gay nor yet too melancholy, 
A heavenly mind is hers, like angels holy. 
None purer ever soared above the sky, 
mighty marvel, thus may every eye 
Bee of what mouster strange the humble serf am I ; 
Monster indeed, for in her frame divine 
A. woman's form, man's heart, and angel's head 
combine. 2 

These verses of Clement Marot, written 
in honour of Margaret of Yalois, faithfully 
express what Henry then felt for Anne, 
who had been with Marot in the household 
of that princess. Henry's love may per- 
haps have deceived him as to Anne's ex- 
cellencies. 

While the court was thus taking its 
pleasure at Woodstock, Wolsey remained 
in London a prey to the acutest anguish. 
" This avocation to Rome," wrote "he to 



1 Foxe, v. p. 136; Miss Benger's Life of Anne 
Boleyn, p. 299. 

2 Jamais trop gay, ne trop melancolique, 
Elle a au chef un esprit angelique, 

Le plus subtil qui one au ciel vola. 
grand' merveille ! on peut voir par eel a 
Que je suis serf d'un monstre fort etrango : 
Moustre je dy, car pour tout vray elle a 
Corps feminin eoeur d'homme et tete d'ange. 



Gregory Da Casale, " will not only com- 
pletely alienate the king and his realm 
from the apostolic see, but will ruin me 
utterly." 1 This message had hardly reached 
the pope, before the imperial ambassadors 
handed to him the queen's protest, ami 
added in a very significant tone : " If your 
holiness does not call this cause, before 
you the emperor, who is determined to 
bring it to an end, will have recourse to 
other arguments." The same perplexity 
always agitated Clement : Which of the 
two must be sacrificed, Henry or Charles ? 
Anthony de Leyva, who commanded the 
imperial forces, having routed the French 
army, the pope no longer doubted that 
Charles was the elect of Heaven. It was 
not Europe alone which acknowledged this 
prince's authority ; a new world had just 
laid its power and its gold at his feet. The 
formidable priest-king of the Aztecs' had 
been unable to withstand Cortez ; could 
the priest-king of Rome withstand Charles 
V. ? Cortez had returned from Mexico, 
bringing with him Mexican chiefs in all 
their barbarous splendour, with thousands 
of pesos, with gold and silver and emeralds 
of extraordinary size, with magnificent 
tissues and birds of brilliant plumage. He 
had accompanied Charles, who was then 
going to Italy, to the place of embarkation, 
and had sent to Clement VII, costly gifts of 
the precious metals, valuable jewels, and a 
troop of Mexican dancers, buffoons, and 
jugglers, who charmed the pope and the 
cardinal above all things. 2 

Clement, even while refusing Henry's 
prayer, had not as yet granted the empe- 
ror's. He thought he could now resist no 
longer the star of a monarch victorious 
over two worlds, and hastened to enter into 
negotiations with him. Sudden terrors 
still assailed him from time to time : My 
refusal (he said to himself) may perhaps 
cause me to lose England. But Charles, 
holding him in his powerful grasp, com- 
pelled him to submit. Henry's antecedents 
were rather encouraging to the pontiff. 
How could he imagine that a prince, who 
alone of all the monarchs of Europe had 
once contended against the great reformer, 
would now separate from the popedom ? 
On the 6th of July, Clement declared to the 
English envoys that he avoked to Borne 
the cause between Henry VIII. and Cathe- 
rine of Aragon. In other words, this was 
j refusing the divorce. " There are twenty- 
I three points in this case," said the cour- 
I tiers, " and the debate on the first has 
lasted a year ; before the end of the trial, 
the king will be not only past marrying 
but past living." 3 

When he learned that the fatal blow had 



1 Non solum regium animum et totum hoc reg- 
num a sedis apostolical devotione penitus abalien- 
abit, ac me omnino perdet et funditus destruet. 
State Papers, vii. p. 189. 

a Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, book vii. chap.iv. 

1 Fuller, p. ITS. 



788 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



"been struck, Bennet, in a tone of sadness, 
exclaimed : " Alas ! most holy father, by 
this act the Church in England will be ut- 
terly destroyed ; the king declared it to me 
with tears in his eyes/" " Why is it my 
fortune to live in such evil days V replied 
the pope, who, in his turn, began to weep ; 2 
" but I am encircled by the emperor's 
forces, and if I were to please the king, I 
should draw a fearful ruin upon myself and 
upon the church God will be my judge." 

On the 15th of July, Da Casale sent the 
fatal news to the English minister. The 
king was cited before the pope, and in case 
of refusal condemned in a line of 10,000 
ducats. On the 18th of July, peace was 
proclaimed at Rome between the pontiff 
and the emperor, and on the next day 
(these dates are important) Clement, wish- 
ing still to make one more attempt to 
ward off the blow with which the papacy 
was threatened, wrote to Cardinal Wol- 
sey : ' ; My dear son, how can I describe 
to you my affliction ? Show in this matter 
the prudence which so distinguishes you, 
and preserve the king in those kindly feel- 
ings which he has ever manifested towards 
me." 3 A useless attempt! Far from sav- 
ing the papacy, Wolsey was to be wrecked 
along with it. 

Wolsey was thunderstruck. At the very 
time he was assuring Henry of the attach- 
ment of Clement and Francis, both were 
deserting him. The " politic handling " 
failed, which the cardinal had thought so 
skilful, and which had been so tortuous. 
Henry now had none but enemies on the 
continent of Europe, and the Reformation 
was daily spreading over his kingdom. 
Wolsey's anguish cannot be described. His 
power, his pomp, his palaces were all 
threatened ; who could tell whether he 
would even preserve his liberty and his life. 
— A just reward for so much duplicity. 

But the king's wrath was to be greater 
than even the minister's alarm. His terri- 
fied servants wondered how they should 
announce the pontiff's decision. Gardiner, 
who, after his return from Rome, had been 
named secretary of state, went down to 
Langley on the 3d of August to communi- 
cate it to him. What news for the proud 
Tudor ! The decision on the divorce was 
forbidden in England ; the cause avoked to 
Rome, there to be buried and unjustly lost; 
Francis I. treating with the emperor ; 
Charles and Clement on the point of ex- 
changing at Bologna the most striking 
signs of their unchangeable alliance ; the 
services rendered by the king to the pope- 
ttom repaid with the blackest ingratitude ; 
his hope of giving an heir to the crown dis- 
gracefully frustrated ; and last, but not 
least, Henry VIII., the proudest monarch 



1 Burnet, Kecords, ii. p. xxxvii. 

* Ibid. 

* Ut dictum regem in solita erga nos benevolen- 
tha, retinere velis. Ibid. p. xxxviii. 



of Christendom, summoned to Rome to ap- 
pear before an ecclesiastical tribunal it 

was too mueh for Henry. His wrath, a 
moment restrained,, burst forth like a clap 
of thunder, 1 and all trembled around him. 
" Do they presume," he exclaim* i, " to try 
my cause elsewhere than in my own do- 
minions ? I, the king of England, sum- 
moned before an Italian tribunal ! Yes, 

1 will go to Rome, but it shall be with 

such a mighty army that the pope, and his 
priests, and all Italy shall be struck with 
terror. 2 — I forbid the letters of citation to 
be executed," he continued ; " I forbid the 
commission to consider its functions at an 
end." Henry would have desired to tear 
off Campeggio's purple robes, and throw 
this prince of the Reman church into pri- 
son, in order to frighten Clement ; but the 
very magnitude of the insult compelled him 
to restrain himself. He feared above all 
things to appear humbled in the eyes of 
England, and he hoped, by showing mode- 
ration, to hide the affront he had received. 
" Let everything be done," he told Gar- 
diner, " to conceal from my subjects these 
letters of citation, which are so hurtful to 
my glory. Write to Wolsey that I have 
the greatest confidence in his dexterity, and 
that he ought, by good handling, win over 
Campeggio 8 and the queen's counsellors ; 
and above all, prevail upon them at any 
price not to serve these citatory letters on 
me." But Henry had hardly given his in- 
structions when the insult of which he had 
been the object recurred to his imagina- 
tion ; the thought of Clement haunted him 
night and day, and he swore to exact a 
striking vengeance from the pontiff. Rome 
desires to have no more to do with Eng- 
land. England in her turn will cast off 

Rome. Henry will sacrifice Wolsey, Clem- 
ent, and the church ; nothing shall stop his 
fury. The crafty pontiff has concealed his 
game, the king shall beat him openly ; and 
from age to age the popedom shall shed 
tears over the imprudent folly of a Medici. 
Thus after insupportable delays, which 
had fatigued the nation, a thunderbolt fell 
upon England. Court, clergy, and people, 
from whom it was impossible to conceal 
these great events, were deeply stirred, and 
the whole kingdom was in commotion. 
Wolsey, still hoping to ward off the ruin 
impending over both himself and the pa- 
pacy, immediately put in play all that dex- 
terity which Henry had spoken of; he so 
far prevailed that the letters citatorial were 
not served on the king, but only the brief 
addressed to Wolsey by Clement VII. 4 



1 He became much incensed. Herbert, p. 287. 
Supra quam dici potest excanduit. Sanders, p. 50. 

a He would do the same with such a rnayn [great] 
and army royal, as should be formidable to th« 
pope and all Italy. State Papers, vii. p. 194. 
Burnet, Records, p. xxxvii. 

3 Your grace's dexterity by good handling of 

the Cardinal Campeggio. State Papers, vol. i. p. 336. 

* Ibid. p. 313. 






HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



730 



The cardinal, all radiant with this trivial 
success, and desirous of profiting by it to 
raise his credit, resolved to accompany 
Campeggio, who was going down to Grafton 
to take leave of the king. When the coming 
of the two legates was heard of at court, 
the agitation was very great. The dukes 
of Norfolk and Suffolk regarded this pro- 
ceeding as the last effort of their enemy, 
and entreated Henry not to receive him. 
" The king will receive him," said some. 
" The king will not receive him," answered 
others. At length, one Sunday morning, 
it was announced that the prelates were at 
the gates of the mansion. Wolsey looked 
round with an anxious eye for the great 
officers who were accustomed to introduce 
him. They appeared, and desired Campeg- 
gio to follow them. When the legate had 
been taken to his apartments, Wolsey 
waited his turn ; but great was his conster- 
nation on being informed that there was no 
chamber appointed for him in the palace. 
Sir Henry Morris, groom of the stole, 
offered Wolsey the use of his own room, 
and the cardinal followed him, almost sink- 
ing beneath the humiliation h,e had under- 
gone. 1 He made ready to appear before 
the king, and summoning up his courage, 
proceeded to the presence-chamber. 

The lords of the council were standing in 
a row according to their rank ; Wolsey, 
taking off his hat, passed along, saluting 
each of them with affected civility. A 
great number of courtiers arrived, impatient 
to see how Henry would receive his old 
favourite ; and most of them were already 
exulting in the striking disgrace of which 
they hoped to be witnesses. At last the 
king was announced. 

Henry stood under the cloth of state ; 
and Wolsey advanced and knelt before 
him. Deep silence prevailed throughout 

the chamber. To the surprise of all, 

Henry stooped down and raised him up 

with both hands Then, with a pleasing 

smile, he took Wolsey to the window, de- 
sired him to put on his hat., and talked 
familiarly with him. " Then," says Caven- 
dish, the cardinal's gentleman usher, " it 
would have made you smile to behold the 
countenances of those who had laid wagers 
that the king would not speak with him." 

But this was the last ray of evening 
which then lighted up the darkening for- 
tunes of Wolsey : the star of his favour was 
about to set for ever The silence con- 
tinued, for every one desired to catch a few 
words of the conversation. The king 
seemed to be accusing Wolsey, and Wolsey 
to be justifying himself. On a sudden 
Henry pulled a letter out of his bosom, and 
diowing it to the cardinal, said in a loud 
voice: "How can that be? is not this your 
hand ?" It was no doubt the letter which 
Bryan had intercepted. Wolsey replied in 
an under-tone, and seemed to have appeased 

Cavendish, p. 237-245. 



his master. The dinner hour having ar- 
rived, the king left the room, telling Wolsey 
that he would not fail to see him again ; 
the courtiers were eager to make their pro- 
foundest reverences to the cardinal, but he 
haughtily traversed the chamber, and the 
dukes hastened to carry to Anne Boleyn 
the news of this astonishing receytion. 

Wolsey, Campeggio, and the loi ds of the 
council sat down to dinner. The cardinal, 
well aware that the terrible letter would be 
his utter ruin, and that Henry's good 
graces had no other object than to prepare 
his fall, began to hint at his retirement. 
" Truly," said he with a devout air, " tha 
king would do well to send his bishops and 
chaplains home to their cures and bene- 
fices." The company looked at one another 
with astonishment. " Yea, marry," said the 
duke of Norfolk somewhat rudely, " and so 
it were meet for you to do also." — " I 
should be very well contented therewith," 
answered Wolsey, " if it were the king's 
pleasure to license me with leave to go to 
my cure at Winchester." — " Nay, to your 
benefice at York, where your greatest ho- 
nour and charge is," replied Norfolk, who 
was not willing that Wolsey should be liv- 
ing so near Henry. — "'Even as it shall 
please the king," added Wolsey, and 
changed the subject of conversation. 

Henry had caused himself to be an- 
nounced to Anne Boleyn, who (says Caven- 
dish) " kept state at Grafton more like 
a queen than a simple maid." Possessing 
extreme sensibility, and an ardent imagi- 
nation, Anne, who felt the slightest insult 
with all the sensibility of her woman's 
heart, was very dissatisfied with the. king 
after the report of the dukes. Accordingly, 
heedless of the presence of the attendants, 
she said to him : " Sir, is it not a marvel- 
lous thing to see into what great danger 
the cardinal hath brought you with all your 
subjects?" — "How so, sweetheart?" asked 
Henry. Anne continued : " Are you igno- 
rant of the hatred his exactions have drawn 
upon you ? There is not a man in your 
whole realm of England worth one hun- 
dred pounds, but he hath made you his 
debtor." Anne here alluded to the loan 
the king had raised among his subjects. 
" AVell, well," said Henry, who was not 
pleased with these remarks, " I know that 
matter better than you." — " If my lord of 
Norfolk, my lord of Suffolk, my uncle, or 
my father had done much less than the 
cardinal hath done," continued Anne, "they 
would have lost their heads ere this. 5 ' 
— " Then I perceive," said Henry, " you 
are none of his friends." — "No, sir, I have 
no cause, nor any that love you," she 
replied. The dinner was ended ; the king, 
without appearing at all touched, proceeded 
to the presence-chamber, where Wolsey ex- 
pected him. 

After a long conversation, carried on in 
a low tone, the king took Wolsey by the 
hand and led him into his private chamber 



790 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



The courtiers awaited impatiently the ter- 
mination of an interview which might de- 
cide the fate of England ; they walked up 
and down the gallery, often passing before 
the door of the closet, in the hope of catch- 
ing from Wolsey's looks, when he opened 
it, the result of this secret conference ; but 
one quarter of an hour followed another, 
these became hours, and still the cardinal 
did not appear. Henry having resolved 
that this conversation should be the last, 
was no doubt collecting from his minister 
all the information necessary to him. But 
the courtiers imagined he was returning 
into his master's favour; Norfolk, Suffolk, 
Wiltshire, and the other enemies of the 
prime minister, began to grow alarmed, 
and hastened off to Anne Boleyn, who was 
their last hope. 

It was night when the king and Wolsey 
quitted the royal closet; the former ap- 
peared gracious, the latter satisfied ; it was 
always Henry's custom to smile on those 
he intended to sacrifice. " I shall see you 
in the morning," he said to the cardinal 
with a friendly air. Wolsey made a low 
bow, and, turning round to the courtiers, 
saw the king's smile reflected on their 
faces. Wiltshire, Tuke, and even Suffolk, 
were full of civility. " Well," thought he, 
" the motion of such weathercocks as these 
shows me from what quarter the wind of 
favour is blowing." 1 

But a moment after, the wind began to 
change. Men with torches waited for the 
cardinal at the gates of the palace to con- 
duct him to the place where he would have 
to pass the night. Thus he was not to 
sleep beneath the same roof with Henry. 
He was to lie at Euston, one of Empson's 
houses, about three miles off. Wolsey, re- 
pressing his vexation, mounted his horse, 
the footmen preceded him with their links, 
and after an hour's riding along very bad 
roads he reached the lodging assigned 
him. 

He had sat down to supper, to which 
some of his most intimate friends had been 
invited, when suddenly Gardiner was an- 
nounced. Gardiner owed every thing to 
the cardinal, and yet he had not appeared 
before him since his return from Rome. He 
comes no doubt to play the hypocrite and 
the spy, thought Wolsey. But as soon as 
the secretary entered, Wolsey rose, made 
him . a graceful compliment, and prayed 
him to take a seat. " Master Secretary," 
he asked, " where have you been since your 
return from Rome ?" — " I have been fol- 
lowing the court from place to place." — 
" You have been hunting then ? Have you 
any dogs ?" asked the prime minister, who 
knew very well what Gardiner had been 
doing in the king's closet. " A few," re- 
plied Gardiner. Wolsey thought that even 
the secretary was a bloodhound on his 



track. And yet after supper he took Gar- 
diner aside, and conversed with him until 
midnight. He thought it prudent to ne- 
glect nothing that might t .ear up his posi- 
tion ; and Wolsey sounded Gardiner, just 
as he himself had been sounded by Henry 
not long before. 

The same night at Grafton the king gave 
Campeggio a farewell audience, and treated 
him very kindly, " by giving him presents 
and other matters," says Du Bellay. Henry 
then returned to Anne Boleyn. The dukes 
had pointed out to her the importance of 
the present moment ; she therefore asked 
and obtained of Henry, without any great 
difficulty, his promise never to speak to his 
minister again. 1 The insults of the papaey 
had exasperated the king of England, and 
as he could not punish Clement, he took his 
revenge on the cardinal. 

The next morning, Wolsey, impatient to 
have the interview which Henry had pro- 
mised, rode back early to Grafton. But as 
he came near, he met a numerous train of 
servants and sumpter-horses ; and presently 
afterwards Henry, with Anne Boleyn and 
many lords and ladies of the court, came 
riding up. " What does all this mean ?" 
thought the cardinal in dismay. " My 
lord," said the king, as he drew near, " I 
cannot stay with you now. You will return 
to London with cardinal Campeggio." Then 
striking the spurs into his horsey Henry 
galloped off with a friendly salutation. 
After him came Anne Boleyn, who rode 
past Wolsey with head erect, and casting 
on him a proud look. The court proceeded 
to Hartwell Park, where Anne had deter- 
mined to keep the king all day. Wolsey 
was confounded. There was no room for 
! doubt; his disgrace was certain. His head 
J swam, he remained immovable for an in- 
stant, and then recovered himself; but the 
blow he had received had not been unob- 
served by the courtiers, and the cardinal's 
fall became the general topic of conversa- 
tion. 

After dinner, the legates departed, and 
on the second day reached Moor Park, a 
mansion built by Archbishop Neville, one 
of Wolsey's predecessors, who for high 
treason had been first imprisoned at Calais, 
and afterwards at Ham. These recollec- 
tions were by no means agreeable to Wol- 
sey. The next morning the two cardinals 
separated ; Campeggio proceeded to Dover, 
and Wolsey to London. 

Campeggio was impatient to get out of 
England, and great was his annoyance, on 
reaching Dover, to find that the wind was 
contrary. But a still greater vexation was 
in reserve. He had hardly lain down to 
rest himself, before his door was opened, 
and a band of sergeants entered the room. 
The cardinal, who knew what scenes of 



Burnet's Ref. vol. i. p. 59. 



1 Du Bellay to the Grand Master. Le Grand, 
Preuves p. 375 ; also Cavendish. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



791 



this kind meant in Italy, thought he was 
a dead man, 1 and fell trembling at his 
chaplain's feet begging for absolution. 
Meantime the officers opened his luggage, 
broke into his chests, scattered his pro- 
perty about the floor, and even shook out 
his clothes. 2 

Henry's tranquillity had not been of 
long duration. "Campeggio is the bearer 
of letters from Wolsey to Rome," whis- 
pered some of the courtiers ; " who knows 
but they contain treasonable matter ?" 
" There is, too, among his papers the fa- 
mous decretal pronouncing the divorce," 
said one ; " if we had but that document 
it would finish the business." Another 
affirmed that Campeggio " had large trea- 
sure with him of my lord's (Wolsey's) to 
be conveyed in great tuns to Rome," 3 whi- 
ther it was surmised the cardinal of York 
would escape to enjoy the fruits of his trea- 
son.- " It is certain," added a third, " that 
Campeggio, assisted by Wolsey, has been 
able to procure your majesty's correspon- 
dence with Anne Boleyn, and is carrying 
it away with him." Henry, therefore, sent 
a messenger after the nuncio, with orders 
that his baggage should be thoroughly 
searched. 

Nothing was found, neither letters, nor 
bull, nor treasures. The bull had been de- 
stroyed ; the treasures Wolsey had never 
thought of intrusting to his colleague ; and 
the letters of Anne and Henry, Campeggio 
had sent on before by his son Rodolph, and 
the pope was stretching out his hands to 
receive them, proud, like his successors, 
of the robbery committed by two of his 
legates. 

Campeggio being reassured, and seeing 
that he was neither to be killed nor robbed, 
made a great noise at this act of violence, 
and at the insulting remarks which had 
given rise to it. "I will not leave Eng- 
land," he caused Henry to be informed, 
" until I have received satisfaction." " My 
lord forgets that he is legate no longer," 
replied the king, " since the pope has 
withdrawn his powers ; he forgets, besides, 
that, as bishop of Salisbury, he is my sub- 
ject; as for the remarks against him and 
the cardinal of York, it is a liberty the 
people of England are accustomed to take, 
and which I cannot put down." Campeg- 
gio, anxious to reach France, was satisfied 
with these reasons, and soon forgot all his 
sorrows at the sumptuous table of Cardinal 
IHiprat. 

Wolsey was not so fortunate. He had 
seen Campeggio go away, and remained 
like a wrecked seaman thrown on a desert 
isle, who has seen depart the only friends 
capable of giving him any help. His ne- 



1 Le Grand, vol. ii. p. 156. Life of Campeggio, 
by Sigonius. 

2 Sarcinas cxcuti jussit Sanders, p. 51. 

1 Cavendish, p 246. See also Le Grand, ii. p. 
253. 

51 



cromancy had forewarned him that this 
would be a fatal year. 1 The angel of the 
maid of Kent had said : " Go to the cardi- 
nal and announce his fall, because he has 
not done what you had commanded him to 
do." 2 Other voices besides hers made 
themselves heard : the hatred of the nation, 
the contempt of Europe, and, above all, 
Henry's anger, told him that his hour was 
come. It was true the pope said that he 
would do all in his power to save him ; 3 
but Clement's good offices would only ac- 
celerate his ruin. Du Bellay, whom the 
people believed to be the cardinal's accom- 
plice, bore witness to the change that had 
taken place in men's minds. While pass- 
ing on foot through the streets of the capi- 
tal, followed by two valets, " his ears were 
so filled with coarse jests as he went along," 
he said, "that he knew not which way to 
turn." 4 " The cardinal is utterly undone," 
he wrote, " and I see not how he can es- 
cape." The idea occurred to Wolsey, from 
time to time, to pronounce the divorce him- 
self; but it was too late. He was even told 
that his life was in danger. Fortune, blind 
and bald, her foot on the wheel, fled rapidly 
from him, nor was it in his power to stop 
her. And this was not all : after him (he 
thought) there was no one who could up- 
hold the church of the pontiffs in England. 
The ship of Rome was sailing on a stormy 
sea among rocks and shoals ; Wolsey at the 
helm looked in vain for a port of refuge ; 
the vessel leaked on every side ; it was 
rapidly sinking, and the cardinal uttered a 
cry of distress. Alas ! he had desired to 
save Rome, but Rome would not have 
it so. 

As Wolsey's star was disappearing in 
the West in the midst of stormy clouds, 
another was rising in the East, to point out 
the way to save Britain. Men, like stars, 
appear on the horizon at the command of 
God. 

On his return from Woodstock to Green- 
wich, Henry stopped full of anxiety at 
Waltham in Essex. His attendants were 
lodged in the houses of the neighbourhood. 
Fox, the almoner, and Secretary Gardiner, 
were quartered on a gentleman named 
Cressy, at Waltham Abbey. When supper 
was announced, Gardiner and Fox were 
surprised to see an old friend enter the 
room. It was Thomas Cranmer, a Cam- 
bridge doctor. " What ! is it you ?" they 
said, "and how came you here?" "-Our 
host's wife is my relation," replied Cranmer, 
" and as the epidemic is raging at Cam- 
bridge, I brought home my friend's sons, 
who are under my care." As this new 
personage is destined to play an important 

1 He had learnt of his necromancy that this 
would be a jeopardous year for him. Tyndale'a 
Works, i. p. 480. 

3 Strype, i. p. 373. 

3 Herbert, p. 289. 

* Du Bellay to Montmorency, 12th October. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 365. 



792 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



part in the history of the Reformation, it 
may be worth our while to interrupt our 
narrative, and give a particular account of 
him. 

Cranmer was descended from an ancient 
family, which came into England, as is 
generally believed, with the conqueror. 
He was born at Aslacton in Nottingham- 
shire on the 2d July 1489, six years after 
Luther. His early education had been 
very much neglected ; his tutor, an igno- 
rant and severe priest, had taught him 
little else than patiently to endure severe 
chastisement — a knowledge destined to be 
very useful to him in after-life. His father 
was an honest country gentleman, who cared 
for little besides hunting, racing, and mili- 
tary sports. At this school, the son learned 
to ride, to handle the bow and the sword, 
to fish, and to hawk ; and he never entirely 
neglected these exercises, which he thought 
essential to his health. Thomas Cranmer 
was fond of walking, of the charms of na- 
ture, and of solitary meditations ; and a 
hill, near his father's mansion, used often 
to be shown where he was wont to sit, gaz- 
ing on the fertile country at his feet, fixing 
his eyes on the distant spires, listening with 
melancholy pleasure to the chime of the 
bells, and indulging in sweet contempla- 
tions. About 1504, he was sent to Cam- 
bridge, where " barbarism still prevailed," 
says an historian. 1 His plain, noble, and 
modest air conciliated the affections of 
many, and, in 1510, he was elected fellow 
of Jesus College. Possessing a tender heart, 
he became attached, at the age of twenty- 
three, to a young person of good birth, 
(says Foxe,) or of inferior rank, as other 
writers assert. Cranme" was unwilling to 
imitate the disorderly lives of his fellow- 
students, and although marriage would 
necessarily close the career of honours, he 
married the young lady, resigned his fel- 
lowship (in conformity with the regulations) 
and took a modest lodging at the Dolphin. 
He then began to study earnestly the most 
remarkable writings of the times, polishing, 
it has been said, his old asperity on the 
productions of Erasmus, of Lefevre of Et- 
aples, and other great authors ; every day 
his crude understanding received new bril- 
liancy. 2 He then began to teach in Buck- 
ingham (afterwards Magdalene) College, 
and thus provided for his wants. 

His lessons excited the admiration of en- 
lightened men, and the anger of obscure 
ones, who disdainfully called him (because 
of the inn at which he lodged) the hostler. 
11 This name became him well," said Fuller, 
"for in his lessons he roughly rubbed the 
backs of the friars, and famously curried 
the hides of the lazy priests." His wife 
dying a year after his marriage, Cranmer 



1 Faeda barbaries. Melch. Adam. Vitse Theol. i. 

2 Ad eos non aliter quara ad cotem, quotidie 
priscain detergebat scabritiem. Melch. Adam. 
Vitse Theol. i. 



was re-elected fellow of his old college, and 
the first writing of Luther's having appeared 
he said : " I must know on which side the 
truth lies. There is only one infallible 
source, the Scriptures ; in them I will seek 
for God's truth." 1 And for three years he 
constantly studied the holy books, 2 without 
commentary, without human theology, and 
hence he gained the name of the Scriptvrist. 
At last his eyes were opened ; he saw the 
mysterious bond which unites all biblical 
revelations, and understood the complete- 
ness of* God's design. Then without for- 
saking the Scriptures, he studied all kinds 
of authors. 3 He was a slow reader,- but a 
close observer ; 4 he never opened a book 
without having a pen in his hand. 5 He did 
not take up with any particular party or 
age ; but possessing a free and philosophic 
mind, he weighed all opinions, in the bal- 
ance of hio judgment, 6 taking the Bible for 
his standard. 

Honours soon came upon him ; he was 
made successively doctor of divinity, pro- 
fessor, university preacher, and examiner. 
He used to say to the candidates for the 
ministry : " Christ sendeth his hearers to 
the Scriptures, and not to the church." 7 
" But," replied the monks, " they are so 
difficult." " Explain the obscure passages 
by those which are clear," rejoined the pro- 
fessor. " Scripture by Scripture. Seek, 
pray, and he who has the key of David will 
open them to you." The monks, affrighted 
at this task, withdrew bursting with anger-, 
and erelung Cranmer's name was a name 
of dread in every convent. Some, however, 
submitted to the labour, and one of them, 
Doctor Barrett, blessed God that the exami- 
ner had turned him back ; " for," said he, 
" I found the knowledge of God in the holy 
book he compelled me to study." Cranmer 
toiled at the same work as Latimer, Staf- 
ford, and Bilney. 

Fox and Gardiner having renewed ac- 
quaintance with their old friend at Waltham 
Abbey, they sat down to table, and both the 
almoner and the secretary asked the doctor 
w T hat he thought of the divorce. It was the 
usual topic of conversation, and not long 
before, Cranmer had been named member 
of a commission appointed to give their 
opinion on this affair. " You are not in 
the right path," said Cranmer to his friends ; 
" you should not cling to the decisions of 
the church. There is a surer and a shorter 
way which alone can give peace to the 



1 Behold the very fountains. Foxe, viii. p. 4. 
a Totum triennium Sacrae Scripturae monumentis 
perlegendis impendit. M. Adam. p. 1. 

3 Like a merchant greedy of all good things, 
Foxe, viii. p. 4. 

4 Tardus quidem lector sed vehemens observator. 
M. Adams, p. 1. 

5 Sine calamo nunquam ad scriptoris cujusquam 
librum accessit. Ibid. 

6 Omnes omnium opiniones tacito secum judiciu 
trutinabat. Ibid. 

1 Cranmer's Works, p. 17, 18. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



793 



king's conscience." " What is that?" they 
both asked. " The true question is this," 
replied Cranmer: " What says the word of 
God f If God has declared a marriage of 
this nature bad, the pope cannot make it 
good. Discontinue these interminable Ro- 
man negotiations. When God has spoken, 
man must obey." " But how shall we know 
what God. has said?" "Consult the uni- 
versities ; they will discern it more surely 
than Rome." 

This was a new view. The idea of con- 
sulting the universities had been acted 
upon before ; but then their own opinions 
only had been demanded ; now, the question 
was simply to know what God says in his 
word. " The word of God is above the 
church," was the principle laid down by 
Cranmer, and in that principle consisted 
the whole of the Reformation. The conver- 
sation at the supper-table of Waltham was 
destined to be one of those secret springs 
which an invisible Hand sets in motion for 
the accomplishment of his great designs. 
The Cambridge doctor, suddenly trans- 
ported from his study to the foot of the 
throne, was on the point of becoming one 
of the principal instruments of Divine wis- 
dom. 

The day after this conversation, Fox and 
Gardiner arrived at Greenwich, and the 
king summoned them into his presence the 
same evening. " Well, gentlemen," he 
said to them, " our holidays are over; what 
shall we do now? If we still have recourse 
to Rome, God knows when we shall see the 
end of this matter." 1 " It will not be ne- 
cessary to take so long a journey," said 
Fox ; " we know a shorter and surer way." 
; 'What is it?" asked the king eagerly. 
" Doctor Cranmer, whom we met yesterday 
at Waltham, thinks that the Bible should 
be the sole judge in your cause." Gardiner, 
vexed at his colleague's frankness, desired 
to claim all the honour of this luminous 
idea for himself ; but Henry did not listen 
to him. " Where is Doctor Cranmer ?" said 
he, much affected. 2 " Send, and fetch him 
immediately. Mother of God! (this was 
his customary oath) this man has the right 
sow by the ear. 3 If this had only been sug- 
gested to me two years ago, what expense 
and trouble I should have been spared !" 

Cranmer had gone into Nottinghamshire ; 
a messenger followed and brought him 
back. "Why have you entangled me in 
this affair?" he said to Fox and Gardiner. 
" Pray make my excuse to the king." 
Gardiner, who wished for nothing better, 
promised to do all he could ; but it was of 
no use. " I will have no excuses," said 
Henry. The wily courtier was obliged to 
make up his mind to introduce the ingenu- 
ous and upright man, to whom that station, 
which he himself had so coveted, was one 



1 (tchI knows and not I. Foxe, viii. 7. 
,; Burnet, vol. i. p. 60. 
' Ibid. 



day to belong. Cranmer and Gardiner 
went down to Greenwich, both alike dis- 
satisfied. 

Cranmer was then forty years of age, 
with pleasing features, and' mild and win- 
ning eyes, in which the candour of his 
soul seemed to be reflected. Sensible to 
the pains as well as to the pleasures of the 
heart, he was destined to be more exposed 
than other men to anxieties and falls ; a 
peaceful life in some remote parsonage 
would have been more to his taste than the 
court of Henry the VIII. Blessed with a 
generous mind, unhappily he did not pos- 
sess the firmness necessary in a public 
man ; a little stone sufficed to make him 
stumble. His excellent understanding 
showed him the better way ; but his great 
timidity made him fear the more danger- 
ous. He was rather too fond of relying 
upon the power of men, and made them 
unhappy concessions with too great facili- 
ty. If the king had questioned him, he 
would never have dared advise so bold a 
course as that he had pointed out ; the ad- 
vice had slipped from him at table during 
the intimacy of familiar conversation. Yet 
he was sincere, and after doing every thing 
to escape from the consequences of his 
frankness, he was ready to maintain the 
opinion he had given. 

Henry, perceiving Cranmer's timidity, 
graciously approached him. " What is 
your name ?" said the king, endeavouring 
to put him at ease. "Did you not meet 
my secretary and almoner at Waltham ?" 
And then he added: "Did you not speak 
to them of my great affair ?" — repeating 
the words ascribed to Cranmer. The lat- 
ter could not retreat : " Sir, it is true, I did 
say so." " I see," replied the king with 
animation, " that you have found the breach 
through which we must storm the fortress. 
Now, sir doctor,I beg you, and as you are my 
subject I command you, to lay aside every 
other occupation, and to bring my cause to 
a conclusion in conformity with the ideas 
you have put forth. All that I desire to 
know is, whether my marriage is contrary 
to the laws of God or not. Employ all 
your skill in investigating the subject, and 
thus bring comfort to my conscience as well 
as to the queen's." 1 

Cranmer was confounded ; he recoiled 
from the idea of deciding an affair on which 
depended, it might be, the destinies of the 
nation, and sighed after the lonely fields of 
Aslacton. But grasped by the vigorous 
hand of Henry, he was compelled to ad- 
vance. " Sir," said he, " pray intrust this 
matter to doctors more learned than I am.'' 
"I am very willing," answered the king, 
" but I desire that you will also give me 
your opinion in writing." And then sum- 
moning the earl of Wiltshire to his pres- 
ence, he said to him: "My lord, you will 

1 For the discharging of both our consciences. 
Foxe, viii. p. S. 



'94 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



receive Doctor Cranmer into your house at 
Durham Place, and let him have all neces- 
sary quiet to compose a report for which I 
have asked him." After this precise com- 
mand, which admitted of no refusal, Henry 
withdrew. 

In this manner was Cranmer introduced 
by the king to Anne Boleyn's father, and 
not, as some Romanist authors have asser- 
ted, by Sir Thomas Boleyn to the king. 1 
Wiltshire conducted Cranmer to Durham 
House (now the Adelphi in the Strand), 
and the pious doctor on whom Henry had 
imposed these quarters, soon contracted a 
close friendship with Anne and her father, 
and took advantage of it to teach them the 
value of the divine word, as the pearl of 
great price. 2 Henry, while profiting by the 
address of a Wolsey and a Gardiner, paid 
little regard to the men ; but he respected 
Cranmer, even when opposed to him in 
opinion, and until his death placed the 
learned doctor above all his courtiers and 
all his clerks. The pious man often suc- 
ceeds better even with the great ones of 
this world, than the ambitious and in- 
triguing. 

While Cranmer was rising notwithstand- 
ing his humility, Wolsey was falling des- 
pite his stratagems. The cardinal still gov- 
erned the kingdom, gave instructions to 
ambassadors, negotiated with princes, and 
filled his sumptuous palaces with his haugh- 
tiness. The king could not make up his 
mind to turn him off; the force of habit, 
the need he had of him, the recollection of 
the services Henry had received from him, 
pleaded in his favour. Wolsey without the 
seals appeared almost as inconceivable as 
the king without his crown. Yet the fall 
of one of the most powerful favourites re- 
corded in history was inevitably approach- 
ing, and we must now describe it. 

On the 9th of October, after the Michael- 
mas vacation, Wolsey, desirous of showing 
a bold face, went and opened the high court 
of chancery with his accustomed pomp ; but 
he noticed, with uneasiness, that none of 
the king's servants walked before him, as 
they had been accustomed to do. He pre- 
sided on the bench with an inexpressible 
depression of spirits, and the various mem- 
bers of the court sat before him with an ab- 
sent air ; there was something gloomy and 
solemn in this sitting, as if all were taking 
part'in a funeral ; it was destined indeed to 
be the last act of the cardinal's power. 
Some days before (Foxe says on the 1st of, 
October) the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, 
with other lords of the privy-council, had 
gone down to Windsor, and denounced to 
the king Wolsey's unconstitutional relations 
with the pope, his usurpations, " his robbe- 
ries, and the discords, sown by his means 

1 Sanders, p. 57 ; Lingard, vol. vi. chap. iii. 
Compare Foxe, vol. viii. p. 8. 

2 Teque nobilis illius margaritee desiderio teneri. 
Erasm. Epp. p. 1754. 



! between Christian princes." 1 Such motives 

| would not have sufficed ; but Henry had 

| stronger. Wolsey had not kept any of his 

j promises in the matter of the divorce ; it 

! would even appear that he had advised the 

pope to excommunicate the king, and thus 

| raise his people against him. 2 This enor- 

j mity was not at that time known by the 

I prince ; it is even probable that it did not 

take place until later. But Henry knew 

enough, and he gave his attorney-general, 

Sir Christopher Hales, orders to prosecute 

Wolsey. 

Whilst the heart-broken cardinal was dis- 
playing his authority for the last time in 
the court of chancery, the attorney-general 
was accusing him in the king's bench for 
having obtained papal bulls conferring on 
him a jurisdiction which encroached on the 
royal power ; and calling for the applica- 
tion of the penalties of prannunire. The 
two dukes received orders to demand the 
seals from Wolsey ; and the latter, informed 
of what had taken place, did not quit his 
palace on the 10th, expecting every mo- 
ment the arrival of the messengers of the 
king's anger ; but no one appeared. 

The next day the two dukes arrived : "It 
is the king's good pleasure," said they to 
the cardinal, who remained seated m his 
arm-chair, " that you give up the broad seal 
to us and retire to Esher" (a country-seat 
near Hampton Court). Wolsey, whose 
presence of mind never failed him, de- 
manded to see the commission under which 
they were acting. "We have our orders 
from his majesty's mouth," said they.— 
" That may be sufficient for you," replied 
the cardinal, " but not for me. The great seal 
of England was delivered to me by the 
hands of my sovereign ; I may not deliver 
it at the simple word of any lord, unless 
you can show me your commission." Su£ 
folk broke out into a passion, but Wolsey re- 
mained calm, and the two dukes returned 
to Windsor. This was the cardinal's last 
triumph. 

The rumour of his disgrace created an 
immense sensation at court, in the city, and 
among the foreign ambassadors. Du Bellay 
hastened to York Place (Whitehall) to con- 
template this great ruin and console his un- 
happy-friend. He found Wolsey, with de- 
jected countenance and lustreless eyes, 
" shrunk to half his wonted size," wrote 
the ambassador to Montmorency, " the 
greatest example of torture which was ever 
beheld." Wolsey desired " to set forth his 
case" to him ; his thoughts were confused, 
his language broken, " for heart and tongue 
both failed him entirely ;" he burst into 
tears. The ambassador regarded him with 
compassion: "Alas!" thought he, "his 
enemies cannot but feel pity for him." At 
last the unhappy cardinal recovered his 

1 Du Bellay to Montmorency, 22d October. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 377 
4 Ranke, Deutsche Geschichte, iii. p. 14C 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



r95 



speech, but only to give way to despair. 
*' I desire no more authority," he exclaimed, 
" nor the pope's legation, nor the broad seal 

of England 1 am ready to give up every 

thing, even to my shirt. 1 . . . .1 can live in a 
hermitage, provided the king does not hold 
me in disgrace." The ambassador •" did all 
he could to comfort him," when Wolsey, 
catching at the plank thrown out to him, 
exclaimed : " Would that the king of 
France and maclame might pray the king 
to moderate his anger against me. But 
above all," he added in alarm, " take care 
the king never knows that I have solicited 
this of you." Du Bellay wrote indeed to 
France, that the king and madame alone 
could " withdraw their affectionate servant 
from the gates of hell ;" and Wolsey being 
informed of these despatches, his hopes re- 
covered a little. But this bright gleam did 
not last long. 
- On Sunday the 17th of October, Norfolk 
and Suffolk reappeared at Whitehall, ac- 
companied by Fitzwilliam, Taylor, and 
Gardiner, Wolsey's former dependant. It 
was six in the evening ; they found the 
cardinal in an upper chamber, near the 
great gallery, and presented the king's 
orders to him. Having read them, he 
said: "I am happy to obey his majesty's 
commands ;" then, having ordered the great 
seal to be brought him, he took it out of 
the white leather case in which he kept it, 
and handed it to the dukes, who placed it 
in a box, covered with crimson velvet,>and 
ornamented with the arms of England, 2 
ordered Gardiner to seal it up with red 
wax, and gave it to Taylor to convey to the 
king. Wolsey was thunderstruck ; he was 
to drink the bitter cup even to the dregs : 
he was ordered to leave his palace forth- 
with, taking with him neither clothes, 
linen, nor plate ; the dukes had feared 
that he would convey away his treasures. 
Wolsey comprehended the greatness of his 
misery ; he found strength however to say : 
" Since it is the king's good pleasure to 
take my house and all it contains, 1 am con- 
tent to retire to Esher." The dukes left 
him. 

Wolsey remained alone. This astonish- 
ing man, who had risen from a butcher's 
shop to the summit of earthly greatness — 
who, for a word that displeased him, sent 
his master's most faithful servants (Pace 
for instance) to the Tower, and who had 
governed England as if he had been its 
monarch, and even more, for he had go- 
verned without a parliament-— was driven 
out, and thrown as it were, upon a dunghill. 
A sudden hope flashed like lightning 
through his mind ; perhaps the magnificence 
of the spoils would appease Henry. Was 
not Esau pacified by Jacob's present ? Wol- 



I sey summonod his officers : " Set tables in 
the great g-allery," he said to them, " and 
place on them all I have intrusted to your 
care, in order to render me an account." 
These orders were executed immediately. 
The tables were covered with an immense 
quantity of rich stuffs, silks and velvets of 
all colours, costly furs, rich copes and 
other ecclesiastical vestures ; the walls 
were hung with cloth of gold and silver, 
and webs of a valuable stuff named baudy- 
kin, 1 from the looms of Damascus, and 
with tapestry representing scriptural sub- 
jects or stories from the old romances of 
chivalry. The gilt chamber and the coun- 
cil chamber, adjoining the gallery, were 
both filled with plate, in which the gold 
and silver were set with pearls and precious 
stones ; these articles of luxury were so 
abundant that basketfuls of costly plate, 
which had fallen out of fashion, were 
stowed away under the tables. On every 
table was an exact list of the treasures 
with which it was loaded, for the most per- 
fect order and regularity prevailed in the 
cardinal's household. Wolsey cast a glance 
of hope upon this wealth, and ordered his 
officers to deliver the whole to his majesty. 

He then prepared to leave his magnifi- 
cent palace. That moment, of itself so 
sad, was made sadder still by an act of 
affectionate indiscretion. " Ah, my lord," 
said his treasurer, Sir William Gascoigne, 
moved even to tears, " your grace will be 
sent to the tower." This was too much for 

Wolsey : to go and join his victims ! 

He grew angry, and exclaimed: "Is this 
the best comfort you can give your master 
in adversity? I would have you and all 
such blasphemous reporters know that it is 
untrue." 

It was necessary to depart ; he put round 
his neck a chain of gold, from which hung 
a pretended relic of the true cross ; this 
was all he took. " Would to God," he ex- 
claimed, as he placed it on, " that I had 
never had any other." This he said, allu- 
ding to the legate's cross which used to be 
carried before him with so much pomp. 
He descended the back stairs, followed by 
his servants, some silent and dejected, 
others weeping bitterly, and proceeded to 
the river's brink, where a barge awaited 
him. But, alas ! it was not alone. The 
Thames was covered with innumerable 
boats full of men and women. The inhab- 
itants of London, expecting to see the car- 
dinal led to the Tower, desired to be pres- 
ent at his humiliation, and prepared to ac- 
company him. Cries of joy hailing his fall 
were heard from every side ; nor were the 
crudest sarcasms wanting. " The butcher's 
dog will bite no more," said some ; " look, 
how he hang-s his head." In truth, the 



'"Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, ' Baldekinum, pannu's omnium ditissimua cuius 
P- 371. utpote stamen ex tilo auri, subtegmen <>x eerico 

a In quadam theca de veluto criiuisino. Ryuier, j toxitur. plumario opere iutertexius. L>ucauge'B 
Act. p. 138 | Glossary. 



796 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



unhappy man, distressed by a sight so new 
to him, lowered those eyes which were 
once so proud, but now were filled with 
bitter tears. This man, who had made all 
England tremble, was then like a withered 
leaf carried along the stream. All his ser- 
vants were moved ; even his fool, William 
Patch, sobbed like the rest. " 0, wavering 
and newfangled multitude," exclaimed 
Cavendish, his gentleman usher. 1 The 
hopes of the citizens were disappointed ; 
the barge, instead of descending the river, 
proceeded upwards in the direction of 
Hampton Court; gradually the shouts died 
away, and the flotilla dispersed. 

The silence of the river permitted Wol- 
sey to indulge in less bitter thoughts ; but 
it seemed as if invisible furies were pursu- 
ing him, now that the people had left him. 
He left his barge at Putney, and mounting 
his mule, though with difficulty, proceeded 
slowly with downcast looks. Shortly after, 
upon lifting his eyes, he saw a horseman 
riding rapidly down the hill towards them. 
" Whom do you think it can be ?" he asked 
of his attendants. " My lord," replied one 
of them, " I think it is Sir Henry Norris." 
A flash of joy passed through Wolsey's 
heart. Was it not Norris, who, of all the 
king's officers, had shown him the most 
respect during his visit to Grafton ? Norris 
came up with them, saluted him respect- 
fully, and said : " The king bids me declare 
that he still entertains the same kindly feel- 
ings towards you, and sends you this ring 
as a token of his confidence." Wolsey re- 
ceived it with a trembling hand : it was | 
that which the king was in the habit of 
sending on important occasions. The car- 
dinal immediately alighted from his mule, 
and kneeling down in the road, raised his 
hands to heaven with an indescribable ex- 
pression of happiness. The fallen man 
would have pulled off his velvet under-cap, 
but unable to undo the strings, he broke 
them, and threw it on the ground. He re- 
mained on his knees bareheaded, praying 
fervently amidst profound silence. God's 
forgiveness had never caused Wolsey so 
much pleasure as Henry's. 

Having finished his prayer, the cardinal 
put on his cap, and remounted his mule. 
" Gentle Norris," said he to the king's mes- 
senger, " If I were lord of a kingdom, the 
half of it would scarcely be enough to re- 
ward, you for your happy tidings ; but I 
have nothing left except the clothes on my 
back." Then taking off his gold chain : 
" Take this," he said, " it contains a piece 
of the true cross. In my happier days I 
would not have parted with it for a thou- 
sand pounds." The cardinal and Norris 
separated : but Wolsey soon stopped, and 
the whole troop halted on the heath. The 
thought troubled him greatly that he had 
nothing to send to the king ; he called Nor- 
ris back, and, looking round him, saw, 



Cavendish, Wolsey, p. 251. 



mounted on a sorry horse, poor William 
Patch, who had lost all his gaiety since his 
master's misfortune. " Present this poor 
jester to the king from me," said Wolsey 
j to Norris; "his buffooneries are a pleasure 
| fit for a prince ; he is worth a thousand 
\ pounds." Patch, offended at being treated 
| thus, burst into a violent passion ; his eyes 
| flashed fire, he foamed at the mouth, he 
! kicked and fought, and bit allwhoapproched 
him ; ] but the inexorable Wolsey, who looked 
j upon him merely as a toy, ordered six of 
' his tallest yeomen to lay hold of him. 
j They carried off the unfortunate creature, 
I who long continued to utter his piercing 
I cries. At the very moment when his mas- 
| ter had had pity on him, Wolsey, like the 
i servant in the parable, had no pity on his 
poor companion in misfortune. 
_ At last they reached Esher. What a re- 
sidence compared with Whitehall ! It 

j was little more than four bare walls. The 
most urgent necessaries were procured 
j from the neighbouring houses, but Wolsey 
| could not adapt himself to this cruel con- 
trast. Besides, he knew Henry VIII. ; he 
I knew that he might send Norris one day 
! with a gold ring, and the executioner the 
next with a rope. Gloomy and dejected, 
] he remained seated in his lonely apart- 
| ments. On a sudden he would rise from 
I his seat, walk hurriedly up and down, 
speak aloud to himself, and then, falling 
back in his chair, he would weep like a 
child. This man, who formerly had shaken 
kingdoms, had been overthrown in the 
twinkling of an eye, and was now atoning 
for his perfidies in humiliation and terror, 
— a striking example of God's judgment. 

During all this time everybody was in 
commotion at court. Norfolk and Suffolk, 
at the head of the council, had informed 
the Star Chamber of the cardinal's dis- 
grace. Henry knew not how to supply his 
place. Some suggested the archbishop of 
Canterbury ; the king would not hear of 
him. " Wolsey," says a French writer, 
"had disgusted the king and all England 
with those subjects of two masters who, 
almost always, sold one to the other. They 
preferred a lay minister." " I verily be- 
lieve the priests will never more obtain it," 
wrote Du Bellay. The name of Sir Thomas 
More was pronounced. He was a layman, 
and that quality, which a few years before 
would, perhaps, have excluded him, was 
now a recommendation. A breath of Pro- 
testantism wafted to the summit of honours 
one of its greatest enemies. Henry thought 
that More, placed between the pope and 
his sovereign, would decide in favour of the 
interests of the throne, and of the indepen- 
dence of England. His choice was made. 

More knew that the cardinal had been 
thrown aside because he was not a suffi- 
ciently docile instrument in the matter of 



1 The poor fool took on, and fired so in such a 
rage. Cavendish, p. 257. 



HIST0R1 Of THE REFORMATION. 



'97 



the divorce. The work required of him 
was contrary to his convictions ; but the 
honour conferred on him was almost un- 
precedented ; very seldom indeed had the 
seals been intrusted to a mere knight. 1 He 
followed the path of ambition and not of 
duty; he showed, however, in after-days 
that his ambition was of no common sort. 
It is even probable that, foreseeing the 
dangers which threatened to destroy the 
papal power in England, More wished to 
make an effort to save it. Norfolk in- 
stalled the new chancellor in the Star 
Chamber. " His majesty," said the duke, 
" has not cast his eyes upon the nobility of 
the blood, but on the worth of the person. 
He desires to show by this choice that there 
are among the laity and gentlemen of Eng- 
land, men worthy to fill the highest offices 
in the kingdom, to which, until this hour, 
bishops and noblemen alone think they 
have a right." 2 The Reformation, which 
restored religion to the general body of the 
church, took away at the same time politi- 
cal power from the clergy. The priests 
had deprived the people of Christian activ- 
ity, and the governments of power ; the 
gospel restored to both what the priests 
had usurped. This result could not but 
be favourable to the interests of religion ; 
the less cause kings and their subjects 
have to fear the intrusion of clerical power 
into the affairs of the world, the more will 
they yield themselves to the vivifying influ- 
ence of faith. 

More lost no time ; never had lord-chan- 
cellor displayed such activity. He rapidly 
cleared off the cases which were in arrear, 
and having been installed on the 26th of 
October, he called on Wolsey's cause on 
the 28th or 29th. " The crown of England," 
said the attorney-general, " has never ac- 
knowledged any superior but God. 3 Now, 
the said Thomas Wolsey, legate a latere, has 
obtained from the pope certain bulls, by 
virtue of which he has exercised since the 
28th of August 1523 an authority deroga- 
tory to his majesty's power, and to the rights 
of his courts of justice. The crown of Eng- 
land cannot be put under the pope ; and we 
therefore accuse the said legate of having 
incurred the penalties of praemunire." 

There can be no doubt that Henry had 
other reasons for Wolsey's disgrace than 
those pointed out by the attorney-general ; 
but England had convictions of a higher 
nature than her sovereign's. Wolsey was 



1 It has been often asserted that Sir Thomas 
More was the first layman to whom the othce of 
chancellor was intrusted: but there were no less 
Uian m'x between a. D. 1342 and 1410; viz. Sir 
Hubert Boucher, knight ; Sir Robert de Thorp, 
»jtnigh< ; Sir R. de la Scrope, knight; Sir M. de la 
Pule ; R. Neville, Earl of Salisbury ; and Sir T. 
Beaufort, knight. 

'- Mote's Life, p. 172. 

s .The crown of England, free at all times, has 
been in no earthly subjection, but immediately 
eul'ject to (lod in all things. Herbert, p. 261. See 
also Articles of Impeachment, $ 1. 



regarded as the pope's accomplice, and tins 
was the cause of tt-e great severity of the 
public officer and ol the people. The car- 
dinal is generally excused by alleging that 
both king and parliament had ratified the 
unconstitutional authority with which Home 
had invested him ; but had not the powers 
conferred on him by the pope produced un- 
justifiable results in a constitutional mo- 
narchy ? Wolsey, as papal legate, had 
governed England without a parliament ; 
and, as if the nation had gone back to the 
reign of John, he had substituted de facto, 
if not in theory, the monstrous system i f 
the famous bull Unain Sarictam 1 for the in- 
stitution of Magna Chart a. The king, and 
even the lords and commons, had connived 
in vain at these illegalities ; the rights of 
the constitution of England remained not 
the less inviolable, and the best of the peo- 
ple had protested against their infringe- 
ment. And hence it was that Wolsey, 
conscious of his crime, " put himself wholly 
to the mercy and grace of the king," 2 and 
his counsel declared his ignorance of the 
statutes he was said to have infringed. We 
cannot here allege, as some have done, the 
prostration of Wolsey's moral powers ; he 
could, even after his fall, reply with energy 
to Henry VIII. When, for instance, the 
king sent to demand for the crown his pa- 
lace of Whitehall, which belonged to the 
see of York, the cardinal answered : " Show 
his majesty from me that I must desire him 
to call to his most gracious remembrance 
that there is both a heaven and a hell ;" 
and when other charges besides those of 
complicity with the papal aggression were 
brought against him, he defended himself 
courageously, as will be afterwards seen. 
If, therefore, the cardinal did not attempt 
to justify himself for infringing the rights 
of the crown, it was because his conscience 
bade him be silent. He had committed one 
of the gravest faults of which a statesman 
can be guilty. Those who have sought to 
excuse him have not sufficiently borne in 
mind that, since the Great Charter, opposi- 
tion to Romish aggression has alwa}"S cha- 
racterized the constitution and government 
of England. Wolsey perfectly recollected 
this ; and this explanation is more honour- 
able to him than that which ascribes his si- 
lence to weakness or to cunning. 

The cardinal was pronounced guilty, and 
the court passed judgment, that by the 
statute of praemunire his property was for- 
feited, and that he might be taken before 
the king in council. England, by sacri- 
ficing a churchman who had placed himself 
above kings, gave a memorable example of 
her inflexible opposition to the encroach- 
ments of the papacy. Wolsey was con- 
founded, and his troubled imagination con- 
jured up nothing but perils on every side. 

1 Since the 13th of Nov. 1302. Ravnold ad aim. 
Uterque ergo gladius est in potestate eeclcsJBd, 
spiritualis scilicet et materialise 

a Cavendish, p. 276. 



793 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



While More was lending himself to the 
condemnation of his predecessor, whose 
friend he had been, another layman of still 
humbler origin was preparing to defend the 
cardinal, and by that very act to become 
the appointed instrument to throw down 
the convents in England, and to shatter 
the secular bonds which united this country 
to the Roman pontiff. 

On the 1st of November, two days after 
Wolsey's condemnation, one of his officers, 
with a prayer-book in his hand, was lean- 
ing against the window in the great hall, 
apparently absorbed in his devotions. 
" Good-morrow," said Cavendish as he 
passed him, on his way to the cardinal for 
his usual morning duties. The person thus 
addressed raised his head, and the gentle- 
man-usher, seeing that his eyes were filled 
with tears, asked him : " Master Cromwell, 
5s my lord in any danger?" — "I think 
not/' replied Cromwell, " but it is hard to 
lose in a moment the labour of a life." In 
his master's fall Cromwell foreboded his 
own. Cavendish endeavoured to console 
him. " God willing, this is my resolution," 
replied Wolsey's ambitious solictor ; " I 
intend this afternoon, as soon as my lord 
has dined, to ride to London, and so go to 
court, where I will either make or mar be- 
fore I come back again." 1 At this moment 
Cavendish was summoned, and he entered 
the cardinal's chamber. 

Cromwell, devoured by ambition, had 
clung to Wolsey's robe in order to attain 
power ; but Wolsey had fallen, and the so- 
licitor, dragged along with him, strove to 
reach by other means the object of his de- 
sires. Cromwell was one of those earnest 
and vigorous men whom God prepares 
for critical times. Blessed with a solid 
judgment and intrepid firmness, he pos- 
sessed a quality rare in every age, and par- 
ticularly under Henry VIII., — fidelity in 
misfortune. The ability by which he was 
distinguished, was not at all times without 
reproach : success seems to have been his 
first thought. 

After dinner Cromwell followed Wolsey 
into his private room : " My lord, permit 
me to go to London, I will endeavour to 
save you." A gleam passed over the car- 
dinal's saddened features. — "Leave the 
room," he said to his attendants. He then 
had a long private conversation with Crom- 
well, 2 at the end of which the latter 
mounted his horse and set out for the 
capital, riding to the assault of power with 
the same activity as he had marched to the 
attack of Rome. He did not hide from 
himself that it would be difficult to procure 
access to the king ; for certain ecclesiastics, 
jealous of Wolsey, had spoken against his 
eolicitor at the time of the secularization 
of the convents, and Henry could not en- 



1 Cavendish, p. 280. 

2 Long communication with my lord in secret. 
Ibid. p. 270. 



dure him. But Cromwell knew that for- 
tune favours the bold, and, carried away 
by his ambitious dreams, he galloped on, 
saying to himself: " One foot in the stirrup, 
and my fortune is made I" 

Sir Christopher Hales, a zealous Roman- 
catholic, entertained a sincere friendship 
for him ; and to this friend Cromwell ap- 
plied. Hales proceeded immediately to the 
palace (2d November) where he found a 
numerous company talking about the cardi- 
nal's ruin. " There was one of his officers," 
said Hales, "who would serve your ma- 
jesty well." — " Who is he?" asked Henry. 
— "Cromwell." — "Do not speak to me of 
that man, I hate him," replied the king 
angrily : l and upon that all the courtiers 
chimed in with his majesty's opinion. This 
opening was not very encouraging: but 
Lord Russell, earl of Bedford, advancing 
to the midst of the group around the kin£, 
said boldly: 2 " Permit me, Sir, to defend a 
man to whom I am indebted for my life. 
When you sent me privately into Italy, 
your majesty's enemies, having discovered 
me at Bologna, would have put me to 
death, had not Thomas Cromwell saved 
me. Sir, since you have now to do with 
the pope, there is no man (I think) in all 
England who will be fitter for your pur- 
pose." — " Indeed !" said the king ; and 
after a little reflection, he said to Hales : 
" Very well then, let your client meet me 
in Whitehall gardens." The courtiers and 
the priests withdrew in great discomfiture. 

The interview took place the same day at 
the appointed spot. " Sir," said Cromwell 
to his majesty, " the pope refuses your 

divorce But why do you ask his con* 

sent ? Every Englishman is master in his 
own house, and why should not you be so 
in England ? Ought a foreign prelate to 
share your power with you? It is true, 
the bishops make oath to your majesty, but 
they make another to the pope immediately 
after, which absolves them from the former. 
Sir, you are but half a king, and we are 
but half your subjects. 3 This kingdom is a 
two-headed monster. Will you bear with 
such an anomaly any longer? What! are 
you not living in an age when Frederick 
the Wise and other German princes have 
thrown off the yoke of Rome ? Do like- 
wise ; become once more a king ; govern 
your kingdom in concert with your lords 
and commons. Henceforward let English- 
men alone have any thing to say in Eng- 
land ; let not your subjects' money be cast 
any more into the yawning gulf of the 
Tiber ; instead of imposing new taxes on 
the nation, convert to the general good 
those treasures which have hitherto only 
served to fatten proud priests ar.d lazy 



1 The king began to detest the mention of him. 
Foxe, v. p. 366. 

2 In a vehement boldness. Ibid. p. 367. 

3 Ibid. See also Apol. Begin. Poli ad Car. i. j. 
120, 121. 



HISTORY 05 THE REFORMATION. 



/99 



friars. Now is the moment for action. 
Rely upon your parliament ; proclaim your- 
self the head of the church in England. 
Then shall you see an increase of glory to 
your name, and of prosperity to your 
people/' 

Never before had such language been 
addressed to a king of England. It was 
not only on account of the divorce that it 
was necessary to break with Rome ; it was, 
in Cromwell's view, on account of the in- 
dependence, glory, and prosperity of the 
monarchy. These considerations appeared 
more important to Henry than those Avhich 
had hitherto been laid before him ; none 
of the kings of England had been so well 
placed as he was to understand them. 
When a Tudor had succeeded to the Saxon, 
Norman, and Plantagenet kings, a man of 
the free race of the Celts had taken on the 
throne of England the place of princes sub- 
missive to the Roman pontiffs. The ancient 
British church, independent of the papacy, 
was ab'out to rise again with this new 
dynasty, and the Celtic race, after eleven 
centuries of humiliation, to recover its 
ancient heritage. Undoubtedly, Henry had 
no recollections of this kind ; but he worked 
in conformity with the peculiar character 
of his race, without being aware of the 
instinct which compelled him to act. He 
felt that a sovereign who submits to the 
pope, becomes, like King John, his vassal ; 
and now, after having been the second in 
his realm, he desired to be the first. 

The king reflected on what Cromwell had 
Baid ; astonished and surprised, he sought j 
to understand the new position which his 
bold adviser had made for him. " Your 
proposal pleases me much/' he said ; " but 
can you prove what you assert?" "Cer- 
tainly," replied this able politician ; "I 
have with me a copy of the oath the bishops 
make to the Roman pontiff." With these 
words he drew a paper from his pocket, and 
placed the oath before the king's eyes. 
Henry, jealous of his authority even to des- 
potism, was filled with indignation, and 
felt the necessity of bringing down that 
foreign authority which dared dispute the 
power with him, even in his own kingdom. 
He drew off his ring and gave it to Crom- 
well, declaring that he took him into his 
service, and soon after made him a member 
of his privy council. England, we may- 
Fay, was now virtually emancipated from 
the papacy. 

Cromwell had -laid the first foundations 
of his greatness. He had remarked the 
path his master had followed, and which 
had led to his ruin, — complicity with the 
pope : and he hoped to succeed byfollowing 
the contrary course, namely, by opposing 
the papacy. He had the king's support, 
but he wanted more. Possessing a clear 
and easy style of eloquence, he saw what 
influence a seat in the great council of the 
nation would give him. It was Bomewhat 
late, for the session began on the next day 



(3d November,) but to Cromwell nothing 
was impossible. The son of his friend. 
Sir Thomas Rush, had been returned to 
parliament ; but the young member re- 
signed his seat, and Cromwell was elected 
in his place. 

Parliament had not met for seven years, 
the kingdom having been governed by a 
prince of the Roman Church. The refor- 
mation of the church, whose regenerating 
influence began to be felt already, was 
about to restore to the nation those ancient 
liberties of which a cardinal had robbed it ; 
and Henry being on the point of taking 
very important resolutions, felt the neces- 
sity of drawing nearer to his people. Every- 
thing betokened that a good feeling would 
prevail between the parliament and the 
crown, and that " the priests would have a 
terrible fright." 1 

While Henry was preparing to attack 
the Roman church in the papal supremacy, 
the commons were getting ready to war 
against the numerous abuses with which 
it had covered England. " Some even 
thought," says Tyndale, "that this as- 
sembly would reform the church, and that 
the golden age would come again." 2 But 
it was not from acts of parliament that the 
Reformation was destined to proceed, but 
solely from the word of God. And yet the 
commons, without touching upon doctrine, 
were going to do their duty manfully in 
things within their province, and the par- 
liament of 1529 may be regarded (Lord 
Herbert of Cherbury observes) as the first 
Protestant parliament of England. 3 " The 
bishops require excessive fines for the pro- 
bates of wills," said Tyndale's old friend, 
Sir Henry Guilford. " As testamentary 
executor to Sir William Compton I had to 
pay a thousand marks sterling." . . . . " The 
spiritual men," said another member, 
would rather see the poor orphans die of 
hunger than give them the lean cow, 
the only thing their father left them." 4 
" Priests," said another, " have farms, tan- 
neries, and warehouses, all over the coun- 
try. In short, the clerks take everything 
from their flocks, and not only give them 
nothing, but even deny them the word of 
God." 

The clergy were in utter consternation. 
The power of the nation seemed to awaken 
in this parliament for the sole purpose of 
attacking the power of the priest. It was 
important to ward off these blows. The 
convocation of the province of Canterbury, 
assembling at Westminster on the 5th of 
November, thought it their duty, in self- 
defence, to reform the most crying abuses. 
It was therefore decreed, on the 12th of 

1 DuBellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 378, 3S0. 

5 Wolsey, i. p. 481. 

3 It was the first step, a great and bold sally 
towards that reformation. Herbert, p. ,'V'O. 

1 Rather than give to them the silly cow, if ho 
, hud but only one. JFuxe, iv. p. 611. 



800 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



November, that the priests should no longer 
keep shops or taverns, play at dice or other 
forbidden games, pass the nightin suspected 
places, be present at disreputable shows, 1 
go about with sporting dogs, or with hawks, 
falcons, or other birds of prey, on their 
fist ; 2 or, finally, hold suspicious intercourse 
with women. 3 Penalties were denounced 
against these various disorders ; they were 
doubled in cases of adultery ; and still fur- 
ther increased in the case of more abomina- 
ble impurities. 4 Such were the laws rendered 
necessary by the manners of the clergy. 

These measures did not satisfy the com- 
mons. Three bills were introduced having 
reference to the fees on the probate of wi^ls, 
mortuaries, pluralities, non-residence, and 
the exercise of secular professions. " The 
destruction of the church is aimed at/' 
exclaimed Bishop Fisher, when these bills 
were carried to the lords, " and if the 
church falls, the glory of the kingdom will 
perish. Lutheranism is making great pro- 
gress amongst us, and the savage cry that 
has already echoed in Bohemia, Down with 
the church, is now uttered by the com- 
mons How does that come about? 

Solely from want of faith. My lords, save 
your country ! save the church !" Sir 
Thomas Audley, the speaker, with a depu- 
tation of thirty members, immediately went 
to Whitehall. " Sir," they said to the 
king, " we are accused of being without 
faith, and of being almost as bad as the 
Turks. We demand an apology for such 
offensive language." Fisher pretended that 
he only meant to speak of the Bohemians ; 
and the commons, by no means satisfied, 
zealously went on with their reforms. 

These the king was resolved to concede ; 
but he determined to take advantage of 
them to present a bill making over to him 
all the money borrowed of his subjects. 
John Petit, one of the members for the city, 
boldly opposed this demand. " I do not 
know other persons' affairs," he said, " and 
I cannot give what does not belong to me. 
But as regards myself personally, I give 
without reserve all that I have lent the 
king." The royal bill passed, and the sat- 
isfied Henry gave his consent to the bills 
of the commons. Every dispensation com- 
ing from Rome, which might be contrary 
to the statutes, was strictly forbidden. The 
bishops exclaimed that the commons were 
becoming schismatical ; disturbances were 
excited by certain priests ; but the clerical 
agitators were punished, and the people, 

1 Quod non exerceant tabernas, nee ludant tax- 
illis vel aliis ludis prohibitis ; quod non pernoctent 
in locis suspectis ; quod non intersint inhonestis 
spectaculis, &c. Convocatio praelatorum. Wilkins, 
Concilia, iii. p. 717. 

a Canes venaticos loris ducere ac accipitres ma- 
nibus. Ibid. p. 723. 

3 Mulierum colioquia suspecta nullatenus ha- 
beant. Ibid. p. 722. 

4 Et in eaeteris carnis spurcitiis poena crescat. 

ibid. p. m. 



when they heard of it, were delighted be- 
yond measure. 

The moment when Henry aimed his first 
blows at Rome was also that in which he 
began to shed the blood of the disciples of 
the gospel. Although ready to throw off 
the authority of the pope, he would not re- 
cognize the authority of Christ ; obedience 
to the Scriptures is, however, the very soul 
of the Reformation. 

The king's contest with Rome had filled 
the friends of Scripture with hope. The 
artisans and tradesmen, particularly those 
who lived near the sea, were almost wholly 
won over to the gospel. " The king is one 
of us," they used to boast ; " he wishes his 
subjects to read the New Testament. Our 
faith, which is the true one, will circulate 
through the kingdom, and by Michaelmas 
next those who believe as we do will be 
more numerous than those of a contrary 
opinion. We are ready, if needs be, to die 
in the struggle." 1 This was indeed to be 
the fate of many. 

Language such as this aroused the cler- 
gy : " The last hour has come," said Stokes- 
ley, who had been raised to the see of Lon- 
don after Tonstall's translation to Durham ; 
"if we would not have Luther's heresy 
pervade the whole of England, we must 
hasten to throw it in the sea." Henry was 
fully disposed to do so ; but as he was not 
on very good terms with the clergy, a man 
was wanted to serve as mediator between 
him and the bishops. He was soon found. 

Sir Thomas More's noble understanding 
was then passing from ascetic practices to 
fanaticism, and the humanist turned into 
an inquisitor. In his opinion the burning 
of heretics was just and necessary. 2 He 
has even been reproached with binding 
evangelical Christians to a tree in his gar- 
den, which he called "the tree of truth," 
and of having flogged them with his own 
hand. 3 More has declared that he never 
gave " stripe nor stroke, nor so much as a 
fillip on the forehead," to any of his reli- 
gious adversaries ; 4 and we willingly credit 
his denial. All must be pleased to think 
that if the author of the Utopia was a severe 
judge, the hand which held one of the most 
famous pens of the sixteenth century never 
discharged the duties of an executioner. 

The bishops led the attack. " We must 
clear the Lord's field of the thorns which 
choke it," said the archbishop of Canter- 
bury to Convocation on the 29th of Novem- 
ber, 1529 ; immediately after which the 
bishop of Bath read to his colleagues the 
list of books that he desired to have con- 
demned. There were a number of works 
by Tyndale, Luther, Melancthon, Zwingle, 



1 The bishop of Norwich to Primate Warham, 
14th May 1530. Cotton MSS. Cleopatra, E. v. 
folio 360 ; Bible Annals, i. p. 256. 

3 More's Works; A Dialogue concerning Here- 
sies, p. 274. 

3 Strype's Mem. vol. i. p. 315 ; Foxe, iv. p. 698. 

* Apology, ch. xxxvi. p. 901, 902. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



801 



CEcolampadius, Pomeranus, Brentius, Bn- 
cer, Jonas, Francis Lambert, Fryth, and 
Fish. The Bible in particular was set 
down. " It is impossible to translate the 
Scripture into English," said one of the pre- 
lates. 2 — " It is not lawful for the laity to 
read it in their mother tongue/' said an- 
other.—" If you tolerate the Bible," added 
a third, " you will make us all heretics." — 
" By circulating the Scriptures," exclaimed 
several, " you will raise up the nation 
against the king." Sir T. More laid the 
bishops' petition before the king, and some 
time after, Henry gave orders by proclama- 
tion that " no one should preach, or write 
any book, or keep any school without his 
bishop's license ; — that no one should keep 
any heretical book in his house ; — that the 
bishops should detain the offenders in pri- 
son at their discretion, and then proceed to 
the execution of the guilty ;— and, finally, 
that the chancellor, the justices of the 
peace, and other magistrates, should aid 
and assist the bishops." 3 Such was the 
cruel proclamation of Henry VIII., " the 
father of the English Reformation." 

The clergy were not yet satisfied. The 
blind and octogenarian bishop of Norwich, 
being more ardent than the youngest of his 
priests, recommenced his complaints. " My 
diocese is accumbered with such as read the 
Bible," said he to the archbishop of Can- 
terbury, "and there is not a clerk from 
Cambridge but savoureth of the frying-pan. 
If this continues any time, they will undo 
us all. We must have greater authority to 
punish them than we have." 

Consequently, on the 24th of May, 1530, 
More, Warham, Tonstall, and Gardiner 
having been admitted into St. Edward's 
chamber at Westminster, to make a report 
to the king concerning heresy, they pro- 
posed forbidding, in the most positive man- 
ner, the New Testament and certain other 
books in which the following doctrines were 
taught : " That Christ has shed his blood 
for our iniquities, as a sacrifice to the 
Father. — Faith only doth justify us. — 
Faith without good works is no little or 
weak faith, it is no faith. — Labouring in 
good works to come to heaven, thou dost 
shame Christ's blood." 4 

Whilst nearly every one in the audience- 
chamber supported the prayer of the peti- 
tion, there were three or four doctors who 
kept silence. At- last one of them, it was 
Latimer, opposed the proposition. Bilney's 
friend was more decided than ever to listen 
to no other voice than God's. " Christ's 
sheep hear no man's voice but Christ's" 
he answered Dr. Redman, who had called 



1 See the catalogue in Wilkins' Concilia, p. 713 
to 720. Wilkins is of opinion (p. 717 note) that 
this document belongs to the year 15:9. There 
are, however, some portions of these btatuta which 
have evident reference to the year following. 

5 Tyndale's Works, vol. i. p. 1. 

3 Foxo, iv. p. 677, 678. 

* Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 728-731. 



upon him to submit to the church ; " trou- 
ble me no more from the talking with the 
Lord my God." 1 The church, in Latimer's 
opinion, presumed to set up its own voice 
in the place of Christ's, and the Reforma- 
tion did the contrary ; this was his abridg- 
ment of the controversy. Being called upon 
to preach during Christmas tide, he had 
censured his hearers because they cele- 
brated the festival by playing at cards, like 
mere worldlings, and then proceeded to lay 
before their eyes Christ's cards, that is to 
say, his laws. 2 Being placed on the Cam- 
bridge commission to examine into the 
question of the king's marriage, he had 
conciliated the esteem of Henry's deputy, 
Doctor Butts, the court physician who had 
presented him to his master, by whose or- 
ders he preached at Windsor. 

Henry felt disposed at first to yield some- 
thing to Latimer. " Many of my subjects," 
said he to the prelates assembled in St. 
Edward's hall, " think that it is my duty to 
cause the Scriptures to be translated and 
given to the people." The discussion im- 
mediately began between the two parties ; s 
and Latimer concluded by asking "that 
the Bible should be permitted to circulate 
freely in English." 4 " But the most part 
overcame the better," he tells us. 5 Henry 
declared that the teaching of the priests was 
sufficient for the people, and was content to 
add, "that he would give the Bible to his 
subjects when they renounced the arrogant 
pretension of interpreting it according to 
their own fancies." " Shun these books," 
cried the priests from the pulpit, " detest 
them, kegp them not in your hands, deliver 
them up to your superiors. 6 Or if you do 
not, your prince, who has received from 
God the sword of justice, will use it to pun- 
ish you." Rome harl every reason to be 
satisfied with Henry VIII. Tonstall, who 
still kept under lock and key the Testaments 
purchased at Antwerp through Packing- 
ton's assistance, had them carried to St. 
Paul's churchyard, where they were pub- 
licly burnt. The spectators retired shaking 
the head, and saying : " The teaching of 
the priests and of Scriptures must be in con- 
tradiction to each other, since the prie6ts 
destroy them." Latimer did more : " "You 
have promised us the word of God," he 
wrote courageously to the king; "perform 
your promise now rather than to-morrow ! 
The day is at hand when you shall give an 
account of your office, and of the blood that 
hath been shed with your sword." 7 Lati- 
mer well knew that by such language he 
hazarded his life ; but that he was ready 
to sacrifice, as he tells us himself. 8 



1 Latimer's Remains, p. 297. 
9 Sermons, p. S. 
3 Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 736. 
* Latimer's Remains, p. 305. ' Ibid. 

K Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 736. 
1 Latimer's Remains, p. 308. 
8 I had rather suffer extreme punishmeut. Ibid, 
p. 298. 



802 



HISTORY OF rilE REFORMATION. 



Persecution soon came. -Just as the sun 
appeared to be rising on the Reformation, 
the storm burst forth. " There was not a 
stone the bishops left unremoved," says the 
chronicler, " any corner unsearched, for the 
diligent execution of the king's proclama- 
tion ; whereupon ensued a grievous perse- 
cution and slaughter of the faithful."' 

Thomas Hitton, a poor and pious minis- 
ter of Kent, used to go frequently to Ant- 
werp to purchase New Testaments. As he 
was returning from one of these expeditions 
in 1529, the bishop of Bochester caused 
him to be arrested at Gravesend, and put to 
the cruelest tortures, to make him deny his 
faith. 2 But the martyr repeated with holy 
enthusiasm : " Salvation cometh by faith 
and not by works, and Christ giveth it to 
whomsoever he willeth." 3 On the 20th of 
February 1530, he was tied to the stake and 
there burnt to death. 4 

Scarcely were Hitton's sufferings ended 
for bringing the Scriptures into England, 
when a vessel laden with New Testaments 
arrived at Colchester. The indefatigable 
Bayfield, who accompanied these books, 
sold them in London, went back to the con- 
tinent, and returned to England in Novem- 
ber ; but this time the Scriptures fell into 
the hands of Sir Thomas More. Bayfield, un- 
dismayed, again visited the Low Countries, 
and soon reappeared, bringing with him 
the New Testament and the works of almost 
all the Reformers. " How cometh it that 
there are so many New Testaments from 
abroad?" asked Tonstall of Packington ; 
" 3'ou promised me that you would bu}- them 
all." " They have printed more since," 
replied the wily merchant ; " and it will 
never be better so long as they have letters 
and stamps [type and dies.] My lord, you 
had better buy the stamps too, and so you 
shall be sure." 5 

Instead of the stamps, the priests sought j 
after Bayfield. The bishop of London could 
not endure this godly man. Having one 
day asked Bainham (who afterwards suf- 
fered martyrdom) whether he knew a sin- 
gle individual who, since the days of the 
apostles, had lived according to the true 
faith in Jesus Christ, the latter answered : 
" Yes, I know Bayfield." 6 Being tracked 
from place to place, he fled from the house of 
his pious hostess, and hid himself at his bind- 
er's, where he was discovered, and thrown 
into the Lollard's tower. 7 

As he entered the prison Bayfield noticed 
a priest named Patmore, pale, weakened 
by suffering, and ready to sink under the 

1 Foxe, vol. iv. p. 679. 

2 Dieted and tormented him secretly. Tyndale's 
Works, vol. i. p. 485. 

3 For the constant and manifest testimony of 
Jesus Christ and of his free grace and salvation. 
Ibid. p. 619. ■ 

4 The bishops murdered him most cruelly. Tyn- 
da!e, vol. i. p. 485. 

'' Foxe, vol. iv. p. 670. 

• Ibid. p. 699. ' Ibid. p. 681. 



ill treatment of his jailers. Patmore won 
over by Bayfield's piety, soon opened his 
heart to him. When rector of Haddam, he 
had found the truth in Wickliffe's writings. 
" They have burnt his bones," he said, " but 
from his ashes shall burst forth a well- 
spring of life." 1 Delighting in good works, 
he used to fill his granaries with wheat, and 
when the markets were high, he would send 
his corn to them in such abundance as to 
bring down the prices. 2 " It is contrary to the 
law of God to burn heretics," he said ; and 
growing bolder, he added : " I care no 
more for the pope's curse than for a bundle 
of hay." 3 

His curate, Simon Smith, unwilling to 
imitate the disorderly lives of the priests, 
and finding Joan Bennore. the rector's ser- 
vant, to be a discreet and pious person, de- 
sired to marry her. " God," said Patmore, 
"has declared marriage unlawful for all 
men; and accordingly it is permitted to 
the priests in foreign parts." 4 The rector 
alluded to Wittemherg, where he had vis- 
ited Luther. After his marriage Smith 
and his wife quitted England for a season, 
and Patmore accompanied them as far as 
London. 

The news of this marriage of a priest — a 
fact without precedent in England — made 
Stokesley throw Patmore into the Lollards' 
tower, and although he was ill, neither fire, 
light, or any other comfort was granted 
him. The bishop and his vicar-general 
visited him alone in his prison, and en- 
deavoured by their threats to make him 
den} 7 his faith. 

It was during these circumstances that 
Bayfield was thrust into the tower. By his 
Christian words he revived Patmore's lan- 
guishing faith, 5 and the latter complained 
to the king that the bishop of London pre- 
vented his feeding the flock which God had 
committed to his charge. Stokesley, com- 
prehending whence Patmore derived his 
new courage, 6 removed Bayfield from the 
Lollards' tower, and shut him up in the 
coal-house, where he was fastened upright 
to the wall by the neck, middle, and legs. 7 
The unfortunate gospeller of Bury passed 
his time in continual darkness, never l} 7 ing 
down, never seated, but nailed as it were (a 
the wall, and never hearing the sound of 
human voice. We shall see him hereafter 
issuing from this horrible prison to die on 
the scaffold. 

Patmore was not the only one in his fam- 
ily who suffered persecution ; he had in 
London a brother named Thomas, a friend 
of John Tyndale, the younger brother of 
the celebrated reformer. Thomas had said 
that the truth of Scripture was at last re- 
appearing in the world, after being hidden 



1 Foxe, vol. v. p. 34. 

5 Ibid. vol. iv. p. 681. 3 Ibid. 

4 Yet it was in other countries beyond sea. Ibid. 

6 Confirmed by him in the doctrine. Ibid. p. 681. 
6 Confirmed him in the doctiine. Ibid. p. 68. 

1 Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



803 



for many ages ;' and John Tyndale had 
sent five marks to his brother William, and 
received letters from him. Moreover, the 
two friends (who were both tradesmen) 
had distributed a great number of Testa- 
ments and other works. But their faith 
was not deeply rooted, and it was more out 
of sympathy for their brothers that they 
had believed ; accordingly, Stokesley so 
completely entangled them, that they con- 
fessed their " crime." More, delighted at 
the opportunity which offered to cover the 
name of Tyndale with shame, was not sat- 
isfied with condemning the two friends to 
pay a fine of £100 each ; he invented a new 
disgrace. He seVed on their dress some 
sheets of the New Testament which they 
had circulated, placed the two penitents on 
horseback with their faces towards the tail, 
and thus paraded them through the streets 
of London, exposed to the jeers and laugh- 
ter of the populace. In this, More suc- 
ceeded better than in his refutation of the 
reformer's writings. 

From that time the persecution became 
more violent. Husbandmen, artists, trades- 
people, and even noblemen, felt the cruel 
fangs of the clergy and of Sir Thomas More. 
They sent to jail a pious musician who used 
to wander from town to town, singing to 
his harp a hymn in commendation of Martin 
Luther and of the Reformation. 2 A painter, 
named Edward Freese, a young man of 
ready wit, having been engaged to paint 
some hangings in a house, wrote on the 
borders certain sentences of the Scripture. 
For this he was seized and taken to the 
bishop of London's palace at Fulham, and 
there imprisoned, where his chief nourish- 
ment was bread made out of sawdust. 3 
His poor wife, who was pregnant, went 
down to Fulham to see her husband ; but 
the bishop's porter had orders to admit no 
one, and the brute gave her so violent a 
kick, as to kill her unborn infant, and 
cause the mother's death not long after. 
The unhappy Freese was removed to the 
Lollards' tower, where he was put into 
chains, his hands only being left free. 
With these he took a piece of coal, and 
wrote some pious sentences on the wall ; 
upon this he was manacled, but his wrists 
were so severely pinched, that the flesh 
grew up higher than the irons. His intel- 
lect became disturbed ; his hair in wild 
disorder soon covered his face, through 
which his eyes glared fierce and haggard. 
The want of proper food, bad treatment, 
his wife's death, and his lengthened im- 
prisonment, entirely undermined his rea- 
son ; when brought to St. Paul's, he was 
kept three days without meat ; and when 
he appeared before the consistory, the poor 
prisoner, silent and scarce able to stand, 

- : Foxe, v. p. 34. 

9 His name was Robeit Latube. Ibid. 
3 Fed with fine tnanchet made of sawdust, or at 
least a great part thereof. Ibid. iy. p. 695. 



looked around and gazed upon the specta- 
tors "like a wild man." The examination 
was begun, but to every question put to 
him, Freese made the same answer: "My 
Lord is a good man." They could get 
nothing from him but this affecting reply. 
Alas ! the light shone no more upon his 
understanding, but the love of Jesus was 
still in his heart. He was sent back to 
Bearsy Abbey, where he did not remain 
long ; but he never entirely recovered his 
reason. 1 Henry VIII. and his priests in- 
flicted punishments still more cruel even 
than the stake. 

Terror began to spread far and wide. 
The most active evangelists had been com- 
pelled to flee to a foreign land ; some of the 
most godly were in prison; and among 
those in high station there were many, and 
perhaps Latimer was one, who seemed 
willing to shelter themselves under an 
exaggerated moderation. But just as the 
persecution in London had succeeded in 
silencing the most timid, other voices more 
courageous were raised in the provinces. 
The city of Exeter was at that time in great 
agitation ; placards had been discovered on 
the gates of the cathedral containing some 
of the principles "of the new doctrine." 
While the mayor and his officers were seek- 
ing after the author of these "blasphemies," 
the bishop and all his doctors, " as hot as 
coals," says the chronicler, 2 were preach- 
ing in the most fiery style. On the follow- 
ing Sunday, during the sermon, two men 
who had been the busiest of all the city in 
searching for the author of the bills were 
struck by the appearance of a person seated 
near them. " Surely this fellow is the 
heretic," they said. But their neighbour's 
devotion, for he did not take his eyes off 
his book, quite put them out ; they did not 
perceive that he was reading the New Tes- 
tament in Latin. 

This man, Thomas Bennet, was indeed 
the offender. Being converted at Cambridge 
by the preaching of Bilney, whose friend 
he was, he had gone to Torrington for fear 
of the persecution, and thence to Exeter, 
and after marrying to avoid unchastity (as 
he says), 3 he became schoolmaster. Quiet, 
humble, courteous to every body, and some- 
what timid, Bennet had lived six years in 
that city without his faith being discovered. 
At last his conscience being awakened, he 
resolved to fasten by night to the cathedral 
I gates certain evangelical placards. " Every- 
body will read the writing," he thought, 
and "nobody will know the writer." l!e 
did as he had proposed. 

Not long after the Sunday on which he 

had been so nearly discovered, the priests 

, prepared a great pageant, and made ready 

i to pronounce against the unknown heretii 

I the great curse " with book, bell and can- 

1 Foxe, iv. p. 695. * Ibid. v. p. 19. 

3 Ut ne scortator out ininiundus essem, uxorem 
, duxi. Ibid. p. 19. 



804 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



die." The cathedral was crowded, and 
Bennet himself was among the spectators. 
In the middle stood a great cross on which 
lighted tapers were placed, and around it 
were gathered all the Franciscans and Dom- 
inicans of Exeter. One of the priests having 
delivered a sermon on the words : There is 
an accursed thing in the midst of thee, 
Israel, 1 the bishop drew the cross and pro- 
nounced the curse against the offender. 
He took one of the tapers and said : " Let 
the soul of the unknown heretic, if he be 
dead already, be quenched this night in the 
pains of hell-fire, as this candle is now 
quenched and put out ;" and with that he 
put out the candle. Then taking off a sec- 
ond, he continued : " and let us pray to God, 
if he be yet alive, that his eyes be put out, 
and all the senses of his body may fail 
him, as now the light of this candle is 
gone ;" extinguishing the second candle. 
After this one of the priests went up to the 
cross and struck it, when the noise it made 
in falling re-echoing along the roof so 
frightened the spectators that they uttered 
a shriek of terror, and held up their hands 
to heaven, as if to pray that the divine 
curse might not fall on them. Bennet, a 
witness of this comedy, could not forbear 
smiling. " What are you laughing at ?" 
asked his neighbours ; " here is the heretic, 
here is the heretic, hold him fast." This 
created great confusion among the crowd, 
some shouting some clapping their hands, 
others running to and fro ; but owing to 
the tumult, Bennet succeeded in making 
his escape. • 

The excommunication did but increase 
his desire to attack the Romish supersti- 
tions ; and accordingly, before five o'clock 
the next morning (it was in the month of 
October 1530), his servant-boy fastened up 
again by his orders on the cathedral gates 
some placards similar to those which had 
been torn down. It chanced that a citizen 
going to early mass saw the boy, and run- 
ning up to him, caught hold of him and 
pulled down the papers ; and then dragging 
the boy with one hand, and with the pla- 
cards in the other, he went to the mayor 
of the city. Bennet's servant was recog- 
nised ; his master was immediately arrested, 
and put in the stocks, " with as much fa- 
vour as a dog would find," says Foxe. 

Exeter seemed determined to make itself 
the champion of sacerdotalism in England. 
For a whole week, not only the bishop, but 
all the priests and friars of the city, visited 
Bennet night and day. But they tried in 
vain to prove to him that the Roman church 
was the true one. " God has given me 
grace to be of a better church," he said. 
— " Do you not know that ours is built upon 
St. Peter ?" — " The church that is built 
upon a man," he replied, " is the devil's 
church and not God's." His cell was con- 
tinually thronged with visiters ; and in 

1 Joshua, vii. 13. 



default of arguments, the most ignorant of 
the friars called the prisoner a heretic, 
and spat upon him. At length they brought 
to him a learned doctor of theology, who, 
they supposed, would infallibly convert 
him. " Our ways are God's ways." said 
the doctor gravely. But he soon discovered 
that theologians can do nothing against the 
word of the Lord. " He only is my way," 
replied Bennet, " who saith, / am the way, 
the truth, and the life. In his way will I 
walk ; — his truth will I embrape ; — his 
everlasting life will I seek." 

He was condemned to be burnt ; and 
More having transmitted the order de com- 
burendo with the utmost speed, the priests 
placed Bennet in the hands of the sheriff 
on the 15th of January 1531, by whom he 
was conducted to the Liverydole. a field 
without the city, where the stake was pre- 
pared. "When Bennet arrived at the place 
of execution, he briefly exhorted the people, 
but with such unction, that the sheriff's 
clerk, as he heard him, exclaimed: " Truly 
this is a servant of God." Two persons, 
however, seemed unmoved : they were Tho- 
mas Carew, and John Barnehouse, both 
holding the station of gentlemen. Going 
up to the martyr, they exclaimed in a 
threatening voice : " Say, Precor sanctam 
Mariam et omnes sanctos Dei." — " I know 
no other advocate but Jesus Christ," replied 
Bennet. Barnehouse- was so enraged at 
these words, that he took a furze-bush upon 
a pike, and setting it on fire, thrust it into 
the martyr's face, exclaiming: "Accursed 
heretic, pray to our Lady, or I will make 
you do it." — "Alas!" replied Bennet pa- 
tiently, " trouble me not ;" and then hold- 
ing up his hands, he prayed : " Father, 
forgive them." The executioners immedi- 
ately set fire to the wood, and the most fanat- 
ical of the spectators, both men and women, 
seized with an indescribable fury, tore up 
stakes and bushes, and whatever they could 
lay their hands on, and flung them all into 
the flames to increase their violence. Ben- 
net, lifting up his eyes to heaven, ex- 
claimed : " Lord, receive my spirit." Thus 
died, in the sixteenth century, the disciples 
of the Reformation sacrificed by Henry 
VIII. 

The priests, thanks to the kingV sword, 
began to count on victory ; yet schoolmas- 
ters, musicians, tradesmen, and even eccle- 
siastics, were not enough for them. They 
wanted nobler victims, and theses were to 
be looked for in London. More himself, 
accompanied by the lieutenant of the 
Tower, searched many of the suspected 
houses. 1 Few citizens were more esteemed 

! in London than John Petit, the same who, 
in the house of commons, had so nobly re- 

| sisted the king's demand about the loan. 
Petit was learned in history and in Latin 

J literature ; he spoke with eloquence, and 

■ for twenty years had worthily represented 

I l Strype, i. p. 312. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



805 



the city. Whenever any important affair 
was debated in parliament, the king feel- 
ing uneasy, was in the habit of inquiring, 
which side he took? This political inde- 
pendence, very rare in Henry's parlia- 
ments, gave umbrage to the prince and his 
ministers. Petit, the friend of Bilney, 
Fryth, and Tyndale, had been one of the 
first in England to taste the sweetness of 
God's word, 1 and had immediately mani- 
fested that beautiful characteristic by which 
the gospel faith makes itself known, name- 
ly, charity. He abounded in almsgiving, 
supported a great number of poor preach- 
ers of the gospel in his own country and 
beyond the seas ; and whenever he noted 
down these generous aids in his books, 
he wrote merely the words : " Lent unto 
Christ." 2 He moreover forbade his testa- 
mentary executors to call in these debts. 

Petit was tranquilly enjoying the sweets 
cf domestic life in his modest home in the 
society of his wife and two daughters, 
Blanche and Audrey, when he received an 
unexpected visit. One day, as he was 
praying in his closet, a loud knock was 
heard at the street door. His wife ran to 
open it, but seeing Lord-chancellor More, 
she returned hurriedly to her husband, and 
told him that the lord-chancellor wanted 
him. More, who followed her, entered the 
closet, and with inquisitive eye ran over 
the shelves of the library, but could find 
nothing suspicious. Presently he made as 
if he would retire, and Petit accompanied 
him. The chancellor stopped at the door 
and said to him : " You assert that you 
have none of these new books?" — "You 
have seen my library," replied Petit. — 
" I am informed, however," replied More, 
" that you not only read them, but pay for 
the printing." And then he added in a 
severe tone : " Follow the lieutenant." In 
spite of the tears of his wife and daughters, 
this independent member of parliament 
was conducted to the Tower, and shut up 
in a damp dungeon, where he had nothing 
but straw to lie upon. His wife went thi- 
ther each day in vain, asking with tears 
permission to see him, or at least to send 
him abed: the jailers refused her every 
thing; and it was only when Petit fell 
dangerously ill that the latter favour was 
granted him. This took place in 1530, 
sentence was passed in 1531 ; 3 we shall see 
Petit again in his prison. He left it, in- 
deed, but only to sink under the cruel 
treatment he had there experienced. 

Thus were the witnesses to the truth 
struck down by the priests, by Sir Thomas 
More, and by Henry VIII. A new victim 
was to be the cause of many tears. A 
meek and humble man, one dear to all the 
friends of the gospel, and whom we may 
regard as the spiritual father. of the Re- 
formation in England, was on the point of 



mounting the burning pile raised by his 
persecutors. Some time prior to Petit's 
appearance before his judges, which took 
place in 1531, an unusual noise was heard 
in the cell above him ; it was Thomas 
Bilney, whom they were conducting to the 
Tower. 1 We left him at the end of 1528 
after his fall. Bilney had returned to 
Cambridge tormented by remorse ; his 
friends in vain crowded round him by 
night and by day ; they could not console 
him, and even the Scriptures seemed to 
utter no voice but that of condemnation. 2 
Fear made him tremble constantly, and 
he could scarcely eat or drink. At length 
a heavenly and unexpected light dawned 
in the heart of the fallen disciple ; a wit- 
ness whom he had vexed — the Holy Spirit 
— spoke once more in his heart. Bilney 
fell at the foot of the cross, shedding floods 
of tears, and there he found peace. But 
the more God comforted him, the greater 
seemed his crime. One only thought pos- 
sessed him, that of giving his life for the 
truth. He had shrunk from before the 
burning pile ; its flames must now con- 
sume him. Neither the weakness of his 
body, which his long anguish had much 
increased, nor the cruelty of his enemies, 
nor his natural timidity, nothing could 
stop him : he strove for the martyr's crown. 
At ten o'clock one night, when every per- 
son in Trinity Hall was retiring to rest, 
Bilney called his friends round him, re- 
minded them of his fall, and added : " You 

shall see me no more Do not stay me: 

my decision is formed, and I shall carry 
it out. My face is set to go to Jerusalem." 9 
Bilney repeated the words used by the 
Evangelist, when he describes Jesus going 
up to the city where he was to be put to 
death. Having shaken hands with his 
brethren, this venerable man, the foremost 
of the evangelists of England in order of 
time, left Cambridge under cover of the 
night, and proceeded to Norfolk, to confirm 
in the faith those who had believed, and to 
invite the ignorant multitude to the Sa- 
viour. We shall not follow him in this 
last and solemn ministry ; these facts and 
others of the same kind belong to a later 
date. Before the year 1531 closed in, Bil- 
ney, Bainham, Bayfield, Tewkesbury, and 
many others, struck by Henry's sword, 
sealed by their blood the testimony ren- 
dered by them to the perfect grace of 
Christ. 

While many pious Christians were lan- 
guishing in the prisons of England, the 
great antagonist of the Reformation was 
disappearing from the stage of this world. 
We must return to Wolsey, who was still 
detained at Esher. 4 



4 Strvpo, i. p. 312. 
* Ibid. p. 312. 



1 Ibid. p. 314. 



1 Strype, i. p. 313. 

2 He thought that .all the while the Scriptures 
were against him. Latimer's Sermons, p. 52. 

3 Foxe, iv. p. 612. See Luke ix. 51. 

1 Burnet and some modern historians are, in my 



806 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The cardinal, fallen from the summit of 
honours, was seized with those panic ter- 
rors usually felt after their disgrace by 
those who have made a whole nation 
tremble, and he fancied he saw an assassin 
lay hid behind every door. "This very 
night," he wrote to Cromwell on one occa- 
sion, " I was as one that should have 
died. If I might, I would not fail to come 
on foot to you, rather than this my speak- 
ing with you shall be put over and delayed. 
If the displeasure of my lady Anne be 
somewhat assuaged, as I pray God the 
same may be, then I pray }''ou exert all 
possible means of attaining her favour." 1 

In consequence of this, Cromwell hast- 
ened down to Esher two or three days 
after taking his seat in Parliament, and 
Wolsey, all trembling, recounted his fears 
to him. " Norfolk, Suffolk, and Lady Anne 
perhaps, desire my death. 2 Did not Thomas 
a Becket, an archbishop like me, stain the 
altar with his blood ?".... Cromwell reas- 
sured him, and moved by the old man's 
fears, asked and obtained of Henry an 
order of protection. 

Wolsey's enemies most certainly desired 
his death ; but it was from the justice of 
the three estates, and not by the assassin's 
dagger, that they sought it. The house of 
peers authorized Sir Thomas More, the 
dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and fourteen 
other lords, to impeach the cardinal-legate 
of high treason. They forgot nothing : that 
haughty formula, Ego et rex meus, I and 
my king, which Wolsey had often employed ; 
his infringement of the laws of the kingdom ; 
his monopolizing the church revenues ; the 
crying injustice of which he had been guilty 
— as for instance, in the case of Sir John 
Stanley, who was sent to prison until he 
gave up a lease to the son of a woman who 
had borne the cardinal two children ; nvmy 
families ruined to satisfy his avarice ; trea- 
ties concluded with foreign powers without 
the king's order ; his exactions, which had 
impoverished England ; and the foul dis- 
eases and infectious breath with which he 
had polluted his majesty's presence. 3 These 
were some of the forty-four grievances pre- 
sented by the peers to the king, and which 
Henry sent down to the lower house for 
their consideration. 

It was at first thought that nobody in the 
commons would undertake Wolsey's defence, 
and it was generally expected that he would 
be given up to the vengeance of the law (as 
the bill of impeachment prayed), or in other 
words, to the axe of the executioner. But 
one man stood up, and prepared, though 
alone, to defend the cardinal : this was Crom- 

opinion, mistaken when they state that Wolsey was 
present in Parliament at the close of 1529. See 
State Papers, vol. i. p. 347 to 354. 

1 State Papers, vol. i. p. 351, mutilated by fire. 

2 Tiembat sibi damnum et periculum de corpore 
suo pere quosdam suos aemulos. Ryiner, Fcedera, 
p. 139. 

1 Article vi. Herbert, p. 295. | 



) vrell. The members asked of each other, 
who the unknown man was ; he soon made 
himself known. His knowledge of facts, 
his familiarity with the laws, the force of 
his eloquence, and the moderation of his 
language, surprised the house. Wolsey's 
adversaries had hardly aimed a blow, be- 
fore the defender had already parried it. 
If any charge was brought forward to which 
he could not reply, he proposd an adjourn- 
ment until the next day, departed for Esher 
at the end of the sitting, conferred with 
Wolsey, returned during the night, and 
next morning reappeared in the commons 
with fresh arms. Cromwell carried the 
house with him ; the impeachment failed, 
and Wolsey's defender took his station 
among the statesmen of England. This 
victory, one of the greatest triumphs of 
parliamentary eloquence at that period, 
satisfied both the ambition and the grati- 
tude of Cromwell. He was now firmly 
fixed in the king's favour, esteemed by the 
commons, and admired by the people : cir- 
cumstances which furnished him with the 
means of bringing to a favourable conclu- 
sion the emancipation of the church of Eng- 
land. 

The ministry, composed of Wolsey's ene- 
mies, was annoyed at the decision of the 
lower house, and appointed a commission to 
examine into the matter. When the cardi- 
nal was informed of this he fell into new 
terrors. He lost all appetite and desire of 
sleep, 1 and a fever attacked him at Christ- 
mas. " The cardinal will be dead in four 
days," said his physician to Henry, " if he 
receives no comfort shortly from you and 
lady Anne." " I would not lose him for 
twenty thousand pounds," exclaimed the 
king. He desired to preserve Wolsey in 
case his old minister's consummate ability 
should become necessary, which was by no 
means unlikely. Henry gave the doctor his 
portrait in a riqg, and Anne, at the king's 
desire, added the tablet of gold that hung 
at her girdle. The delighted cardinal 
placed the presents on his bed, and as he 
gazed on them he felt his strength return. 
He was removed from his miserable dwell- 
ing at Esher to the royal palace at Rich- 
mond, and before long he was able to go 
into the park, where every night he read 
his breviary. 

Ambition and hope returned with life. 
If the king desired to destroy the papal 
power in England, could not the proud 
cardinal preserve it? Might not Thomas 
Wolsey do under Henry VIII. what Thomas 
a Becket had done under Henry II. ? Hi3 
see of York, the ignorance of the priests, 
the superstition of the people, the discon- 
tent of the great — all would be of service to 
him ; and indeed, six years later, 40,000 
men were under arms in a moment in 



1 Cum prostratione appetitus et continuo inso- 
mnio. Wolsey to Gardiner; Cavendish, Appen- 
dix, p. 474. 



/ 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



807 



Yorkshire to defend the, cause of Rome. 
Wolsey, strong in England by the support 
of the nation (such at least was his opi- 
nion), aided without by the pope and the 
continental powers, might give the law to 
Henry, and crush the Reformation. 

The king having permitted him to go to 
York, Wolsey prayed for an increase to his 
archiepiscopal revenues, which amounted, 
however, to four thousand pounds sterling. 1 
Henry granted him a thousand marks, and 
the cardinal, shortly before Easter 1530, 
departed with a train of 160 persons He 
thought it was the beginning of his tri- 
umph. 

Wolsey took up his abode at Cawoocl 
Castle, Yorkshire, one of his archiepiscopal 
residences, and strove to win the affections 
of the people. This prelate, once " the 
haughtiest of men," says George Caven- 
dish, the man who knew him and served 
him best, became quite a pattern of affa- 
bility. He kept an open table, distributed 
bounteous alms at his gate, said mass in 
the village churches, went and dined with 
the neighbouring gentry, gave splendid en- 
tertainments, and wrote to several princes 
imploring their help. We are assured that 
he even requested the pope to excommuni- 
cate Henry VIII. 2 All being thus prepared, 
he. thought he might make his solemn 
entry into York, preparatory to his enthro- 
nization, which was fixed for Monday the 
5th of November. 

Every movement of his was known at 
court ; every action was canvassed, and its 
importance exaggerated. " We thought we 
had brought him down," some said, " and 
here he is rising again." Henry himself 
was alarmed. " The cardinal, by his detes- 
table intrigues," he said, " is conspiring 
against my crown, and plotting both at 
home and abroad ;" the king even added, 
where and how? Wolsey's destruction was 
resolved upon. 

The morning after All Saints day (Fri- 
day, 2d November) the earl of Northum- 
berland, attended by a numerous escort, 
arrived at Cawood, where the cardinal was 
still residing. He was the same Percy 
whose affection for Anne Boleyn had been 
thwarted by Wolsey ; and there may have 
been design in Henry's choice. The cardi- 
nal eagerly moved forward to meet this un- 
expected guest, and impatient to know the 
object of his mission, took him into his 
bed-chamber, under the pretence of chang- 
ing his travelling "dress. 4 They both re- 
mained some time standing at a window 
without uttering a word ; the earl looked 
confused and agitated, whilst Wolsey en- 
deavoured to repress his emotion. But at 



1 State Papers, vol. i. p. 354. 
s Hall, p. 773. 

3 Cosi mi disse el Re, che contra de S. M. el ma- 
china-va nel regno e fuori, et m'a detto dove e come. 
Le Grand, Preuves, p. 529. 

4 And there you may shift your apparel. Caven- 
dish, p. 347 

52 



last, with a strong effort, Northumberland 
laid his hand upon the arm of his former 
master, and with a low voice said: "My 
lord, I arrest you for high treason." The 
cardinal remained speechless, as if stunned. 
He was kept a prisoner in his room. 

It is doubtful whether Wolsey was guilty 
of the crime with which he was charged. 
We may believe that he entertained the 
idea of some day bringing about the tri- 
umph of the popedom in England, even 
should it cause Henry's ruin ; but perhaps 
this was all. But, an idea is not a con- 
spiracy, although it may rapidly expand 
into one. 

More than three thousand persons (at- 
tracted not by hatred, like the Londoners, 
when Wolsey departed from Whitehall but 
by enthusiasm), collected the next day be- 
fore the castle to salute the cardinal. " God 
save your grace," they shouted on every 
side, and a numerous crowd escorted him 
at night ; some carried torches in their 
hands, and all made the air re-echo with 
their cries. The unhappy prelate was 
conducted to Sheffield Park, the residence 
of the earl of Shrewsbury. Some days 
after his arrival, the faithful Cavendish ran 
to him, exclaiming: "Good news, my lord ! 
Sir William Kingston and twenty-four of 
the guard are come to escort you to his 
majesty." — "Kingston !" exclaimed the car- 
dinal, turning pale, " Kingston !" and then 
slapping his hand on his thigh, he heaved a 
deep sigh. This news had crushed his 
mind. One day a fortune-teller, whom he 
consulted, told him : You shall have your 
end at Kingston; and from that time the 
cardinal had carefully avoided the town of 
Kingston-on-Thames. But now he thought 

he understood the prophecy Kingston, 

constable of the Tower, was abov*t to cause 
his death. They left Sheffield Park; but 
fright had given Wolsey his death-blow. 
Several times he was near falling from his 
mule, and on the third day, when they 
reached Leicester abbey, he said as he en- 
tered': " Father abbot, I am come hither to 
leave my bones among you ;" and imme- 
diately took to his bed. This was on Sa- 
turday the 26th of November. 

On Monday morning, tormented by 
gloomy forebodings, Wolsey asked what 
was the time of day. " Past eight o'clock," 
replied Cavendish. — " That cannot be," 

said the cardinal, "eight o'clock No! 

for by eight o'clock you shall lose your 
master." At six on Tuesday, Kingston 
having come to inquire about his health, 
Wolsey said to him : " I shall not live 
long." — "Be of good cheer," rejoined the 
governor of the Tower. — " Alas, Master 
Kingston," exclaimed the cardinal, " if I 
had served God as diligently as I have 
served the king, he would not have given 
me over in my grey hairs !" and then he 
added with downcast head: "This is my 
just reward." What a judgment upon his 
own life 1 



_ ^ ^ 




HISTOET 



OF THE 



GREAT REFORMATION 



IN THE 



TIME OF CALVIN, 



IN 



GENEVA, SWITZERLAND, GERMANY, FRANCE, ITALY, ENGLAND, ETC., 



By J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D.D.. 



EDITED AKD ABRIDGED BY M. LAIRD SIMONS, 



PHILADELPHIA; 

WILLIAM FLINT, 
1870. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

M . LAIRD SIMONS, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



KING & BAIRB, 

ELECTROTYPERS, STEREOTYPERS, AND PRINTERS, 

607 AND 609 SANSOM ST., PHILADELPHIA. 




j I s "! uj 

|=J s 



$- ar O- 

1 -" 2 

^ o * 










HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 

EST THE TIME OF CALVIN. 



BOOK I. 



GENEVA AND THE FIRST HUGUENOTS. 



Ancient Times— 1526. 



The Reformation and Modern Liberty — First Usurpations and First Struggles — A Bishop sent 
by the Pope to rob Geneva of its Independence — Opposition to the designs of the Duke, 
the Pope, and the Bishop — Berthelier and the Youth of Geneva aroused by the Bishop's 
Violence — The Opposing Parties prepare for Battle — Assembly, Agitation, and Joke of the 
Patriots — Pecolat Tortured and Berthelier Accused— Berthelier calls the Swiss to the Aid 
of Geneva; Huguenots and Mamelukes; the Bishop's Violence — Fresh Tortures; Pecoiat's 
Despair and striking Deliverance— Berthelier Tried at Geneva; Blanchet and Navis Seized 
at Turin ; Bonivard Scandalized at Rome — Blanchet and Navis Put to Death ; their Limbs 
suspended to the Walnut tree near the Bridge of Arve — The Huguenots propose an Alliance 
with the Swiss, and the Mamelukes amuse themselves at Turin — The Huguenots demand an 
Alliance with Friburg : the Mamelukes oppose it. Berthelier is Acquitted — The People in 
General Council, vote for the Alliance ; the Duke intrigues against it — The Canons join the 
Duke, and the People rise against them— The Duke at the head of his Army surrounds 
Geneva — The Army of Savoy in Geneva — Arrest of Bonivard and Berthelier — Philibert 
Berthelier the Martyr of Liberty. Terror and Oppression in Geneva — Struggles of Liberty. 
Luther. Death of the Bishop : his Successor — Charles desires to Seduce the Genevans. 
The Mysteries of the Canons, and of the Huguenots — Aime Levrier a Martyr to Liberty and 
Right at the Castle of Bonne — Indignation against the Mamelukes ; the Duke approaches 
with an Army ; Flight of the Patriots — The Fugitives at Friburg and Berne. The Duke and 
the Council of Halberds at Geneva — The People and the Bishop defend the cause of the 
Fugitives — Geneva and the Swiss Allied — The Bishop, the Ducals, and the Canons Escape — 
Joy of the People. 



Facts alone do not constitute the whole 
of history, any more than the members 
of the body form the complete man. 
There is a soul in history as well as in 
the body, and it is this which generates, 
vivifies, and links the facts together, so 
that they all combine to the same end. 

What was the soul of the Reformation 
of Geneva ? Truly, salvation by faith in 
Christ, who died to save — truly, the re- 
newal of the heart by the word and the 
Spirit of God. But the characteristic ele- 
ment of the Genevese Reform is liberty. 

Three great movements were carried 
out in this city during the first half of the 
sixteenth century .» The first was the con- 
quest of independence ; the second, the 
conquest of faith ; the third, the renova- 
tion and the organization of the Church. 
Berthelier, Farel, and Calvin are the three 
heroes of these three epics. 

Each of these different movements was 
necessary. The bishop of Geneva was a 
temporal prince like the bishop of Rome ; 
it was difficult to deprive the bishop of 
his pastoral staff unless he were first de- 
prived of his sword. The necessity of 



liberty for the Gospel and of the Gospel 
for liberty, is now acknowledged by all 
thoughtful men ; but it was proclaimed 
by the history of Geneva three centuries 
ago. It is in this small republic that we 
find men remarkable for their devotion to 
liberty, for their attachment to law, for 
the boldness of their thoughts, the firm- 
ness of their character, and the strength 
of their energy. 

What chiefly distinguishes the Reforma- 
tion of Calvin from that of Luther is, that 
wherever it was established, it brought 
with it not only truth but liberty, and all 
the great developments which these two 
fertile principles carry with them. Politi- 
cal liberty, as we shall see, settled upon 
those hills at the southern extremity of 
the Leman lake where stands the city of 
Calvin, and has never deserted them since. 
And more than this : earthly liberty, the 
faithful companion of divine truth, ap- 
peared at the same time with her in the 
Low Countries, in England, in Scotland, 
and subsequently in North America and 
other places besides, everywhere creating 
powerful nations. The Reformation of 

(813) 



814 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



Calvin is that of modern times ; it is the 
religion destined for the whole world. Be- 
ing profoundly spiritual, it subserves also 
in an admirable manner all the temporal 
interests of man. It has the promise of the 
life that now is, and of that which is to come. 

The people of Geneva and their great 
doctor have each left their stamp on the 
•Reformation which issued from their 
walls : Calvin's was truth, the people's, 
liberty. But there was a second and more 
potent cause. Supreme among the great 
principles that Calvin has diffused is the 
sovereignty of God. He has enjoined us 
to render unto Ccesar the things that are 
Ccesar's; but he has added, "God must 
always retain the sovereign empire, and 
all that may belong to man remains sub- 
ordinate. Obedience towards princes ac- 
cords with God's service ; but if princes 
usurp any portion of the authority of God, 
we must obey them only so far as may be 
done without offending God." 

The great movements in the way of law 
and liberty effected by the people in the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, have 
certain relations with the Reformation of 
Calvin, which it is impossible to ignore. 

As soon as Guy de Bres and many 
others returned from Geneva to the Low 
Countries, the great contest between the 
rights of the people and the revolutionary 
and bloody despotism of Philip II . began ; 
heroic struggles took place, and the crea- 
tion of the United Provinces was their 
glorious termination. 

Jobn Knox returned to his native Scot- 
land from Geneva, where he had spent sev- 
eral years ; then popery, arbitrary power, 
and the immorality of a French court 
made way in that noble country for en- 
thusiasm for the gospel, liberty, and holi- 
ness. 

Numberless friends and disciples of 
Calvin carried with them every year into 
France the principles of civil and political 
liberty ; and a fierce struggle began with 
popery and despotism, to destroy the 
liberties for which the Huguenots shed 
their blood. 

The Englishmen who, during the bloody 
persecution of Mary, had sought an asylum 
at Geneva, imbibed there a love for the 
gospel and for liberty. When they re- 
turned to England, a fountain gushed out 
beneath their footsteps, which afterwards 
became an impetuous roaring flood, whose 
insolent waves swept away the throne 
itself, and then sank into a smiling stream, 
bearing prosperity and life afar. 

Lastly, Calvin was the founder of the 
greatest of republics. The ' ' Pilgrims ' ' 
who left their country in the reign of 
James L, and, landing on the barren 
shores of New England, founded populous 
and mighty colonies, are his sons, his 
direct and legitimate sons ; and that 
American nation which we have seen 
growing so rapidly, boasts as its father the 
humble reformer on the shores of the 
Leman. 



There are, indeed, writers of eminence 
who charge this man of God with despo- 
tism ; because he was the enemy of liber- 
tinage, he has been called the enemy of 
liberty. Nobody was more opposed than 
Calvin to that moral and social anarchy 
which threatened the sixteenth century, 
and which ruins every epoch unable to 
keep it under control. This bold struggle 
of Calvin's is one of the greatest services 
he has done to liberty, which has no ene- 
mies more dangerous than immorality and 
disorder. 

The sixteenth century is the greatest in 
Christian times ; it is the epoch where (so 
to speak) everything ends and everything 
begins ; nothing is paltry, not even dis- 
sipation ; nothing small, not even a little 
city lying unobserved at the foot of the 
Alps. 

In that renovating age, so full of an- 
tagonist forces and energetic struggles, 
the religious movements did not proceed 
from a single centre ; they emanated from 
opposite poles. The Catholic focus was 
in Italy — in the metropolis of the ancient 
world ; the evangelical focus in Germany 
was transferred from Wittemberg to the 
middle of European nations — to the small- 
est of cities — to that whose history I have 
to relate. 

If the empire of Charles V. was the 
largest theatre in modern history, Ge- 
neva was the smallest. In the one case 
we have a vast empire, in the other a mi- 
croscopical republic. But the smallness 
of the theatre serves to bring out more 
prominently the greatness of the actions : 
only superficial minds turn with contempt 
from a sublime drama because the stage 
is narrow and the representation devoid 
of pomp. To study great things in small 
is one of the most useful exercises. What 
I have in view— and this is my apology — 
is not to describe a petty city of the Alps, 
for that would not be worth the labor ; 
but to study in that city a history which 
is in the main a reflection of the history 
of Europe, — of its sufferings, its strug- 
gles, its aspirations, its political liberties, 
and its rewards. 

Modern liberties proceed from three dif- 
ferent sources, from the union of three 
characters, three laws, three conquests — 
the Roman, the German, and the Chris- 
tian. The combination of these three in- 
fluences, which has made modern Europe, 
is found in a rather striking manner in 
the valley of the Leman. The three tor- 
rents from north, south, and east, whose 
union forms the great stream of civiliza- 
tion, deposited in that valley which the 
Creator hollowed out between the Alps 
and the Jura that precious sediment 
whose component parts can easily be dis- 
tinguished after so many ages. 

First we come upon the Roman element 
in Geneva. This city was for a long while 
part of the empire ; "it was the remotest 
town of the Allobroges," says Caesar. 

In the fifth century the second element 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



815 



of modern liberties appeared with the j 
Germans. The Burgundians— being al- j 
ready converted to Christianity, poured j 
their bands into the vast basin of the 
Rhone, and a spirit of independence, is- 
suing from the distant forests of the 
north, breathed on the shores of the Le- 
man lake. King Gondebald built a palace 
at Geneva ; an inscription placed fifteen 
feet above the gate of the castle, and 
which remains to this day, bears^ the 
words, Gundebadus rex clementissimus, 
etc. 

He repaired the breaches in the city 
walls, and having assembled his ablest 
counsellors, drew up those Burgundian 
laws which defended small and great 
alike, and protected the life and honor 
of man against injury. — The first king- 
dom founded by the Burgundians did not, 
however, last long. In 534 it fell into the 
hands of the Merovingian kings, and the 
history of Geneva was absorbed in that 
of France until 888, the epoch when the 
second kingdom of Burgundy rose out 
of the ruins of the majestic but ephemeral 
empire of Charlemagne. 

But long before the invasion of the Bur- 
gundians in the fifth century, a portion 
of Europe, and Geneva in particular, had 
submitted to another conquest. In the 
second century Christianity had its rep- 
resentatives in almost every part of the 
Roman world. In the time of the Em- 
peror Marcus Aurelius and of Bishop 
Irenseus (177) some persecuted Christians 
of Lyons and Vienne, in Dauphiny, wish- 
ing to escape from the flames and the 
wild beasts to which Rome was flinging 
the children of God, brought the Gospel 
thither, as other refugees, coming also from 
Gaul, and also fleeing their persecutors, 
were fourteen centuries later to bring the 
Reformation. It was not until two cen- 
turies later, in 381, that Geneva had a 
Bishop, Diogenes, and even this first 
Bishop is disputed. 

Thus were commingled in this region 
the generating elements of modern insti- 
tutions. Caesar, Gondebald, and an un- 
known missionary represent, so to speak, 
the three strata that form the Genevese 
soil. 

Geneva was at first nothing but a rural 
township, (vicus,) with a municipal coun- 
cil and an eclile. Under Honorius in the 
fourth century it had become a city, hav- 
ing probably received this title after Cara- 
calla had extended the rights of citizenship 
to all the Gauls. From the earliest times, 
either before or after Chalemagne, Geneva 
possessed rights and liberties which guar- 
anteed the citizens against the despotism 
of its feudal lord. But did it possess 
political institutions? Was the com- 
munity organized? Information is want- 
ing on these points. In the beginning of 
the sixteenth century the Genevese claimed 
to have been free so long that the memory j 
of man runneth not to the contrary. But I 



this "memory of man " might not embrace 
many centuries. 

Three powers in their turu threatened 
these liberties. 

First came the Counts of Geneva. They 
were originally merely officers of the 
Emperor, but gradually became almost 
independent princes. As early as 1091 we 
meet with an Aymon, count of Genevois. 
Their rule soon extended over a wide and 
magnificent territory. In those days, the 
counts lived a solitary and turbulent life, 
such as characterized the feudal period. 
At one time they were shut up in their 
castles, begirt with fosses and drawbridges. 
At other times, they would sally forth with 
a numerous escort, either in pursuit of the 
chase among the Jura or the Alps ; or may- 
be with the pious motive of visiting some 
place of pilgrimage ; or not unfrequently 
to harass their neighbors, or their vassals. 
But during all these feudal agitations 
another power was growing in Geneva — 
humble at first, but whose mouth was to 
speak great things. 

At the period of the Burgundian con- 
quest Geneva possessed a bishop, and the 
invasion of the Germans soon gave this 
prelate considerable power. Gifted with 
intelligence far superior to that of the men 
by whom they were surrounded, respected 
by the barbarians as the high-priests of 
Rome, knowing how to acquire vast pos- 
sessions by slow degrees, and thus becom- 
ing the most important personages in the 
cities where they resided, the bishops 
labored to protect the city from abroad 
and to govern it at home. Finally, they 
confiscated without much ceremony the 
independence of the people, and united 
the quality of prince with that of bishop. 

The institution of bishop-princes, half 
religious and half political, was in the 
main a misfortune for the people of the 
middle ages, and particularly for Geneva ; 
for what could be expected of prelates who 
turned their pastoral dwellings into forti- 
fied castles ? The people of Geneva were 
the first who expelled him in modern 
times, and the last feudal throne of the 
bishops to fall will be that of Rome. 

Although the bishops succeeded in cur- 
tailing the popular franchises, these rights, 
however, still subsisted, the prince-bishop 
being elected by the people. The prince 
even made oath of fidelity to the people. 
Occasionally the citizens opposed the pre- 
late's encroachments, and refused to be 
dragged before the court of Rome. 

Christianity was intended to be a power 
of liberty ; Rome, by corrupting it, made 
it a power of despotism ; Calvin, by re- 
generating it, set it up again and restored 
its first work. 

But what threatened most the independ- 
ence and liberty of Geneva, was not the 
bishops and counts, but a power alien to 
it, that had begun by robbing the counts 
of their towns and villages. The house of 
Savoy, devoured by an-insatiable ambition, 
strove to enlarge its dominions with a skill 



816 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and perseverance that were crowned with 
the most rapid success. Geneva became 
the constant object of their desires : first, 
through ambition, because the possession 
of this important city would round off and 
strengthen her territory ; and second, 
through calculation, because she dis- 
covered in this little State certain princi- 
ples of right and liberty that alarmed her. 

The terrible struggle began in the first 
half of the thirteenth century. The house 
of Savoy finding two powers at Geneva and 
in Genevois, resolved to take advantage 
of their dissensions to take their place. It 
declared first in favor of the bishop 
against the count, the more powerful of 
the two, in order to despoil him. Peter 
of Savoy, Canon of Lausanne, became in 
1229, at the age of twenty-six, Provost 
of the Canons of Geneva ; and having thus 
an opportunity of knowing the city, of 
appreciating the importance of its situa- 
tion, and discovering the beauties that lay 
around it, he took a liking to it. Being 
a younger son of a count of Savoy, he 
could easily have become a bishop ; but 
under his amice, the conon concealed the 
arm of a soldier and the genius of a poli- 
tician. Peter seized the castle of Geneva 
in 1250, and held it as a security for 3 V 
000 silver marks which he pretended the 
count owed him. He was now somebody 
in the city. Being a man of restless ac- 
tivity, and enterprising spirit, rare skill, 
and indefatigable perseverance, he con- 
( ceived the design of annexing Geneva to 
his hereditary States, and promised to 
give the citizens all they wanted ; the latter 
(two centuries and a half before the refor- 
mation) desiring to shake off the temporal 
yoke of their bishop, put themselves un- 
der his guardianship. But ere long they 
grew alarmed and feared the sword of 
the warrior more than the staff of the 
shepherd. In 1267 Peter was forced to 
declare by a public act that he refused to 
take Geneva under his protection, and he 
died the next year. 

Twenty years latter Amadeus Y., a man 
full of ambition and genius, and surnamed 
i 'the Great," boldly renewed the assault 
in which his uncle had failed. During a 
vacancy of the episcopal see, the canons 
were divided , and those who were hostile 
to Amadeus, having been threatened by 
some of his party, took refuge in alarm in 
the Chateau de File. This castle Ama- 
deus seized ; although this conquest gave 
him no authority in the city, yet Savoy 
was able more than once to use it for its 
ambitious projects. It was here in 1518, 
shortly after the appearance of Luther, 
that the most intrepid martyr of modern 
liberty was sacrificed by the bishop and 
the duke. . 

Amadeus could not rest satisfied with 
his two castles : in order to be master in 
Geneva, he claimed as the reward of his 
services the servile office of vidame, (vice 
domini, ) which carried with it the power 
of inflicting the punishment of death. In 



vain did the bishop forbid Amadeus, "in 
the name of God. of the glorious Yirgin 
Mary, of St. Peter, St. Paul, and all the 
saints, to usurp the office of lieutenant," 
the vulture held the vidamy in his talons 
and would not let it go. The citizens 
jeered at this soverign prince who turned 
himself into a civil officer. " A pretty 
employment for a prince— it is a ministry 
(nvnutere) not a magistry (magistere) — 
service not dominion." " Well, well," re- 
plied the Savoyard, "I shall know how to 
turn the valet into a master." 

Amadeus soon undertook a second cam- 
paign as a liberal, and joined the citizens 
against the bishop in order to supplant 
him. He said to the citizens in 1285: "We 
will maintain, guard, and defend your city 
and goods, your rights and franchises, and 
all that belongs to you." The citizens, 
taking advantage of Amadeus' support, 
elected rectors of the city, voted taxes, and 
conferred the freedom of the city upon for- 
eigners ; thus a civic corporation was erec- 
ted which thwarted all the plans of his suc- 
cessors. 

In the fifteenth century the counts of 
Savoy, having become dukes, changed 
their tactics a third time. Duke Ainadeus 
YIII., not content with the addition of 
Genevois, Bugey, Yerceil, and Piedmont, 
petitioned Pope Martin Y. to confer on 
him, for the great advantage of the Church, 
the secular authority in Geneva. But the 
syndics, councillors, and deputies of the 
city, determined to resist the pope him- 
self, if necessary, in the defence of their 
liberties ; and placing their hands upon 
the Gospels, they exclaimed : 4i Xo aliena- 
tion of the city or of its territory — this we 
swear. ' ' Amadeus withdrew his petition ; 
but Pope Martin Y., while staying three 
months at Geneva, on his return in 1418 
from the Council of Constance, began to 
sympathize with the ideas of the dukes. 
There was something in the pontiff which 
told him that liberty did not accord with 
the papal rule. He was alarmed at wit- 
nessing the liberties of the city. The 
pope resolved to remedy this ; not by in- 
creasing the power of the dukes of Savoy, 
but by confiscating Geneva to the Church's 
| benefit. Heedless of the rights of the 
canons and citizens, he nominated Jean 
' cle Rochetaillee, Patriarch in partibus of 
i Constantinople, Bishop and Prince of 
j Geneva. Four years later, to gratify 
Henry Y. of England, he placed Courte- 
I Cuisse, bishop of Paris, on the throne of 
j Geneva, and removed Rochetaillee to 
I Paris. Thus were elections wrested by 
I popes from a Christian people and their 
I representatives. 

It followed that with the connivance of 
j Rome, the princes of Savoy might become 
\ princes of Geneva. But could they insure 
i this connivance ? Henceforth the- court 
of Turin intrigued with the papacy to ob- 
tain the grant of the bishopric of Geneva 
for one of the princes or creatures of 
| Savoy. Duke Ainadeus YIII., who had 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



817 



been rejected by the citizens a few years 
before, succeeded in an unexpected man- 
ner. In 1434 having abdicated in favor 
of his eldest son, he assumed the hermit's 
frock at Ripaille on the Lake of Geneva ; 
and the Council of Basle having nominated 
him pope, he took the name of Felix Y. 
and made use of his pontifical authority 
to create himself bishop and prince of 
Geneva. A pope making himself a 
bishop . . . strange thing indeed ! Here 
is the key to the enigma : the pope was a 
prince of Sayoy : the see was the see of 
Geneva, and Savoy desired to have Geneva 
at any price. However, he respected 
the franchises of his new possessions. 

In 1451, Amadeus being dead, Peter of 
Savoy, a child eight or ten years old, 
grandson of the pope, hermit, and bishop, 
mounted the episcopal throne of Geneva ; 
in 1460 came John Louis, another grand- 
son, twelve years of age ; and in 1482 
Francis, a third grandson. To the Gene- 
vans the family of the pope seemed inex- 
haustible . These bishops and their govern- 
ors were as leeches sucking Geneva even 
to the bones and marrow. 

Their mother, Anne of Cyprus, had 
brought with her to Savoy a number of 
"Cypriote leeches" as they were called, 
and after they had drained the blood of 
her husband's states, she launched them 
on the states of her children. It was 
Bishop John Louis, the least wicked of 
the three brothers, who inflicted the most 
terrible blow on Geneva ; and this episode 
gives a curious picture of old-time cus- 
toms. 

Duke Louis of Savoy was good-tem- 
pered, weak, and sometimes choleric ; his 
wife, Anne of Cyprus, was ambitious, in- 
triguing, and domineering ; their fifth 
son, Philip-Monsieur, was a passionate, 
debauched, and violent young man. This 
Philip Lackland, (afterwards the father 
of Charles III., and grandfather of Francis 
I-,) had a bitter enmity against his mother, 
because deprived of his rights. He passed 
his time in continual quarrels, so that "all 
Savoy was in disorder, filled with murder, 
assault, and riot." — "As my father left 
me no fortune," he used to say, "I take 
my property wherever I can find it." 
Once, incited by his boon companions, he 
entered the chapel at Thonon during mass, 
killed his mother's steward, carried off his 
father's chancellor, and took him to 
Morges, "where he was drowned in the 
lake." Duke Louis was terrified, and 
sought safety at the hands of John Louis, 
another of his sons", a bishop who passed 
his time in "dicing, hawking, drinking, 
and wenching." John Louis listened fa- 
vorably to his father's proposals. The 
Duke, Anne of Cyprus, and all the Cypriote 
officers arrived at Geneva in July, 14G2 : 
but none could venture outside the city 
without being exposed to the attacks of 
the terrible Lackland. The avaricious 
duchess trembled lest Philip should seize 
her treasures; to put them beyond his 



reach, she secreted them in the hollow of 
a number of large cheeses, and sent them 
off upon mules to Cyprus. Philip inter- 
cepted the caravan near Friburg, and took 
away the gold . With these proofs of the 
duchess' perfidy, he resolved to slake the 
hatred he felt towards her he would go 
to Geneva, denounce his mother to his 
father, obtain from the exasperated prince 
the Cypriote's dismissal, and receive at 
last the appanage of which this woman 
had so long deprived him. Philip obtained 
an entrance at the city gate, from the 
syndic in charge of the watch, at midnight 
on the 9th of October, under the plea that 
he desired to speak to his father the Duke 
about a matter of great importance. He 
proceeded straight to his Highness' lodg- 
ing, knocked, and said to the chamber- 
lain: "I am Philip of Savoy; I want to 
speak to my father for his profit. ' ' The 
duke replied : ' ' Open to him in the name 
of all the devils, happen what may." As 
soon as he was come in, say the annals, 
' ' Philip bowed to his father, saying: ' Good 
day, father !' His father said : ' God 
give thee bad day and bad year ! What 
devil brings thee here now?' To which 
Philip replied meekly : ' It is not the 
devil, my lord, but God who brings me 
here to your profit, for I warn you that 
you are robbed and know it not. There 
is my lady mother leaves you nothing, so 
that, if you take not' good heed, she will 
not only make your children after your 
death the poorest princes in Christendom, 
but yourself also during your life.' " At 
these words Philip opened a casket which 
contained the gold intended for Cyprus, 
and "showed him the wherewithal," say 
the annals. But the duke, fearing the 
storm his wife would raise, took her part. 
Monsieur then grew angry: "You may 
bear with it if you like," he said to his 
father ; " I will not. I will have justice of 
these thieves." With these words, he 
drew his sword and searched the room and 
lodging, hoping to find some Cypriotes 
there. Monsieur did not dare venture 
further, ' ' for the people were against him, ' ' 
say the annals, "and for this cause he 
quitted his father's lodging and the town 
also without doing other harm." 

The people flocked together, and as they 
prevented the Cypriotes from hanging the 
men who had opened the gate to Monsieur, 
the duke chose another revenge. He rep- 
resented to the bishop that his son-in-law 
Louis XI. detested the Genevans, and 
coveted their large fairs to which people 
resorted from all the country round ; thus 
he obtained from him the charters which 
gave Geneva this important privilege. 
The duke carried these documents to 
Lyons and gave them to Louis XL The 
king immediately transferred the fairs 
first to Bourges and then to Lyons, for- 
bidding the merchants to pass through 
Geneva. This was a spnrce of great dis- 
tress to all the city. Thus the catholic or 
episcopal power, which in the eleventh 



818 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO!. 



century had stripped Geneva of her terri- 
tory, stripped her of her wealth in the 
fifteenth. It needed the influx of the 
persecuted Huguenots and the industrial 
activity of Protestantism, to recover it 
from the blow that the Romish hierarchy 
had inrlicled. 

The poor tormented city enjoyed, how- 
ever, a momentary respite. In the last 
year of the fifteenth century, Anthony 
Champion —a priest whom we may in some 
respects regard as a precursor of the Refor- 
mation — an austere man who pardoned 
nothing either in himself or others, ob- 
tained the episcopal chair. "I desire," 
he said, "to sweep the filth out of my dio- 
cese." He took some trouble to do so. 
On the 7th of May, 1493, five hundred 
priests convened by him met in synod in 
the church of St. Pierre. "Men devoted 
to God's service," said the bishop, with 
energy, "ought to be distinguished by 
purity of life : now our priests are given 
to every vice, and lead more execrable 
lives than their flocks. Some dress in 
open frocks, others assume the soldier's 
head-piece, others wear red cloaks or cor- 
selets, frequent fairs, haunt taverns and 
houses of ill fame, behave like mounte- 
banks or players, take false oaths, lend 
upon pawn, and unworthily vend indul- 
gences to perjurers and homicides." Thus 
spoke Champion, but he died eighteen 
months after the synod, and the priestly 
corruption increased. 

In proportion as Geneva grew weaker, 
Savoy grew stronger. The duke had lately 
seen several provinces settled on different 
branches of his house, reunited succes- 
sively to his own states, and had thus be- 
come one of the most powerful princes of 
Europe. La Bresse, Bugey, the Genevois, 
Gex, and Vaud, replaced under his sceptre, 
surrounded and blockaded Geneva on all 
sides. The poor little city was quite lost 
in the midst of these wide provinces, 
bristling with castles ; and its territory 
was so small that, as they said, there were 
more Savoyards than Genevans who heard 
the bells of St. Pierre. The states of Sa- 
voy enfolded Geneva as in a net, and a 
bold stroke of the powerful duke would, it 
was thought, be sufficient to crush it. 

But new times were beginning in 
Europe ; God was touching society with 
his powerful hand. At the beginning of 
the sixteenth century, God was breathing 
upon the human race, and this divine 
breath worked strange revivals in religious 
belief, political opinion, civilization, let- 
ters, science, morals, and industry. The 
wind now changed, after blowing for nearly 
a thousand years in the same direction ; 
God impressed on it a new, vivifying, and 
renovating course. There was a living 
force in Geneva. The ostentatious mitre 
of the bishop, the cruel sword of the duke, 
appeared to command there ; and yet a 
new birth was forming within its bosom. 
The renovating principle was but a puny, 
shapeless germ, concealed in the heroic 



souls of a few obscure citizens ; but its 
future developments were not doubtful. 
There was no power in Christendom able 
to stem the outbreak of the human mind, 
awakening at the mighty voice of the eter- 
nal Ruler. 

Let us enter upon the history of the 
preparations for reform, and contemplate 
the vigorous struggles that are about to 
begin at the foot of the Alps between des- 
potism and liberty, ultramontanism and 
the Gospel. 

On the 13th of April, 1513, there was 
great excitement in Geneva. Men were 
dragging cannon through the streets, and 
placing them on the walls. The gates were 
shut and sentries posted everywhere. 
Charles de Seyssel, bishop and prince of 
Geneva, had just died on his return from 
a pilgrimage. He was, says the chroni- 
cler, "a great champion of both ecclesi- 
astical and secular liberty. ' ' Duke Charles 
of Savoy, shortly before his death, said : 
"It was 1 who made you bishop, but I 
will unmake you, and you shall be the 
poorest priest in the diocese." And it is 
believed he got rid of him by poison. 

When the news of this tragical and un- 
expected death reached Geneva, the citi- 
zens were alarmed ; they argued that no 
doubt the secret intention of the duke 
was to place a member of his family on 
the episcopal throne, in order thus to ob- 
tain the seigniory of the city. The ex- 
cited citizens gathered in groups in the 
streets, and impassioned orators, among 
whom was Philibert Berthelier, addressed 
the people. No man seemed better fitted 
to save Geneva. Just, generous, proud, 
decided, he was above all firm, true, and 
attached to what was right. The end he 
set before himself was not, properly speak- 
ing, the emancipation of his country, but 
the restoration of its franchises and 
liberties. 

The patriots argued that if the pope had 
long since laid hands on the Church, the 
Duke of Savoy now desired to lay his 
upon the State. They accordingly re- 
solved to close their gates against the in- 
fluence of Savoy, and to elect a bishop 
themselves. They selected from among 
the canons of Geneva one Aime de Gin- 
gins, abbot of Bonmont and dean of the 
chapter, aged forty-eight, ' ' the best boon 
companion in the world, keeping open 
house and feasting joyously the friends of 
pleasure." The people named him bishop 
by acclamation, as he stood by the liber- 
ties of Geneva, and the chapter confirmed 
their choice. The citizens prayed the 
Swiss cantons to support it before the 
pope, and sent to Rome "by post both 
letters and agents." 

Duke Charles understood the import- 
ance of the crisis. This prince who tilled 
for half a century the throne of Savoy and 
Piedmont, was all his life the implacable 
enemy of Geneva. Weak but irritable, 
impatient of all opposition yet undecided, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



819 



proud, awkward, wilful, fond of pomp but 
without grandeur, stiff but wanting firm- 
ness, not daring to face the strong but al- 
ways ready to be avenged on the weak, 
he had but one passion— one mania rather : 
to possess Geneva. For that he needed a 
docile instrument to lend a hand to his 
ambitious designs— a bishop with whom 
he could do what he pleased. Accordingly 
he looked around him for some one to op- 
pose to the people's candidate, and he 
soon hit upon the man. He selected John, 
the bastard of Savoy, son of a wench of 
Angers by Francis of Savoy, who had 
been bishop of Geneva and afterwards of 
Angers. 

This wretch was a little man, weak, 
slender, ill-made, awkward, vile in body 
but still more so in mind, without regard 
for his honor, inclined rather to do evil 
than good, and suffering under a dis- 
ease the consequence of his debauchery. 
Charles sent for him. "Cousin," said 
he, "I will raise you to a bishopric, if in 
return you will make over the temporality 
to me." The bastard promised every- 
thing ; it was an unexpected means of 
paying off his debts. 

The duke without loss of time despatched 
John to Rome, under the pretext of bear- 
ing his congratulations to Leo X., who 
had just succeeded Julius II. The bas- 
tard and his companions travelled so fast 
that they arrived before the Swiss. At 
the same time the court of Turin can- 
vassed all the cardinals, and omitted noth- 
ing to secure the possession of a city so 
long coveted. At this time Leo X., wish- 
ing to ally his family to one of the oldest 
houses in Europe, had determined to ask 
the hand of the Princess Philiberta of 
Savoy, youngest sister to the duke, for his 
brother Julian the Magnificent, lieutenant 
general of the armies of the church. Leo 
X. received the bastard of Savoy with the 
greatest honor, and this disagreeable per- 
son had the chief place at banquet, thea- 
tre, and concert. As for making him 
bishop of Geneva, that did not cause the 
least difficulty. "Let the duke give us 
his sister, and we will give you Geneva, ' ' 
said he to the graceless candidate. " You 
will then make over the temporal power 
to the duke . . . The court of Rome 
will not oppose it ; on the contrary, it will 
support you." Everything was settled 
between the pope, the duke, and the bas- 
tard. "John of Savoy," says a manu- 
script, "swore to hand over the temporal 
jurisdiction of the .city to the duke, and 
the pope swore he would force the city to 
consent under pain of incurring the thun- 
ders of the Vatican." 

The Swiss envoys speedily arrived, and 
appeared before the pope to secure the 
confirmation of Dean de Bonmo:it as 
bishop ; but they were harshly dismissed. 
Leo X. was not a lucky man. By the 
traffic in indulgences, and by the elevation 
of John the Bastard, he paved the way 
for the Reformation in Germany and in 



Geneva. The reign of the bishop was a 
miserable farce, a long scandal. 

The news of this election filled the 
hearts of the Genevan patriots with sorrow 
and indignation. They assembled in the 
public places, and murmured. "Let us be 
masters at home," they said, " and shut 
the gates against the pope's candidate." 
But the canons of the cathedral, the ser- 
vile priests, the rich merchants, and the 
interested friends of Savoy, carried the 
majority with them ; and it was resolved 
to accept the bishop nominated at Rome. 
When the leaders of the independent party 
found themselves beaten, they appealed to 
Switzerland for shelter. On the 4th of 
July, 1513, Philibert Berthelier, Besan- 
con Hugues, Jean Taccon, Jean Baud, 
N. Tissot, and H. Pollier petitioned Fri- 
burg for the ri-ht of citizenship in order to 
secure their lives and goods; and it was 
granted. 

On the 31st of August, 1513, the new 
prince-bishop entered the city under a 
magnificent canopy, and was received with 
great pomp. A few citizens in bad humor 
shrugged their shoulders, and said : "He is 
truly as foul in body as in mind ;' ' but many 
servilely excused themselves for having ap- 
peared to oppose him. John of Savoy, who 
had said to himself, "I will not spur 
the horse before I am firm in the saddle, ' ' 
answered only by a smile of his livid lips ; 
both people and bishop were acting a part. 
At the cathedral the new prelate was 
met by the canons in their official robes, 
and standing before the altar, with an 
open missal before him, he made solemn 
oath to the syndics, in presence of the 
people, to maintain the liberties and cus- 
toms of Geneva. When the bishop had 
entered the episcopal palace and taken his 
seat in the midst of a little circle of cour- 
tiers, he said to them : " Well, gentlemen, 
we have next to savoy ardise Geneva. The 
city has been quite long enough separated 
from Savoy only by a ditch, without 
crossing it. I am commissioned to make 
her take the leap." These were almost 
the first words the bastard uttered after 
having sworn before God to maintain the 
independence of the city. 

The bishop, naturally crafty and sur- 
rounded by counsellors more crafty still, 
resolved to attach to himself the most 
influential men of the party opposed to 
him, by conferring on them some striking 
mark of his favor. He found the name of 
Philibert Berthelier in every mouth, and 
he resolved to give him one of the most 
honorable charges at his disposal. AVhen 
told, Berthelier concealed a rebellious and 
energetic mind under a trifling exterior, 
"Fear nothing," answered John; "he 
sings gaily and drinks with the young 
men of the town." It was true that Ber- 
thelier amused himself with the Enfant de 
Geneve, but it was to kindle them at his 
fire. He possessed the two qualities neces- 
sary for great things : a popular spirit, and 
an heroic character ; practical sense to act 



820 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



upon men, and an elevated mind to con- 
ceive great ideas. The bishop conferred 
upon him the governorship of the Castle of 
Peney, two leagues from the city, which 
Berthelier reluctantly accepted, but with 
the firm intention of resigning it as soon 
as his principles required. Upon the 
bishop elect, M. de Gingins, whose place 
he had taken, John bestowed a pension. 
Believing he had thus won over his two 
principal adversaries, he used to joke about 
it to his courtiers , and they replied : "It 
is a bone in their mouths, which will pre- 
vent their barking." 

The people had next to be won over. 
"Two features characterize the Gene- 
vans," said the partisans of Savoy to the 
bishop ; "the love of liberty and the love 
of pleasure." The cue was accordingly 
given, and it was sought to destroy the 
former by an unlimited course of "junket- 
ing, dicing, dancing, and feasting." 
' ' They are doing as Circe did with the 
companions of Ulysses," said a man of 
wit ; ' ' and their enchanted draughts have 
no other object than to change men into 
swine." The thoughtless youths could 
not resist, and they forgot the liberties and 
the mission of their country. 

Among the young men whom the cour- 
tiers of Savoy were leading into vice, were 
F. Cartelier of La Bresse, M. Guillet, 
seignior of Montbard, and Pierre Navis of 
Rumilly in Genevois ; these were sons of 
rich Savoyards who were settled in Ge- 
neva. All of them played an important 
part in the approaching crisis. Andrew 
Navis, then twenty-three years old, rushed 
into every kind of enjoyment with the im- 
petuosity of youth, and pleasure held the 
chief place in his heart. He spent in dis- 
orderly living his own money and that of his 
family ; on two several occasions he stole 
horses and sold them. He was not, how- 
ever, the only profligate in Geneva : the 
bishop and his courtiers were training up 
others ; the priests and the monks whom 
John found at Geneva, also gave cause for 
scandal. It was these immoralities that 
induced the citizens to make early and 
earnest complaints to the bishop. 

The opposition to the Bishop was shown 
in various ways, and came from different 
quarters. The magistrates, the young and 
new defenders of independence, and lastly 
(what was by no means expected) the car- 
dinals themselves thwarted the plan 
formed to deprive Geneva of its independ- 
ence. Opinion, ' ' the queen of the world, ' ' 
as it has been called, overlooked worldli- 
ness in priests, but not libertinism. At 
the time when the Reformation began, 
there were certain articles of faith imposed 
in the Romish church, certain hierarchies, 
ceremonies, and practices ; but of morality 
there was none. On the contrary, all this 
framework naturally tended to encourage 
Christians to do without it. 

In the month of October, 1513, the com- 
plaints in the council were very loud : 



1 ' Who ought to set the people an example 
of morality if not the priests?" said many 
noble citizens ; "but our canons and our 
priests are gluttons and drunkards ; they 
keep women unlawfully, and have bastard 
children as all the world knows." The 
Dominican monks even offered accommo- 
dation for the debaucheries of the town ; 
they threw open for an entrance-fee the 
extensive gardens of their monastery for 
midnight orgies. What could be expected 
of a clergy at whose head were popes like 
Alexander VI., or Innocent VIII., who 
had sixteen illegitimate children when he 
assumed the tiara . J 

The magistrates of Geneva resolved to 
protest against these insupportable abomi- 
nations. On Tuesday, the 10th of Octo- 
ber, the Syndics formally complained to 
the episcopal council of the conduct of the 
priests ; but no reform was made. How- 
ever, the moral effect of the blow re- 
mained. 

Francis Bonivard, a brilliant young 
scholar, of little faith and little morality, 
yet a favorite with priests and liberals 
alike for his good humor, was now destined 
to play in Geneva — by his liberalism, his 
information, and his cutting satires — a 
part not very unlike that played by Eras- 
mus in the great Reformation. On the 
death of his uncle, John Aime Bonivard, 
on the 7th of December, 1514, he inherited 
the priory of St. Victor. He thus became 
sovereign prince of a small territory within 
Geneva, and in his walls were held many 
of the conferences that prepared the way 
for the Reformation. He was also be- 
queathed four large culverins (which the 
old prior had once ordered to be cast at the 
expense of the Church in order to besiege 
the neighboring seigniory of Virz,) upon 
promising that he would immediately have 
them cast into bells for the church, to be 
employed in God's service. A close sym- 
pathy soon united Berthelier and Bonivard. 
The former had more energy, the latter 
more grace ; and they promised to wage a 
merciless war against superstition and ar- 
bitrary power. Berthelier persuaded Bo- 
nivard to retain the culverins, promising 
him metal for the bells, and saying, " The 
church will be doubly served. There will 
be bells at St. Victor, which is the church, 
and artillery in the city, which is the 
church land." He laid the matter before 
the council, who voted all that Berthelier 
required. 

The Duke of Savoy now claimed the 
guns from the monastery, and the Council 
of Fifty was convened to discuss the affair. 
Berthelier was eloquently sustained by Bes- 
anc,on Hugues, a mild yet intrepid citizen 
of twenty-live. " In the name of the peo- 
ple, "• he 'said, "I oppose the surrender of 
this artillery to his highness ; the city can- 
not spare them. ' ' The four guns remained 
at Geneva ; but Charles III. was angered 
at Berthelier, Hugues, and Bonivard. 
"I' will be even with them," said he. 
Charles III., son of Philip Lackland, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



821 



had not- his father's strong understand- 
ing, and was possessed with one single 
thought : to annex Geneva to Savoy. 
This was his whole policy, and in grasping 
after this city he lost his principalities. 

In 1515 everything seemed favorable to 
the plans of the prince. The marriage of 
the Princess Philiberta was about to take 
place in Rome, and Leo X. expended 15,000 
ducats in the entertainments of unusual 
splendor which ensued. Diplomatists 
and priests now urged that the free insti- 
tutions of Geneva threatened the temporal 
power of the bishop ; and if that were 
destroyed, what would become of his 
spiritual power ? Charles III. triumphed. 
"The Duke of Savoy," says a Catholic 
historian, ' ' took advantage of this circum- 
stance (the marriage) to procure a bull 
confirming the transfer of the temporal au- 
thority. " "I am sovereign lord of Geneva 
in temporal matters," he told everybody ; 
" I- obtained it from our holy father, the 
reigning pope." 

The whole city of Geneva was in commo- 
tion when this news arrived. ' ' The power 
of the popes," said the citizens, "is not 
over principalities, but over sins — it is for 
the purpose of correcting vices, and not to 
be masters of sovereigns and peoples, that 
they have received the keys of the kingdom 
of heaven." 

On the 25th of May, a deputation from 
the council waited on the bishop. "My 
lord," said the first syndic, "we conjure 
you to leave the community in the same 
state as your predecessor transmitted it~to 
you, enjoying its rightful customs and an- 
cient franchises." The bishop was em- 
barrassed ; he muttered a few words in 
reply. Urged by the people, the syndics 
returned to the bishop. " It is now a gen- 
eral rumor, ' ' said they ; ' ' protest, my 
lord, against these strange reports, so that 
the usurpation, although begun, may not 
be completed." The bishop looked at 
them, then fixing his hollow, sunken eyes 
upon the ground, preserved an obstinate 
silence. The syndics withdrew without 
obtaining anything. 

But salvation came from an unexpected 
quarter. The sacred college judged it a 
dangerous precedent to deprive a bishop 
of his temporal principality. They re- 
solved that it was necessary, "first, that 
subjects be in rebellion against their 
prince ; second, that the prince be not 
strong enough to reduce them ; third, that 
he should have a better recompense." 

The object of the Duke was now to in- 
cite a rebellion, that he might be awarded 
the sovereignty over the city. Charles felt 
comforted, and sent his cousin fresh in- 
structions. "Since I cannot have the 
tree, ' ' he said, ' ' I wish at least to taste 
the fruit. Set about plundering right and 
left to fill my treasury. ' ' 

The bishop, the humble servant of the 
duke, prepared to act according to his in- 
structions. Charles had set a trustee over 



him, who allowed him only what was ab- 
solutely necessary for his bare main- 
tenance. "The duke being very rapa- 
cious," says the chronicler, "John was 
forced to give the rein to his Highness' 
extortioners." They imposed excessive 
fines ; and in turn, no prince ever made 
such efforts to suppress revolt as the bas- 
tard to foment it. He deprived syndics 
of their judicial functions ; he threw men 
into prison to avenge private or imaginary 
offences. At length the people began to 
murmur, and one of his exploits nearly re- 
volutionized the city. 

Claude Yandel, a distinguished lawyer, 
a man of noble character and spotless in- 
tegrity, enraged the prelate by defending 
a citizen unjustly prosecuted. Vandel's 
sons persuaded him to remove into the 
country for safety, and two remained with 
him to keep guard. While these were de- 
coyed away by a false alarm, the bishop's 
bailiffs seized the republican Claude, 
bound him, took him into the city by a 
secret postern, and conducted him along 
a subterranean passage to the bishop's 
prison. The next morning Yandel" s sons 
appealed to the people ; the council assem- 
bled ; the syndics went to the bishop and 
called upon him to let Yandel go, or else 
hand over to them, his lawful judges, the 
papers in his case. "My council," the 
bishop answered, "will examine whether 
this arrest is contrary to your liberties, in 
which case I will amend what is to be 
amended." Even the episcopal council 
decided for Yandel' s discharge ; but the 
bastard obstinately refused. 

The anger of the people now grew fiercer 
against the citizens who had accepted the 
bishop's pensions. At eight o'clock that 
evening the council met, and the most 
eminent citizens thronged the hall. The 
syndics described the illegal act of the 
bishop ; the sons of the prisoner called 
upon them to avenge their father; and 
Berthelier exclaimed: "To maintain the 
liberties of the city, we must act without 
fear ; let us rescue the citizen whom trai- 
tors have seized." John Taccon, captain 
general, taunted the speaker with taking 
"a pension." Berthelier at once publicly 
tore his commission in pieces, saying : 
"Since I showed you the way to take 
them, I now show you the way to resign 
them." A cry of "No more pensions!" 
was raised ; and all the pensioners agieed 
to follow this example. A portion of the 
people surrounded the bishop's palace, 
shouting, "Release the prisoner;" but 
the prelate did not appear. John Bernard 
was trying to batter down the tower-door 
of St. Pierre, in order to ring the bell for 
the general alarm ; but other citizens 
stopped him with news of the flight of the 
bishop. 

One thought consoled the bishop in all 

his terror : " Surely here is an argument 

j that will convince the snored college : my 

people are in revolt !" But the episcopal 

( council thought differently : Vandel's ar- 



8C2 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rest was illegal, and they restored him 
to liberty. From that hour the bishop' s 
hatred grew more deadly against those 
who would not bend to his tyranny. 

The bishop and his followers now 
sought to enervate this proud and resolute 
people by superstition and debauchery. 
They called to Geneva, in the commence- 
ment of 1517 — the year when the reforma- 
tion began in Germany — a barefooted friar 
named Thomas, who preached in Italian 
about the Virgin Mary, the saints, and the 
departed, and professed to work miracu- 
lous cures. Entertainments and debauch- 
ery were also added ; the priests seconded 
this depravity, and a shameful wantonness 
prevailed. Philip Berthelier, a brave man, 
resolved to turn against Savoy these dis- 
solute habits, and he mingled with the 
young in every entertainment. He at- 
tained his end ; the assemblies of the Ge- 
nevan youth changed in character, and 
became a school of liberty. When the 
Savoyard party put themselves without 
the law, the Genevan party did the same, 
and the war began. 

As a new and powerful opposition was 
forming in Geneva, it became necessary 
for the duke and the bishop to unite more 
closely. About this time an incident of 
little importance was nearly setting them 
at variance, and thus accelerating the 
emancipation of the city. 

One day as the gouty bastard, stretched 
on a couch, was suffering cruelly from his 
disease, he heard a noise in the street. 
" What is the matter?" he asked. " They 
are taking a thief to Le hanged," replied 
the old woman that tended him, who 
added : " If your Lordship would but par- 
don him, he would pray for your health all 
the days of his life." The bishop eagerly 
answered: "Be it so, let them set him 
at liberty." 

The order of release was sent to the 
vidame's deputy, who replied : "I am the 
servant of my most dread lord the Duke 
of Savoy, and I shall discharge the duty 
confided to me. ' ' The execution, however, 
was postponed, for the decision of the 
council as to the bishop's power in the 
matter. One of its members was Aime 
Levrier, judge in the criminal court, a 
serious, calm, just man, who obeyed his 
conscience in all things. He saw in this 
little incident the great question between 
the legitimate authority of the bishop and 
the ' usurpations of the duke. ' ' The 
prince of Geneva," he said, "has the 
right to pardon a criminal, even if he is 
on the territory of Savoy and at the foot 
of the scaffold." And then, quitting the 
hall, he cut the bonds of the culprit and 
led him before the bishop, saying to him : 
"Give thanks to God and my lord." 

The bishop trembled at these unforseen 
consequences, and the duke deeply in- 
censed determined to have revenge. The 
seignior of La Val d' Isere, with two other 
commissioners, soon arrived at Geneva to 



execute his Highness' pleasure. Inso- 
lently addressing the bishop in his own 
palace, in loud tones : W r retched bastard ! 
(he said) what did he want with pardon- 
ing a man they were going to hang ? The 
poor prelate tremblingly excused himself: 
" It was one Levrier, a judge and doctor of 
laws, who did it." From that hour Lev- 
rier became odious to the court of Turin, 
and was doomed to destruction. 

That evening, the ducal envoy, with one 
of his colleagues and the vidame, supped 
at the priory of St. Victor with his cousin 
Bonivard. He desired to make his cousin 
a devoted agent of Savoy in Geneva, and 
to employ him, by way of prelude, in the 
arrest of the recalcitrant judge. After 
supper, he privately communicated to him 
his plot. Aime Levrier went ordinarily 
to pay his devotions at the church of Our 
Lady of Grace, near the bridge of Arve. 
Bonivard would follow him, seize him the 
moment he came near the church, and, 
holding him by the throat, cross the 
bridge with him, and deliver him up to 
the ducal soldiers, who would be on the 
other side ready to receive him. "This 
will be an easy task for you. dear cousin," 
added the ambassador ; ' ' everybody knows 
your readiness and your prowess." Boni- 
vard tried to decline the proposal without 
giving offence, and replied: "Handling 
the sword is no longer my business ; I have 
changed it for my breviary." La Val 
d' Isere angrily said: " Well then I swear 
I will go myself to-night and take Levrier 
in his bed, and carry him tied hand and 
foot into Savoy." Bonivard grasped his 
hand, and replied: "I know the people 
of Geneva ; they are not indulgent, I warn 
you, and I shall go and set aside thirty 
norms to have a mass said for your soul 
to-morrow." The ambassador left in 
anger. 

Bonivard disguised himself, and after 
nightfall warned Levrier of his danger. 
The syndics ordered Berthelier to keep 
watch all night under arms. The depu- 
ties of Savoy became so alarmed by the 
passing and repassing of the troops with 
drums beating, that they galloped away 
by a secret door when it was scarcely 
light. The bastard, still more frightened, 
forgot his gout and hurried over the moun- 
tains to Turin, where he crouched at 
Charles' feet. "I will forget everything," 
said the prince, at length, "provided you 
assist me in bringing these republicans to 
reason. In your fold there are certain 
dogs that bark very loudly and defend 
your sheep very stoutly ; you must get rid 
of them. " In this way the princes of Savoy 
conspired tit. ruin of Geneva, and plotted 
the death of her best citizens. "Let us 
play the game seriously," said the duke ; 
"we must have them dead or alive." 

In Geneva, two friends saw the approach- 
ing struggle. Berthelier inclined to the 
revival of Geneva from democratic mo- 
tives ; Bonivard from a love of learning, 
philosophy, and light. Berthelier cor- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



823 



dially enlisted the youth of Geneva in the 
great campaign for independence ; Boni- 
vard — who, like Erasmus, laughed at every- 
body and everything except letters and 
liberty — overcame his antipathies about 
social equality, and gayly sat down at table 
with young Genevans to win them. ' ' Have 
done with banquets and dances," said 
Berthelier to his friend ; " we must organ- 
ize young Geneva into a defensive league, " 
"Yes, let us march onwards," replied 
Bonivard, "and God will give a good 
issue to our bold enterprise !" . . . Berthe- 
lier stretched out his hand. "Comrade," 
he said, "your hand." Then, as he held 
Bonivard' s hand in his, he was touched 
with deep emotion : a cloud passed over 
his face, and he added: "But know that 
for the liberty of Geneva, you will lose 
your benefice, and I ... I shall lose my 
head."— "He told me that a hundred 
times," added the prior of St. Victor, who 
has handed down this conversation to us. 
The gloomy foreboding was but too amply 
fulfilled. 

"Without delay, Berthelier entered upon 
the work to which he had sworn to devote 
his life. Wishing to prepare it carefully, 
he invited the most ardent of the young 
Genevans to confer with him on the salva- 
tion of the country. He took a hall in the 
principal square of the city, la Place du 
Molard, and about twilight one afternoon 
in 1516 (probably,) this important meet- 
ing was held. There were present with Ber- 
thelier about fifty citizens ; a small meet- 
ing, yet did not all noble hearts in Geneva 
beat in harmony with those of the fifty 
patriots ? Among the number were Ama- 
deus de Joze, an honest and straightfor- 
ward man, in the business of druggist and 
apothecary ; Andrew Navis, son of the 
procurator-fiscal, who had reformed from 
his vices and enthusiastically enlisted as a 
liberal ; and John Biderman, surnamed 
Blanchet, a young man of twenty-four, 
who "trotted up and down," and picked 
up all the news. 

The citizens gathered in a circle about 
Berthelier. He eloquently reminded them 
that from remote times Geneva had been 
free, but that for several centuries Savoy 
had been trying to enslave it, and asked 
them if they wished to transmit to their 
children not liberty but . . . slavery? 
The citizens answered JSTo, and demanded 
anxiously how the liberties of the city 
could effectually be saved ? " How !" said 
Berthelier. " By being united, by forget- 
ting our private quarrels, by opposing with 
one mind every violation of our rights. 
"VVe have all the same franchises, let us all 
have the same heart. If the bishop's 
officers lay hands on one of us, let all the 
others defend him with their swords, their 
nails, their teeth!" Then he exclaimed : 
"Who touches one, touches all." At. these 
words they all raised their hands and said : 
" Yes, yes ! one heart, one common cause ! 
Who touches one, touches all !"— " Good, ' ' 
53 



resumed Berthelier; "let this motto be 
the name of our alliance, but let us be 
faithful to the noble device. If the bishop' s 
constables take one of us to prison, let us 
rescue him from their hands. If they in- 
dulge in criminal extortions, let us seek 
out the abominable plunder even in their 
houses." And then he repeated in a loud 
voice : " Who touches one, touches all!" 
One citizen feared Savoy would attack 
Geneva with a strong army. "Fear 
nothing," answered Berthelier sharply, 
"we have good friends;" and he added 
soon after : " I will go to the Swiss, I will 
bring back forces, and then ... I will 
settle accounts with our adversaries. ' ' 

From that time the consultations and 
debates became more and more frequent ; 
men reminded each other of the customs 
and franchises of Geneva, and promised 
to be mutually faithful. 

One day, Berthelier, Blanchet, Pecolat, 
and several others, while drinking at 
Magniers and. talking freely, were over- 
heard by a corrupt creature of the bishop's 
named Carmentrant. " The bishop," said 
one, "has sold Geneva to the duke." 
" We must let the bishop know," added 
Berthelier, " the resolution we have 
adopted to defend our independence. Let 
us mask ourselves ; we may say hard 
things under our masks. Let us make a 
momon at the palace " The momon was a 
bet made by maskers when playing at dice. 
Pecolat did not seem convinced. " Leave 
that to me," said Berthelier ; " I shall 
find a way of speaking to the prelate." 
Carmentrant afterwards asserted that Ber- 
thelier proposed attacking the bishop's 
life ; thus a joke was magnified into high 
treason. 

Bonivard, who then had a difference 
with the bishop about the right of fishing 
in the Rhone, was also watched. One day, 
when walking with Berthelier and other 
friends, he complained of the bishop's 
avarice, and laughingly said : "If ever I 
meet him near my fishery, one or other of 
us will catch an ugly fish!" This was made 
a principal charge against him ; he wished 
to drown the bishop ! 

These light words would scarcely prove 
a revolt; but an "emeute" furnished the 
Savoyards with the arms they sought. 

On the 5th of June, 1517, the only talk 
throughoul the city was about Messire 
Gros'smule, which was dead. Its master, 
the judge, was one of those harsh magis- 
trates who are hated by a whole people. 
That evening, . Berthelier, Pecolat, with 
other citizens, and thirty young men — 
"children of Geneva," — were present at a 
social supper. "Gentlemen," said Berthe- 
lier, "it is a long time since this merry 
company has had any fun. The mule of the 
respectable Claude Grossi is dead ; that 
judge is a wretch, continually beating after 
us and our friends. Let us play him a 
trick ; let us sell his mule's skin by auction 
to the highest bidder." The proposal was 
adopted "by acclamation. With drawn 



824 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



swords and a drummer at their bead, the 
party marched through the streets, and 
this proclamation was frequently made by 
the fool of the Abbot of Boumont : "O 
yes, this is to give notice that whoever 
wishes to buy the skin of a beast, of the 
grosmt ass in Geneva, and will call at the 
house situate between the keeper's and the 
Hotel de Yille. it will be sold to the high- 
est bidder." "Is not that where Judge 
Or os lives ?" asked a bystander. "Yes, 
it's he that is the gross ass," replied 
another. 

The next day the judge laid his com- 
plaint before the vidame and the episco- 
pal council ; and the guilty parties hid 
themselves for a season. "There is a con- 
spiracy against my lord the bishop, prince 
of Geneva, " exclaimed the partisans of Sa- 
voy ; "he alone has the right of making 
proclamation." Charles hastened to Ge- 
neva, and said to his councillors, " You 
see the citizens of Geneva are in revolt ; 
it needs a stronger shepherd than a bishop 
to bring them back to their duty. ' ' Claude 
de Seyssel, one of the first diplomatists of 
the age, replied: "This business of the mule 
is a mere practical joke. This story, how- 
ever, will not be quite useless to us ; we 
will employ it to sow dissension among 
our enemies." He summoned many of 
the band, and warned them to be seen no 
more among the disaffected; and they 
were delighted at getting out of the scrape 
on such terms. The bishop, the duke, 
and their friends now plotted to seize the 
head, Berthelier ; but he was a member of 
council, in great repute, and skilfully 
baffled their attempts. "To catch this 
big partridge," said the bishop, "we must 
first trap a little decoy bird." The advice 
appeared excellent, and they determined 
to catch some friend of Berthelier' s. 

Among the best patriots of Geneva was 
John Pecolat, whom we have already met 
at the mule supper. He was a prey by 
turns to enthusiasm and fear, subject to 
the blackest melancholy or bits of the 
maddest humor ; at once a hero and a 
jester. Several of his ancestors had been 
syndics ; he was one of the council of fifty, 
well instructed, and yet a hosier by trade. 
It was not long before Pc colat so compro- 
mised himself as to furnish arms against 
the patriots of Geneva. 

The Bishop oi Maurienne, canon of 
Geneva, had invited to dinner among 
others the Abbot of Boumont and Pecolat. 
Maurienne, in especial, had no end of com- 
plaints against the bishop. "Pray, my 
lord," said Pecolat, "do not vex yourself 
about the bishop's injustice : non mdebit 
dies Petri j he will not live as long as St. 
Peter!" This was a common saying; 
and Pecolat meant that the bishop, suffer- 
ing under an incurable disease, could not 
live long. Two Savoyards, creatures of 
the duke and the bishop, who were of the 
party, reported this remark to the bastard. 
It was concluded that Pecolat announced 



the prelate's death as near at hand, by a 
conspiracy of the independents. This 
speech, however, was not enough for his 
trial ; they waited for an act to serve as a 
pretence for the charge of assassination. 
This soon occurred. 

Not long after, the bastard hastily ac- 
companied the duke to Lyons, to present 
his homage to Queen. Claude, of Brittany, 
whom Francis 1. had just married. Some 
fish pasties, too stale for use, were fur- 
nished by his purveyor as provisions for 
the journey; several attendants who ate 
of these sickened, and it is asserted one 
died. This accident furnished a charge of 
poisoning against Pecolat , but so baseless 
that at first the vidame refused to prose- 
cute. But as Pecolat was one who cried, 
"The skin of the gross beast !" a warrant 
was issued against him on the 27th of 
July, 1517. 

His arrest was cautiously planned. 
First, the most determined young Genevans 
enrolled on the black book, were decoyed 
to Vouache, two leagues west, by a grand 
hunt of wild animals ; then the bishop 
sought safety, "to enjoy a fresher air," at 
his castle of Thiez ; and Pecolat was en- 
ticed into a walk to Pressinge, by one 
Maule, a secret agent of the vidame. The 
two were seized on the road and bound, by 
a party in ambuscade ; but Maule was re- 
leased when they reached the prison. On 
the 3d of April, Pecolat was removed to 
the torture room at the top of the castle, 
as the bishop had ordered him " to be ex- 
amined and forced to speak the truth." 
The charges of the plots were too absurd 
to dwell upon ; but evidence was sought 
against the leading citizens. Pecolat was 
tied by one hand to the rope, and as he re- 
fused to answer, was hoisted four feet from 
the floor. The next day, he was more 
cruelly tortured : the executioners tied lys 
hands behind his back, and then pulled the 
rope so as to raise his arms above his 
head ; lastly they lifted him five or six 
feet from the floor, which was enough to 
dislocate his shoulders. Pecolat suffered 
horribly, and he was not a Regulus. " Let 
me down ! let me down !" he cried, "and 
I will tell all." 

Terrified and frantic, to the falsest im- 
putations against the noblest of his friends, 
he answered, "Yes, yes!" and the satis- 
fied judges sent him back to his dungeon. 
In his cell, the fear of God's judgment sur- 
passed all previous terrors. ' v Gentlemen, ' ' 
said he to those standing around him, " my 
declarations were extorted from me only 
by the fear of torture. If I had died at 
that moment, I should have been eternally 
damned for my lies." 

In Geneva, the terror increased every 
day. People kept themselves indoors ; the 
streets were deserted. The bishop now 
boldly sought to catch Berthelier, and the 
league was nearly dissolved when most 
needed. At eight o'clock in the evening 
of the 28th of July, 1517, the council was 
sitting, when the president, who was on 




TORTURE OP PECOLAT. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



53o 



the bishop's side, said: "It is my lord's I with a look of astonishment; "I had 
pleasure that we take up one of his sub- j never even thought of it. A safe-conduct 
jects against whom he possesses sufficient j for Berthelier . . . why, he does not re- 



informations, which he will communicate m 
proper time and place ; and that when the 
said subject is in prison, the syndics shall 
execute justice, if the affair requires it." 
Berthelier was absent, and the council 
answered they would take up the accused 
if the bishop maintained the liberties of 
Geneva. 

Bonivard, with others of Berthelier' s 
friends, urged him to escape by flight : 
"The sword is over your head," he said. 
"I know it," answered Berthelier; "yes, 
I know that I shall die, and I do not grieve 
at it." He was finally persuaded to es- 
cape in the company of some envoys from 
Friburg, disguised in a livery cloak. The 
bishop was exasperated at the delay. 
"Do you mean to give him time to 
escape?" he asked. The council imme- 
diately ordered a great display of force to 
seize the liberal leader. The gates were 
shut, and a six day's hunt was made for 
him without success. No one then doubted 
his escape : the liberals were delighted, 
but anger and vexation prevailed at the 
castle. 

Berthelier' s flight was more than a 
flight. He went to Switzerland ; and from 
that day Switzerland turned towards Ge- 
neva, and held out the hand to her. 

Disguised in the livery of an usher of 
the city of Friburg, the faithful citizen 
arrived there without hindrance. He was 
received into the house of Councillor 
Marty, governor of the hospital, and sat 
there sorrowful and motionless. The long 
conspiracy of Savoy against Geneva was 
on the point of succeeding. Switzerland 
alone, after God, could save it from the 
hands of the Savoyards. Geneva must 
become a canton, or at least an ally of 
Switzerland ' ' For that, ' ' said Berthelier, 
"I would give my head." He told Marty 
he had come to pray Friburg to receive 
the Genevans into citizenship. The lat- 
ter led him to the "abbeys" where the 
guilds were assembled, and warned him 
to veil his meaning while speaking from 
the duke's pensioners present. Berthelier 
at first spoke in ambiguous language ; but 
remembering Geneva, he forgot all pru- 
dence, and made a great lament of the 
oppression under which the city groaned. 
His eloquent words were fruitful thoughts, 
cast into the hearts of the people of Fri- 
burg. At his request, some citizens of 
Friburg were sent- to Geneva to see its 
misfortunes ; and there they had cordial 
communings with Besancon Hugues, Van- 
del, and all the patriots. 

These deputies complained to the coun- 
cil of the violation of the franchises of 
the city, and demanded a safe-conduct 
for Berthelier. Three councillors. carried 
these complaints to the bastard at St. 
Joire, a few leagues away. "What! I 
violate the franchises!" he exclaimed, 



quire one. If he believes himself inno- 
cent, let him come ; I am a good prince 
. . . No, no, no ! No safe-conduct !" 
On the 12th of August the syndics com- 
municated this answer to the Friburgers. 
The Swiss were indignant : ( l Very well ! 
we will get together all these grievances 
and see them remedied. Rest assured of 
this . . . we will risk our persons and our 
goods. We will come in such force that 
we will take his Highness' governor in 
the Pays de Vaud, the friends of Savoy in 
your city, and then — we will treat them 
as you have treated our friends." Thus 
the union between Geneva and Switzer- 
land was, so to speak, accomplished before 
any public act had rendered it official and 
authentic. 

Scarcely had the Friburg deputies left 
the city ere the duke's party, accosting 
the independent Genevans, and gallicising 
each in his own way the German word 
Eidesgenossen (confederates) which they 
could not pronounce, called after them 
Eidyuenots, Eignots, Eyguenots, Hugue- 
nots! Until after the Reformation, this 
soubriquet had a purely political meaning, 
in no respect religious, and designated 
simply the friends of independence. The 
adherents of the duke had no sooner 
started the nickname than their oppo- 
nents, repaying them in their own coin, 
called out : "Hold your tongues, you 
Mamelukes! . . . As the Mamelukes have 
denied Christ to follow Mahomet, so 
you deny liberty and the public cause to 
put yourselves under a tyranny." At the 
head of these Mamelukes were some forty 
rich tradesmen. They were very indig- 
nant at the term, and to them it was re- 
torted : "If you do not like the name, 
since you gave up Geneva through avarice, 
we will call you Judases." 

The bishop, proud of having tortured 
Pecolat, feared to return to Geneva, re- 
peating to every one, "they would mur- 
der me !" The Genevans, conscientiously 
submissive to authority, sent an embassy 
to display their loyalty, and placed at the 
head of it syndic d'Orsieres, an old man 
who had been six times elected chief 
magistrate. The bastaid determined to 
gratify his hatred of the Genevans ; and 
when the loyal deputation bent humbly 
before him at Thonon, he had the hoary- 
headed ambassador seized and thrown 
into a dungeon. The citizens of Geneva 
were justly incensed at this outrage ; they 
immediately ran to arms, stretched chains 
across the streets, and shut the gates. 

The duke was displeased at these mis- 
takes of the bishop ; moreover, the pro- 
ceedings of the Friburgers disquieted him, 
for Geneva was lost to Savoy if the Swiss 
took up its cause. Eustace Chappuis, a 
learned diplomatist, was empowered by 
him to patch up the blunders committed 
by the bishop. Chappuis set out for Ge- 



823 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



neva, and exerted all his skill to alienate 
the Genevans from the Swiss ; but his fine 
words did not catch many. He then 
visited Berthelier at Friburg, and en- 
treated him to return to* Geneva, promising 
him a pardon. — "A pardon!" exclaimed 
the haughty citizen ; ' ' pardon does not 
concern good men but criminals. I de- 
mand absolution if I am innocent, and 
punishment if I am guilty." 

Charles III. thereupon visited Friburg 
and Berne, and endeavored to win over 
the cantons, making the fairest promises 
in regard to the illegal arrest of Pecolat 
and Berthelier' s exile. The bishop mean- 
while released D'Orsieres, but refused to do 
more. Accordingly, on the duke's return, 
the syndics complained : "Our franchises 
are infringed by the bishop." Where- 
upon, to give some little satisfaction to 
the Swiss and Genevans, Pecolat was 
transferred to Geneva, and shut up in the 
Chateau de l'lle. But neither the duke 
nor bishop dreamt of letting him go. 

Pecolat'seondemnntion became the chief 
business of the court of Turin in its rela- 
tions with Geneva. Archbishop Seyssel, 
although not for despotism, hated repub- 
lics, and wished by Pecolat' s trial to crush 
'the spirit of liberty in Geneva. He en- 
deavored, under the subterfuge of a charge 
of high treason, to have him arraigned be- 
fore the duke ; but the syndics answered : 
' ' We have the power to take cognizance 
of every criminal case." However, the 
bishop was allowed delegates to sit and 
speak in court, but not to vote. 

The judges — the elder Levrier, Richar- 
det, and Porral— with the six councillors 
sitting, — met in the Chateau de l'lle, No- 
vember 10th, 1517, surrounded by the at- 
torneys and other partisans of Savoy. 
" The confessions I made at Thiez," said 
Pecolat, "were wrung from me by torture ; 
the judge dictate! the words, and I re- 
peated them after him. I knew that if I 
did not say what they wanted, they would 
break my arms and maim me forever." 
The examination began, and the syndics 
soon declared they must acquit him as in- 
nocent. The bishop said : " Give him the 
question, and you will see clearly that he 
is guilty." The syndics refused, but sub- 
mitted to the illegal appointment of four 
more judges by the bishop. 

In the following examination, Pecolat 
was seriously ill, and had to be carried 
into court. The episcopal judges exam- 
ined this living corpse and exclaimed : 
"He still affords some hold for the tor- 
ture ; he may be examined with a few tor- 
ments." They tied his hands behind his 
back, and threatened him with the rack ; 
but Pecolat answered with such frankness 
that two of the bishop's judges exclaimed: 
" We find no fault in him." 

The duke and the bishop now resolved 
this innocent man should be tried by 
priests. They produced a forged letter 
that Pecolat was an ordained cleric, and 



had him transferred to the bishop's palace. 
Pecolat was so affrighted, his features 
were so distorted and his eyes haggard 
with terror, that his keepers thought he 
was possessed by a devil, and sent f*r a 
barber to shave off his rough beard, in 
which they thought lurked the demon. 
But the devil whom Pecolat feared was 
his own cowardice, tempting him to falsely 
accuse his friends. "It is better," he 
thought, li to cut off an arm, a foot, or 
even the tongue, than to fall into everlast- 
ing perdition," Watching his opportu- 
nity, he seized the razor, and raised it to 
his tongue ; but his strength failed him, 
and he made only a gash. The barber and 
gaoler found him " coughing and spitting 
out blood in great quantities ;" but his 
tongue was not severed. The bishop in- 
sisted on a renewal of the torture, saying, 
"let him write his answer;" but Levrier 
would not gratify the inhuman request. 

All Geneva pitied the unhappy man, 
and asked if no one could deliver him 
from his tormentors. Bonivard sought the 
advice of Levrier, who said that the judges 
could not act without the bishop's con- 
sent. "There is however one means," 
added he. "Let Pecolat' s relations de- 
mand justice of me ; I shall refuse, alleg- 
ing the prince's good pleasure. Then let 
them appeal, on the ground of denial of 
justice, to the metropolitan court of Vi- 
enne." Bonivard, full of imagination, of 
invention, of resources, heedless of prece- 
dents, and energetic, immediately resolved 
to try this course. The Archbishop of 
Vienne (he argued - being always jealous 
of the Bishop of Geneva, would be de- 
lighted to humble his powerful colleague. 
The appeal was made in due form, and 
the archbishop with alacrity summoned 
the episcopal authorities of Geneva to Vi- 
enne for judgment ; in the meanwhile he 
forbade the bishop to proceed against the 
prisoner under pain of excommunication. 
But who would serve this daring sum- 
mons upon the bishop? Partly by prom- 
ises and partly by threats, a poor clerk was 
persuaded to the act ; with the fear of 
Bonivard' s dagger before his eyes, he 
knelt and handed it to the bishop return- 
ing from mass, saying, "My lord, you are 
inhibited, as in the copy," and ran off. 
The bishop, as frightened as himself, 
swore to be even with Bonivard. On the 
29th of January, 1518, Pecolat was trans- 
ferred to the castle of Peney, contrary to 
the franchises of the city. The metropo- 
litan now ordered the bishop to release 
Pecolat, under pain of excommunication ; 
but the episcopal officers laughed at his 
threats. This was a fair illustration of 
the pretended unity of the Roman Church 
in the sixteenth century. 

Anthony de la Colombiere, official to 
the metropolitan of Vienne, reiterated 
these orders in Geneva, but without effect. 
On Good Friday following the metropoli- 
tan officers formally posted the terrible mo- 
nition on the cathedral and the churches. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



827 



When the canons and priests approached 
for evening service, they were aghast at 
reading the placards, and quickly retired. 

"We excommunicate," these ran, "the 
episcopal officers, and order that this 
excommunication be published in the 
churches, with bell, book, and candle. 
Moreover, we command, under pain of 
the same excommunication, the syndics 
and councillors to attack the castles and 
prisons wherein Pecolat is detained, and 
to liberate him by force. Finally we pro- 
nounce the interdict against all places 
wherein these excommunicates are found. 
And if, like the deaf adder, they persist in 
their wickedness, we interdict the cele- 
bration not only of the sacraments, but 
also of divine service, in the churches of 
St. Pierre, Notre Dame la Neuva, St. Ger- 
main, St. Gervais, St. Victor, St. Leger, 
and Holy Cross." 

The agitation became general. No more 
services, no more masses, no baptisms, no 
marriages ; divine worship suspended, the 
cross hidden, the altars stripped ! All the 
diocese fancied itself excommunicated, 
and grew turbulent. The episcopal officers 
narrowly escaped drowning ; and the syn- 
dics said to the episcopal council (the 
bishop being absent,) "Release Pecolat, 
or we cannot protect you against the anger 
of the people." The alarmed officers 
yielded, and wrote to the governor of 
Peney to release Pecolat forthwith. 

As their messenger was leaving by the 
French gate, accompanied by a body of 
Genevans, a courier entered by the Savoy 
gate, bearing pontifical letters hastily ob- 
tained by the princes, by which the pope 
annulled the censures of the metropolitan ; 
and another order from the bishop forbid- 
ding them on their lives to release Pecolat. 
The episcopal councillors were astounded, 
and " immediately with all diligence coun- 
termanded the release." The bearers of 
this new order were met half-way by a 
noisy and jubilant crowd returning from 
Peney, bringing the freed Pecolat in a 
peasant's cart. The episcopal officers im- 
peratively demanded his surrender. De- 
spite the rogations of the pope, the prelate 
and the messengers, the people carried 
Pecolat back in triumph to the city. The 
poor man. yet dumb, shattered by the tor- 
ture, and wasted by his long imprison- 
ment, looked silently around, and his 
heart was full. His friends took him to 
the convent of the Grey Friars of Rive, an 
asylum reputed inviolable, and left him in 
the cell of his brother, the monk Yvonnet. 
He was there visited constantly by citi- 
zens ; and until his power of speech re- 
turned, "told the mystery of his suffer- 
ings with his fingers," says Bonivard. 
The abbot also records that "all the 
judges who condemned Pecolat to be tor- 
tured died this year, one after another." 

The young men of Geneva trembled 
with indignation at these atrocities. Not 
knowing whom to blame, the episcopal 
officers imprisoned the governor of Peney 



for obeying their order, and actually plan- 
ned to put him to death. Some timid 
citizens dared, not go and see Pecolat, for 
fear of the bishop's vengeance. One of 
these was Blanchet, who had been present 
at the famous Molard meeting and the 
momon supper, and whom soon after the 
barbarous vengeance of the prelate doomed 
to a most cruel death. 

No one embraced Pecolat with so much 
joy as Berth elier, who had returned to 
Geneva within this few days. In fact the 
duke, desirous to please the Swiss by any 
means, had given him, and also made the 
bishop give him, a safe-conduct which, 
bearing date February 24th, 1518, ex- 
tended to Whitsunday, May 23 d, in the 
same year. The favor shown the republi- 
can hero was not great, for permission was 
granted him to return to Geneva to stand Ms 
trial ; and the friends of the prelate hoped 
that he would not only be tried, but con- 
demned and put to death. Bonivard, brave 
and determined in spirit, returned to his 
city determined to accomplish the alliance 
of Geneva with the Swiss cantons. The 
action of the Genevans filled him with 
hope, for they elected syndics, three capa- 
ble liberals, Ramel, Vandel, and Besancon 
Hugues ; the premier syndic, Montzon, was 
the only " mameluke " chosen. 

The duke, the bishop, the count, and 
Archbishop Seyssel, were plotting at Turin 
the enslavement of Geneva. But the 
middle ages were ending,- the light of 
modern times was dawning. Geneva was 
the obstacle to the definite annihilation of 
the popular franchises ; Berthelier was the 
strength of this obstacle ; and it was re- 
solved to get rid of this proud, unyield- 
ing man. Berthelier appeared before the 
syndics to be tried ; the vidame Conseil 
and Peter Navis, the procurator-fiscal, 
managed the prosecution. " You have 
conspired," they said, " against the life of 
the prince-bishop." — "All lies," said Ber- 
thelier coldly ; "lies extorted by the rack 
and retracted afterwards." The declara- 
tions of the traitor, Carmentrant, relative 
to the momon supper were urged, but 
withdrawn. Navis again and again de- 
manded the forLeiture of the safe-conduct, 
and Berthelier's imprisonment; but the 
court refused these unjust prayers. Navis 
wrote to the duke and bishop for some 
good grievances. ' ' You shall have them, ' ' 
they answered ; "we have certain wit- 
nesses to examine here, this side the moun- 
tains." Little did Navis imagine one of 
these was his own son. 

Bianchet becoming disgusted with Ge- 
neva, and his love for liberty cooling, had 
said, " 1 will seek patrons and fortune." 
He returned to Turin, and was there 
thrown into prison by the bishop. Andrew 
Navis had grown dreadfully weary of his 
father's law office, and followed an old 
mistress to Turin ; -he was warned of 
Blanehet's seizure, but imprudently re- 
mained and soon shared his fate. After 



828 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a preliminary hearing, these prisoners were 
transferred to the bishop at Pignerol. 
"Speak as we desire you," said the collat- 
eral of the council; "and then you will be 
in his Highness' good graces." As they 
were silent, they were put to the rack; then 
fastened to the rope, and raised an arm's 
length from the floor. Navis remorsefully 
accused himself of his profligate life ; and 
when again tortured several weeks after, 
he condemned no one but himself. 

The bishop meanwhile had heard that 
Bonivard had just passed through Turin 
on his way to Rome, and ordered him to 
he seized on his return. The latter so 
little suspected the impending danger, that 
he had visited Italy to solicit the prelate's 
inheritance, on the latter' s approaching 
death. The shocking corruption of the pa- 
pal court astounded him. "The Church, " 
he said, "is so full of bad humors that it 
has become dropsical .... Everything is 
for sale at the court : red hats, mitres, 
judgeships, croziers .... Above all, do 
not trust to Leo the Tenth's word ; for he 
maintains that since he dispenses others 
from their oaths, he can surely dispense 
himself." Bonivard was unsuccessful in 
his object, and returned to Turin. He 
was warned of his danger, yet remained 
a week, solicitous about his imprisoned 
friends ; companions were always by his 
side to protect him from arrest. A letter 
of his to Blanchet and Navis was seized, 
and the bishop ordered his immediate 
seizure. The prior tranquilly told his ac- 
quaintances : " I shall stay a month longer 
at Turin, to enjoy myself with my old 
friends." Many invitations being given 
him, he accepted them all ; but the next 
day, before it was light, he took horse and 
galloped off for Geneva. 

The bastard was staggered when in- 
formed that Bonivard had escaped. He 
determined to revenge himself upon Navis 
and Blanchet, and to fill all Geneva with 
terror by means of their death. He pressed 
on the trial, and soon his specially consti- 
tuted court declared Navis and Blanchet 
solemly convicted, first of having been 
present and conspiring at the meeting at 
the Molard with accomplices ; secondly, 
of having proposed to flee to Switzerland, 
' ' abandoning thus the sovereignty of Sa- 
voy and the splendor of the white cross." 
They were condemned to be beheaded, and 
then quartered, according to the bishop's 
desire. The provost received the youths 
from the magistrates, and led them brave 
and composed to execution. When they 
had mounted the scaifold, Kavis spoke : 

1 ' Wishing before all things to make 
amends for the evil we have done, we re- 
tract all that we have said touching cer- 
tain of our countrymen, and declare that 
such avowals were extorted from us by the 
fear of torture. After proclaiming the in- 
nocence of others, we acknowledge our- 
selves guilty. Yes, we have lived in such 
a way that we justly deserve death, and 



we pray God, in this our last hour, to par- 
do q our sins. Yet understand, that these 
sins are not those of which we are accused ; 
we have done nothing contrary to the fran- 
chises and laws of Geneva ; of that we are 
clean . . . The sins which condemn us 
are our debaucheries." Navis would have 
continued; but the provost ordered their 
immediate execution The friends knelt 
down, the sword fell, and "thus they were 
beheaded and then quartered." 

This little bishop, so frail, livid, hide- 
ous, reduced almost to a shadow, without 
genius and without will, had nevertheless 
the will and the genius of evil. Two of 
the quarters of the dead bodies he had ex- 
posed over the gates of Turin. The two 
other quarters with the heads he had 
pickled, and sent in barrels to Geneva, 
"to stir up and terrify the scoundrels;" 
they arrived there Saturday, October 2d, 
1518. By his orders, they were secretly 
nailed that night to the branches of a fine 
walnut tree, near to the bridge of Arve, 
and opposite the Church of Our Lady of 
Grace, so as to attract all passers by. Un- 
derneath was the placard : "These are 
the traitors of Geneva;" and the white 
cross of Savoy above. 

The day broke, the horrible sight was 
seen, and the news spread through the 
city. It was Sunday, and an immense 
crowd of men, women, and children soon 
gathered ar-ound the tree. " It is Navis !" 
they said ; "it is Blanchet !" — "It is one 
of my lord bishop's messages come to us 
by the Turin post," said a Huguenot. 
Groans and weeping were heard in the 
crowd ; women gave vent to their horror, 
and men to their indignation. — " Come." 
said they to Navis' father, "come and 
see the reward the bishop sends you for 
your faithful services : they have sent 
frOm Turin as your pay the head of your 
son!" The unhappy man bent his head 
in sullen silence ; but his wife mourned 
loudly. The people were enraged. "The 
bishop," they said, "is a wolf under a 
shepherd's cloak. Would you know how 
he feeds his lambs, go to the bridge of 
Arve !" In that hour the Roman episco- 
pacy in Geneva received its death blow. 
If a Mameluke and a Huguenot happened 
to pass the bridge together, the first, 
pointing to the walnut tree, would say to 
the second with a smile : "Do you recog- 
nise Navis and Blanchet?" — the Hugue- 
not would coluly reply : "I recognise my 
bishop." 

The popular agitation spread to the 
syndics, and they summoned the council. 
"This morning,'' they said, "before day- 
break, two heads and two arms were fas- 
tened to a tree opposite the church of Our 
Lady of Grace. We know not by whose 
order." The mameluke magistrates strove 
in vain to excuse the act. It was resolved 
to send an ambassador to the princes to 
inquire whether this act had been perpe- 
trated by their orders, and in that. case to 
make remonstrance ; but the mamelukes 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



829 



succeeded in sending Savoyards as the 
agents. The duke received the deputa- 
tion coldly in public, but welcomed them 
in private. The ambassadors returned in 
three days with an unmeaning answer. 

The council wrote to the bishop, then 
at Pignerol. He replied from Turin, on 
the 15th of October : "You have never 
had prince or prelate with such good in- 
tentions as myself; the execution done 
the other side the bridge of Arve is to give 
those a lesson who desire to lead evil lives. 
Discharge your duty, so that when I am 
with you, there may be nothing to do but 
to make good cheer. If you should re- 
fuse, understand clearly that I shall pray 
my lord (the duke) and his brother (the 
count) to preserve my good rights ; and I 
have confidence in them, that they will 
not let me be trampled upon ; besides this, 
I will risk my life and my goods." This 
mild pastoral was signed : The Bishop 
of Geneva. 

After the murder of Blanchet and Navis, 
the passion of independence became domi- 
nant. "From that time,'' said a magis- 
trate of the seventeenth century, ' ' the 
duke and bishop were looked upon in 
Geneva as two tyrants who sought only 
the desolation of the city." 

The moment had come when men of 
decision were about to apply themselves to 
the work of opposing the encroaching 
designs of Savoy. Berthelier, "the great 
despiser of death, " threw himself energeti- 
cally into the midst of dangers. Despite 
the discouragements of Bonivard, he went 
from house to house, exhorting and stir- 
ring up the citizens " one by one." The 
remains of Navis and Blanchet were long 
left exposed, despite the appeals of Judge 
Navis ; and the mangled fragments loudly 
told the citizens it was time to defend 
their ancient liberties. The great agitator 
said : " Let us help ourselves, and God will 
help us !" The young, the poor, and the 
generous listened ; but the rich and great 
were afraid of losing their wealth. These 
ducal adherents, dreading an outbreak, 
sent the same embassy again to Turin and 
to Pignerol, and the patriots indignantly 
asked : " What ! you want to save the 
sheep, and yet select wolves to do it." 
The deputation arrived at Turin, and 
timidly stated their grievances to the 
duke. "It was not I who did it," said 
Charles ; " it was my lord of Geneva ; go to 
the bishop at Pignerol. ' ' Thither they went, 
and the bishop answered : "It was not I 
who did it; it . was my lord the duke." 
Then, say the chronicles, "the bishop 
accordingly entertained them, treated, 
feasted, and made merry with them." 

The whole party deliberated on the 
answer to be returned. The shrewd 
ambassadors dreaded the alliance of Ge- 
neva with the Helvetic republics, and 
urged harsh measures. A letter was drawn 
up in which the duke and the bishop in- 
formed the council "that they would hold 
them loyal subjects if they would assist iu 



unhesitatingly ■putting to death Berthelier 
and ten or twelve others, " whom they named. 
" We hand you this letter," said the duke 
and the bishop to the deputies ; "but you 
will not deliver it to the syndics and coun- 
cil of Geneva unless they promise on their 
oaths (be lore reading it) to execute with- 
out delay the orders it contains." Never 
had monarch put forward such enormous 
pretensions ; nor had such servile ambas- 
sadors. 

The iniquity of the duke and bishop 
showed the Genevans more and more 
every day the necessity of independence. 
They resolved to take a decisive step. 
Berthelier, Bernard, Bonivard, Levrier, 
Vandel, De La Mare, Besancon Hugues, 
and some others met in consultation. 
The brotherhood of St. George was re- 
vived ; and at a meeting of sixty citizens of 
spirit and enterprise, an alliance with the 
Swiss was warmly espoused. A rumor 
of this decision reached Turin. They 
answered immediately, on the 13th of Oc- 
tober, by ordering Berthelier to trial in 
the following month before the episcopal 
commissioners ; this was delivering him 
to death. Councillor Marti, of Friburg, 
who dearly loved Berthelier, hastened to 
Geneva, and warned the Council of Fifty 
to do their duty : " Protect Berthelier as 
the liberties of your city require, or be- 
ware ! Friburg has always desired your 
good ; do not oblige us to change our 
opinion." The Council thanked Marti, 
but added that, before giving a decisive 
answer, they must wait the return of the 
deputies sent to the bishop and the duke. 
"Nevertheless," added the syndics, "as 
regards Berthelier we will maintain the 
liberties of the city." 

The deputies soon arrived from Turin, 
with minds dazzled by the pomp and 
power of the Piedmontese court. On the 
29th of November they appeared before 
the Council of State, and demanded for 
the lord bishop the adding to the Council 
| of twenty leading citizens, and the making 
oath to reveal nothing communicated ; 
these arbitrary orders were complied 
with. The ambassadors then advanced 
another step : "Here is the letter in which 
my lord makes known his sovereign wall ; 
but before it is opened, you must all 
swear to execute the orders it contains." 

This strange demand was resisted firmly 
by the friends of independence, and the 
meeting broke up. 

The general council was convened to 
hear the message of the ambassadors, on 
Sunday, December 5th ; the cathedral bell 
tolled, and the large hall of Rive was quite 
filled with people. The deputies presented 
the letter, saying : " Our only instructions 
are, that before the council of Geneva 
open it, they shall swear to carry out its 
orders." The people were greatly agi- 
tated at these words, and taunted t lie 
bishop with the murder of Blanchet and 
Navis. "Gentlemen," said the more se- 
rious men, "we return you the letter un- 



830 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



opened, and beg you will send it back to 
those who gave it you." The deputy 
Nergaz, annoyed, exclaimed bitterly: "I 
warn you that my lord of Savoy has many 
troops in the field ; and that if you do not 
execute the orders contained in this letter, 
no citizen of Geneva will be safe in his 
states. I heard him say so." — "To the 
Rhone with the traitors ! to the Rhone !" 
cried the indignant citizens. The three 
mamelukes trembled with fear, but Lev- 
rier, Besancon Hugues and others quieted 
the spectators. Calm being restored, the 
councillors returned the prince's letter to 
Nergaz and his colleagues, saying: ''We 
will not open it." They feared the influ- 
ence of the creatures of Savoy, of whom 
there were many in the Great Council. 

The cruel butchery of Navis and Blan- 
chet, and the insolent sealed letter, were 
acts ruinous to those who had committed 
them. If the bishop had possessed only 
the spiritual power, he would not have 
been dragged into such measures ; but by 
wishing to unite earthly dominion with 
religious direction, he lost both : a just 
punishment of those who forget the words 
of Christ: 'fMy kingdom is not of this 
world." Two parties, both strangers to 
the Gospel, stood then face to face. On 
the one side were the bishop, the vicar 
and procurator-fiscal, the canons, priests, 
monks, and all the agents of the popedom ; 
on the other were the friends of light, the 
friends of liberty, the partisans of law, the 
representatives of the people. The battle 
was between clerical and secular society, 
The epicurean hog, (if we may use an an- 
cient phrase, ) at once filthy and cruel, who 
from his episcopal throne trampled bru- 
tally under foot the holiest rights, was 
unconsciously preparing in Geneva the 
glorious advent of the Reformation. 

The letter which demanded on behalf of 
Geneva an alliance with Friburg, was 
open, carried from house to house, and 
received three hundred signatures. As 
Berthelier could not leave the city to bear 
it, Besanqon Hugues - a happy mean be- 
tween Berthelier the man of action and 
Levrier the man of law — consented to go 
as a mere citizen; and the genial De la 
Mare was sent as his colleague. These 
two deputies were welcomed and honored 
at Friburg. The three hundred petitioners 
received the freedom of the city, with an 
offer to make the alliance general if the 
coiLiinunity desired it. When the propo- 
sal of alliance was presented to the general 
council of Geneva, the partisans of ab- 
solutism and those of the civic liberties 
grew so excited that an adjournment was 
made without any decision. 

The ardent friends of independence were 
uneasy, but the more enlightened liberals 
urged them to be patient. Berthelier de- 
sired immediate action; and accompa- 
nied by a noble citizen, Baudichon de la 
Maison-Neuve, he again re-animated the 
young Genevans with enthusiasm for in- 



dependence. The two parties became 
more distinct every day : the huguenots 
wearing ,a cross on their doublets, and a 
feather in their caps, like the Swiss ; the 
mamelukes carrying a sprig of holly on 
their heads. " Whoever touches me will 
be pricked," said they, insolently pointing 
to it. Quarrels were frequent. 

The party of Savoy determined upon 
the death of Berthelier, and many timid 
men shunned him. His case was ad- 
journed from week to week, till his friends 
demanded a general council. "All that 
I ask," said Berthelier, "is to be brought 
to trial ; let them punish me if I am 
guilty ; and if I am innocent, let them de- 
clare it." The general council ordered 
the syndics to do justice ; and the latter, 
without effect, three times summoned the 
vidame and the procurator-fiscal to make 
out their charges. On the 24th of Jan- 
uary, 1519, the Grand Council of one 
hundred and fifteen members delivered 
a judgment of acquittal. 

Then Montyon, the premier-syndic, a 
mamcluke yet a faithful observer of the 
law, said to him : ' ' Philibert Berthelier, 
the accusations brought against you pro- 
ceeding not from probable evidence but 
from violent and extorted confessions, 
condemned by all law human and divine, 
We, the syndics and judges in the criminal 
courts of this city of Geneva, having God 
and the Holy Scriptures before our eyes — 
making the sign of the cross and speaking 
in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, — declare you, Philibert, by our 
definite sentence, to be in no degree at- 
taint or guilty of the crime of conspiring 
against our prince and yours, and declare 
the accusations brought against you un- 
reasonable and unjust. Wherefore you 
ought to be absolved and acquitted of these, 
and you are hereby absolved and acquit- 
ted." 

If the joy among the huguenots was 
great, the consternation of the mamelukes 
was greater still. Berthelier' s acquittal 
created a deep sensation at the court 
of Turin, as it compromised all the plans 
of Savoy. The duke determined, if pos- 
J sible, to prevent the alliance with Swit- 
zerland. Able ambassadors were sent by 
him to first cajole, and then to terrify the 
Genevans with threats of punishment for 
conspiracy ; but they speedily returned, 
saying: "You will gain nothing by rea- 
soning with these citizens. If you say 
you are their prince, they will maintain 
that you are their vassal." — " Well, then," 
said the duke, "let us settle the matter 
not with the pen but with the sword. ' ' 

The Genevans knew what sort of report 
would be made of them at Turin ; they 
therefore resolved to forestall the duke, 
and to conclude as soon as possible an 
alliance with the Swiss, which would per- 
mit them vigorously to repel the Savoy- 
ards. Nothing could be more lawful. 

When the people met on Sunday, Feb* 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



831 



ruary 6th, 1519, to elect four syndics for 
the year, Besancon Hugues in a few pru- 
dent words presented the letter from Fri- 
burg, which was read before all the assem- 
bly. " When it shall please the entire 
community of Geneva to join in friendship 
and citizenship with the people of Fri- 
burg," said the writer, "the latter will 
agree cheerfully, without prejudice either 
to the rights of the bishop and prince of 
Geneva, or to the liberties and franchises 
of the city, and neither of the parties 
shall pay tribute to the other." 

When they heard this loyal and gener- 
ous letter, the people were enraptured. 
The Swiss themselves were stretching out 
their hands to them. The joy was uni- 
versal, and the loud cry arose : "A poll, 
a poll ! citizenship with Friburg ! A poll, 
a poll !" Hugues bravely proposed the 
alliance ; the majority assented with up- 
lifted hands, and the disconcerted mame- 
1 akes were silent. The nomination of 
the syndics, which came next, was the 
most huguenot election known. Three of 
the new syndics were devoted partisans 
of independence ; namely, Stephen de la 
Mare, John Baud, and Louis Plongeon. 
Guiges Prevost, the premier-syndic, al- 
though related with the ducal party, was 
a man of good intentions. Ambassadors 
set off immediately to announce to Friburg 
that the people had voted the alliance. 

Then burst forth one of those great 
transports that come over a whole nation 
when, after many struggles, it catches a 
glimpse of liberty. In all the city there 
were bonfires, cheering, songs, processions, 
and banquets. The adherents of Savoy 
in Geneva were bitterly hostile to this 
action, and organized their party. Francis 
Cartelier, syndic in 1516, a cunning but 
mean man, assembled its principal mem- 
bers. Montzon, Nergaz, the Messieurs 
de Brandis, the two de Fernex, Marin de 
Versonex, Percival de Pesmes, and others, 
met ; they resolved to urge the duke to 
make every exertion to prevent the alli- 
ance being carried out. All these efforts 
were to prove useless. It is a strange 
thing that the city bearing on its flag the 
symbols of these two absolute powers — 
the key of the popes and the eagle of the 
emperors— raised this very significant ban- 
ner, and thus proclaimed, as if in a spirit 
of contradiction, liberty in Church and 
State. 

Men of the old times grew alarmed. 
Might not this emancipatory movement 
extend through Europe '? At Geneva men 
talked of political liberty ; at Wittemberg 
of religious reform : if these two streams 
should chance to unite, they would make 
a formidable torrent which would throw 
down the edifice of the dark ages and 
sweep away its ruins into the great abyss. 

The duke, the count, and the bishop 
now regretted the imprudence of their 
rough policy, and determined upon other 
plans for retaining control of Geneva. 
First, they sought to break the alliance 



by means of their pensioners at Friburg ; 
but the latter dreaded "the risk of a beat- 
ing," and asked to be excused. The 
court of Turin then endeavored to win 
over the leaders of the opposition in Ge- 
neva. "Offer Berthelier silver and gold," 
said the prince to the Bishop of Maurienne; 
"in a word, do anything to attach him to 
my service." Berthelier answered the 
bishop coldly : "A vile interest will never 
make us render up an innocent people to 
the veugeance of your prince." The duke, 
seeing these efforts vain, made one more 
heroic effort. "Well, then," he said, 
' ' let us raise all Switzerland. ' ' His able 
ambassadors, Saleneuve, Chappuis, and 
Lambert, met the deputies of the cantons 
then sitting in diet at Berne, and com- 
plained bitterly of Geneva and Friburg. 
The diet declared in favor of the duke, and 
sent the Sieur d'Erlach to Geneva to sup- 
port the ducal protest. The Friburgers 
did not desert the cause of independence, 
but sent John Fabri to Geneva on their 
behalf. The two deputies met almost 
about the same time on the shores of the 
Leman, one bringing peace, the other 
war. 

The general council having met on the 
1st of March, 1519, the generous Fabri, 
faithful to a desperate cause, spoke first. 
" Consider the matter and see for your- 
selves what ought to be done,'' he said. 
" As for us, we will preserve the alliance 
to the ,last drop of our blood." These 
words electrified the audience. "And we 
too !" they shouted all around. The dep- 
uty from the League was admitted next. 
D'Erlach spoke with an imperious voice : 
"Obey the duke. Be henceforward his 
faithful subjects ; break off your alliance 
with Friburg. The League requires it 
from you under pain of their deep resent- 
ment ; and as for Friburg, they command 
it." This short and rough speech amazed 
the Genevans. How long had they been 
the subjects of Savoy? . . . Had the 
Swiss League broken their own yoke only 
to impose it on others ? 

When the deputy from Berne had re- 
tired, the deputy from Friburg returned, 
and re-assured the people that Friburg 
would not abandon Geneva. "Declare 
frankly," he said, "whether you desire 
the alliance; say Yes or No." With a 
loud shout, the people exclaimed, " Yes ; 
yes ! Better see our wives and children 
slain, better die a thousand deaths our- 
selves, than cancel the alliance with Fri- 
burg !" The general council decreed that 
if any should propose the rupture of the 
alliance, he should be forthwith beheaded. 
The syndics returned answer to D'Erlach : 
"We will send a deputation to the next 
diet, when we will prove that we are not 
the duke's subjects, and that we have done 
nothing to his prejudice." At the meet- 
ing of the general council on the following 
day (March 2d, 1519) the alliance was con- 
firmed : Hugues and Malbuisson started 
immediately for Friburg with instructions 



832 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to sign the engagement, which the Hel- 
vetic diet had just ordered to be cancelled. 
Such was the answer made by Geneva to 
the Swiss. 

The duke hesitated no longer. Pacific 
and diplomatic means were exhausted ; 
he must now draw the sword, and with 
its trenchant edge hew down the pride of 
Geneva. Nevertheless, to save appear- 
ances, he desired some influential body in 
Geneva to declare against the alliance. 
The duke instructed his agents to secure 
this protest from the chapter of St. Pierre, 
the bishop's natural council, and in his 
absence representing the catholic church. 
The canons, flattered by the importance 
which his Highness of Savoy attached to 
their opinion, hastily put on scapulary 
and amice, and assembled in chapter. 
The result of this ducal manoeuvre could 
not be doubtful. All the canons were at- 
tached to the duke but De Gingins, abbot 
of Bonmont, and Bonivard, prior of St. 
Victor, who was the youngest of the chap- 
ter, and who had no vote because he was 
not in holy orders. Bonivard urged them 
to reply that their business did not extend 
to alliances and other like civil matters, 
but to spiritual things only, and warned 
them of the resistance of the people. The 
canons would not heed the protest, and 
peremptorily drew up their declaration 
against the Swiss alliance. 

The decision of the canons was soon 
known in the city, and the people imme- 
diately assembled in great numbers in the 
Place Molard. It was proposed to pay 
these churchmen a visit, and to request 
them to mind their own affairs and leave 
state matters alone. The abbot of Bon- 
mont sent in all haste for his friend the 
prior of St. Victor, that he might stop the 
people. Bonivard hated despotism, and 
was equally opposed to the disorders of 
the citizens. The moment was critical ; 
the trembling canons expected to have 
the people fall upon them. Bonivard 
hastened to confront the multitude, and 
met them headed by Berthelier and Hu- 
gues. He stopped them, saying : " These 
reverend gentlemen have written, that 
they will not live under other protection 
than that of God and St. Peter ; and that 
as for the alliance with Friburg, they do 
not mean either to accept or refuse it. 
The letter is not sent yet ; you shall see 
it." Upon this Besancon Hugues checked 
the people. Bonivard hastily sent a mes- 
senger to the Bishop of Maurienne, in- 
structing him to "change promptly the 
purport of the letter." Maurienne at 
once dictated a new despatch to his 
secretary, and showed it to Berthelier, 
Hugues, and Pecolat, on their arrival 
shortly after. They suspected the trick. 
"Oh no ! the ink is still quite wet," they 
said. "Let the business be settled this 
once ; but let us keep a kick in store for 
the other courtiers." — "I have inserted 
this," says Bonivard, "to caution all re- 



publics not to give credit or authority to 
people bred up in the courts of princes." 

The duke was at the end of his re- 
sources, and the affair of the chapter 
had raised his indignation to its utmost. 
There had been comedy enough — it was 
time now to come to the tragedy. Every- 
thing must be prepared to crush Geneva 
and liberty. 

The duke raised an army "this side the 
mountains (that is, in Savoy) as secretly 
as he could ;" meanwhile amusing the 
Swiss cantons with the tine speeches of M. 
de Lambert. These forces were com- 
manded by the Sieur de Montrotier, Boni- 
vard's cousin ; and the duke with his 
army of seven thousand soldiers encamped 
at St. Jullien, a league from Geneva, be- 
fore anything was known of his intentions. 
Three thousand recruits came in from the 
country, and the ducal court was held 
with great pomp. Several of his boastful 
cavaliers said, "we must put them down 
with our riding whips." On the loth of 
March, 1519, fifteen of these rode into 
Geneva, impudently entered the council- 
room and sat down rudely, saying : "My 
lord, desiring to enter this city, orders 
you to lay down your arms and oj>en the 
gates." The Genevan senators moder- 
ately answered they would welcome the 
duke with his ordinary retinue : " In that 
case the arms we carry will be used only 
to guard him." The cavaliers replied : 
"My lord will enter the city with whom 
he pleases, and do in it as he pleases." 
"Then," said the syndics, "we will not 
let him enter." The fifteen rose, and 
before they left said : " We will enter in 
spite of your teeth, and we will do in your 
city whatever we j)lease." 

Many citizens fled from the city in 
alarm, but only to be confronted by the 
Savoy forces occupying every road. At 
three o'clock the patriots assembled, and 
resolved to send an embassy to Friburg 
to ask for a garrison, as the duke would 
not dare to resist the League. Besancon 
Hugues bravely volunteered, and departed. 
On Friday, April 1st, the king-at-arms, 
Provena de Chablais, appeared before the 
council in full armor, and bearing a gaule 
(rod) in his right hand. Scornfully over- 
looking three polite invitations to be 
seated, he at length said : " Worshipful 
syndics and councillors, do not marvel if I 
did not sit down when you desired me, 
and if I sit down now without being in- 
vited ; I will tell you the reason. I am 
here in behalf of my most dread prince 
and lord, the Duke of Savoy, my master 
and yours. It does not become you to tell 
him to sit down— it is his privilege to do 
so when and where he pleases : — not be- 
side you but above you, as your sovereign 
prince ; and as representing his person, I 
have done so myself. Now from my seat 
I unfold my commission, and it is this. 
My lord and yours charges and commands 
you to prepare his lodging in your hotel- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



de-ville, with the sumptuousness and | 
magnificence that belong to such a prince, j 
Likewise he orders that you will get ready | 
provisions for him and his company, 
which will be ten thousand infantry with- 
out including cavalry ; for his intention 
is to lodge here with his retinue, to ad- 
minister justice in Geneva." 

The council deliberated, and replied : 
. . . '"We are his very humble servants ; but 
we are neither his subjects, nor his vassals. 
. . . Let him please to come with his 
usual retinue ; but ten thousand men and 
cavalry besides — we have not supplies for 
so many." As they refused to obey the 
duke's orders, the herald cast down his 
gaule and said: "On his behalf, then, I 
pronounce you rebellious to your prince, 
— and I declare war against you with fire 
and sword." 

On his departure, the people forced even 
the mamelukes to join them in taking up 
arms. The gates were shut, the chains 
stretched across the streets, the artillery 
manned, the watch set. The peasants 
returning from market described these 
preparations to the Savoyards. Immedi- 
ately the duke's fit of courage was suc- 
ceeded by one of fear, and he asked, 
through M. de Lucinge, permission to 
come and sup in a friendly way, with his 
great suite and two or three hundred in- 
fantry only. The mamelukes urged that 
the gates be opened to the duke immedi- 
ately ; the syndics replied they would con- 
sult the general council on the morrow. 
Is early forty of these disloyalists, including 
Montzon, Cartelier, and Nergaz, hastened 
out of the city to have a private interview 
with the duke. Cartelier encouraged the 
duke to persevere : ' ' Enter Geneva, my 
lord, sword in hand." Before departing, 
a plot was concocted to betray the city. 

On Sunday morning following, Council- 
lor Marti, Berthelier's Swiss friend, en- 
tered Geneva with a herald. As he brought 
no soldiers, the huguenots coldly replied : 
"We want ambassadors in doublets, 
and not in long robes ; not diplomats, but 
soldiers." Marti started for Gaillard, 
three-quarters of a league distant, where 
Charles had advanced his forces. The 
duke received him with many flattering 
words; but Marti plainly replied: "My 
lord, you have already told my friends so 
many lies, that I do not know if they will 
believe you any more. ' ' The duke sharply 
retorted : "I shall enter Geneva as a 
friend ; or, if they do not like it, as an 
enemy. My. artillery is all ready to lather 
the city in case of refusal." Marti, in 
alarm, demanded and obtained a truce for 
the night. He returned, and urged the 
city to trust the duke. It was agreed to 
convene the Great Council before day- 
break, and the worn-out citizens were re- 
lieved to rest. At twelve o'clock the plotted 
signal of a torch displayed was given from 
. a tower of St. Pierre, and the duke's cav- 
alry advanced up to the very gates ; but the 
alarm was sounded by a sentinel, the citi- 



zens aroused, and the attacking party, 
led by Philip of Genevois, retired discom- 
fited. 

The Grand Council met before day- 
break, April 4th, and at Marti' s entreaty 
the syndics started to meet the duke. 
The duke promised, with oaths, to enter 
Geneva with none but his ordinary retinue 
and five hundred footmen, and entrance 
was yielded. On the next morning, the 
duke set his army in motion, saying : 
' ' My people will only pass through 
Geneva " All the gates were opened, and 
the walled ones were broken down. The 
indignant huguenots resolved to remain. 
Bonivard prudently escaped into the Pays 
de Vaud ; but the indomitable Berthelier 
would not flee to live. 

The army of Savoy approached the St. 
Antoine gate ; it was like a triumphal 
progress. Monarchy, according to politi- 
cians, was about to gain the victory over 
republicanism. First the cavalry, headed 
by the Count of Genevois in armor ; then 
eight thousand infantry, headed by six 
Genevan mamelukes ; lastly, the duke, in 
complete armor, followed by his guard. 
"Montrotier," he said to his principal cap- 
tain, "I have sworn that I will only enter 
Geneva over the gates." At this hint, the 
St. Antoine gate and its wall were knocked 
down. All the army having passed the 
gate after the duke, marched through the 
city to parade its triumph in the streets 
and defy the citizens. Contrary to the 
stipulations, the whole army took up its 
quarters immediately in the city. The 
duke stopped in Bonivard' s Maison de 
Nice ; and the count, now appointed gov- 
ernor of the city, rested at the hotel-de- 
ville. Geneva was taken, and many of 
its citizens thought their country forever 
lost. 

These Savoyard princes behaved as in a 
city taken by assault. That evening the 
cannon were removed from the ramparts 
to the hotei-de-ville, and loaded to quell 
any insurrection. The syndics were 
aroused before morning, and forced to 
surrender the keys of the gates, the ram- 
parts, the arsenal, and the provision mag- 
azines. The disloyal mamelukes banded 
together, and soon wrenched off the staples 
and locks from the city gates, and even 
the clappers from the bells. These were 
carried as trophies to the duke, as a sign of 
the real transfer of the jurisdiction of the 
city. 

The next morning the Savoy soldiers 
wantonly destroyed the feather beds they 
had slept upon, drank and spilled out all 
the wine in the cellars, and committed 
many outrages. Their depredations were 
finally quelled by means of a false alarm 
purposely given by the count. 

The mamelukes in council drew up a 
proscription list, placing upon it the four 
syndics, the twenty-one councillors, and 
other notable citizens, so as to make up 
forty. They haggled with the executioner 



834 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



about "how much lie would take for forty- 
heads, " but could not come to terms. 
This rumor spread, and many were fright- 
ened; but the boldest huguenots girded 
on their swords, and walked proudly about. 
At the representations of Berthelier and 
his friends, Marti accused the duke of 
breaking his promise ; but he was brutally 
ordered out from his presence. A general 
council was now summoned, and the 
mamelukes renounced, in the name of 
Geneva, the alliance with Friburg. 

On Thursday April 7th, proclamation 
was made that "no one shall leave his 
house, whatever noise there might be, or 
even put his head out of the window, under 
pain of his life." But the proclamation 
was interrupted by the arrival of a Swiss 
courier, amid the rejoicings of the people. 
The appeals of Besancon Hugues for im- 
mediate aid to save the lives of the Gene- 
vans had been granted ; and succor now 
came in a Swiss army, which mustered 
18,000 when it occupied the Savoy town 
of Morges. The chiefs of Friburg had 
previously seized the Sire de Lullins, his 
Highness' governor of the Pays de Vand, 
and said to him : "Write to your master 
that he do no harm to our fellow-citizens ; 
your head shall answer for theirs : besides, 
we are going to give him a treat at 
Geneva. ' ' This message it was that inter- 
rupted the proclamation, and also fright- 
ened the duke. He humbly urged Marti 
to prevail upon his lords to return ; the 
latter replied : " Commission your own 
people to carry your lies." The duke, 
terrified, had it cried through the city 
"that no one should dare to do harm or 
displeasure to any person of Geneva, under 
pain of the gallows." The general coun- 
cil, at the duke's request, sent two mame- 
lukes, Taccon and De Lestilley, to declare 
to the Friburgers that the duke would do 
no injury to Geneva. Everything was 
changed in Geneva. The huguenots at- 
tacked their guests with songs, epigrams, 
and sarcasms; and as it was Lent, they 
gave them only small fish called besolles to 
eat. Hence this expedition was called 
"the Besolles War." 

At Morges, Besancon Hugues and Mal- 
buisson urged the Friburg troops to ad- 
vance; Taccon and De Lestilley urged them 
to retire. The deputies of the cantons ar- 
rived, and proposed a middle course : that 
Savoy should withdraw her troops, and 
Friburg her alliance. The huguenots, 
abandoned by the cantons, stood stupefied. 
"Renounce your alliance with Friburg," 
repeated the League, " without prejudice to 
your liberties.' 1 '' "But they would not," 
said Bonivard, " for they had the majority 
of votes." A general council of mame- 
lukes consented to the proposition. The 
duke hastened to leave Geneva, and the 
plague took his place. The people trem- 
bled for their leaders ; for the bishop wrote 
from Pignerol the same words as when he 
had put Navis and Blanchet to death : 
"Having recovered from my serious ill- 



ness, I am think : ng of passing the moun- 
tains, for the benefit and good of my city." 

Neither the duke nor the bishop had ex- 
hausted their plans. The heads of Blan- 
chet and Navis, suspended seven months 
before on the walnut tree, were there still, 
tossed by every wind, and telling the pass- 
ers-by that the wrath of the princes was 
not yet appeased. The bishop dreaded 
that the liberty demanded in the state 
would soon be demanded in the Church, as 
in Wittemberg, where a doctor had just 
appealed from a pope to a general council. 
On his return from Turin he hastily passed 
through Geneva, dreading the plague, and 
abode near Dovaine. Here he was visited 
by the principal mamelukes, who said to 
him : "First, we require Berthelier' s death, 
and pray, my lord, let the blow be prompt. 
Second, the rebellious councillors must be 
dismissed. Third, your grace must come 
into the city . . . with good swords /" The 
bishop responded : "Amen!" 

The cruelties of the princes of Savoy 
had already fallen upon Bonivard. The 
prior, "disguised as a monk," had left 
Geneva the day the duke entered it, and 
was accompanied by two whom he trusted 
as friends — the Sieur de Voruz and the 
Abbot of Montheron. The latter looked 
longingly upon the priory of St. Victor, 
and agreed with his companion to betray 
Bonivard to the duke for that benefice; 
the former was to receive an annual pen- 
sion of two hundred florins out of the 
stipend. At Montheron, after resting 
through the night, the perfidious Voruz 
said to his trusting companion: "Resign 
your priory of St. Victor in favor of the 
abbot. " — " What!" exclaimed the startled 
Bonivard, "is it under a show of friend- 
ship that you lay these plots '?" — " You are 
our prisoner," Voruz answered coldly; 
"all attempts to escape will be useless." 
Bonivard at first refused. — "The duke is 
going to put Berthelier and his companions 
to death ; be careful. If you will not do 
what we tell you, we will deliver you into 
his hands, and there will be one huguenot 
the more for the scaffold. You are free ; 
make your choice— resignation or death !" 
Bonivard had no wish to die, and he con- 
sented to everything. Instead of liberty, 
the prior had an imprisonment for two 
years in the duke's castle of Grolee, and 
afterwards a harsher and longer captivity 
in the castle of Chillon The betrayers 
were rewarded as they had planned. 

The bishop gathered a force of armed 
men, and on the 16th of August drew near 
the city. The syndics commended Geneva 
to his pastoral mercies. "Alas!" they 
said, "it is stricken with the double scourge 
of the plague and the sword." The bishop 
promised to enter with only a hundred 
and fifty footmen, "and protect each one 
in his rights. ' ' The people resolved to hide 
their discontent and fears, and the day of his 
entrance, Saturday, April 20th, 1519, was 
observed as a holiday. Six hundred rough 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION*. 



835 



soldiers accompanied him, in violation of 
his pledges. The general council met by 
summons next day ; the bishop appeared, 
and his official announced : "My lord not 
having many days to live, desires that all 
things be put in order before his decease. 
He has therefore brought some soldiers 
with him that he may correct any who 
shall be mad enough to resist him." 

The next two days the bishop was se- 
cluded in his palace, while his soldiers 
insulted the huguenots upon whom they 
were quartered. All the citizens were 
alarmed but Berthelier. He calmly waited 
for the death which he foresaw. In his 
opinion there could be no evil in life to 
him who has learned that the privation of 
life is not an evil. After the bishop's ar- 
rival he came and went just as before, and 
frequently visited a quiet meadow by the 
Rhone, without the city. As he strolled 
towards this spot, on Tuesday morning, 
August 23d, between six and seven o'clock, 
playing with a little weasel in his bosom, 
he saw a troop of soldiers ahead waiting 
for him, and " walked straight towards the 
armed men, as proudly as if he was going 
to take them." When arrested he would 
not sound his terrible whistle to collect 
enthusiastic defenders, but placidly hand- 
ed his sword to the vidame, saying : " Take 
care what you do with this sword, for you 
will have to answer for it." The prisoner 
was hastily taken to the Chateau de l'lle, 
and the vidame stationed guards every- 
where, even in the secure chamber in 
Caesar's tower. 

As Berthelier saw death approaching, 
he said that all he had to do was to remove 
its mask, for underneath was the face of a 
friend. His soul grew agitated ; but he 
quieted it with the hope that his death 
would lead to the deliverance of Geneva. 
Yet, without bravado, he smiled and 
caressed his pet weasel ; to the soldiers 
around him he showed only a simple and 
candid soul. The guards, in sympathy, 
urged him to ask pardon of the duke. 
" He is not my prince, " he said, "and if he- 
were, I would not ask for pardon, because 
I have done no wrong. It is the wicked 
who should beg pardon, and not the 
good." — "He will put you to death, 
then," said the guards. Berthelier made 
no reply. But a lew minutes after, he went 
up to the wall and wrote : " Non moriar 
sed vivam et narrabo opera Domini — I shall 
not die but live and declare the works of 
the Lord,"— a prediction relative to the 
Messiah, in the hundred and* eighteenth 
psalm. Although not a protestant, Ber- 
thelier sought his last consolation in the 
Word of God ; and the passage he wrote 
on the wall referred to the Saviour's resur- 
rection. Did he hope, after this world, 
for a glorified world of imperishable feli- 
city, the everlasting abode of the children 
of God ? — We believe so. 

The prisoner was diverted from these 
thoughts by the arrival of the officers of 



justice. Berthelier, according to the laws, 
ought to have been tried by the syndics ; 
but the bishop arbitrarily issued a pro- 
vost's commission to Jean Desbois, " for- 
merly a tooth-drawer." Berthelier repu- 
diated his authority. " When the syndics, 
who are my judges, question me," he said, 
"I will answer them; but not you, who 
have no right to do so. ' ' The provost left 
to tell the bishop of his ill success. The 
emotion was universal in Geneva. The 
friend of its liberties, the founder of the 
league who touches one, touches all, was 
about to pay with his life for his defence 
of his country. The bold spirits urged 
that the citizens should support the laws 
by rescuing Berthelier ; but the magis- 
trates preferred to send the syndics to the 
bishop. " My lord," said they, "Berthe- 
lier has been acquitted according to law ; 
and now he is arrested without accuser, 
and without a preliminary information. If 
he is innocent, let him be set at liberty ; 
if he is guilty, let him be tried by us ; do 
not permit an infringement of the fran- 
chises in your city." But the bishop re- 
fused to let him go. The people were in- 
dignant. The bishop and his creatures, 
fearing an outbreak, resolved to rid them- 
selves of their adversary. 

-Berthelier saw he was doomed, but his 
calmness never failed him. He remem- 
bered that the voluntary sacrifice which 
men make of their lives, out of love for 
their fellow countrymen, has a mysterious 
power to save them. But if Berthelier de- 
sired to save Geneva, Geneva longed to 
save him. Rumors of an intended rescue 
reached the ears of the bastard, and all his 
forces, aided by the mamelukes, were 
posted along the route to the place of 
execution. 

Desbois entered the prison with a con- 
fessor and the headsman. Berthelier re- 
fused to answer, and the provost pro- 
nounced sentence : " Philibert Berthelier, 
seeing that thou hast always been rebel- 
lious against our most dread lord and 
thine, we condemn thee to have thy head 
cut off to the separation of the soul from 
the body ; thy body to be hung to the gib- 
bet at Champel, thy head to be nailed to 
the gallows near the the river Arve, and 
thy goods confiscated to the prince." The 
provost then introduced the confessor, 
"with whom Berthelier did not hold long 
discourse." After that the third person- 
age, the headsman, came forward and 
pinioned him. 

In every quarter of Geneva men's eyes 
were fixed on the Chate, u de File. They 
saw the martyr led forth by his guards, 
his countenance showing the greatness of 
his soul, but were powerless to rescue him. 
Berthelier having advanced a few stops, 
found himself between the chateau and 
the river. "Say thy prayers," said the 
provost. The hero made " a short prayer," 
and as he rose to speak to the people 5 , the 
provost ordered the executioner : ' ' Make 
haste with your work." — " Kneel down," 



836 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



said the man to his victim. Berthelier I 
fell on his knees, and exclaimed : " Ah ! 
Messieurs of Geneva — !" That was all ! 
and his head fell at four o'clock in the 
afternoon of August 23d, less than ten 
hours after his arrest. The lifeless body 
of the martyr was placed in a wagon, and 
the executioner accompanying it through 
the city, cried : " This is the head of the 
traitor Berthelier ; let all take warning by 
it." A universal horror fell upon the 
people, and many, heart-broken at his fate, 
shut themselves up in their houses. The 
body of the father of Genevese liberty 
was suspended to the gibbet, and his head 
fastened on the bridge of Arve, by the 
side of those of BlanchetandlSTavis. Men's 
hearts were rent by that death so hurried, 
so illegal, so tragical, and many refused 
all consolation Some proud citizens gave 
vent to maledictions. They were consoled 
to know that the blood thus shed would 
awaken with a terrible voice the Swiss 
league. There were many victims of re- 
ligious liberty ; but the noblest martyrs of 
political liberty, in modern times, have 
fallen at Geneva, and their death has not 
been useless to the universal cause of 
civilization. 

A friend of Berthelier wrote this noble 
epitaph : 

" Quid mihi mors nocuit? Virtus post fata virescit; 
Nee cruce nee gladio, soevi peritilla tyranni. " 

(What harm has death done me? 
Virtue nourishes beyond the grave ; it 
perishes neither by the cross nor the sword 
of the cruel tyrant. ) 

The bishop was now encouraged to 
revolutionize Geneva. His proclamation 
blasphemously said of the duke of Savoy : 
"If this illustrious prince had not been 
touched with compassion ; if he had not 
surpassed by his clemency the charity of 
the Redeemer, we should all have been de- 
stroyed." The syndics were " more ready 
to yield the bishop their maces than their 
heads," and four mameluke syndics were 
appointed : P. Versonay, P. Montyon, 
P. de Fernex, and G. Danel. All hugue- 
nots were excluded from the general 
council, and citizens were forbidden to 
carry arms, or to assemble by night. 
Sorrow and dismay filled men's hearts. 
Ere long a Tew courageous spirits took 
counsel together, and the bishop began 
the persecutions afresh. 

Amadeus de Joze, a friend of Berthelier, 
had contemptuously treated a famous 
black image of wood nearly three feet 
high, called St. Babolin ; and he was tried 
September 7th, 1/U9, upon this charge, as 
well as for attendance at illegal meetings. 
He was a cripple, mild, weak and infirm ; 
and when his judges ordered torture to be 
used, he replied only by groans and tears. 
As he was neither a hero nor a revolution- 
ist, he was permitted to escape by night. 
Bonivard says : " They imprisoned, they 
beat, they tortured, they beheaded and 
hanged, so* that it was quite pitiful." 
Geneva was crushed. The duke and 



bishop by proclamation restricted its 
liberties, banished young men from the 
council, and took from the people the 
electing of syndics. The general council 
accepted these articles in silence, Septem- 
ber 3d. The sorrow was general ; prophe- 
cies were made of the ruin of the people 
and of the coming judgments of God. 

A poor girl for three days walked up 
and down the city, neither eating nor 
drinking, but crying everywhere as she 
went: Le maz mugnierf le maz molia! 
le maz molu! . . . tout est perdu. "'Wicked 
miller ! wicked mill ! wicked meal ! . . . 
All is lost !" The miller was the prince, 
the mill was the constitution, the meal 
was the people. This monotonous and 
doleful voice affected everybody, even the 
mamelukes ; and the vidame dared not 
arrest the prophetess. 

The prophetess was mistaken ; the meal 
was good On a sudden the sky hitherto 
so dark cleared up, and there was a gleam 
of sunshine. The duke, who was think- 
ing of marriage, returned to Turin ; the 
bishop, who was seriously ill and needed a 
warmer air, withdrew to his abbey of Pig- 
nerol, and the huguenots, freed from their 
two oppressors, raised their heads. The 
leading huguenots demanded of the epis- 
copal vicar, the prothonotary of the holy 
see, the revocation of the decrees contrary 
to the liberties of the city, and the libera- 
tion of all citizens imprisoned by the 
bishop, threatening to again appeal to the 
metropolitan see of Vienne. The vicar 
was alarmed, and hastily complied. The 
patriots, encouraged again, began to as- 
semble ; Aime Levrier, the judge, was 
especially courageous. Berthelier had 
been the man of action : L 'vrier was the 
man of right " God made man free," he 
said; "ages have made Geneva free; no 
prince has the right to make us slaves. 
Let us petition the pope for the prelate's 
destitution." Levrier was accordingly 
commissioned to go to Rome. In response, 
Leo X. ordered the bastard never to return 
to Geneva, and to select a coadjutor to re- 
place him ; this was a cruel disgrace to the 
prelate. 

The Great Council, under the late illegal 
edict, now nominated the new syndics ; b ;t 
the people, in general assembly, boldly de- 
clared the election should take place ac- 
cording to the ancient franchises. The elec- 
tion was accordingly held next day, but the 
people, with great moderation, returned 
the same syndics as the Great Council had 
done . After having conquered absolutism, 
they conquered themselves. They did 
more : they attempted a reconciliation 
with the mamelukes, on the basis of all 
being Genevans in Geneva ; but the latter 
finally referred the proposition to the 
bishop and the duke. A citation from 
Rome on the 30th of April, 1520, surprised 
Geneva, summoning the magistrates to 
give' account at Rome for levying a tax 
upon the priests to help pay the expenses 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



837 



of the war des Besolles. The citizens wer^ 
indignant that the indolent, deb uched 
clergy should be thus shielded, while they 
were heavily opj>ressed ; and "there was 
some rioting." 

Some of the Genevans had heard Luther 
in Germany had appealed from the pope 
to a general council. Like Luther, they 
asked how it was that you could not find 
in all the Bible one word about the papacy, 
and that while the Scriptures often men- 
tion little things, they positively say 
nothing of what we are assured are the 
greatest in the church ? . . . " We are no 
longer so frightened at the pope's bulls," 
said the Genevans, "and will not let our- 
selves be caught in his nets." Such was 
the first echo in Geneva of the cry uttered 
at Wittemberg. 

The priests were alarmed at the name 
of the arch-heretic, and began to make 
long processions to avert the wrath of 
heaven. One of these spectacles greatly 
displeased the townspeople. "All the 
priests have gone out," said they ; "let us 
profit by the opportunity to shut the gates 
of the city, and prevent them from return- 
ing." This startling prelude to the Re- 
formation so frightened the monks and 
priests, that they made an arrangement to 
pay a portion of the expenses of the war. 

Other events gave some hope to the per- 
secuted Genevans : their greatest friend 
came out of prison, and their greatest 
enemy quitted this world. Bonivard, by 
the intercession of his influential relations, 
at length recovered his liberty but not 
his priory. The perfidious Abbot of Mon- 
tholon, who was believed to have been 
poisoned by certain covetous ecclesiastics, 
by a deed left the priory to Bonivard ; but 
Leo X. gave it to one of his cousins. Bo- 
nivard was left in poverty, till eventually 
he regained his priory for a short period. 
The bishop chose as his coadjutor Pierre 
de la Baume, bishop of Tarsus in partibus, 
who took his charge in Geneva in January, 
1521. The mameiukes endeavored to gain 
this future bishop and prince to their 
side. Besancon Hugues, who desired to 
see Geneva catholic and episcopal, secured 
his confidence, and remained ever after his 
most confidential adviser. 

The miserable John of Savoy lay at 
Pignerol on his death-bed. He suffered 
from the gout ; he was covered with filthy 
ulcers ; he was little more than skin and 
bone. He had lived for debauchery and 
oppression ; he now received the wages of 
his iniquity. His coadjutor watched the 
progress of the disease with ill-dissembled 
satisfaction ; and the hirelings around 
impatiently awaited the time when they 
might carry off the objects they coveted. 
Wiien the priests presented the crucifix to 
the dying man, he rejected it with horror ; 
blasphemy and insult mingled with the 
foam that whitened his trembling lips. 
Remorse succeded to despair, and he said 
to Pierre: "I wished to give the princi- 
pality of Geneva to Savoy — and to attain 



my object, I have put many innocent per- 
sons to death." — "If you obtain this bishop- 
ric," continued he, "I entreat you not to 
tread in my footsteps. On the contrary, 
defend the franchises of the city ... In 
the sufferings I endure, I recognize the 
vengeance of the Almighty ... I pray to 
God for pardon from the bottom of my 
heart ... In purgatory . . . God will 
pardon me" . . Unfortunately Pierre de 
la Baume did not profit by this solemn 
advice. The bastard died after horrible 
sufferings, "so withered that he did not 
weigh five and twenty pounds." The 
prophecy of Pecolat was fulfilled ; his 
episcopacy lasted only nine years. 

Geneva was about to change masters. 
Pierre de la Baume was weak, vain, and 
almost as servile as his predecessor ; and 
he accelerated the approaching revolution 
in Geneva. The new bishop wrote to his 
charge at Geneva, February 7th, 1522, in- 
forming them that his predecessor had 
"made as holy an end as ever prelate did, 
calling upon his Creator and the Virgin 
Mary with his latest breath. ' ' He reminded 
them at the same time "of the great love 
and affection which John had felt while 
alive for them and for all his good subjects. ' ' 
. . . "Witness the chestnut-tree at the 
bridge of Arve," said some. 

A year elapsed before the new bishop 
came to Geneva ; probably he was delayed 
by his temporal occupations. At last, on 
the 11th of April, 1523, his solemn entry 
took place. He was cordially received at 
the bridge of Arve by the syndics, the 
councillors, and the people. More than a 
hundred horsemen, and four companies of 
soldiery accompanied him. He rode "on 
a mule beautifully harnessed and gilt, and 
wearing a green hat, after the fashion of 
the bishops of Rome." Dramas, farces, 
mysteries and games were given in the open 
air, and the Genevans were full of hope. 
But he had scarcely taken the oath to ob- 
serve the franchises before he imprisoned 
a citizen unlawfully ; and w T hen the syndics 
humbly reminded him of their liberties, 
he exclaimed petulantly: "You always 
smell of the Swiss." However, he set the 
prisoner at large. 

The duke, seeing that the Genevese 
commune was seriously weakened, had 
formed new plans for definitively seizing 
the sovereignty, and expelling both liberty 
and the tendencies towards Reformation, 
with which, according to Charles III. and 
Charles V., this restless city was infected. 
Magnificence, fetes, grandeur, flattery, 
seduction and perfidy were all to be 
brought into play, and for that end Charles 
possessed new resources. He had just 
married Beatrice of Portugal, whose sis- 
ter was about to be united to the Emperor 
Charles V. Beatrice, a woman of great 
beauty, proud, ambitious, and domineer- 
ing, required everything to bend before 
her ; Charles, a man Of no will, found one 
in this princess ; and the conspiracy of 



838 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Savoy against Genevan independence en- 
tered into a new phase, which threatened 
to be marked by great reverses. Besides, 
the duchess expected to be brought to bed 
in December ; if she had a boy in Geneva, 
would not these worthy burgesses be 
happy, nay proud, to have for their prince 
a son of Savoy, born within their- walls ? 
Every means was set to work to carry out 
this court manoeuvre ; and the vain Gene- 
vans sought to have the pomps of the fete 
of welcome far surpass those of the 
bishop's reception. 

At last the 4th of August arrived, and all 
the city hastened in procession to the banks 
of the Arve. First appeared a battalion of 
three hundred young and beautiful ama- 
zons of Geneva ; they wore the colors of the 
duchess, blue and white. The duchess ap- 
peared, seated in a triumphal chariot drawn 
py four horses, and so covered with cloth 
of gold and jewels that all eyes were daz- 
zled. The duke rode by her side on a mule 
richly caparisoned, and a multitude of 
noblemen followed them in magnificent 
attire, smiling and talking to one another ; 
the good-humored simplicity of these re- 
publicans charmed them. The procession 
passed successively under six triumphal 
arches, before each of which Beatrice had 
to stop and hear a new compliment ; but 
the haughty Portuguese woman would not 
even look at the ladies, and received the 
magnificently dressed shop-keepers with 
still greater contempt. The citizens were 
deeply offended, and the duke conjured 
his wife to make an effort to win back 
their hearts. 

Doubts were beginning at this time to 
circulate concerning the attachment of 
Geneva to the papacy. The mamelukes 
and canons ashamed of these rumors, pre- 
pared a mystery-play to show the duke and 
duchess the Genevans thought more of 
seeking crosses and other relics than of 
finding the New Testament so long un- 
known. The triumphal car halted at the 
Place du Bourg de Four to witness a spec- 
tacle — ''Invention of the Cross." 

The first scene represents Jerusalem, 
where the Emperor Constantine and 
Helena, his mother, have arrived to make 
search for the precious relic. The Jews 
are put into prison ; and this is a lesson to 
show what ought to be done to those who 
pay no respect to the wood that Helena 
had come to worship. 

The next scene represents Golgotha. 
The IJmperor, Helena, and their train 
follow a released Jew, who shows where 
the three crosses are buried. The true 
cross is discovered by the restoration to 
life of a dead body which it had touched. 

Constantine kneels and worships it. 
O cross of Christ how great thy power! 
In this place I thee adore ; 
May my soul be saved by thee ! 

Helena. 
The cross hath brought to us God's grace, 
The cross doth every sin efface. 
Here's the proof. . . . 



Thus, therefore, the Genevese believed 
in tlie miracles worked by the wood of the 
cross, and were free from heresy ! 

The procession at last arrived at the 
Dominican convent, where sumptuous 
apartments had been prepared, Charles 
as delighted as Beatrice was wearied. 
"The flies are caught by the honey," said 
the duke ; "yet a few more fetes, and these 
proud Genevans will become our slaves." 
A "round of great banquets, balls, and 
fetes " were commenced by the duke ; and 
Beatrice entertained the ladies with 
ballets, masquerades, and plays. The 
youth of Geneva contended in tourna- 
ments with the nobles of the court. " We 
have never been so well entertained since 
the time of the Duke Philibert," said the 
young Genevans. The allurements of 
gain to the shop-keeper was also added, 
through the liberal expenditure of money 
in the city. The ambitious were attracted 
by the hope of higher distinctions, and 
even the syndics humbled themselves. 
Everything led the politicians to expect 
complete success. 

The calculations of the princes of Savoy 
were not, however, so correct as they 
imagined. A circumstance almost im- 
perceptible might foil them. Whilst the 
cabinet of Turin had plotted the ruin of 
Geneva, God was watching over its 
destinies. Shortly before the entry of the 
bishop and the duke, another power had 
arrived in Geneva ; that power was the 
Gospel. Lefevre published his French 
translation of the New Testament near 
j the end of the year preceding 1522 ; and 
J the persecutions of Christians in Paris, 
drove them into different provinces. In 
the sixteenth century, as in the second, 
the Gospel ascended the Rhone. "Some 
people called evangelicals came from 
France ;" says a Memoir to the Pope on the 
Bebellion of Geneva; some Genevans 
' ' talked with them and bought their 
books." Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, 
a man bold to imprudence, but upright 
and generous, was one of the first of 
these ; Robert Yandel, Syndic in 1529j 
and many besides read the Scriptures with 
astonishment. They sought but could 
find no Roman religion there — no images, 
no mass, no pope ; but they found an 
authority and power above prelates and 
councils and pontiffs, and even princes 
themselves — anew authority, new doctrine, 
new life, new church . . . and all these 
new things were the old things which the 
apostles had founded. Priests and 
bigoted laymen looked with astonishment 
at this new spectacle. Was the victory to 
slip from their hands in the very hour of 
success ? 

The triumph of the Savoy party had 
exasperated the huguenots. They de- 
termined to add their dish to the enter- 
tainment of the duke and duchess, season- 
ing it however with a few grains of salt. 
Instead of the discovery of the cross by 
Helena, they resolved to perform, a 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



809 



mystery-play celebrating- the discovery of 
the Bible by the Reformation. Jean 
Philippe, a wealthy citizen, generously 
provided for all the expenses, the young 
men learnt their parts, and the festival 
was held on a Sunday in fair time when 
many strangers were in the city. Ihe 
Bishop of Maurienne, and many lords and 
ladies were present ; neither the duke nor 
duchess attended, "because the perfor- 
mers are huguenots," said the former. 

The huguenot who had composed the 
piece represented the state of the world 
under the image of a disease, and the 
Reformation as the remedy by which God 
desired to cure it ; the subject and title of 
his drama was, Le Monde Malade, the Sick 
World, and everything was to appear— 
priests, masses, the Bible and its followers. 
The principal character, Le Monde, (the 
World, ) had heard certain monks, terrified 
at the books which had lately come from 
France, announce that the last days were 
at hand, and that the World would soon 
perish. He trembled, his health declined, 
and he pined away. Each of his friends 
brought a remedy, but the World grew 
worse and worse . ■ He decided to resort to 
the sovereign universal remedy of masses : 
the Romish worship, assailed by the Re- 
formers, was now on its trial in the streets 
of Geneva. But neither long nor short 
masses were of any use. The wise Le Con- 
seiller <the Counsellor) then recommended 

A thing; which no man dares gainsay — 
The Bible. 

The World will not have it at any price, 
but now calls in the Doctor, to give advice. 
The latter describes the clergy as k ' rogues 
and thieves :" 

Children still in their nurses' arms 
Made abbots and bishops and priors. 
For their pleasure they kill their brothers, 
Squander their own goods and seize another's. 

To be well, the Doctor gives this prescrip- 
tion : 

Then think of abuses what a store 
Are daily committed by great and small, 
And according to law reform them all. 

This was demanding a Reformation. 
The huguenots (hidguenots) applauded; 
the foreign merchants were astonished ; 
the courtiers of Savoy, and even Mauri- 
enne himself smiled. The World resolved 
to live by the rules of his appetite ; there- 
upon he put on a fool's dress, and the bur- 
lesque ends. The evangelicals had taken 
up their position ; the text of the Bible 
was publicly declared "an irreproachable 
thing." This may be dated as the be- 
ginning of the Reformation in Geneva. 

The Savoyards were now enraged, and 
avenged themselves by frequent quarrels 
with the citizens. Tradesmen were in- 
sulted and struck ; but ere long every one 
armed himself, and crossed swords with 
these insolent lords. Complaints and re- 
criminations ensued ; the duke threatened 
"to pillage the place," but tranquillity 
54 



was restored at the thought of the duchess. 
Aime Levrier, faithful interpreter of the 
laws, continually reminded the council 
that Charles was not sovereign in Ge- 
neva. John Lullin, a practical, energetic 
man, and landlord of the Bear inn, at 
every opportunity recklessly manifested 
his love of liberty. One day, when his 
stables were full, he refused to receive 
some horses said to be the duke's, saying : 
"First come, first served. I would rather 
lodge carriers than princes." Charles was 
then gathering six thousand men to be 
present in Geneva at his child's christen- 
ing ; he was incensed at this reply, and 
Lullin was sent to prison for three days 
by the council. 

On the 2d of December, at noon, the 
duchess was delivered of a prince. Imme- 
diately the bells were rung, trumpets were 
sounded, and long processions were made. 
' ' As he was born in Geneva, ' ' said the 
courtiers, "the citizens cannot refuse 
him for their prince." The duke delight- 
edly told the duchess : " Geneva shall be 
yours." Everything in Europe seemed 
to favor these designs of Savoy. Charles 
Y. and Francis I. were about to fight in 
Lombardy ; the pope and Luther were 
contending ; the Swiss were divided against 
themselves. Bishop Pierre de la Baume 
was persuaded to travel to Italy for the 
emperor's service, instead of remaining to 
care for his flock. The dissipations were 
redoubled, and the Dominicans gave a 
vigil full of abominations. "God alone 
remained," said Bonivarcl; "but while 
Geneva slept, He kept watch for her." 

There was one citizen in Geneva who 
greatly embarrassed the duke, and this 
was Levrier. It was neither from pride, 
resentment, nor envy that he resisted the 
usurpations of the prince, but from an 
ardent love of justice and respect for the 
old charters of liberty. He had less spirit 
than Berthelier, but more gravity ; less 
popularity, but severer manners ; more 
prudence, and quite as much courage. He 
was reproached for his moderation by 
some ; but Levrier, firm in regard to law 
and right, was mild in regard to men. 
The duke had nominated as his vidamy of 
Geneva, Yerneau, sire of Rougemont, one 
of his chamberlains. Charles now pro- 
posed to conquer the city by first taking- 
possession of the courts of law, and sec- 
ondly of the sovereignty. By way of be- 
ginning, the duke desired that the vidame 
should make oath to him and not to the 
bishop ; although in Geneva the prince of 
Savoy was only an inferior officer of the 
bishop. Had it not been for Levrier' s bold 
remonstrances, the episcopal council would 
have yielded this vital principle in the 
bishop's absence ; but Charles was irri- 
tated that his wishes were overruled. 

The struggle between the duke and the 
judge threatened to become terrible, and 
could only be ended by the death of one 
of the combatants or the expulsion of the 



8-10 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



other, Everything was favorable to the I 
duke. " Who can hinder him," said his 
courtiers, "from becoming sovereign of j 
Geneva ? — The bishop '? Although he may j 
make a great fuss, he will easily be quieted; 
for he has benefices without number in his 
Highness' states. — Pope Clement? The 
duke is in alliance with him.— The empe- 
ror? His marriage with the duchess' 
sister is in progress. — The Swiss League? 
They are in great anxiety about the house 
of Austria, and they too are divided city 
against city on account of religion. — The 
people of Geneva ? The court, by spend- 
ing its money freely, has gained them. 
— Berthelier? He is dead. — The other 
huguenots? They were so roughly 
handled at the time of the former enter- 
prise, that they are afraid of getting into 
hot water again. . . . What remains to 
prevent the duke from accomplishing 
his undertaking ?" — " There remains but 
God," said the patriots. 

The duke sought to bend Levrier to his 
will by beguilements. As a special mark 
of good will, the upright judge was in- 
vited to join the ducal party in an excur- 
sion to the castle of Bonne. "You know 
that I am sovereign lord of Geneva," in- 
sinuatingly said the duke in private to 
Levrier ; " and that you are my subject." 
" No, my lord," immediately replied the 
judge ; "I am not your subject, and you 
are not sovereign of Geneva." The duke 
dissembled his anger, and Levrier hast- 
ened back to Geneva. The duke soon in- 
formed the episcopal council of his firm 
intention to assume henceforward the 
rights of sovereignty. The weaker citi- 
zens thought their independence lost ; but 
Levrier openly declared ' ' Neither the duke 
nor the senate of Savoy has any authority 
in Geneva. The jurisdiction belongs to the 
city and to its head, the bishop : the duke, 
when within our walls, is a vassal, and not 
a sovereign." An energetic opposition was 
aroused, and Claude Richardet, a deter- 
mined huguenot, was elected syndic. 
Charles and his courtiers now preached in 
Geneva the necessity of separating Church 
and State: "Souls to the bishop, body 
and goods to my lord of Savoy. ' ' Yet a 
few more years, and this city will be en- 
franchised from both despotisms. 

Tho next day the duke informed the 
new syndics that hereafter the episcopal 
officers should not interfere in profane 
matters. Gruet, the vicar, replied : "Your 
Highness is aware that my lord of Geneva 
is both bishop and prince ; he possesses 
the two jurisdictions in this city." The 
irascible duke grew angry : " I intend that 
it shall be so no longer ; and if the bishop 
pardons when my vidame has condemned, 
I will hang up with their letters of grace 
all to whom he grants them." Everybody 
trembled ; the pusillanimous vicar held his 
tongue. 

The duke had now resided eight months 
in Geneva, and he determined to remove 
at once the great obstacle to the annexa- 



tion of the city. L'wrier's death was re- 
solved upon. Charles summoned the epis- 
copal council to meet him, and in L<-vrier's 
absence savagely threatened them for dis- 
obeying his orders. ' ' My lord, ' ' they said, 
" it is not our fault ; it is Levrier that has 
done it all ; he maintains stoutly that 
Monsieur of Savoy has no authority in 
Geneva." The duke angrily ordered the 
citizen to be brought before him. Levrier 
knew his life was at stake, but two days 
afterwards he calmly appeared with the 
episcopal council before the duke. The 
latter asked him in threatening tones : 
"Have you not said that I am not sove- 
reign of Geneva?" — "My lord," he an- 
swered, "if I have said anything, it was 
in the council, where every one has the 
right to speak freely. You ought not to 
know of it, and I ought not to be molested 
about it." — "Go," said the duke, not 
heeding this just remark, "prepare to 
prove to me within three days that what 
you say is true. Otherwise I will not an- 
swer for your life . . . wherever 1 may 
be. Leave my presence !" And they all 
went out. 

"Levrier departed in great trouble," 
said Bonivard. The death with which he 
was threatened was inevitable. " He has 
set a condition upon my life, " said Levrier, 
"which it is impossible to fulfil. Do what 
I may, there is nothing left for me but to 
die." Bonivard urged him to escape for 
his life ; but Levrier went about -the city 
as tranquilly as before. 

The secret removal of Levrier to the 
castle of Bonne for execution, was plotted 
between the prince and his steward Belle- 
garde, to occur upon the eve of the Sun- 
day before Easter, 1524. On that day, 
this prince, fearing a popular uprising, 
stealthily left his apartments and removed 
nearer his own territory. Levrier was 
seized as he quitted mass at the cathedral, 
clad in his long camlet robe and velvet cas- 
sock, and was stunned by a blow upon the 
head. He was dragged rapidly to Plain- 
palais, and put upon a wretched horse ; 
his hands were tied behind his back, and 
his legs fastened below the belly of his 
steed . Thus vilely treated, he was taken 
to the castle of Bonne, and confined in a 
dark cell. On hearing of the success of 
his plot, Charles returned, joyful, to his 
lodging. The city was soon in great agi- 
tation at this outrage. The council as- 
sembled immediately, and had the bishop's 
council summoned ; but these venal Sa- 
voyards refused to appear. The syndics 
next day urged Gruet, the bishop's vicar, 
to warn his Highness "he is trampling un- 
der foot both the sovereignty of the bishop 
and the liberties of the citizens ; but the 
timid man refused to bear the message 
without his colleagues attended him. The 
Bishop of Maurienne was next appealed 
to: "Save Levrier, or we are all lost!" 
The prelate agreed to mediate, and speedily 
brought back the duke's answer: "Full 
of clemency towards them, I ask for one 



'^'^iiSMHil^ili 1 




SCOURGING OF AIM^ L^VRlETt. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



841 



thing only : let them acknowledge them- 
selves my subjects, and I will give up 
Levrier." 

The syndics laid this answer before the 
council. " What ! acknowledge ourselves 
the duke's subjects ! If we do so, the duke 
will destroy our liberties forever." — "To 
save the life of a man, we cannot sacrifice 
the rights of a people." — "The duke calls 
for blood ; let him have it ; but that blood 
will cry out for vegeance before God, and 
Charles will pay for his crime. " — The duke 
persisted in his cruel decision : "I must 
have the liberties of Geneva, or Levrier' s 
life." — Certain noble-hearted ladies now 
besought Beatrice : " Appease his High- 
ness' wrath, Madam, and save this good 
man." But the Portuguese princess re- 
fused, and was soon driven by remorse out 
of Geneva "beyond the mountains." 

Moreover, it would have been too late. 
On Sunday morning, the 11th of March, 
Bellegarde had Levrier beaten with nine 
stripes for hatred-sake, and demanded his 
accomplices. "There are no accomplices 
where there is no crime," replied the noble 
citizen, with simplicity. Levrier was then 
condemned to be beheaded, because he was 
"a lettered and learned man, able to pre- 
vent the success of the enterprise of Sa- 
voy." Levrier was left alone. He had 
long looked death in the face: "Death 
will do me no evil," he said. He recalled 
the lines written upon the martyr Ber- 
thelier just after his death, and wrote 
them on his own prison wall: 

" Quid mihi mors nocuit ? Virtus post facta virescit ; 
Nee cruce nee saevi gladio perit ilia tyranni." 

The confessor soon entered, and me- 
chanically performed his duty. Then 
appeared the executioner with a cord, at 
ten o'clock at night. Levrier was led, 
surrounded by the provost's men, to the 
middle of the court-yard. Alone in the 
night, in those sublime regions of the 
Alps, surrounded by the barbarous 
figures of the Savoyard mercenaries, 
standing in that feudal court-yard which 
the torches illumined with a sinister glare, 
the heroic champion of the law raised his 
eyes to heaven and said : " By God's grace 
I die without anxiety, for the liberty of 
my country and the authority of St. 
Peter. ' ' The grace of God, liberty, author- 
ity — these mam principles of the greatness 
of nations were his last confession. The 
sword was swung round by the execu- 
tioner, the head rolled in the castle-yard, 
the remains were respectfully gathered in 
a coffin, " and his body was laid in earth 
in the parish church of Bonne, with the 
head separate." 

These triumphs of brute force agitated, 
scandalized, and terrified men's minds. 
These bloody "stations" will be found 
glorious " stations " leading to the summit 
of right and liberty. Berthelier, Levrier, 
and others, have hitherto been only 
Genevese heroes ; they are worthier of 
being placed on a loftier pedestal, and of 
being hailed by society as heroes of the 



human race. The indignation was general 
in Geneva against the duke, and towards 
the faithless bishop. The citizens were 
disgusted with priestly government, and 
concluded it only served to ruin its 
subjects. The young worldlings who 
frequented the court were aghast at this 
murder, and forsook the place of their 
revellings. Those who studied the Scrip- 
tures took courage in their tears : ' ' One 
single obstacle will check the duke, and 
that obstacle is God." Charles was un- 
easy at the excitement of the people. He 
bound the patriot Hugues under oath not 
to take part in the affairs of the city, and 
then hastened to depart. The Genevans 
breathed at last : the city was without 
either duke or bishop. 

The duke had no sooner departed than 
there was a general burst of indignation 
against him, and against the mamelukes 
who had delivered up the greatest of the 
citizens to the sword. Bernard Boulet, 
the city treasurer, was one of the proudest 
of these ducal partisans, He had clan- 
destinely appropriated the property of 
the State, and furnished no accounts ; he 
owed the city at least 6,000 crowns, 
squandered in magnificent entertainments 
of his own. Syndic Richardet, a good 
patriot, courageous but hot-headed, 
entered the council one day determined 
to put an end to these manifest peculations. 
"I call upon the treasurer," he said, "to 
produce the accounts of his office." The 
embarrassed Boulet attempted to evade 
the question ; but, being determined to 
make him give an account of his conduct, 
the syndic persisted. The mameluke, 
driven into a corner, exclaimed : ' ' Are we 
to be governed by these huguenots ?" — "He 
spoke thus from contempt, "says Bonivard. 
The exasperated Richardet dealt him such 
a blow with his syndic staff that it flew to 
pieces. Great commotion ensued, and the 
syndic frankly apologized for his rash act. 
Boulet did all he could to exaggerate his 
injury. He bandaged his head, and 
carried his arm in a sling, although his 
only wound was a slight bruise on the 
latter. "I will make my complaint to 
the bishop," he said ; "I will make it to 
the duke. Geneva shall pay dearly for 
it." He set out for Chambery and re- 
ported the syndic's violence to the ducal 
council. 

The Savoy bailiffs soon appeared, and 
fastened letters of citation around the 
city. The council of Geneva was 
summoned to appear before the council of 
Savoy. That was not all : the macers of 
the Savoyard council declared the posses- 
sions of the Genevans in Savoy confiscated, 
and consequently forbade the farmers and 
vinedressers to till the land or to grind at 
the mill. Meadows, fields, vineyards, all 
were to remain uncultivated. Hitherto it 
had pertained to God alone to send years 
of famine. Almost at the same time, 
other citizens were arrested on frivolous 



842 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



pretexts, and thrown into one of the 
dungeons of Chateau Gaillard. A bailiff 
of Chambery dared to post a "protection " 
on the door of Boulet' s house, as if Geneva 
had been within his jurisdiction. Boulet 
had the audacity to show himself at a 
general council ; but he there overheard 
references to his peculations which sent 
him flying again to the ducal council, to 
urge it to " vex ' ' the Genevans. All this 
was threatening. By order of the syndics, 
prayers and masses were offered for the 
safety of the city. 

The bishop was anxious to be on good 
terms with the house of Savoy, that it 
might aid him to obtain a cardinal's hat, 
as he did a little later. He was content 
for a red hat to abandon his sheep to the j 
wolves ; and lest they should offend the 
duke, he wrote them from Piedmont : "So 
conduct yourselves that God and the world 
may have reason to be satisfied." His epi- 
tome of wisdom was to satisfy God and the 
world. The oppressions of Savoy increased, 
and two leading syndics, Dumont and 
Aime Girard, bore the Genevan complaints 
to De la Baume, then at St. Claude. The 
bishop promised to secure the pope's pro- 
tection, but contented himself with send- 
ing Albalesta to the duke. The Genevese 
resolved to take their cause into their own 
hands, and they sought a new leader. Be- 
sancon Hugues, now thirty-four, has been 
called the Nestor, the Sully, the Washing- 
ton of Geneva. He was mild and tender, 
fired with love for his country, of insinuat- 
ing manners, bold, devoted, and of a rare 
discernment and wisdom which gave him 
an irresistible influence. He was now 
elected snydic, along with Montyon, Pen- 
sabin, and. Balard ; but he refused the 
office. ' ' The duke, ' ' replied Hugues, ; ' has 
forbidden me personally to meddle in city 
affairs ; I have given him my promise. 
Levrier's death lias taught us what the 
duke's wrath can do. I would rather be 
a confessor than a martyr." — Some con- 
demned him, but the majority felt : "He 
gives way now only to succeed better here- 
after." The general council, on the 10th 
of January, 1525, resolved to appeal to the 
pope against the attacks of Savoy, and 
delegates were accordingly sent ; but the 
court of Turin found means to stop them 
on the road. The bishop was given two 
hundred gold crowns to support their 
cause at Rome. He put the money in his 
pocket, and contented himself with send- 
ing a deputy to Chambery. The deputy 
was contemptuously received by the ducal 
council, and had answer: "If within a 
month from this you do not make your 
submission, we will send you so many sol- 
diers that you must e'en take the trouble 
to obey his Highness." The destruction 
of the liberties of Geneva seemed to be 
at hand. Again the Genevans paid the 
bishop to pass the Alps, and he said, "I 
will go;" but instead he went to Milan, 
where, as agent of Charles V., he plotted 
against Francis I. 



The duke had now isolated the weak 
and proud city. He resolved to bring 
matters to an end, and drew near Geneva 
with his forces. Deputies sent to him 
were thrown into prison, and the supplies 
of the city were cut off, in violation of 
solemn treaties. Yet he feared the appeal 
to Rome, and on the 8th of September, 
sent by his vidame the following proposi- 
tion to the council : "On the one hand 
you will withdraw the appeal from Rome ; 
and on the other the duke will put an end 
to all the annoyances of which you com- 
plain." And then he demanded the supe- 
rior jurisdiction in Geneva for the duke, as 
if it were mere surplusage. "Let us ac- 
cept," answered the mamelukes ; but the 
courageous patriots exclaimed: "If we 
love the good things of this life so much, 
our only gain will be to lose them and our 
liberty with them. The duke entices us 
to-day, only to enslave us to-morrow. Let 
us fear neither exile, nor imprisonment, 
nor the axe. Let us secure the independ- 
ence of Geneva, though it be at the price 
of our blood." 

A majority of eleven decided that the 
appeal of Geneva against the duke should 
be withdrawn. Charles determined to be 
rid of the forty-two huguenots who op- 
posed his designs ; he gase orders to move 
his army into the city and free it from the 
rebels. The mamelukes drew up proscrip- 
tion lists containing the names of many of 
the best citizens ; and to prevent the free 
Genevans from escaping, the duke sta- 
tioned soldiers on every road. Pierre de 
Malbuisson was seized at Seyssel ; Beffant 
at Annecy ; Bullon was arrested on Sun- 
day (frightful sacrilege in the eyes of the 
catholics !) in the church of Our Lady of 
Grace, during high mass. ' ' That matters 
not, ' ' said the ducal party ; ' ' there are 
cases where the privileges of the Church 
must give way to the interests of the 
State." During this time the patriots 
were boldly demanding a convocation of 
the people to annul the late mameluke 
majority. 

At last the storm burst. On the 15th 
of September, the ducal forces were seen 
in the fields neai by ; messengers brought 
tidings of their murderous intentions, and 
the mamelukes guarded the ramparts of 
the city . " Make your escape, ' ' said some 
to the huguenot leaders ; "if you delay an 
instant, you are lost." 

The huguenots pursued by the sword of 
Savoy, could neither carry away what 
would be necessary during their exile, nor 
take leave of their friends ; people in the 
streets had hardly time to enter their 
houses. All departed amid the tears of 
their wives and the cries of their children. 
The exodus began, not the exodus of a 
whole people, but of the flower of the citi- 
zens. There was Jean Baud, captain of 
the artillery, with his brother Claude, a 
zealous episcopalian, but a friend of inde- 
pendence ; Girard, who had succeeded 
Boulet as treasurer of the city; Jean 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



843 



Philippe, afterwards first syndic ; the in- 
trepid Jean Lullin, Hudriot da Molard, 
and Ami Bandiere, who were syndics in 
the year of the Reformation, with many 
more, left the gates of the city. Others 
quitted Geneva secretly; some by day, 
some by night, in disguise, on foot or on 
horseback, "in great haste, by different 
roads, without consulting one another." 
Some crept along the edge of the lake ; 
others hastened towards the mountains. 
Melancholy dispersion, sad calamity. 
Some hurried away to Friburg, by way of 
Lausanne ; by means of by-roads some 
evaded the duke's forces, and were pro- 
tected by a small force sent out from Fri- 
burg to their relief. Others set out for St. 
Claude, by way of the Jura ; they endured 
great hardships, flung themselves into the 
woods, and scaled the rocks. They found 
the bishop absent, and no one would give 
them shelter. St. Claude they left by one 
gate as the Savoyard soldiers entered by 
another, and after much suffering greeted 
at Friburg their friends who had come by 
way of Lausanne. 

Besancon Hugues, the most threatened 
of all, was sought by the huguenots in 
vain. His friend Messire Yuillet, com- 
mandant of Gex, visited him at his farm 
at Chatelaine, a little out of Geneva, on 
the evening of September 15th, intending 
to seize him next morning. Hugues 
divined his intention from the news he 
brought ; so, when the commandant had 
retired, he galloped off on his guest's horse 
to St. Claude, intending to go to Friburg. 
Six days after the arrival of his friends, he 
was welcomed at Friburg with transport. 
"Ah !" said he, "it was not pleasant ; for 
the archers of Monsieur of Savoy followed 
us as far as St. Cla-ude, then from St. 
Claude to Besancon and beyond. . . . 
We were forced to journey day and night, 
through the woods, through the rain, not 
knowing where to find a place of safety." 

A striking sight was that presented by 
the city founded by the Zcehringens. 
Strange men were wandering around the 
old cathedral and on the steep and pic- 
turesque banks of the Sarine. The people 
of Friburg looked at them with respect, 
for they knew that these citizens, the vic- 
tims of the tyranny of a foreign power, 
had come to seek an asylum within their 
walls. They went to the windows to see 
them pass, and approached them with cor- 
dial affection. 

Besanqon Hugues and a number of the 
fugitives were received with distinction 
by the council. Hugues rose and said : 

"Most honored lords, there is a town 
situated at the natural limits of Switzer- 
land — a town entirely devoted to you, 
where you can come and' go just as at 
home, where you can bargain, sell, and 
buy whatever you require, and which 
would be able to stop your enemies, if 
ever the League should be attacked from 
the south. This town, the complement 



of Helvetia, ought to be allied to the can- 
tons. Did not the Swiss in the time of 
Caesar extend as far as L'Ecluse? ... If 
Geneva should fall into the hands of Savoy, 
the cannon that ought to defend you will 
be turned against you. . . . Gentlemen, 
time presses, the fatal moment is at hand. 
. . . Long, unjust and violent persecutions 
have placed our liberties on the brink of 
the abyss. The heroic Berthelier mur- 
dered at the foot of Ca?sar's tower; the 
wise Levrier beheaded in the castle-yaiid of 
Bonne ; Malbuisson, Chabod, and many 
oth ers recently flung into gloomy dungeons ; 
all our friends remaining at Geneva in dan- 
ger of losing their lives . . . and we, most 
honored lords, who are before you, obliged 
to abandon our property, our business, our 
families, our country, that we may not fall 
into the hands of a prince who has sworn 
our death : to such a state is our free and 
ancient city reduced. . . . One thing alone 
can save it . . . the strong hand of the 
Swiss League. . . . Most honored lords, 
hear our cries, behold our tears, and have 
compassion on our misery. For God's 
honor, give us aid and counsel." 

His companions were deeply moved. 
The Friburgers touched with pity for 
Geneva and its exiles, and filled with in- 
dignation against Charles, replied; "No, 
we will not desert you." — The Genevans 
also called upon Berne and Soleure for as- 
sistance, and were received with great zeal 
by the Bernese. Evangelical citizens of 
Berne warmly espoused their cause, and 
taught them the lessons of the Gospel. 
Thus, by the wonderful providence of 
God, the blow aimed by Savoy to kill 
liberty and the approaching Reformation 
in Geneva, secured their existence and 
gave them a wider development. 

Meanwhile the duke and his counsellors 
were staggered at the escape of the fugi- 
tives, and feared their return with the 
Swiss. The appeal to Rome against him- 
self by a band of nobodies, had wounded 
his Highness deeply. On the 20th of Sep- 
tember, his representative, M. de Bal- 
leyson, inquired of the general council : 
" Our lord the duke wishes to learn from 
j the people of this city of Geneva whether 
they intend to prosecute a certain appeal 
before the court of Rome." The mame- 
lukes, who were almost alone in the coun- 
cil, shouted out as if with one voice : 
"It is not our wish to prosecute the said 
appeal." 

This matter ended, the duke entered the 
city, and found the survile mamelukes 
proud to have him for their "most dread 
lord." He now intrigued to get the sov- 
ereign authority handed over to him, 
and threatened Geneva with Avar lines of 
twenty thousand gold crowns. The syn- 
dics replied : "Monseigneur, the city is 
poor, and we can only offer you -our 
hearts!"- On the 10th of October, the 
vidame said to the council : "The duke is 
vicar-imperial and sovereign of the eities 
included within his states ; Geueva is so 



844 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



included. "Why do you not then acknowl- 
edge him as your master? Do not be 
afraid ; he is a kind prince ; he will respect 
the authority of the bishop and the fran- 
chises of the city, and you will enjoy a 
prosperity hitherto unknown." The vi- 
dame saw their unwillingness, and added : 
"If you do not accept the duke willingly, 
you will be made to acept him by force." 
The syndics referred the demand to the 
episcopal council, who in turn referred it 
to the bishop. Opportunely, Swiss am- 
bassadors arrived in Geneva near the end 
of October. Seeing the council wavering, 
Gaspard de Mullinen, of Berne, said to the 
members : "Stand firm and fear nothing ; 
our lords will support you in all your 
rights." The duke deceived these rude 
warriors and honest citizens by his dip- 
lomacy. First, the mamelukes were put 
forward to reiterate: " AVe desire to live 
under the protection of the duke and the 
bishop." Next, Charles declared he was 
willing to grant everything the cantons 
required. "The fugitives may return. 
Here is a safe-conduct for them ; take it 
to them." The document was in Latin, 
and the unlearned ambassadors compla- 
cently departed with it to Friburg. 

Hugues was a better Latin scholar, and 
at the last phrase smiled bitterly : JDum- 
modo non intrent civitatem, nee suburbia 
ejus, said the safe-conduct ; ' ' which 
means," said Hugues to the deputies, 
"that we can return to Geneva provided 
we do not enter the city or the suburbs. 
. . . The duke will be within and we with- 
out. . . . The duke is laying a snare : it 
is a condition which nullifies the act. — 
The bird which the duke has sent us," he 
added, "has a fine head and beautiful 
plumage ; but there is a tail at the end 
which spoils all the rest." — " This grace is 
a mere trap," said the indignant exiles. — 
"My lords," said the fugitives to the 
councils of Berne and Friburg, ' ' the duke 
is a great traitor. He fears not God, but 
he fears men the more. For this reason, 
make us free of your cities ; for if he 
knows that we are your allies, then only 
will he leave us in peace." At the same 
time the Genevans, wishing to show the 
duke what confidence they placed in his 
safe-conduct, sent for their wives and 
children. This was making an energetic 
answer to Savoy. 

After a sad and difficult journey, the 
wives and children of the exiles arrived in 
Friburg ; and the beggared Genevans were 
compelled to welcome them in the streets, 
not knowing where to shelter them. ' ' We 
sent for our families," said they to the 
council ; ' ' but we can neither lodge them 
nor feed them. Permit them to enter the 
hospital. ' ' The request was granted. The 
exiles aroused themselves from a sad des- 
pondency, and went from Friburg to 
Berne, appealing publicly to the sympathy 
of the Swiss. Many of the tribes of the 
city of Berne and the majority of the 
Council of Two Hundred declared for the 



vanquished cause, and the conclusion of 
an alliance with Geneva semed near at 
hand. 

The bishop was alarmed at this intelli- 
gence, and at the intrigues of the duke. 
He wrote to his flock : " Do you, on your 
part, so conduct yourselves that God and 
the world may have cause to be satisfied." 
His efforts came to nothing practical. 
These prince-bishops, John of Savoy and 
Pierre de la Baume, were nothing but 
selfish, intriguing, dissolute priests. The 
duke resolved to put an end to this epis- 
copal power. He first allowed Treasurer 
Boulet to be condemned for his pecula- 
tions, and promised some early amnesties 
to prisoners. The syndics and the bishop : s 
vicar were then desired to call the people 
together in general council, but refused. 
The duke continued : " It is my council's 
advice that the people should assemble to- 
morrow, Sunday, at eight in the forenoon, 
in the cloister of St. Pierre. Have this 
published by sound of trumpet, and let 
the heads of families be informed by send- 
ing from door to door." Then turning to 
the vicar, he added : " You will be present 
with all the episcopal council." 

The next day Sunday, December 10th, 
was held the 'popular "Council of Hal- 
berds. ' ' The duke appeared between nine 
and ten o'clock, accompanied by the bishop 
of Maurienne, the episcopal cottncil, the 
chancellor of Savoy, and his chamberlain, 
with many other Savoy gentlemen ; before 
and behind came the archers of Savoy. 
The liberals pretty generally kept away, 
and the mamelukes represented the people. 
Nothing like it had ever been witnessed in 
the city. The duke reclined upon the 
throne, while his chancellor dwelt upon 
the many kindnesses of the duke to Ge- 
neva, and thus concluded : "In return for 
so many benefits, this magnanimous prince 
asks but one thing . . . that you should 
recognize him as your sovereign protector. 
. . . Are you willing to live in obedience 
to your bishop and prince, and under the 
protection of my lord duke?"— The im- 
patient mamelukes cried out, " Yes, yes !" 
whereupon pardon was granted to "all 
rebels— those excepted who have fled to 
Switzerland. ' ' The ducal party then went 
to mass, and syndic Montyon, by Charles' 
order, repeated to the people the chancel- 
lor's address. The halberdier's being 
away, the assent was no longer unani- 
mous. Such was the Council of Halberds. 
It had given Geneva the Duke of Savoy 
for her protector, and had imposed on the 
citizens obedience towards that prince. 
The next day Charles demanded of the 
city jurisdiction in criminal matters, 
wdiich was refused : and the procurator- 
fiscal, having sent from house to house to 
collect votes against the alliance with the 
Swiss, many flatly refused to give them. * 
This violent but weak prince was fright- 
ened at these two refusals : and at the 
moment he should have profited by his 
victory, he fled precipitately into Pied- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



845 



mont. He quitted the city December 12th, 
1525, and neither he nor his successors 
entered it again. 

The servile mamelukes now sent letters 
to Friburg, saying: "The fugitives are 
deceiving you ; the entire community de- 
sires to live under the protection of our 
most dread lord the Duke of Savoy." 
This accusation revived all the energy of 
the huguenots. The mamelukes charged 
them with lying. . . . From that hour 
they feared neither the dungeon nor the 
sword. — "Appoint a commissioner," said 
some of them ; "let him come with us to 
Geneva, and we will tell you which of us 
two has lied— we, or the mamelukes." 

John Lullin and two or three of his 
friends departed without a safe-conduct, 
accompanied by De Sergine, a Friburg no- 
tary, resolved to prove that Geneva de- 
sired to be free. The Genevans gathered 
around them with tenderness, and in- 
quired after the exiles. ' ' Alas !' ' said 
Lullin, "how can I tell of their misery 
and sorrow. ... It is you that increases 
our sorrow — yes, you ! ... Is it thus the 
citizens defend the ancient rights handed 
down by their fathers?" Geneva awoke 
from her slumbers — "Friburg desires to 
know the real state of the city ; come then 
with us to the council, ' ' said a few patriots 
to Sergine ; ' ' come and see for yourself. ' ' 
Ere long the justification of the foreigners 
took place with solemnity. 

On the 22d of December, ten days after 
Charles' departure, crowds of citizens 
poured from every quarter towards the 
hotel-de-ville. The syndics and the coun- 
cil, who were then sitting, were informed 
that certain persons desired to be admitted ; 
the doors were opened, and the petitioners 
entered. At their head walked John Ban- 
diere, a man about sixty years old, whose 
son Ami (syndic in the Reformation year) 
was among the fugitives. He was ac- 
companied by one hundred citizens, the 
flower of Geneva, and by children of the 
exiles. 

"Most honorable lords," he said, "you 
see these children : do you not know their 
fathers? Are not these poor little ones 
orphans already, though their fathers are 
still alive?" — " Yes," exclaimed the coun- 
cillors. — "Those citizens," continued Ban- 
ditre, "who, for having defended the 
liberties of Geneva, were compelled, 
through a thousand dangers, to seek refuge 
in Germany yonder, — are not they good 
men ?"..." They are, ' ' was the answer. 
"Are they not 'citizens of this city — the 
good men whose fathers, sons, and con- 
nections you have before you ?" — It was 
cheerfully acknowledged. — The venerable 
Bandiere continued: "These refugees, 
whom you acknowledge to be good men, 
are surprised that you should have disa- 
vowed them in letters sent to the League. 
For this reason, we who are here present 
declare boldly that we approve them, both 
in their words and in their acts, and count 



them to be faithful and devoted citizens. 
At the same time, most honorable lords, 
we protest against every encroachment 
attempted by a foreign power on the 
rights of our prince and the liberties of 
the city." 

Bandiere handed in his declaration in 
writing, but the syndics hesitated to give 
the letters-testimonial demanded. The 
Friburg notary then inquired : "Sirs, do 
you acknowledge those who are in the 
country of the Helvetians to be men worthy 
of all honor ; and do you ratify all that 
may be done by them for the welfare of 
this illustrious city?" The astonished 
syndics and councillors were silent, but 
all the other citizens voted "Yes!" De 
Sergine withdrew with the people, and 
sitting down upon the steps of the hotel- 
de-ville, he drew up the letters-testimonial. 
From noon to five, the citizens hastened 
to sign this document, which was to se- 
cure their alliance with Switzerland and 
the triumph of their liberties. It was sent 
about from house to house, and not a hun- 
dred refused their signatures. 

The Christinas holidays were at hand, 
and the ' ' children of Geneva ' ' paraded, 
shouting, "Long, live the huguenots!" 
The party of Savoy were enraged, and 
each side appealed to the absent bishop, 
saying: "Return speedily; without you 
we can do nothing." On Thursday, Feb- 
ruary 1st, 1526, Pierre de la Baume was 
escorted into the city by two huguenot 
horsemen ; he was attended by Saleneuve 
and Bailey son, devoted servants of the 
duke. The next day, the bishop escaped 
from their surveillance to meet Robert 
Vandel in private. "Well, Robert," said 
the prelate rather sharply, "they tell 
me that you have made a declaration in 
the city contrary to my authority. " — ' 'You 
have been deceived," replied Vandel, who 
read him the protest of the hotel-de-ville. 
" Well, well," said the prelate, "there is 
no great harm in that." Vandel urged 
him to save his diocese from the duke ; 
and he won the bishop over by shrewdly 
promising the property of the mamelukes 
should be forfeited to his use, after an al- 
liance with the Swiss was made. La 
Baume convened the council next day, and 
condemned them for withdrawing the ap- 
peal to the pope. "His Highness told me 
that he meant to have the sovereignty of 
Geneva, and asked me for a clay to come 
to an understanding about it ; but I an- 
swered immediately that although Pierre 
de la Baume is his humble subject, his 
Highness has no business in my city. . . . 
I am determined to maintain the rights 
of my church and the liberties of my city 
— until death." Then turning to the 
syndics : "As for those who have retired 
into Switzerland," he said, "I hold them 
to be honest people, and, saving the alli- 
ance, I approve of all they may do." The 
bishop became at once startled at his own 
boldness. He informed the fugitives : "If 
I write you the contrary, pay no attention 



846 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to it ; I shall do so only through fear of 
the duke, and not to make him angry." 

The council met on the 4th of February, 
and syndic Montyon nominated eight 
mameluke candidates from whom to elect 
tour syndics ; but the people refused to be 
muzzled by this arrangement of the 
duke's. " We will make Jean Philippe 
syndic," they replied; "and thus show 
that he and the others in Switzerland are 
good citizens. " The bishop strove to alter 
their choice, but they politely answered : 
"We will make no choice that will be 
disagreeable to the bishop." Then, "with- 
out noise or murmur, were elected four 
huguenot syndics ;" and only eleven votes 
were cast in opposition. The bishop in 
alarm ordered a general council next day 
to annul the election, and personally at- 
tended it ; but the people confirmed their 
action. Not satisfied with this, the people 
repealed all statutes contrary to the liber- 
ties of Geneva passed under fear of Charles 
of Savoy. The bishop, frightened at these 
republican proceedings, exclaimed : "Is 
there nobody that wishes to maintain 
these ordinances . " No one answered. 
Everything fell, and the ancient constitu- 
tion was restored. After having changed 
the laws, they elected only huguenots to 
office in the place of mamelukes. 

Thus did liberty triumph. The Gene- 
vese people had restored their franchises, 
dismissed the mamelukes, rejected the 
cruel protectorate of Charles II. , sought 
the alliance of Switzerland ; and after all 
that, they gave God the glory. 

This great news was sent to the fugi- 
tives by a commissioner appointed by the 
vacillating bishop. The patriots could 
hardly believe the glad tidings. " Up to 
the present time," said the avoyer, "I 
have invited Besanqon Hugues alone, as 
your chief, to sit down at my side ; now, 
Messire Jean Philippe take your seat above 
Besancon as syndic of Geneva. ' ' The alli- 
ance would no longer meet with obstacles. 
" We accept you as fellow-freemen," con- 
tinued the avoyer, ' ' without heed to those 
growlers and their threats, which do not 
last long now-a-days." 

Then a step was taken without which 
the Reformation would never have been 
established in Geneva. In the morning 
of the 20th of February the representa- 
tives of Berne, Friburg, and Geneva re- 
solved to conclude solemnly the alliance 
between the three cities, for which the 
people had sighed during so many years. 
They met, they gave their hands ; affection 
and confidence were in every feature. " In 
the name of the most holy and most high 
Trinity," said the three free states, "in 
the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, we reciprocally promise mutual 
friendship and intercourse, in order that 
we may be able to preserve the good that 
God has given us in justice, repose, and 
true peace. . . . And if hereafter one or 
many should wish to molest the syndics, 



councils, or freemen of the city of Geneva 
in their persons, honor, goods, or estate, 
we, the avoyers, councils, and freemen of 
the cities of Berne and Friburg, by virtue 
of our oath made and sworn — are bound 
to give the said city favor, aid, and succor, 
and to march out our armies ... at their 
charge, however." The required formali- 
ties having been fulfilled : "Gentlemen," 
said Jean Philippe, "we will depart and 
carry this good news ourselves to our coun- 
try." The councils of Berne and Friburg 
ordered that a number of deputies from 
each canton equal to that of the fugitives 
should accompany them, with power to 
seal the alliance at Geneva All the exiles 
left on the same day. They arrived in 
Geneva on the 23d of February, and were 
received with great rejoicings. "They 
were sumptuously entertained at the 
hotel-de-ville. A morality on the said 
alliance was performed, and a bonfire was 
lighted on the Place Molard " 

The Council of Two Hundred was con- 
vened. This important council assembled, 
but instead of two hundred citizens, three 
hundred and twenty met together. This 
sitting was to be a festival ; everybody de- 
sired to be present. Hugues recounted the 
sufferings of the patriots ; he told them 
how Friburg and Berne would secure their 
liberties by receiving them into their alli- 
ance. He read the act of alliance in Ger- 
man, and added : "Sirs, my comrades and 
1 here present promise you, on our lives 
and goods, that the said citizenship is 
such. Consider, sirs, if you will ratify 
and accept it." The assembly testified 
its approbation with thanks to God, and 
resolved to convoke a general council for 
the next day. 

The bishop was alarmed, as the canons 
told him if Berne had its way in Geneva 
there would be no more bishop, no more 
prince. An attempt was made to prevent 
the ringing of the bell to assemble the 
great council, but the people overcame 
this effort. The bishop sought to overawe 
the council by attending in person ; Hu- 
gues protested that "nothing be deduced 
from it prejudicial to our liberties." 
Thereupon Hugues proposed the alliance ; 
Stephen de la Mare, formerly a patriot, 
resisted it. The people would not hear 
him. "Will you ratify this alliance!" 
asked first syndic G Bergeron. " Yes, 
yes !" was shouted on every side, and 
only six hands were lifted in opposition. 
The bishop irritated and confounded ex- 
claimed : " I do not consent to this alli- 
ance ; I appeal to our holy father the 
pope, and to his majesty the emperor." 
But the people shouted : " The Swiss and 
liberty!" BesanQon Hugues assured the 
prelate that they had not exceeded their 
franchises, and he professed himself satis- 
fied. Hugues would have maintained the 
prelate not only as bishop, but also as 
prince ; but some citizens said : "The lib- 
erties of the people and the temporal 
lordship of the bishop cannot exist to- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



847 



gether ; one or other of the two powers 
must succumb." They saw that where 
the bishop remained king, there were 
found no representative government, no 
liberty of the press, no religious liberty. 

The alarm of the canons, priests, and 
friends of the papacy disturbed the bishop ; 
for even Robert Yandel, the prelate's 
friend, openly defended the Reformation. 
These ideas became stronger every day, 
and the hostility of the rich clerics soon 
led to an outbreak. On the night of the 
26th of February, the most fanatical 
priests, with the leading mamelukes, col- 
lected a quantity of arms at the house of 
De Lutry, to make use of them against the 
city, and a riot resulted, in which a few 
citizens were wounded. The conspiracy 
of the canons having thus failed, they 
thought only of escaping ; and before 
morning they slipped out of the city in 
various disguises. The bishop-prince, 
clarmed both at the huguenots and the 
duke, fled to St. Claude. The next morn- 
ing De Lutry' s house was searched, and 
many weapons were seized, but the rioters 
had all escaped. The flight of the 26th 
of February was the counterpart of the 
15th of September, save that in February 
the old times were departing forever. The 
Genevese rejoiced that these leeches had 
disappeared, leaving the senate and peo- 
ple masters of the city. The grateful 
citizens exclaimed: "The sovereignty is 
now in the hands of the council, without 
the interference of either magistrates or 
people. Everything uas done by the grace 
of God." 

At the very time when the men of feu- 
dalism were quitting Geneva, those of 
liberty were arriving, and the great tran- 
sition was effected. On the 11th of March, 
eight Swiss ambassadors entered the city 
in the midst of a numerous crowd and 
under a salute of artillery ; they were the 
envoys from the cantons who had come to 
receive the oaths of Geneva and give theirs 
in return. The next day these freemen 
asked the general council: "Will you 
swear to observe the alliance that has 
been drawn up?" "Yes," exclaimed all 
the Genevans, without one dissenting 
voice. The Swiss ambasssdors raised 
their hands to heaven and pronounced 
the oath of alliance, and the citizens ex- 
claimed with transport : ' ' We desire it, 



we desire it !" Eight deputies were then 
sent to Berne and Friburg to make the 
same oath. The mamelukes sent deputies 
into Switzerland to break off the alliance ; 
but Friburg and Berne replied : " For 
nothing in the world will we depart from 
what we have sworn." — "God is conduct- 
ing our affairs," said Hugues. Then was 
Geneva intoxicated with joy and popular 
celebrations. The council meanwhile de- 
liberated about restoring to Bonivard his 
priory of St. Victor. " I should not make 
it a serious matter of conscience to diso- 
bey the pope, ' ' slyly said Bonivard. ' ' And 
as for us," said the syndics, "we do not 
care much about him." The council 
ordered a solemn service in memory of 
Berthelier, Levrier, and others who died 
for the republic. 

Geneva did not stand alone in feeling 
these aspirations for liberty. The mind 
of Europe awoke, insatiable of life, of 
knowledge, and of liberty. In the ninth, 
eleventh and twelfth centuries, humanity 
had tried to break its bonds ; but each 
time it had wanted the necessary strength 
to complete the new birth, and fell once 
more into a deep slumber. Would it be 
the same now? Would this awakening 
of the sixteenth century be also like a 
watch in the night ? 

Certain men, elect of God, were to give 
this new movement the strength it needed. 
Let us turn towards that country whence 
Geneva would receive those heroes bap- 
tised with the Holy Spirit and with fire. 
It was France who gave Lefevre and Farel ; 
France, too, gave Calvin. We shall no 
longer have to speak of a little nation 
whose greatest heroes are obscure citizens. 
We are entering a mighty empire where 
we shall be in the company of kings and 
queens, of great personages and famous 
courtiers. France gave to the world the 
Reformation of Calyin and of Geneva ; it 
has no nobler title of renown. Perhaps 
she will not always disdain it, and after 
having enriched others she will enrich 
herself. It will be a great epoch for her 
future development, when her dearest 
children drink at those living fountains 
that burst from her bosom in the sixteenth 
century, or rather at that eternal fountain 
of the W ord of God, whose waters are for 
the healing of the nations. 



848 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK II. 



FRANCE. FAVORABLE TIMES. 

1525—1534. 

A Man of the People and a Queen — Margaret Saves the Evangelicals and the Kinof — Will the 
Reformation Cross the Rhine ? — Death of the Martyrs : Return of the King — Deliverance 
of the Captives and Return of the Exiles — Who will be the Reformer of France ? — Calvin's 
early Struggles and early Studies — Calvin's Conversion and Change of Calling— Berquin 
declares War against Popery — Efforts of Duprat to bring about a Persecution : Resistance 
of Francis I.— Fetes at Fontainebleau, and the Virgin of the Rue des Rosiers — Prisoners and 
Martyrs at Paris, and in the Provinces — John Calvin, a Student at the University of Or- 
leans — Calvin, taught at Orleans of God and Man, Begins to Propagate the Faith— Calvin 
called at Bourges to the Evangelical work — Berquin, the most learned of the nobility, a Mar- 
tyr for the Gospel — First Labors of Calvin at Paris— Margaret's Sorrows, and the Festivities 
of the Court — Diplomatists, Backsliders, Martyrs — Calvin's Separation from the Hierarchy : 
His first Work, His Friends — ^malkalde and Calais — A Captive Prince escapes from the 
hands of the Emperor — The Gospel Preached at the Louvre, and in the Metropolitan 
Churches — Defeat of the Romish party in Paris, and momentary Triumph of the Gospel — 
Conference of Bologna : The Council and Catherine de Medici— Intrigues of Charles V., 
Francis L, and Clement VII., around Catherine — Storm against the Queen of Navarre and 
Her Mirror of the Soul — Triumph of the Queenof Navarre — Catherine de Medici given to 
France — Address of the Rector to the University of Paris — Conferences and Alliances 
between Francis I. and Philip of Hesse at Bar-Le-Duc — Triumph and Martyrdom — Wur- 
temberg Given to Protestantism by the King of France — Sitting at the Louvre for the Union 
of Truth and Catholicism — The Ghost at Orleans — Francis I. Proposes a Reformation to the 
Sorbonne. 



The Reformation was concerned both 
with God and man : its aim was to restore 
the paths by which God and man unite, 
by which the Creator enters again into 
the creature. This path, opened by Jesus 
Christ with power, had been blocked up 
in ages of superstition. The Reformation 
cleared the road, and re-opened the door. 
Take away the worship paid to the Virgin, 
the saints, and the host ;-take away meri- 
torious, magical, and supererogatory 
works, and other errors besides, and we 
arrive at simple faith in the Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost. It is not the same when 
we come to the manner in which God 
enters again into man. In the place of 
this inward worship the Roman doctors 
substituted certain ecclesiastical formali- 
ties mechanically executed. The only 
means of recovering this royal road was 
to return to the apostolical times and seek 
for it in the Gospel. Three acts are 
necessary to unite man again with God. 
Religion penetrates into man by the 
depths of his conscience ; thence it rises 
to the height of his knowledge, and finally 
pervades the activity of his whole life. 

With Luther began the awakening of 
the human conscience. Terrified at the 
sin he discovered in himself, he found no 
other means of peace but faith in the grace 
of Christ Jesus. 

To Zwingle belongs in an especial 
manner the work ot the understanding. 
The first want of the Swiss reformer was 
to know God. He inquired into the false 
and the true, the reason of faith. 

Calvin perfected the third work neces- 
sary for the Reformation. His character- 
istic is not, as the world imagines, the 



teaching of the doctrines to which he has 
given his name ; his great idea was to unite 
all believers into one body, having the 
same life, and acting under the same 
chief. The Reform was essentially, in his 
eyes, the renovation of the individual, of 
the human mind, of Christendom. By the 
very act of giving truth and morality to 
the believers, he gave them liberty. 

God, by giving in the sixteenth century 
a man who, to the lively faith of Luther 
and the scriptural understanding of 
Zwingle, joined an organizing faculty and 
a creative mind, gave the complete refor- 
mer. If Luther laid the foundations, if 
Zwingle and others built the walls, Calvin 
completed the temple of God. We shall 
have to see how this doctor arrived at a 
knowledge of the truth. But we must 
first see what was the state of France at 
the time when the Reformer was brought 
to the Gospel. 

The history of the Reformation in 
France, prior to the establishment of 
Calvin at Geneva, is divided into two 
parts ; the first includes the favorable 
times, the second the unfavorable. 

Two persons, a man and a woman, 
whose social position and character pre- 
sent the most striking contrasts, labored 
with particular zeal to propagate the 
Gospel in France at the epoch of the Re- 
formation. 

The woman appears first. She is the 
most beautiful and intelligent, the wittiest, 
most amiable and influential, and, with 
the exception of her daughter, the greatest 
of her age. Sister, mother of kings, her- 
self a queen, grandmother of the monarch 
whom France (right Or wrong; has 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 



849 



extolled the most, namely, Henry IV., she 
lived mueh in the great world, in great 
ceremonials, with great personages, among 
the magnificence of the Louvre, St. 
Germain, and Fontainebleau. This woman 
is Margaret of Angouleme, Duchess of 
Alencon, Queen of Navarre, and sister of 
Francis I. 

The man who appears next, younger 
by seventeen years, is a man of the people, 
a Picardin ; his grandfather was a cooper, 
his father was secretary to a bishop. 
Simple, frugal, poor, of a disposition 
"rather morose and bashful," such was 
Calvin— of great genius and strong will. 

They both possess faith in the great 
truths of the Gospel, and labor for its 
extension ; but while the man sometimes 
presumes on his manly strength, the woman 
truly belongs to the weaker sex. While 
Calvin sets up against the papacy a fore- 
head harder than adamant, Margaret, even 
in the days of her greatest zeal, is careful 
not to break with Rome. At last, she 
yields outwardly to the awful pressure, 
and conceals her faith under the cloak of 
Romish devotion ; while Calvin propagates 
the Gospel, in opposition to the powers of 
the world. While Calvin desires truth 
in the Church above all things, Margaret 
clings to the preservation of its unity, and 
seeks to reform the Church without breaking 
it up. But she was respected by the most 
pious reformers. 

Let us enter upon the French Reforma- 
tion.* 

The defeat at Pa via had plunged France 
in mourning. Spain and its young 
emperor at Castile received the news 
(March 10th, 1525) with transports of joy. 
To become the master of Europe, to re- 
establish everywhere the tottering Catho- 
licism, to take Constantinople, and even 
to recover Jerusalem — such was the task 
which Charles prayed the Virgin to put 
him in a condition to carry through. 
Processions were made, and mass was 
attended with signs of great devotion. 

The cruel Duke of Alva eloquently 
urged Charles V. not to release his rival 
until he had deprived him of all power to 
injure him. "Instead of a useless pris- 
oner," humbly wrote Francis to Charles, 
"set at liberty a king who will be your 
slave for ever." Charles by deputies pro- 
posed to him a dismemberment of France 
on three sides. The Constable of Bour- 
bon was to have Provence and Dauphiny ; 
the king of England, Normandy and Gui- 
enne ; the emperor, French Flanders, Pi- 
carcly and Burgundy. ' ' I would sooner die 
in prison than consent to such demands," 
Francis replied. He soon after visited 
Charles in Madrid, and was allotted the 
palace for his residence. — Margaret of Va- 
lois undertook the task of baffling the 
emperor's pernicious designs, and boldly 



.* For an account of preceding times, see 
the History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth 
Century, vol. Hi. bk. xii. 



travelled to Spain, disregarding hardships 
and her own afflictions. On Wednesday, 
September 19th, 1525, she was courteously 
received by Charles in the midst of his 
court, kissed upon the forehead, and con- 
ducted to the door of her brother's apart- 
ments. She found Francis a dying man, 
pale, worn, and helpless. She commanded 
his treatment to be changed, and watched 
prayerfully by his side. The faith of the 
sister gradually dispelled the brother's de- 
jection : at her urging he celebrated the 
holy eucharist, and then fervently ex- 
claimed : "God will heal my body and 
soul." Margaret feelingly answered : 
"Yes, God will raise you up again, and 
make you free." — "But for her I was a 
dead man," the king would often say. 
Margaret seeing her brother restored to 
life, thought only of restoring him to 
liberty. She departed to Toledo, and in- 
terceded with the emperor. He met her 
so coldly, that finally "she broke out into 
great anger." She would not consent to 
the cession of Burgundy, but appealed to 
Charles' clemency with such eloquence 
that even that dissembling monarch and 
his courtiers were filled with admiration. 
They could talk of nothing else, and ex- 
tolled her sweetness, energies, and virtues. 

The captive Francis was not Margaret's 
only sorrow. If her brother was a priso- 
ner to the emperor, her brethren in the 
faith were prisoners to her mother. The 
parliament of Paris having issued a decree 
against the Lutherans, and the pope hav- 
ing on the 17th of March invested with 
apostolical authority the councillors au- 
thorized to proceed against them, the per- 
secutors set vigorously to work. The 
regent Louisa of Savoy, mother of Francis 
I. and of Margaret, inquired of the Sor- 
bonne : "By what means the damnable 
doctrine of Luther could be extirpated?" 
The fanatic Beda, syndic of that corpora- 
tion, enchanted with such a demand, re- 
plied without hesitation on the part of the 
Faculties : "It must be punished with the 
utmost severity." Accordingly Louisa 
published letters-patent ' ' to extinguish tlie 
damnable heresy of Luther." 

France began to seek in persecution an 
atonement for the faults which had lead to 
the defeat of Pavia. Many evangelical 
christians were either seized or banished. 
Marot, valet-de-chambre to the Duchess of 
Alencon, the best poet of his age, who 
never spared the priests, and translated 
the Psalms of David into verse, was ar- 
rested ; Lefevre, Roussel, and others had 
to flee ; Caroli and Mazurier recanted the 
faith they had professed. "Alas!" said 
Roussel, "no one can confess Jesus any 
longer except at the risk of his life." — ■ 
Berquin, a friend of Erasmus, of letters, 
and of Scripture, had been released in 
1523 from an imprisonment on a charge of 
heresy, by the intercession of Margaret. 
In his native province of Artois, ho intrep- 
idly preached salvation by Christ alone, 



850 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and denounced the dissensions in monas- i 
teries and among Catholic priests. He 
travelled through the towns in the see of 
Amiens, filling them with the Word of 
God. That bishop complained to the arch- 
bishop and the doctors of the Sorbonne. 
U uable to seize Berqain, they seized his 
books. The violent Beza read in them : 
" The Virgin Mary is improperly invoked 
instead of the Holy Ghost."— "Point 
against the accused," said Beda. — "There 
are no grounds for calling her a treasury j 
of grace, our hope, our life : qualities which ■ 
belong essentially to our Saviour alone." — 
Confirmation ! — "Faith alone justifies." — 
Deadly heresy! — "Neither the gates of 
hell, nor Satan, nor sin can do anything 
against him who has faith in God." — 
What insolence ! Beda made his report : 
"Of a truth," said his colleagues, "that 
is enough to bring any man to the stake." 
Berquin was arrested on his estate ; he 
refused to allow his vassals to defend him, 
and was taken to the prison of the Con- 
ciergerie. 

The Duchess of AlenQon in Spain was 
touched deeply with this sad news of per- 
secution. She distributed four thousand 
gold pieces among the fugitives, and per- 
suaded Charles, ' ' the father of letters, ' ' to 
command the parliament to adjourn until 
his return all proceedings against the 
evangelicals. "I intend," he added, "to 
give- the men of letters special marks of 
my favor." The astonished Sorbonne 
paid no great attention to this letter, and 
continued the persecution. Margaret had 
now to save herself, as Charles V. plotted 
to seize her as soon as her safe-conduct 
had expired ; and by a rapid flight she re-r 
entered France one hour before the termi- 
nation of the truce, bearing the abdication 
of her brother. 

Charles now relented, and made an 
agreement to restore Francis to liberty, 
and the latter scrupled not to break an 
oath. On the 14th of January, 1526, he 
swore before his domestics that, he would 
not keep one of the articles which Charles 
wished to force upon him. When that 
was done Francis bound himself an hour 
after by an oath, with his hand upon the 
Scriptures, to do what Charles demanded. 
He renounced all claim to Italy ; surren- 
dered Burgundy to the emperor ; restored 
Provence, which Charles ceded to the 
Constable of Bourbon, and thus France 
was laid prostrate. The treaty was com- 
municated to the pope : "Excellent," he 
said, after reading it ; "provided the king 
does not observe it." That was a point 
on which Clement and Francis were in per- 
fect accord. Margaret had no hand in this 
disgraceful trick ; her only thought had 
been to save the king and the evangeli- 
cals. 

Margaret, who returned from Spain full 
of hope in her brother's deliverance, was 
determined to do all in her power for the 
triumph of the Gospel. While the men 



of the ultra-montane party, calling to 
mind the defeat of Pavia, demanded that 
heaven should be appeased by persecu- 
tions, Margaret thought, on the contrary, 
that humiliated France ought to turn to- 
wards Jesus Christ, in order to obtain from 
him a glorious deliverance. 

During the eight or nine years following 
the return of Francis I., his actions were 
contradictory in religious matters, although 
he was mainly influenced by the entreaties 
of Margaret. During the years 1525-1534, 
many persons thought that the country of 
St Bernard and Waldo would not remain 
behind Germany, Switzerland, and Eng- 
land. 

Nine years before the Reformation had 
begun in Germany : would it not cross the 
Rhine"? Strasburg was the main bridge 
by which ideas were interchanged, and in 
1521 the doctrines and writings of Luther 
were in every one's mouth at Strasburg. 
Zell, priest of St. Lawrence, was awak- 
ened ; and his preaching that man is saved 
by grace made a deep impression. A no- 
bleman of this city, Count Sigismond of 
Haute-Flamme, (in German Hohenlohe,) 
a friend and ally of the duchess, who called 
him her good cousin, was taught his need 
of a Saviour, and found one in Jesus Christ. 
Although a dignitary of the church and 
dean of the great chapter, he labored 
openly to propagate the truth. He espe- 
cially did good work by translating each 
new work of Luther's into French, and 
sending the printed sheets into France. 
He composed and published the Book of 
the Gross, in which he set forth the death 
of Christ as the essence of the Gospel. 
His labors with the priests and nobles were 
not crowned with success, but the duchess 
warmly thanked him for his zeal and sym- 
pathy. He wrote to her on her return to 
France, and manifested a desire to go to 
Paris to advance the Reformation. The 
Duchess of Alencon desired a reformation 
that would restore to the church a sincere 
and living piety, preserving at the same 
time the bishops and the hierarchy. She 
wished to avoid the evils of an insur- 
mountable opposition, and of a rupture 
of unity ; she hoped to attain these ends 
by a union between France and Germany. 
But she could not succeed ; for truth is 
proud, and will not walk in contact with 
error. She awaited impatiently the return 
of Francis I., and wrote to Hohenlohe : 
" Come in the middle of April ; you will 
find all your friends assembled. . . . 
There will indeed be some trouble at first, 
but the word of truth will be heard. God 
is God . . . He is conqueror when the 
world thinks him conquered." 

The king was still a prisoner ; the regent 
and Duprat, urged on by the priests, had 
issued throughout France, in February, 
1526, the following proclamation: "All 
persons are forbidden to put up to sale, or 
translate from Latin into French the epis- 
tles of St. Paul, the Apocalypse, and other 
books. Henceforward no printer, shall 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



851 



print any of the books of Luther. No one 
shall speak of the ordinances of the Church 
or of images, otherwise than holy Church 
ordains. All books of the Holy Bible, 
translated into French, shall be given up 
by those who possess them, and carried 
within a week to the clerks of the court. 
All prelates, priests, and their curates 
shall forbid their parishioners to have the 
least doubt of the Catholic faith." Trans- 
lations, books, explanations and even 
doubts were prohibited. 

This proclamation afflicted Margaret 
very seriously ; she was only consoled by 
the fact that the king declared in favor of 
Berquin, still imprisoned in the Concier- 
gerie. The Sorbonne threatened to burn 
his books, and him also, unless he recanted 
his errors ; although Erasmus said of his 
propositions : " I find nothing impious in 
them." Berquin replied: "I will not 
yield a single point." The duchess wrote 
to the king, and fell at her mother's knees. 
Louisa of Savoy yielded, and ordered the 
pope's delegates to suspend matters till 
after the king's return. The haughty 
delegates twice disobeyed her orders, ray- 
ing "Noil possumus;" and only yielded 
when the king wrote threatening to hold 
the first president personally responsible 
for Berquin' s life. 

Margaret feared the coming struggle ; 
but a staff seemed at hand provided for 
her support. Henry d'Albret, King of 
Navarre — king by right, if not in fact at 
that time twenty-four years old, was at 
court ; a lively, brave, handsome prince, 
deeply attached to Francis — whose cap- 
tivity he had shared for a time, until his 
own escape from the castle of Pizzighitone 
— and ardently in love with Margaret. 
He courted her hand, but she did not at 
first accept his homage. In turn, he took 
up the defence of the pious men persecuted, 
while Margaret was absorbed in the 
thoughts of their danger, and of her 
brother's imprisonment. 

We shall see that the pope and the Sor- 
bonne had more influence in France than 
the regent and the king. 

At the very moment when the duchess, 
the Count of Hohenlohe, and others were 
indulging in the sweetest hopes, the dark- 
est future opened before their eyes. Mar- 
garet had dreamt of a new day, illumined 
by the bright sunshine ; but all of a sud- 
den the clouds gathered, the light was ob- 
scured, the winds rose, and the tempest 
burst forth. 

William Joubert, a licentiate of laws, 
about twenty-eight years of age, son of 
the king's advocate at La Rocheile, while 
in Paris became converted, and was over- 
heard to say that "neither Genevieve nor 
even Mary could save him, but the Son of 
God alone." He was arrested and con- 
demned as a heretic, despite his father's 
entreaties. February 17th, 1526, he was 
led to execution, and bravely refused to 
recant. His tongue was pierced ; he was 



then strangled, and his body burnt. — A 
young man of Meaux took Luther's part 
in Paris, and spoke out boldly: "We 
need not take holy water to wash away 
our sins ; the blood of Christ alone can 
cleanse us from them. We need not pray 
for the dead, for immediately after death 
their souls are either in paradise or in 
hell ; there is no purgatory ; I do not be- 
lieve in it." He was threatened with the 
stake ; in his terror, he publicly confessed 
that some books he had translated were 
false and damnable, and was then put in 
prison to feed upon bread and water. A 
fuller, also of Meaux, suffered a like pun- 
ishment. — Picardy, in the North of France, 
whose inhabitants were taught from the 
Scriptures by the Vaudois, (Waldenses.) 
furnished the next victim. It was the 
Vaudery, the monks taught the common 
people, who used enchantments and wor- 
shipped Satan in the form of a goat with 
a monkey's head ! A young cleric of 
Therouanne, in Picardy, was imprisoned 
for declaring there was no other saviour but 
Jesus Christ. On Christmas eve, 1525, 
with a lighted torch in his hand and 
stripped to his shirt, he "asked pardon of 
God and of Mary before the church of 
Notre Dame." He was sentenced to be 
confined on bread and water for seven 
years ; there he repented of his recantation, 
and proclaimed the Gospel to every visitor. 
He was speedily burnt, and others under- 
went the same punishment. — Young 
Pierre Toussaint, prebendary of Metz, 
who had fled to Basle, returned to France 
and proclaimed the Gospel. He was ar- 
rested, and thrown by the Abbot of St. An- 
toine into a horrible dungeon, full of stag- 
nant water and filth. Toussaint' s strength 
declined ; he was so mild and harmless 
that the abbot knew not how to justify 
his death. Toussaint was removed to the 
abbot's room, and commanded to write to 
Basle for his books and papers. He at first 
hesitated, divining they sought a pretext 
for his death, but yielded, at length, and 
was then sent back to his pestilential den. 

Suddenly a cry of joy was heard, which, 
uttered in the Pyrenees, was re-echoed 
even to Calais by the evangelicals. On the 
21st of March, Francis again set his foot 
on French ground. He mounted an Arab 
horse, and waving his cap and plume in 
the air, exclaimed: "Once more I am a 
king." These most pious Gauls, as Zwingle 
calls them, petitioned the monarch, on 
behalf of the prisoners and exiles, and 
Margaret uttered a cry in favor of the 
miserable ; but Francis, though full of re- 
gard tor his sister, could not hide a secret 
irritation against Luther and the Luther- 
ans. His profane character, his sensual 
temperament, made him hate the evangel- 
icals, and policy demanded great reserve. 

The duchess of Alencon asked his ] per- 
mission for the Count of Hohenlohe to 
come to Paris ; but the king replied : 
"Not yet." Hohenlohe was distressed at 
this delay. When Margaret afterwards 



852 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



repeated the request, Francis evaded by 
referring to his sons given as hostages to 
the emperor : " Do you wish, then, for my 
sons to remain in Spain ?" — Francis caused 
his sister another grief. She had begun 
to return the love of the King of Navarre, 
but Francis opposed her following the 
inclination of her heart. During his cap- 
tivity the emperor had demanded Mar- 
garet's hand of the regent ; but Francis, 
who was to marry, contrary to his wishes, 
the duke's sister, gained over Cardinal 
"Wolsey to tell Henry VIII. there was not 
in all Europe a woman worthier of the 
crown of England than Margaret of 
France. But, fortunately for the prin- 
cess, she was not compelled to take the 
place of Catharine of Arragon ; yet it was 
a misfortune, perhaps, for the kingdom 
over which she would have reigned. From 
1526 to 1533, Margaret was free from her 
earlier mysticism, and from her later out- 
ward yielding to Catholicism ; she was her- 
self. Many of her religious poems were 
then written, and it was likely that then 
she wrote her poem of the Prisoner. 

There was an instinctive feeling in Chris- 
tendom that up to this time its society had 
been but fragmentary, a great disorder, an 
immense chaos. It felt an earnest want 
of that social unity, of that supreme order, 
and of that all-ruling idea which the pa- 
pacy had not been able to give. By pro- 
claiming a new creation, the Reformation 
was about to accomplish this task. The 
isolation of nations was to cease ; all would 
touch each other ; reciprocal influences 
would multiply from generation to genera- 
tion. . . The Reformation prepared the 
way for the great unity in the midst of 
the world. 

Evangelical Christians desired that 
France should be in the front rank of the 
defenders of Reformation, as the emperor 
had put himself at the head of its enemies. 
For a while, Francis resisted the entreaties 
of the Duchess of Alenqon to recall to 
France the men who would bring to it the 
true light. At last he yielded, mainly 
through the exigencies of his political 
plans, and the gates of the prisons were 
opened. 

Berquin was still a prisoner in bonds for 
the Gospel ; but the king had him removed 
to a spacious chamber, saying to his par- 
liament, April 1st, lo26 : "I will not suffer 
the person or goods of this gentleman to 
be injured ; I will inquire into the matter 
myself. ' ' Berquin now began to plan for 
the extension of the truth. Clement 
Marot, formerly Margaret's secretary, was 
released. The duchess gave Michael of 
Aranda, once her almoner and a zealous 
preacher, the bishopric of Trois-Chateau 
in Dauphiny, with the advice : "Go and 
evangelize your diocese." Pierre Touis- 
sant, the young prebendary of Metz, was 
still in his frightful den ; but the papers 
had not arrived to secure his condemna- 
tion. Margaret warmly pleaded his cause 



to the king, and he was released in July 
152G, thin, weak, and pale. His timid 
friends would not shelter him, but sent 
him to Paris to seek an asylum at the court 
of the Duchess of Alencon. The famous 
Cornelius Agrippa was among the refu- 
gees at Strasburg, but his zeal for the 
Gospel seemed strictly proportioned to its 
success. At the house of Capito used to 
assemble the aged Lefevre, the first transla- 
tor of the Bible, who had escaped the stake 
only by flight ; the pious Roussel, Vedas- 
tes, Simon, and Farel, who had arrived 
from Montbeliard. These friends of the 
Reformation concealed themselves under 
assumed names : Lefevre passed as An- 
thony Peregrin ; Roussel as Tolnin ; but 
they were known by everybody, even by 
the children in the streets. They often 
met Bucer, Zell, and the Count of Hohen- 
lohe, and edified one another. Margaret 
undertook to bring them all back to 
France, and they were recalled with 
honor. 

Lefevre and Roussel hastened to their 
protectress, and were lodged in the castle 
of Angouleme. The intercourse at Stras- 
burg had borne fruit. The energetic Farel, 
the learned Lefevre, the spiritual Roussel, 
gifted with such opposite natures, had re- 
acted upon each other. Farel had become 
more gentle, Roussel more strong ; con- 
tact with iron had given an unusual hard- 
ness to a metal by nature inclined to be 
soft. Roussel there studied Hebrew. He 
used to say : " The purity of religion will 
never be restored unless we drink at the 
springs which the Holy Ghost has given 
us." The christian activities of the re- 
fugees were employed to the advantage of 
France. Roussel went to Blois in June, 
and labored to make this a stronghold of 
the Gospel. Lefevre, Chapelain, physician 
to the duchess, and Dr. Cop were also 
there ; the former had charge of the edu- 
cation of the king's third son, and the care 
of the castle library. Cornelius Agrippa 
returned to Lyons. He published a book 
on marriage and against celibacy, which, 
much to his surprise and disgust, excited 
great clamor. 

It was thought that Francis would now 
openly espouse the evangelical cause, and 
decide this great controversy on the battle- 
field. Margaret travelled to Paris to has- 
ten on this happy revival of the Holy 
Spirit in France. Toussaint was received 
with great kindness by the princess ; he 
was charmed with her piety, and wrote.: 
" I hope that the Gospel will soon reign in 
France." He had long and frequent con- 
versations with Margaret on the means 
of propagating the Gospel everywhere. 
"God, by the light of his Word," he said, 
"must illumine the world, and by the 
breath of his Spirit must transform all 
hearts. The Gospel, alone, Madame, will 
bring into regular order all that is con- 
fused." — " It is the only thing that I de- 
sire," replied Margaret. She believed in 
the victory of truth, and said the king 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



853 



would secure the progress of the Gospel. 
Noble illusions ! Francis was then busied 
with his gallantries. Toussaint delight- 
edly wrote to GScolampadius : "This il- 
lustrious princess is so taught of God, and 
so familiar with Holy Scripture, that no 
one can ever separate her from Jesus 
Christ." 

Toussaint found the halls of the palace 
of St. Germain filled with the most dis- 
tinguished personages of the kingdom, 
eager to do homage to the sister of Francis 
I. Cardinals, bishops, and ecclesiastics of 
every order sought to secure preferments 
from her by hypocritical professions of 
love for the Scriptures ; when away from 
her presence, they ranked the Roman 
Church very high, and the Word of God 
very low. Toussaint would exclaim : 
"Alas! they speak well of Jesus Christ 
With those who speak well of him ; but 
with those who blaspheme, they blaspheme 
also. ' ' Toussaint urged Lefevre and Rous- 
sel to expose these hypocrites and boldly 
preach the Gospel to the court. " Pa- 
tience !" answered they. "Do not let us 
spoil anything ; the time is not yet come. ' ' 
"I cannot restrain my tears," he said. 
" Yes ; be wise after your fashion ; wait, 
put off, dissemble as much as you please ; 
you will acknowledge, however, at last, 
that it is impossible to preach the Gospel 
without bearing the cross. The banner of 
divine mercy is now raised, the gate of the 
kingdom of heaven is open. God does not 
mean us to receive his summons with su- 
pineness. We must make haste, for fear 
the opportunity should escape us and the 
door be shut." 

Toussaint told Margaret: "Lef evre is 
wanting in courage ; may God help and 
strengthen him." The duchess strove to 
retain the ardent young evangelist at her 
court, but he rejected magniticent offers, 
and was sent by her to Madame de Con- 
traigues, who received him in her chateau 
of Malesherbes in the Orleanais. The 
young Metzger foresaw a terrible struggle. 
He prayed that France would show herself 
worthy of the Word, and that the Lord 
would send to this people an apostle of 
truth and devotedness, who would lead it 
in the new paths of life. 

Many evangelical christians thought as 
Toussaint did. They felt that Fiance had 
need of a reformer, but could see no one 
who answered to their ideal. A man of 
God was wanted, who, possessing the 
fundamental truths of the Gospel, could 
set them forth in their living harmony ; 
who, while exalting the divine essence of 
Christianity, could present it in its rela- 
tions to human nature ; who was fitted 
not only to establish sound doctrine, but 
also by God's grace to shed abroad a new 
life in the Church ; a servant of God, full 
of courage, full of activity, as skilful in 
governing as in leading. A Paul was 
wanted, but where could he be found? 

Would it be Lefevre? He had taught 



plainly the doctrine of justification by 
faith, even before Luther ; but Lefevre 
was old and courted repose ; pious but 
timid, a scholar of the closet rather than 
the reformer of a people. Would it be 
Roussel ? Possessing an impressionable 
and wavering heart, he longed for the 
good, but did not always dare to do it. 
He preached frequently at the duchess' 
court before the most distinguished men 
of the kingdom ; but he did not proclaim 
the whole counsel of God. The most de- 
cided christians saw his incompetence. It 
needed, they thought, a man of simple 
soul, intrepid heart, and powerful elo- 
quence ; and then they remembered Farel. 
At that time this reformer was the greatest 
light of France. What love, what bold- 
ness, what eloquence, what perseverance, 
he had for the cause of Christ ! But 
neither Francis nor Margaret would recall 
him from Strasburg ; and the heroic, ag- 
gressive preacher was overwhelmed with 
sorrow. "Oh! if the Lord would but 
open a way for me to return and labor in 
France !' ' he exclaimed. His wish bid fair 
to be gratified. 

The two sons of Prince Robert de la 
Marche, of a principality now forming the 
departments of Creuse and Haute Vienne, 
paid their respects to the king's sister. 
Margaret said to Roussel : " Speak to those 
two young princes ; seize, I pray, this op- 
portunity of advancing the cause of Jesus 
Christ." The chaplain obeyed. De Saucy 
and De Giminetz heard him gladly, and 
he sought to send Farel with the Gospel 
to their subjects: "I know but one man 
fitted for such a great work ; it is William 
Farel ; Christ has given him an extraordi- 
nary talent for making known the riches 
of his glory. Invite him." The proposi- 
tion delighted the young princes. ' ' We 
desire it still more than you," they said ; 
"our father and we will open our arms 
to him." They undertook to set up a 
printing press to circulate evangelical 
truth. Roussel and Toussaint wrote to 
Farel, urging his immediate acceptance. 

Margaret led many others to love the 
Word of life. She feared the young no- 
blemen would only be half converted, and 
thus wrote, earnestly urging the necessity 
of a real and moral Christianity : 

Who would be a christian true 
Must his Lord's example follow 

Every worldly good resign 

And earthly glory count but hollow ; 

Honor, wealth, and friends so sweet, 

He must trample under feet : — 

But, alas ! to few 't is given 

Thus to tread the path to heaven 

With a willing joyful heart 

His goods among the poor divide ; 

Others' trespasses forgive ; 
Revenge aud anger lay aside. 

Be good to those who work you ill ; 

If any hate you, love them still : — 

But, alas ! to few 't is uiveu 

Thus to tread the path to heaven ! 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Ee must hold death beautiful, 

And over it in triumph sing ; 
Love it with a warmer heart 

Thau he loveth mortal thing. 
In the pain that wrings the flesh 

Find a pleasure, and in sadness; 
Love death as he loveth life, 

With a more than mortal gladness : — • 
But, alas ! to few 't is given 
Thus to tread the path to heaven ! 

Many could see nothing but intellectual 
truth in the doctrine of Jesus Christ, 
whereas the Reformation always began 
with the awakening of the conscience. 
Farel would have been the man fitted for 
this work. His simple, serious, earnest 
tones, and the strength of his convictions, 
would have made him the needed re- 
former. The letter of invitation reached 
Strasburg in December, 1526. Before its 
arrival, Berthold Haller, the reformer of 
Berne, invited Farel to Switzerland. The 
Bernese possessed certain districts in 
Roman Switzerland, where a missionary 
speaking the French language was neces- 
sary. The invitations of the pious Haller 
were repeated. If France is shut, Swit- 
zerland is opening : Farel can hesitate no 
longer ; God removes him from one of 
these countries and calls him to the other , 
he will obey. Farel, disheartened that his 
country rejected him, was journeying 
from Strasburg on foot when the messen- 
gers of Toussaint and Roussel arrived. His 
friends sent the letters after him, and he 
received them while acting as an humble 
school-master at Aigle. It was too late to 
change his mind, and this reformer was 
lost to France. 

Berquin, whom some called her Luther, 
still remained to France — in prison. After 
an eight months' struggle, Margaret se- 
cured his release in November, 1526, and 
she gratefully wrote to the king: " He 
for whom he suffered will take pleasure in 
the mercy you have shown his servant and 
yours for your honor ; and the confusion 
of those who have forgotten God will not 
be less than the perpetual glory which 
God will give you." Berquin' s release was 
in his eyes a call to duty, and he rejoiced 
with his friends that God had brought him 
forth from prison in order to set him at 
the head of the Reform in France. 

Another joy was in store for Margaret. 
Francis perce ved at last that Henry VIII. 
preferred Anne Boleyn to his illustrious 
sifter, whose maid of honor she had for- 
merly been. From that hour he no longer 
opposed the wishes of the King of Na- 
varre, and in November consented to his 
union with Madame of Alencon. On the 
24th of January, 1527, at the chapel of the 
palace of St. Germain, the marriage of the 
king's sister was brilliantly solemnized. 
For a week there were magnificent tour- 
naments, and Francis promised Henry : 
"I will summon the emperor to restore 
your kingdom of Navarre ; and if he re- 
fuses, I will give you an army to recover 
it." But not long after, this prince, when 



drawing up a diplomatic paper by which 
he bound Charles V. to restore his two 
sons, then hostages at Madrid, inserted 
this clause : " Item, the said king promises 
not to assist or favor the King of Navarre 
in recovering his kingdom, although he 
has married his beloved and only sister." 

The queen soon found that her lot was 
not all sunshine, and that Henry d' Albret's 
humor was not always the same. Her 
husband's weakness led her to seek more 
earnestly "the heavenly lover." By her 
marriage she acquired more liberty to pro- 
tect the Reform ; and she rejoiced at see- 
ing men of learning and morality pro- 
nounce daily more strongly in favor of the 
truth. The world was at one of the great 
turning points of its history. Placed be- 
tween the middle and the modern age, it 
was thought Francis I. would make the 
new times replace the old in everything. 
Gothic architecture was giving way to the 
Renaissance ; the study of classic authors 
superseded the scholasticism of the uni- 
versities : would the church alone remain 
closed against the light ? But where was 
the man who would give to the world, and 
especially wherever the French language 
was spoken, that strong and salutary im- 
pulse ? It was not Lefevre, Roussel, Farel, 
or Berquin. . . . Wh® was it then ? 

It is time that we should learn to know 
him. 

The tendencies of an epoch are generally 
personified in some man whom it produces, 
but who soon overrules these tendencies 
and leads them to the goal which they 
could not otherwise have reached. To 
the category of these eminent personages, 
of these great men, at once the children 
and the masters of their age, the reformers 
have belonged. But whilst the heroes of 
the world make the forces of their epoch 
the pedestal of their own greatness, the 
men of God think only how they may be 
made to subserve the greatness of their 
Master. The Reformation existed in 
France, but the reformer was still un- 
known. A greater than Farel was about 
to appear, and we shall proceed to watch 
his first steps in the path along which he 
was afterwards to be the guide of many 
nations. 

In the classes of the college of La Marche 
in Paris there were, in the year 1526, a 
professor of about fifty, and a scholar of 
seventeen ; they were Often seen together. 
The scholar, instead of playing with his 
class-fellows, attached himself to his mas- 
ter during the hours of recreation, and lis- 
tened eagerly to his conversation. They 
were united as a distinguished teacher and 
a pupil destined to become a great man 
sometimes are. y. Their names were Ma- 
thurin Cordier and John Calvin. The 
former thought it no derogation to his 
great intellect to devote his life to the 
training of children. Shortly before Cal- 
vin's arrival in Paris, he voluntarily re- 
signed the first-class and descended to the 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



855 



fourth, in order to lay the foundations 
well,V Calvin entered his school in 1523, 
fourteen years old, thin, pale, diffident, 
but serious, and of great intelligence. He 
soon learned to enjoy the instructions of 
the master, "asa singular blessing from 
God." Master and pupil were equally 
strangers to evangelical doctrine, devout 
observers of the Romish worship. Calvin 
so exceeded his class-mates in scholarship 
that the director of the college removed 
him to a higher form ; but Calvin bitterly 
regretted a promotion that separated him 
from Cordier, except in the interval of 
Ins lessons. 
X John Calvin had now to enter a college 
appointed for the training of learned 
priests, as his father planned his son 
would attain high dignity in the Church. 
In 1526 he parted from Cordier with 
a heart overflowing with gratitude, and 
entered the Montaigu College, in prefer- 
ence to the Sorbonne. A Spanish pro- 
fessor, whose reserved, grave mien con- 
cealed an affectionate heart, became an 
intimate friend. He carefully studied 
his pupil, and exclaimed : " What a 
wonderful genius." He was an ardent 
papist, and hoped the young man would 
be a shining light in the Church. Calvin 
eagerly studied the classic authors of an- 
tiquity, and soon outstripped all his com- 
rades. He entered the class of philosophy 
earlier than the required age ; the study 
of logic, dialectics, and philosophy soon 
possessed for him an indescribable charm. 
Calvin soared above his fellow-colle- 
gians by the morality of his character. 
"It is not the act alone," he said, subse- 
quently, "but the look, and even the 
secret longing, which make men guilty." 
He was a faithful reprover of the faults 
and follies of his comrades. Beda, the 
bigoted principal, noted he never missed 
a fast, a retreat, a mass, or a procession. 
The austere exercises of a devotee's life 
were the schoolmaster that brought Lu- 
ther, Calvin, and Farel from the Papal 
Church to Christ. Absorbed in his studies, 
Calvin often forgot the hours for meals, 
and even for sleep. In theology he was 
enraptured with Scotus, Bonaventura, and 
Thomas Aquinas. Scholastics appeared 
to him the queen of science, only that he 
might eventually become its terrible ad- 
versary. 

His father, secretary to the diocese of 
Noyon, was successful in obtaining the 
living of St. Martin of Marteville for his 
son John in 1527, Thus, Calvin had a 
parish at eighteen, although he was not 
yet in hoi}- orders. All men were now talk- 
ing of the Holy Scriptures, of Lefevre, of 
Luther, of Melancthon, of the passing 
events in Germany, and Calvin heard of 
these movements of the Gospel , but the 
young scholar was at first a most inflexi- 
ble adversary of the Reformation. His 
cousin of Noyon, Pierre Robert Olivetan, 
was a student of the Scriptures in the 
original Greek and Hebrew, and subse- 
55 



quently gave the people a famous transla- 
tion m French. He boldly raised his voice 
in favor of the Gospel, and each of the 
cousins labored to convert the other to his 
own views. "O my dear friend," said 
Olivetan, "leave off shouting out with 
the papists : ' The fathers ! the doctors ! 
the Church !' and listen instead to the 
prophets and apostles. Study the Scrip- 
tures." — "I will have none of your doc- 
trines," answered Calvin ; "their novelty 
offends me." Calvin prayed the saints 
to intercede for this misguided soul, and 
Olivetan prayed to Christ. 

Yet Calvin's conscience was troubled 
and made uneasy by these controversies. 
He sought his little room and prayed • 
i ' Lord, I have been taught to worship 
Thee as my only God ; But I am ignorant 
of the true worship I ought to give . . . 
where shall I find the light that I need ? 
. . . O Gocl, illumine me with thy light !" 
His superiors sought to strengthen him in 
the Roman faith. "The highest wisdom 
of Christians," they said, "is to submit 
blindly to the Church, and their highest 
dignity is the righteousness of their 
works." — "Alas!" replied Calvin, who 
was conscious of the guilt within him, "I 
am a miserable sinner !" — "That is true," 
answered the professors, "but there is a 
means of obtaining mercy ; it is by satis- 
fying the justice of God. . . . Confess 
your sins to a priest, and ask humbly for 
absolution. . . . Blot out the memory of 
your offences by your good works, and, if 
anything should still be wanting, supply 
it by the addition of solemn sacrifices and 
purifications." 

Calvin was subdued ; he confessed his 
sins to the priest, asked for absolution, 
and humbly accepted the penances im- 

] posed. "0 God !" he said, "I desire by 

' my good works to blot out the remem- 
brance of my trespasses." But, alas! 
his peace was not of long duration. 
" God is a strict judge who severely pun- 
ishes iniquity," now said the priest. 
"Address your prayers to the saints first." 
Calvin sought the aid of these "false inter- 
cessors," but found no peace. With alarm 
he cried: "Every time that I descend 
into the depths of my heart , every time, 
God, that I lift up my soul to Thy throne, 
extreme terror conies over me. I see that 
no purification, no satisfaction, can heal 
my disease. My conscience is pierced 
with sharp stings." In despair, Calvin 
resolved to take no further pains about 
his salvation ; he sought to divert his 

! thoughts by mingling with his fellow-pupils 
and friends in their amusements. Will 
the work of God begun in his heart remain 
unperfected ? This year an event took 

I place which could not fail to stir the depths 
of Calvin's soul. 

" The kingdom of Christ is strengthened 
and established more by the blood of 
martyrs than by force of arms," said the 
doctor of Noyon one day. At this period 



836 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



he experienced the truth of this statement. 
One day, in the year 1527, Nicholas Doul- 
lon, aged thirty-six, of ecclesiastical rank, 
prothonotary, and holding several bene- 
fices, was accused of uttering blasphemy 
against the Virgin Mary, and of denying 
that the host was very Christ. In the 
absence of the king, four days sufficed 
the clergy for his condemation. He was 
led, stripped of his official robes, with a 
rope about his neck and a taper in his 
hand, to apologize to the Virgin before an 
immense concourse in front of the cathe- 
dral of Notre Dame. He remained firm 
in his faith, and was burnt alive at the 
Greve. The execution of a priest of some 
dignity made a great sensation. New dis- 
ciples ^were ready to take the place of 
those evangelicals who had fallen. 

A consoling thought entered Calvin's 
heart. (i A new form of doctrine has 
risen up," he said. " If I have been mis- 
taken . . . if Olivetan, if my other friends, 
if those who give their lives to preserve 
their faith are right . . . if they have found 
in that path the peace which the doctrines 
of the priests refuse me '?" . . He began 
to pay attention to the things that were 
told him ; he began to examine into the 
state of his soul. A ray of light shone into 
it and exposed his sin. A great trembling 
came over him , he paced his room as 
Luther had his cell at Erfurth ; he uttered 
deep groans, and shed floods of tears, ex- 
claiming, " Oh God, I condemn with tears 
my past manner of life, and transfer my- 
self to thine. Poor and wretched, I throw 
myself on the mercy which thou hast 
shown us in Jesus Christ ; I enter that 
only harbor of salvation. " Following Oli- 
vetan' s advice, Calvin applied himself to 
the Bible, and everywhere he found Christ. 

Calvin had a further struggle about 
the authority of the Church : but he 
understood at last that the unity of the 
Church cannot and ought not to exist 
except in the truth. His friends now spoke 
bodly and, as he tells us, " demolished by 
the Word of God the princedom of the 
pope and his exceeding elevation. ' ' Calvin 
"searched the Scriptures thoroughly," 
and was convinced. ' ' I see quite clearly, ' ' 
he said, "that the true order of the Church 
has been lost ; that the keys which should 
preserve discipline have been counter- 
feited ; that christian liberty has been 
overthrown ; and that when the princedom 
of the pope was set up, the kingdom of 
Christ was thrown down." Thus fell the 
papacy in the mind of the future reformer ; 
and Christ became to him the only king 
and almighty head of the Church. 

What did Calvin then ? Theodoze Beza, 
his most intimate friend, says, "he began 
to hold the teachings of the Roman Church 
in horror, and had the intention of re- 
nouncing its communion. " Calvin felt the 
immense importance of this step, and wrote : 
"If to have peace, I must purchas it by 
denying the truth, I would rather submit 
to everything than condescend to such an 



abominable compact " Calvin's conver- 
sion at the age of nineteen had been long 
and slowly ripening ; and yet, in the sense 
of the obedience of his heart, the change 
was instantaneous. Thus was this mem- 
orable conversion accomplished, which by 
saving one soul became for the Church, 
and we may even say for the human race, 
the principle of a great transformation. 
Human will is not sufficient to explain the 
changes manifested in conversion ; there, 
if anywhere, is found something mysteri- 
ous and divine, the work of God. Calvin 
did not immediately make his conversion 
publicly known ; he retired to commune 
with God alone. 

The news of his heretical opinions 
reached his father in Picardy. The am- 
bitious episcopal notary renounced the 
hope of seeing his son vicar-general, 
bishop, and perhaps cardinal. He promptly 
decided that by making his son study the 
law, he might perhaps shake off these new 
ideas, and advance by as sure a road to 
attain wealth and high station. Thus, 
while the son had a new faith and a new 
life, the father had a new plan. The 
young man submitted with joy to this 
order. As Luther first studied the law at 
Erfurth, so did Calvin likewise prepare 
himself better for the career of a reformer. 

Conversion is the fundamental act of 
the Gospel, and of the Reformation. That 
spiritual quickening of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, like the Gospel of the first (to em- 
ploy the words of Christ,) "is like unto 
leaven, which a woman took and hid in 
three measures of meal, untu iheioliole was 
leav-nedy The three great nations on 
earth have already tasted of tnis heavenly 
leaven It is fermenting, and soon all the 
' ' lump' ' will be leavened. 

Will the reformer whom God is now 
preparing for France, find in Francis I. 
the support which Luther found in Fred- 
erick the Wise? Since his return from 
captivity in Spain, the king, as we have 
seen, appeared to yield to the influence of 
his sister and to the movement of the age. 
Slightly touched by the new breath, he 
sometimes listened to the sermons of the 
evangelicals, and read fragments of the 
Holy Scriptures witli Margaret. One day, 
when the beauty of the Gospel had spoken 
to his heart, he exclaimed: "It is infam- 
ous that the monks should dare to call 
that heresy which is the very doctrine of 
God!" But the Reformation could but 
please him ; liberty, which was one of its 
elements, clashed with the despotism of 
the prince; and holiness, another principle, 
condemned his irregularities Opposition 
to popery had a certain charm for him, but 
political motives will never cause a real 
Reformation. Hence Francis I. by his 
policy propagated superstition instead of 
truth, servility for liberty, and licentious- 
ness in the place of morality. 

While the king was trifling with the 
Reform, other powers in France remained 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



its irreconcilable enemies. The members 
of the parliament made themselves the 
champions of the laws of the realm against 
the law of God. The doctors of the Sor- 
bonne, dreading the two-fold authority of 
Holy Scripture and conscience would ruin 
theirs, desperately opposed the substitu- 
tion of the religious for the clerical ele- 
ment. Beda, its general, " a many-headed 
monster, breathing poison from every 
mouth," said to himself that Berquin 
would be the Luther of France, and 
against him he directed all his attacks. 

Louis de Berquin, who was liberated by 
the king, in November, 1526, from the 
prison in which the Bedists had thrown 
him, had formed the daring plan of rescu- 
ing France from the hands of the pope. 
He was then thirty years of age, and pos- 
sessed a charm in his character, a purity 
in his life, which even his enemies admired ; 
he had unwearied application in study, in- 
domitable energy, obstinate zeal, and firm 
perseverance for the accomplishment of 
his work. 

Berquin did not move forward at hazard ; 
he had calculated everything. He had 
said to himself that in a country like 
France the Reformation could not be car- 
ried through against the king's will ; but 
he thought that Francis would allow the 
work to be done, if he did not do it him- 
self. Berquin did not wait wtiolly on the 
support of princes ; he was ready to lay 
down his own life for the triumph of truth. 
He wrote to Erasmus that the Reformers 
must ''boldly brand the Sorbonne, Rome, 
and all their hirelings, with impiety." 
Erasmus cowardly dissuaded him, saying : 
"O my friend! live in retirement , taste 
the sweets of study, and let the priests 
rage at their leisure." He tempted Ber- 
quin to flee France under the pretext of 
an embassy ; but the latter felt it better to 
be a martyr on the Greve for the love of 
the Saviour. His decision was strength- 
ened by a day's imprisonment of Beda, 
syndic of the Sorbonne, for exciting the 
king's wrath by publishing a refutation of 
the "Paraphrases and Annotations" of 
Erasmus. 

The Sorbonne, thought Berquin, repre- 
sents the papacy ; it must be overthrown. 
He extracted from the writings of Beda, 
twelve propositions " manifestly impious 
and blasphemous " in the opinion of Eras- 
mus ; and the king replied ; "I will interdict 
Bed a' s polemical writings." At the king's 
encouragement, he proposed to reveal ' ' in 
the acts and papers of the Sorbonne cer- 
tain secrets of importance to the State — 
some mysteries of iniquity." Everything 
seemed to favor Berquin's design. On the 
12th of July, 1527, the king ordered the 
Bishop of Bazas to have examined the 
twelve famous propositions by doctors of 
divinity and the four assembled faculties. 
Berquin reported this good news to Eras- 
mus, who in alarm replied : "Beware! 
even should your cause be holier than that 
of Christ himself, your enemies have re- 



solved to put you to death. ' ' Berquin was 
grieved at this letter. If Erasmus, Fran- 
cis I., and Berquin act in harmony, no one 
can resist them ; France, and perhaps 
Europe, will be reformed. But what can 
be done without Erasmus ? The Sorbonne, 
meanwhile, little heeding the king's oppo- 
sition, forbade the "Colloquies" of Eras- 
mus to be read in the colleges. "The 
time is come," now wrote Berquin to the 
illustrious scholar; " let us pull off the 
mask behind which these theologians hide 
themselves." Erasmus shrank back, and 
answered: "I would rather see all my 
books condemned to the flames, than go 
fighting at my age." Berquin undertook 
the fight unaided, saying : "Erasmus ad- 
mires in the Gospel a certain harmony 
with the wisdom of antiquity, but he does 
not adore in it the foolishness of the cross: 
he is a theorist, not a reformer." The 
catholic party grew alarmed, and resolved 
to oppose a vigorous resistance to these 
attacks. They could confront Berquin 
with adversaries whose power seemed ir- 
resistable. These adversaries were a prin- 
cess and a statesman. 

A woman reigned in the councils of the 
king. Inclined at first to ridicule the 
monks, she had after the defeat of Pavia 
gone over to the side of the priests. Louisa 
of Savoy, Duchess of Angouleme, mother 
of Francis I., worthy predecessor of Cathe- 
rine de' Medici, was a clever woman, a 
free-thinker, a dissolute woman, who all 
her life preserved an almost sovereign 
authority over her son. By her maids of 
honor she introduced dissoluteness of lan- 
guage and act into the court of France ; 
and she gathered together a body of in- 
telligent, crafty men, without religion, 
morality, or scruples, at whose head was 
Duprat. Upon the latter the Sorbonne 
relied. He was enterprising, slavish and 
tyrannical, an intriguer and debauchee. 
Archbishop of Sens and cardinal, he sold 
offices, oppressed the people, and sent re- 
monstrants to the Bastile. 

These two sought to induce the king to 
oppose the Reformation. Francis hesi- 
tated : he professed to be a patron of let- 
ters, in which he included the Gospel. He 
yielded willingly to the persuasions of his 
sister. He detested the arrogance of the 
priests, dreaded the encroachments of the 
papal power, and was pleased to see Ber- 
quin expose the vain assumptions of the 
clergy. He may also have seen new forces 
at work in the- Reformation, fulfilling the 
promise of the gathering of the people ; but 
he soon suffered his passions to overcome 
the dictates of his reason. The king had 
to provide for the heavy charges which the 
treaty of Madrid imposed upon him, and 
he had no money. The clergy furnished 
1,800,000 livres, and demanded through 
Duprat that his Majesty "should extirpate 
the damnable and insupportable Lutheran 
sect which sometime since had secretly 
crept into the kingdom." Margaret sue- 



858 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ceeded in preventing this promise, although 
Francis retained the money. 

Yet Margaret did not feel secure. The 
aged Lefevre, who was translating the 
Bible and the homilies of St. Chrysostom 
on the Acts of the Apostles, and teaching 
his young pupil, the Duke of Angouleme, 
to learn the Psalms of David by heart, 
with his failing voice strengthened her in 
the faith. "Do not be afraid," he said ; 
"the election of God is very mighty." — 
"Let us pray in faith," said Roussel ; 
" the main thing is that faith should ac- 
company our prayers." Erasmus also 
wrote a letter of encouragement. Mar- 
garet was then at Fontainebleau, expect- 
ing the birth of that daughter who be- 
came the most remarkable woman of her 
age. Reverting to Him who held the 
chief place in her heart, she wrote : 

O truth, unknown save to a few, 
No longer hide thyself from view 
Behind the cloud, but bursting forth 
Show to the nations all thy worth. 
Good men thy coming long to see, 
And sigh in sad expectancy. 
Descend, Lord Jesus, quickly come, 
And brighten up this darkling gloom ; 
Show us how vile and poor we are, 
And take us, Saviour to thy care. 

The time of her confinement drew near. 
In October, 1527, the King and Queen of 
Navarre set out for their possessions in 
the Pyrenees ; on the 7th of January suc- 
ceeding, Jeanne d' Albret was born. Im- 
mediately on her departure for Beam, 
Duprat and the Sorbonne sought to carry 
out their cruel plans. De la Tour, a noble- 
man of Poitou who had "sowed many 
Lutheran errors" in Scotland when John 
Stuart, Duke of Albany, was regent there, 
was indicted in Paris, with his servant, 
for heresy. On the 27th of October, the 
poor servant was flogged so severely that 
he declared he "repented," and had his 
tongue cut out, while De la Tour was 
burnt alive. Immediately on receipt of 
this sad news, although her confinement 
was scarcely over, this weak and delicate 
princess set out on her return to Paris. 

It was time ; for at a provincial council 
at Paris, opened on the 28th of February, 
1528, the Sorbonne sought "the extirpa- 
tion of heresy." The cardinal-archbishop 
announced that "a terrible pestilence, 
stirred up by Martin Luther, has destroyed 
the orthodox faith ;" and further com- 
plained that laymen "discuss the cathode 
faith with women and fools." Thus lib- 
erty, not heresy, was condemned. The 
council decreed that the bishops and their 
parishioners should denounce all the Lu- 
therans of their, acquaintance. Duprat 
appealed to the king for his sanction : "If 
you wish to obtain salvation ; if you wish 
to preserve your sovereig i rights intact ; 
if you wish to keep the n; ions submitted 
to you in tranquility : manfully defend 
the catholic faith, and subdue all its ene- 
mies by your arms." The king remained 



deaf, although other councils in the prov- 
inces supported these demands. 

Parliament and Duprat had been at va- 
riance. The chancellor who was president 
of parliament in the life-time of his wife, 
had entered the church on her death, 
seized upon the archbishopric of Sens, — 
although he received but one vote out of 
twenty-three, — forcibly appropriated the 
rich abbey of St. Benedict, and impris- 
oned the monks who resisted his authority. 
The parliament then ordered his appear- 
ance before them ; but their officer was 
beaten to death. Mutual recrimination 
ensued : but after this lapse of time a 
reconciliation was now concocted, and 
both parties united to destroy the Re- 
formers. 

Everything appeared in France to in- 
cline towards peace and joy. The court 
was at Fontainebleau, where Francis I. 
and the Duchess of Angouleme, the King 
and Queen of Navarre, and all the most 
illustrious of the nobility, had assembled 
to receive the young Duke of Ferrara, 
who had just arrived (20th of May, 1528) 
to marry Madame Ren< : e, daughter of 
Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany. It was 
a time of rejoicing. Francis L, whose 
favorite residence was Fontainebleau, had 
erected a splendid palace there ; concerts, 
amusements, excursions in the forest, and 
sumptuous banquets had drawn many 
foreign visitors. ^But nothing so attracted 
the attention of the latter as the gifted 
and pious Queen of Navarre. 

The princess, who was compelled to 
take part in every entertainment, sought 
to call all her associates to Jesus Christ. 
She had the tenderest compassion for the 
frail maids of honor, and thus urged 
her "dears " not to be " caught by plea- 
sure," but to flee to the cross : 

Farewell my dear ! 

The court I flee 
To seek tor life 

Beneath the tree. 

If that ray prayer 

Could influeuce thee, 
Thou shoudst not liuger, 

After me. 

Stay not, my dear, 

But come with me, 
And seek for life 

Beneath the tree. 

The young lords were absorbed with the 
sport of hunting boars and deer witli 
Francis I. ; the queen smilingly called 
these gay youths " bad sportsmen, " and 
exhorted them "to go a hunting after 
bet <: er game. ' ' She wrote a dialogue poem 
on this subject, which thus closes : 

The Young Hunter. 
With earnest faith my heart is filled ; 
All my worldly thoughts. I yield 
At the voice of ray Saviour Christ Jesu ! 

Makgaret. 
Yes, now you are a hunter true ! 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



8:9 



These little ballads were read by every- 
body at court, and the queen's "tracts" 
led to many conversions. The festivities 
were suddenly interrupted by news on 
hearing which "the king wept hard with 
vexation and anger j" and departed at 
once for Paris. 

The festival of Pentecost (Whitsunday) 
had been celebrated with great pomp in 
Paris, on the 30th of May, 1528 ; especial 
adoration was paid to the Virgin and her 
images. An image of the Virgin holding 
the infant Jesus in her arms, stood in the 
quarter of St. Antoine,and was worshipped 
all day with such titles as "Author of the 
righteousness which cleanses away our 
sins !" On Monday morning, passers-by 
found that both the heads and the Virgin's 
robe had been cut off and thrown under 
foot. Men, women, and children sur- 
rounded the mutilated figure — some weep- 
ing, others groaning, all cursing the 
sacrilege. The authors of this mutilation 
were never known, although diligent 
search was made, and a reward of a 
thousand crowns offered for- the discovery 
of the perpetrators . Some charge it upon 
the priests, who wished to use the deed as 
a weapon against the Lutherans ; others 
attribute it to some hot-headed evangelical, 
exasperated at the flagrant worship of 
these idols. However, the fanatical party 
profited well by this sacrilege. Constant 
processions were made by the clergy and 
students to the scene of outrage. Learn- 
ing and the Gospel were forgotten ; men 
thought only of honoring the Holy Virgin. 

On Corpus Christi Day, the 11th of 
June, a long procession of the different 
guilds, supreme courts, bishops, ambassa- 
dors, high officers of the crown, and 
princes of the blood, marched from the 
palace of the Tournelles to this ill-omened 
spot. 

The canopy was carried 
By the good King- of Navarre, 

And by V en dome, and by Longueville, 
And the proud Duke of Ferrare. 

Then last of all there followed 
The king with head all bare ; 

The taper in his hand was wrapped 
In velvet rich and rare. 

At the fateful corner, the king knelt and 
prayed ; then he piously set up a small 
silver-gilt statue of the Virgin in the room 
of the former, and placed his taper before 
the image as a testimony of his faith. 
The others did likewise. The mutilated 
image was removed to the Church of "St. 
Germain, and worked miracles. A still- 
born infant placed before it (it is said) 
changed color ; it was baptized, and after 
it had returned its soul to God, was buried. 
The miracle, it is clear, did not last long. 
Francis was now irritated 'and inflamed 
against the Reformation. The persecution 
began. 

There lived in Paris one of those poor 
christians of Meaux known as chnstau- 



dins, or disciples of Christ. This man had 
been driven from his native city by perse- 
cution, and had become a waterman on 
the Seine. One day a stranger entered 
his boat, and extolling the power of the 
"mother of God," offered a picture of 
Mary to his conductor. The boatman 
could not contain himself, and said, 
sharply: "The Virgin Mary has no- more 
power than this bit of paper," which he 
tore in pieces and threw into the river. 
The exasperated catholic denounced the 
author of this sacrilege, and the poor 
christaudin was burnt on the Greve at 
Paris. 

Denis, a pious native of Rieux, was 
astounded at christians putting their trust 
in ceremonies, instead of placing it wholly 
in Christ. One day he said: "To desire 
to be reconciled with God by means of a 
mass, is to deny my Saviour's passion." 
For these words he was confined in the 
prison at Meaux. Rriconnet, the back- 
slidden bishop, was requested to bring him 
back to the fold: "If you retract," he 
said, falteringly to Denis, "we will set 
you at liberty, and you shall receive a 
yearly pension." Denis indignantly re- 
plied : ' ' Would you be so base as to urge 
me to deny my God?" Without saying 
another word, the conscience-stricken pre- 
late fled from the dungeon, and Denis Avas 
condemned to be burnt alive. On the 3d 
of July he was bound to the hurdle, his 
arms pinioned, and a wooden cross mock- 
ingly placed in his hands ; he patiently 
said : "0, my friends, be converted to the 
true cross." In crossing a swollen stream 
he struggled, the cross fell, and "went 
sailing down the stream" beyond re- 
covery. "Gently," said the priests at 
the stake, "kindle only a small fire, a very 
small fire, in order that it may last the 
longer." Denis was bound to a balanced 
pole and three times, when nearly insensi- 
ble, was hoisted into the air and then low- 
ered for the flames to consume him anew. 
" Yet all the time he called upon the name 
of God." At last he died. 

A precious shrine, full of mysterious 
relics, hung from the arched roof of the 
principal church of the small town of 
Annonay. On Ascension Day the holy 
virtues were reverently borne through the 
city ; then all the prisoners but Lutherans 
were liberated. Martyr after martyr fell 
for protesting against this idolatrous 
shrine. A gray friar, a doctor of divinity, 
called Stephen Machopolis, first proclaim- 
ed warmly the virtues of the Saviour, and 
inveighed against the holy virtues. The 
priests tried to seize him, but he escaped. 
Stephen Renier, his disciple, boldly un- 
dertook to convert these ignorant people 
from their faith in "dead men's bones" 
to the living and true God. He was east 
into prison, and burnt alive. Jonas, a 
pious and learned schoolmaster, courage- 
ously witnessed to the truth. As he made 
"a good and complete" profession of faith 
after his arrest, he was only locked up. 



860 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



"All who had received the word of God, 
now rose up and proclaimed it. ' ' The Arch- 
bishop of Vienne ordered their seizure : 
twenty-five were cast into his prison, 
where many died of bad treatment. 

Berquin and the leading evangelicals 
were taunted at every step. "What ty- 
rannical madness ! what plutonic rage !" 
called out the mob as they passed. " Ras- 
cally youths ! imps of Satan ! brands of 
hell ! vilenaille brimful of Leviathans ! 
venomous serpents ! servants of Lucifer !" 
This was the usual vocabulary. 

Berquin was silent before the tempest. 
Beda and his party urged on his death. 
" See," they said, "to what our toleration 
of heresy leads ! Unless we root it up en- 
tirely, it will soon multiply and cover the 
whole country." — "Make your escape," 
urged Erasmus and his friends. "With 
God's help," said Berquin, "I shall con- 
quer the monks, the university, and the 
parliament itself." Such confidence ex- 
asperated the Sorbonne. Francis I. was 
puzzled, staggered, and annoyed. At last 
he yielded a little ; he consented only that 
an inquiry should be opened against Ber- 
quin. His adversaries already anticipated 
his death. A strange blindness is that of 
popery. "The blood of the martyrs is the 
seed of the Church," proclaimed Turtul- 
lian, and history verifies this. 

But at the very moment when the ene- 
mies of the Reform imagined they had 
crushed it by getting rid of Berquin ; at 
the moment when the irritation of the 
king allowed the servants of Christ to be 
dragged on hurdles, and when he author- 
ized torture, imprisonment, and the stake ; 
at the moment when all seemed destined 
to remain mute and trembling— the true 
Reformer of France issued unnoticed from 
a college of priests, and was about to be- 
gin, in an important city of the kingdom, 
that work which for three centuries has 
not ceased, and never will cease, to grow. 



Calvin, whom his father's wishes and 
his own convictions urged to abandon the 
priestly career, for which he was prepar- 
ing, had left Paris in the autumn of 1527, 
in order to go to Orleans and study juris- 
prudence under Pierre de l'Etoile, who 
was teaching there with great credit. 
"Reuchlin, Aleander, and even Erasmus, 
have professed in this city," said his pu- 
pils; "but the Star (Etoile) eclipses all 
these suns." He was regarded as the 
prince of French jurists. Calvin was 
naturally timid, and kept himself apart 
from the boisterous students ; but he 
found a friend in Nicholas Duchemin, 
who was preparing himself for a professor- 
ship in the faculty of letters. The latter 
was modest, temperate, of cautious, equit- 
able judgment, of great mildness, and 
slow in movement ; Calvin was vivacious, 
ardent, severe, and active. Calvin was 
glad to lodge in his house, and grew ar- 
dently attached to him. "Dear Duche- 



min," he said, "my friend, you are dearer 
to me than life." 

The scholar of Noyon was surprised to 
find many of the students cared but little 
for learning. At one time he would nieet 
in the streets a young lord showily attired, 
of haughty manners, followed by a ser- 
vant ; farther on came a turbulent band 
of the sons of wealthy tradesmen. Ten 
nations, afterwards reduced to four, com- 
posed the university. Calvin's small per- 
son and sallow face were in strong con- 
trast with the ruddy features and imposing 
stature of Luther's countrymen. "The 
university," said he, delighted, "is quite a 
republican oasis in the midst of enslaved 
France." In fact, the only undisputed 
authority in Orleans, was that of Pierre de 
l'Etoile. The great doctor combined an 
eminently judicial mind with an affec don- 
ate heart ; he was inflexible as a judge, 
and tender as a mother. His manner of . 
teaching possessed an indescribable charm. 
Although opposed to his young scholar's 
religious opinions, he was proud of having 
him as his pupil, and was his friend to the 
last. From him Calvin imbibed princi- 
ples whose justice no one at that time 
disputed. "The prosperity of nations," 
said Pierre de l'Etoile, "depends upon 
obedience to the laws. If they punish 
outrages against the rights of man, much 
more ought they to punish outrages 
against the rights of God. What ! shall 
the law protect a man in his body and 
goods, and not in his soul and his most 
precious and eternal inheritance? . . . 
A thief shall not be able to rob us of our 
purses, but a heretic may deprive us of 
heaven !" During the sixteenth, and even 
the seventeenth century, almost all en- 
lightened minds fouud it impossible to 
throw off these legal prejudices, which 
had been accepted for over a thousand 
years. 

Calvin's society was soon courted ; he 
was received into the Picard nation. "I 
swear," he said, "to guard the honor of 
the university and of my nation." One 
day he carved his name Calvin on the 
pillar of the hall, and there it long re- 
mained — insulted by the devout, but re- 
spected by many. The Picards honored 
him with the highest post in the nation — 
that of proctor ; he had the front rank in 
processions and assemblies of the univer- 
sity, convened meetings, signed diplomas, 
etc. Instead of giving convivial banquets, 
he paid the treasurer that amount un- 
expended, and presented books to the uni- 
versity library. It was an old custom for 
the little town of Beaugency to present to 
the proctor yearly a piece of gold, called 
maille de Florence, of two crowns' weight, 
as a witness to the alleged cures made 
upon the Finding the Body of St. Firmin, 
January 13th, 687 ! As this tribute was 
delayed, Calvin marched his comrades to 
the town and received it on his demand. 

Calvin preferred study to excesses, and 
had applied to the law with his whole 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



861 



heart. The power of his wit, memory, 
and style of expression, soon made him 
distinguished by the professors. Every 
day he had a serious conversation with 
Duchemin, and talked with a pious Ger- 
man room-mate, formerly a grey friar, 
who had learned of the Gospel in Ger- 
many. The curator, Philip Laurent, and 
the family of Francis Daniel, an influen- 
tial lawyer who had a knowledge of the 
truth, made his chief associates. Coiffard, 
a lively, intelligent, but selfish student from 
Paris, Calvin met but liked little. Calvin 
learned to esteem Melchior Wolmar, an 
illustrious teacher, who " solicited him to 
devote himself to a knowledge of the Greek 
classics. ' ' Calvin yielded : "I will study 
Greek ; but as it is you that urge me, you 
also must assist me." He made most 
rapid progress in Greek literature. The 
professor loved him above all his pupils. 
In this way he was placed in a condition 
to become the most illustrious commenta- 
tor of Scripture. "His knowledge of 
Greek," adds Beza, "was of great service 
to all the Church of God." What Cordier 
had been to him for Latin, Wolmar was 
for Greek. 

Calvin was to receive something more 
from Wolmar ; he was about to begin, un- 
der his guidance, the work of all his life 
— to learn and to teach Christ. The 
knowledge which he acquired at the uni- 
versity of Orleans, philosophy, law, and 
even Greek, could not suffice him. The 
moral faculty is the first in man, and 
ought to be the first in the university also. 
The object of the Reformation was to 
found, not an intellectual, but a moral 
empire ; it was to restore holiness to the 
Church. This empire had begun in Cal- 
vin ; his conscience had been stirred ; he 
had sought salvation and found it ; but he 
had need of knowledge, of increase in 
grace, of practice in life, and these he was 
about to strive after. 

The most intimate confidence and the 
freest communication were established be- 
tween the professor and the scholar. 
Melchoir spoke to Calvin of Germany and 
the Reformation ; he read the Greek Tes- 
tament with him, set before him the riches 
of Christ announced therein, and, when 
studying the Epistles of St. Paul, explained 
to him the doctrine of imputed right- 
eousness which forms the essence of their 
teaching. Calvin, seated in his master's 
study, listened in silence, and respectfully 
embraced that mystery so strange and yet 
so profoundly in harmony with the right- 
eousness of God ! . . . "By faith,'.' said 
Wolmar, " man is united to Christ and 
Christ to him, so that it is no longer man 
whom God sees in the sinner, but his. 
dearly beloved Son himself; and the act 
by virtue of which God makes the sinner 
an inheritor of heaven, is not an arbitrary 
one. The doctrine of justification, ' ' added 
Wolmar, "is in Luther's opinion the 
capital doctrine, articulus staniis vel cadcu- 



iis Eccle&ia." (" The touch-stone of a 
standing or of a falling Church. ' ' ) 

But Calvin's chief teacher was God. He 
often meditated on the Psalms. "This 
book," said he, "is an anatomy of all the 
parts of the soul. There is no affection in 
man which is not here represented as m a 
glass. Of the many infirmities to which 
we are subject, and of the many vices of 
which we are full, not one ought to be 
hidden." These reflections quieted him 
when he was told : ' ' You are a schis- 
matic ; you are separating from the 
Church." The leaders of the Reforma- 
tion were men who opened their hearts to 
the light of the Holy Spirit, believed in 
the Word of God, found Jesus Christ, es- 
teemed everything in comparison with 
him as loss, lived the life of God, and de- 
sired that "all hiding-places should be laid 
open," and men's hearts cleansed of all 
hypocrisy. 

The conversion of Calvin, begun at 
Paris, was completed at Orleans. In Paris 
he had heard the divine voice awakening 
his conscience to eternal life ; at Orleans 
by the Scriptures he became "learned in 
the knowledge of salvation ;" and now day 
by day his christian life became more 
spiritual and more active. Calvin was 
not a cold, abstract theologian. Iustead 
of composing his doctrine chapter by 
chapter, he, thirsting for righteousness 
and peace, found it in Christ. 

There came a moment when Calvin, de- 
sirous of possessing God alone, renounced 
the world, which, from that time, has 
never ceased to hate him : "I have not 
sued thee by my love, Christ." he said ; 
"thou hast loved me of thy free will. . . . 
I come to thee naked and empty. . . . And 
what I find in thee is not a trifling vulgar 
gain: I find everything there." Thus 
lifting up his hands to God, Calvin offered 
the sacrifice of a heart burning with love. 
He made this grand thought the design on 
his seal, a hand, presenting a heart in sac- 
rifice ; he wrote round it : Cor meum velut 
maetatum Domino in sacrificium offer o — 
" Lord, I offer unto thee as a sacrifice 
my heart immolated to thee." Such was 
his device — such was his life. 

The eyes of many began already to be 
turned upon him with admiration. The 
surprising clearness of his mind, the pow- 
erful convictions of his heart, the energy 
of his regenerated will, the strength of his 
reasoning, the luminous flashes of his 
genius, and the severe beauties of his elo- 
quence— all betokened in him one of the 
great men of the age. He was indefati- 
gable in labor ; thus he " laid the founda- 
tion of those sufferings and frequent ill- 
nesses which shortened his days." lie made 
such remarkable proficiency in jurispru- 
dence that the professors often employed 
him as their substitute. To knowledge 
he joined communion. Every one of his 
words appropriately spoken, struck home 
to gainsayers. "'Nobody can withstand 
him," they said, "when he has the Bible 



802 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



in his hand." Students and townspeople 
begged him to teach them. He was 
abashed. " I am but a poor recruit, and 
you address me as if I were a general." 
In vain he sought privacy to read, medi- 
tate, and pray. '"Alas !" he exclaimed, 
"all my hiding-places are turned into pub- 
lic schools." 

Several citizens opened their houses to 
him, saying : "Come and teach openly the 
salvation of man." Calvin shrank back. 
"Let no one disturb my repose, " he said ; 
"leave me in peace." — "A repose of dark- 
ness !" replied the most ardent ; "an igno- 
ble peace ! Come and preach I" Calvin 
remembered the saying of St. Chrysostom: 
" Though a thousand persons should call 
you, think of your own weakness, and 
obey only under constraint." — " Well, 
then, we constrain you," answered his 
friends. "O God! what desirest thou of 
me ?" Calvin would exclaim at such mo- 
ments. "Why dost thou pursue me?" 
He however yielded, and preached the 
Gospel in the houses of his friends. He 
explained the Scriptures with an admir- 
able simplicity, a piercing vitality, and a 
holy majesty, which captivated the heart. 
" While at Orleans," said his friend, Theo- 
dore Beza, " Calvin, chosen from that time 
to be an instrument of election in the 
Lord's work, wonderfully advaiieed the 
kingdom of God in many families." 

Thus the young doctor, growing in 
knowledge and acting in love, refuted the 
objections of the gainsayers, and led to 
Christ the humble souls who thirsted for 
salvation. A domestic event suddenly 
withdrew him from this pious activity. 

One day, probably at the beginning of 
April, 1528, about the Easter holidays, 
Calvin received a letter from Noyon. He 
opened it : it contained sad news ! his 
father was seriously ill. He went at once 
to Duchemin in great agitation : "I must 
depart, ' ' he said. ' ' 1 promise you to re- 
turn shortly." Calvin, therefore, bade 
farewell to his cherished studies, to his 
beloved friends, and those pious families 
in which he was advancing the kingdom 
of God, and returned to Picardy. 

We have but few particulars of his so- 
journ at Noyon, except that the weak 
condition of the episcopal secretary was 
prolonged, without any appearance of im- 
minent danger. At first the doctors held 
out hopes of his recovery ; but at length 
they said : "There is no longer any hope 
of a cure ; your father's death cannot be 
very far off." Calvin wrote of this to 
Duchemin (May 14th, 1528) and added: 
" Happen what may, I will see you again." 
According to Theodore Beza, Gerard Cau- 
vin died while his son was at Bourges, 
nine or ten months later. On the 5th of 
December, 1528, Beza, the son of Pierre 
de Beza, bailli of Vezelay, then a boy of 
eight or nine years, entered Melchior Wol- 
mar's house, in Orleans. This lad, who 
one day became Calvin's best friend, first 



met the latter at the university of Bourges, 
whither Wolmar had been invited* by 
Margaret of Valois, who was Duchess of 
Berry. 

Calvin, set at liberty by the apparent 
restoration of his father's health, desired 
to study under the famous Alciati, in tha: 
evangelical city. Returning, therefore, to 
Orleans, he made known his intention of 
going to Bourges, and the professors of 
the university where he had studied, and 
even taught with credit, unanimously 
offered him the degree of doctor. It 
would appear that his modesty did not 
permit him to accept it. 

There were fewer resources at Bourges 
than at Orleans. ' ' As we cannot live as 
we wish," said the students, " we live as 
we can." Everything was dear: board 
alone cost one hundred francs a year. 
But the Koyon student cared little for the 
comforts of life ; intellectual and spiritual 
wealth satisfied him. He was anxious to 
hear Alciati, and was surprised to hud him 
a tall corpulent man, with no very thought- 
ful look. Mingling literature with his 
explanation of the laws, and substituting 
an elegant style for barbarism of language, 
Calvin was led to listen with admiration 
to this famous professor from Milan. 

During the week, evangelical truth was 
taught in the university, and on Sunday 
students and citizens crowded the two 
churches where Chaponneau and Michel 
preached. Calvin found the christian 
truth fairly set forth for the times. But 
nothing attracted Calvin like Wolmar' s 
house. The German doctor communicated 
to the young student the writings of Lu- 
ther, Melancthoii, and other evangelical 
men beyond the Rhine, and invited him 
distinctly to enter upon the career of a re- 
former. Wolmar, modest and gentle, seems 
to have been to Calvin what Staupitz was 
to Luther. The professor asked him : 
" What do you propose doing, my friend? 
Shall the Institutes, the Novels, the Pan- 
dects absorb your life ? Is not theology 
the queen of all sciences, and does not 
God call you to explain his Holy Scrip- 
tures ?" What new ideas then started up 
before Calvin ! At Paris he had renounced 
the priesthood, and at Bourges Wolmar 
urged him to the ministry. . . . What 
should he do ? More than once in his re- 
tirement, he had already asked himself: 
" Shall I not preach Christ to the world?" 
But he had always shrunk away humble 
and timid from this ministry. " All men 
are not suited for it," he said ; " a special 
vocation is necessary, and no one ought to 
take it upon himself rashly." 

Several families at Bourges invited Cal- 
vin to their houses to edify them, and he 
soon extended his christian activities 
throughout the city ; but his first answer 
was : "I am quite amazed at seeing those 
who have a desire for pure doctrine gather 
round me to learn, although I have only 
just begun to learn myself." He was 
called to preach at Berry and at Lignieres. 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION 



"Upon my word," said the lord of the 
latter to his wife, "Master John Calvin 
seems to me to preach better than the 
monks, and he goes heartily to work too." 
The priests cried out against this young- 
evangelist. "While he was at Bourges 
his father died," says Theodore Beza. 
"and he was obliged to return to Noyon." 
The death was very sudden. 

Bourges did not fall into darkness after 
Calvin's departure. Michel Simon, a ven- 
erable doctor, boldly maintained that in 
the public disputations every proposition 
must be established by the text of Scrip- 
ture. The next Sunday the priests tried 
to prevent his sermon by singing chants, 
but the people drove them away in great 
disorder. 

When Calvin passed through the 
capital on his way from Bourges to 
Noyon, on the occasion of his father's 
death, he might have remarked a certain 
agitation among his acquaintances. In 
fact, the Sorbonne was increasing its ex- 
ertions to destroy Berquin, who, forsaken 
by almost everybody, had no one to 
support him but God and the Queen of 
Navarre. 

Margaret, who was at St. Germain-en- 
Laye, enjoyed but little repose. The 
brilliant court of Francis I. filled the 
noble palace with their pastimes. Her 
husband sometimes indulged in gaming, 
and resented his wife's remonstrances. 
Her mother, Louisa of Savoy, whose 
morality was more than doubtful, had 
leagued herself with the "hypocrites 
black, white and grey," (as she had 
called the priests, in 1522,) while the king 
was beginning to give them his support. 
Margaret walked sadly in the park, say- 
ing : 

But God, God only is my hope ; 

I know that he is all in all, 
Dearer than husband to the wife — 
My father, mother, friend, my all ! 
He is nry hope, 
My resting-place, 
My strength, my being, and my trust, 
For he hath saved me by his grace. 

Father and mother I have none ; 
Brother and sister — all are gone, 
Save God, in whom I trust alone, 
Who rules the earth from his high thro 

Erasmus was now uneasy. He feared 
that Francis I., would fall, and thus give 
the victory to the Sorbonne. Accord- 
ingly he wrote the king, warning him of 
their intrigues : Cl If a prince resists them, 
they call him a favorer of heresy, and say 
that it is the duty of the Church (that is 
to say of a few apocryphal monks and 
false doctors) to dethrone him. What ! 
shall they be permitted to scatter their 
poisons everywhere, and we be forbidden 
to apply the antidote ?" 

The Sorbonne were enraged at this ex- 
posure, and in revenge demanded the trial 
of Berquin. Duprat, Louisa of Savoy, and 



Montmorency supported their petition ; 
twelve judges were accordingly nominated 
by the pope and the king. William 
Budeeus, "the prodigy of France," was 
the only friend of the accused ; but the 
righteous life of Berquin convinced his 
judges of his innocence. Berquin now 
resolved to address the king, and to get 
Margaret to support him. Margaret 
wrote to the king : "I fear not to entreat 
that you will be pleased to have pity upon 
him. He will convince you that these 
heretic-finders are more slanderous and 
disobedient towards you than zealous for 
the faith. He knows, Monseigneur, that 
you desire to maintain the rights of every 
one, and that the just man needs no 
advocate in the eyes of your compassion. 
For this cause I shall say no more." But 
the Sorbonne increased their exertions to 
prevent his escape, and in March, 1529, 
Berquin was arrested and taken to the 
Conciergerie. 

Thus was "the most learned of the 
nobles" thrown into prison, in despite of 
the queen. The captive dreaded the 
seizure in his room of certain books which 
were condemned at Rome, and sent a note 
touching them to a christian friend by a 
domestic, saying to him : "My life is at 
stake .' ' The servant departed trembling, 
and his fright so increased that he fainted 
before the image of Our Lady, at the Pont 
au Change. The note was found in his 
possession, and Berquin was soon ordered 
to "be closely confined in a strong tower." 
From that hour his case was desperate. 

On Friday, the 16th of April, 1529, the 
inquiry was finished, and at noon Berquin 
was brought into court. " Louis Berquin, " 
said the president, "you are convicted of 
belonging to the sect of Luther, and of 
having written wicked books against the 
majesty of God and of his glorious mother. 
Wherefore we condemn you to do public 
penance, bareheaded and with a lighted 
taper in your hand, in the great court of 
our palace, asking pardon of God, of the 
king, and of justice, for the offence you 
have committed. You shall then be taken, 
bareheaded and on foot, to the Greve, 
where you shall see your books burnt. 
Next you shall be led to the front of the 
Church of Notre Dame, where you shall 
do penance to God and the glorious Virgin, 
his mother. Afterwards you shall have 
your tongue pierced — that instrument of 
unrighteousness by which you have so 
grievously sinned. Lastly, you shall be 
taken to the prison of Monsieur de Paris, 
(the bishop,) and be shut lip there all 
your life between four walls of stone ; and 
we forbid you to be supplied either with 
books to read, or pen and ink to write." 
Berquin was startled at this atrocious 
sentence; but he firmly replied : "I ap- 
peal to the king." — "Take care," answered 
his judges; "if you do not acquiesce in 
our sentence, we will find means to pre- 
vent you from ever appealing again." 
This was clear. Berquin was sent back 



884 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to prison. That afternoon Maillard, the 
lieutenant-criminal, entered the prisoner's 
cell to execute the sentence ; but he with- 
drew when Berquin replied . "I have 
appealed to the king." Budseus, his 
friend, hastened to his cell in alarm. 
"Pray do not appeal!" said he; "a 
second sentence is all ready, and it orders 
you to be put to death. If you accept 
the first, we shall be able to save you 
eventually. Pray do not ruin yourself !" 
Berquin, a more decided man than 
Budseus, would rather die than make any 
concession to error. 

Three whole days were spent by Budseus 
in the most energetic efforts to save his 
distinguished friend. ' '0 my dear friend, ' ' 
said Budseus, "there are better times com- 
ing, for which you ought to preserve your- 
self." Then he stopped, and added in a 
more serious tone: "You are guilty to- 
wards God and man if by your own act 
you give yourself up to death." Berquin 
was touched at last by the perseverance 
of this great man ; he began to waver ; his 
sight became troubled. "All that we ask 
of you is to beg for pardon. Do we not all 
need pardon !" Berquin consented to ask 
pardon of God and the king in the great 
court of the palace of justice. Budseus 
departed with joy ; but on his return, Ber- 
quin, who had struggled in prayer, said : 
"I will retract nothing; I would rather 
die than by my silence countenance the 
condemnation of truth." Budseus with- 
drew, pale and frightened, to his col- 
leagues. 

Becla and his friends arbitrarily revised 
their sentence, and condemned the noble- 
man to be strangled, and then burnt on 
the Greve. Margaret wrote to the king, 

who was at Blois with Madame : "Be 

pleased, sire, to have pity on poor Berquin, 
who is suffering only because he loves the 
Word of God and obeys you." But Fran- 
cis gave no signs of life. Meanwhile, the 
judges determined to have the sentence 
carried out the very day it was delivered, 
"in order that he might not he helped by the 
king. ' ' 

On the morning of the 22d of April, 
1529, the officers of parliament entered the 
gloomy cell where Berquin was absorbed 
in prayer. The latter arose, calm and firm, 
and followed them. At noon the escort of 
the lieutenant-criminal and his sergeants 
began to move, bearing in their ranks the 
prisoner on a wretched tumbrel. He wore 
a cloak of velvet, a doublet of satin and 
damask, and golden hose, says the Bour- 
geois of Paris, who probably saw him 
pass. The king of heaven having invited 
him to the wedding, Berquin had joyfully 
put on his finest clothes. "Alas!" said 
many as they saw him, "he is of noble 
lineage, a very great scholar, expert and 
quick in learning . . . and yet he has 
gone out of his mind !" There was nothing 
in the looks and gestures of the reformer 
which indicated the least confusion or 
pride. He neither braved nor feared 



death : he approached it with tranquillity, 
meekness, and hope, as if entering the 
gates of heaven. Men saw peace un- 
changeable written on his face. 

When the tumbrel reached the place of 
executiou, Berquin alighted, and the crowd 
clustered about him. The sentence was 
read by an officer, "with a husky voice ;" 
and at its conclusion Berquin uttered a 
few christian words to the crowd around. 
The agents of the Sorbonne immediately 
began to shout, the soldiers clashed their 
arms, ' ' and so great was the uproar that 
the voice of the holy martyr was not heard 
in the extremity of death." When Ber- 
quin found that these clamors drowned 
his voice, he held his peace. A Franciscan 
friar, who had accompanied him from the 
prison, eager to extort from him one word of 
recantation, redoubled his importunities at 
this last moment ; but the martyr remained 
firm. At length the monk was silent, 
and the executioner drew near. Berquin 
meekly stretched out his head ; the hang- 
man passed the cord round his neck and 
strangled him. "Truly," said the grand 
penitentiary Merlin, "so good a christian 
has not died these hundred years and 
more." The dead body was thrown into 
the flames and consumed. "Did Berquin 
acknowledge his error?" asked a spectator 
of the Franciscan confessor. "Yes, cer- 
tainly," answered the monk; "and I 
doubt not that his soul departed in 
peace." — Erasmus, on hearing this, re- 
torted : "I do not believe a word of it. It 
is the usual story which those people in- 
vent after the death of their victims, in 
order to appease the anger of the people." 
"Alas !" spoke some sorrowfully, "there 
never was a more virtuous man." The 
pious said : "It is only through the cross 
that Christ will triumph in this kingdom." 
Throughout France the news of this tra- 
gedy caused the deepest sorrow. Other 
christians also suffered. Philip Huaut was 
burnt alive, after having his tongue cut 
out ; and Francis Desus had both hands 
and head cut off. ' ' We too, are ready, ' ' 
said the christians, "to meet death cheer- 
fully, setting our eyes on the life that is to 
come." The Queen of Navarre mourned 
these deaths and called to mind the promise : 
"Shall not God avenge his own elect, which 
cry day and night unto him t " At this time 
Calvin once more took up his abode in 
Paris, not far from the spot where his 
friend had been burnt. Rome thought she 
had put the reformer to death ; but he was 
about to rise again from his ashes, more 
spiritual, more clear, and more powerful, 
to labor at the renovation of society and 
the salvation of mankind. 

Calvin had never before returned to 
Noyon in such deep emotion. The death 
of Berquin, the death of his father, the 
future of the Church and of himself — all 
oppressed him. He found consolation in' 
the affection of his family, and especially 
in the devoted attachment of his brother 
Anthony and of his sister Mary, who were 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



805 



one day to share his exile. Bowed down 
by so many afflictions, he would have sunk 
under the burden, " like a man half dead, 
if God had not revived his courage while 
comforting him by his Word." 

His father— that old man with mind 
so positive, with hand so firm, —had de- 
signed him for the law ; but Calvin, re- 
leased from his obligations of duty, now 
thought only of preaching the Gospel. 
Far from repelling him, his former patrons 
endeavored to bind him still closer to 
them. That noble friend of his boyhood, 
Claude cle Hangest of Momor, now abbot 
of St. Eloy, offered to give him the living 
of Pont l'Eveque in exchange for that of 
St. Martin of Marteville. Calvin, seeing 
in this offer the opportunity of preaching 
in the very place where his ancestors had 
lived, accepted ; and then resigned, in 
favor of his brother Anthony, the chapel 
of La Gesine, of which he had been titu- 
lary for eight years. The act is dated the 
30th of April, 1529. 

The same persons encouraged Calvin to 
preach. Everybody wanted to hear the 
son of the episcopal secretary, the cooper's 
grandson, and the church was thronged. 
At last a young man, of middle height, 
with thin pale face, whose eyes indicated 
firm conviction and lively zeal, went up 
into the pulpit and explained the Holy 
Scriptures to his fellow-townsmen. The 
effects of Calvin's preaching were various. 
Many persons rejoiced to hear at last of a 
living Gospel ; but the priests exclaimed : 
"They are setting wolves to guard the 
sheep." 

Calvin only stayed two or three months 
at Noyon, and departed to Paris, attrac- 
ted there " by the recent establishment 
of professorships for teaching Latin, 
Greek and Hebrew. The journey was a 
painful one, and Calvin arrived in Paris 
about the end of June, quite worn out 
with fatigue. He did not leave his room 
for four days, and during that time his 
friends and admirers never left his apart- 
ment empty. All the agitation of the 
schools seemed to be transported hither. 
Coiffard, his fellow-collegian at Orleans, 
brought his father to see him, and they 
urged him to make his home at their 
house. Calvin had but one object — study. 
"I would accept your offer with both 
hands," he said, " but that I intend to 
follow Danes' Greek course, and his school 
is too far from your house." The father 
and son went away greatly disappointed. 
Calvin was also visited by Nicholas Cop, 
professor at St". Barbe, whose father was 
physician to the king. These young men 
were close friends ; and the latter listened 
attentively to the former's counsel. 

Calvin had been entrusted with a deli- 
cate mission in Paris. • The custom of 
shutting up in convents the young persons 
who had any tendency towards the Gos- 
pel had already begun. "Our friend 
Daniel the advocate," said Calvin to Cop, 
"has a sister in a nunnery at Paris; she 



is about to take the veil, and Daniel wishes 
to know if it is with her full consent." — 
"I will accompany you," said the pro- 
fessor, and on the following Sunday, the 
two friends set out for the convent. While 
Cop engaged the abbess in conversation, 
Calvin unobservedly said to Daniel's sis- 
ter : ' ' Are you taking this yoke upon you 
willingly, or is it placed on your neck by 
force ? Do not fear to trust me with the 
thoughts that disturb you." The girl 
looked at Calvin with a thoughtless air, 
and answered him with much volubility : 
"The veil is what I most desire, and the 
day when I shall make my vow can never 
come too soon." The future reformer 
was astonished : he warned her of the 
responsibility of her rash undertaking, 
but in vain. ' ' Every time she spoke of 
her vows," said Calvin, " you might have 
fancied she was playing with her doll." 
On the 25th of June, he wrote to Daniel 
an account of this visit to the convent. 

But ere long the summons from on high 
sounded louder than ever in Calvin's heart. 
His conscience cried to him that he ought 
to study the Bible, and all his evangelical 
friends begged him to devote himself to 
the Gospel. Thus urged from within and 
from without, he yielded at last. "I re- 
nounce all other sciences," he said, "and 
give myself up entirely to theology and 
to God." This news spread among the 
secret assemblies of the faithful, and all 
were filled with great satisfaction. The 
time he now spent in Paris was has ap- 
prenticeship. He studied theology with 
enthusiasm. " The science of God is the 
mistress science," he said; "the others 
are only her servants. ' ' He excited young 
and noble minds to pursue these studies. 
He did more. Unchecked by the alarm 
created by Berquin's death, he joined the 
secret assemblies which met under the 
shadow of night in remote quarters, 
where he explained the Scriptures with a 
clearness and energy of which none had 
ever heard the like. These meetings were 
held more particularly on the left bank 
of the Seine, in that part of the city which 
the catholics afterwards termed Little Ge- 
neva, and which, on the other hand, is now 
the seat of Parisian Catholicism. "The 
Word of Christ is always a fire," said his 
hearers; "but when he explains it, this 
fire shines out with unusual brilliancy." 

"He was wholly given up to divinity 
and to God, to the great delight of all 
believers." He already showed, in some 
features, the character of chief of the Re- 
form. By his large correspondence, he 
kept himself and others informed of all 
that was passing in the christian world. 
He collected papers and documents relat- 
ing to the most recent facts of the Refor- 
mation, and transmitted them to his 
friends, with commentaries of his o^n 
added. A close student, an indefatigable 
evangelist, this young man of twenty was, 
by his far-seeing glance, almost a re- 
former, lie did not eoniine his labors to 



sn; 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION, 



Paris, Orleans, Bourges, or Noyon ; the 
city of Meaux occupied his attention. 
Lefevre, Farel, and Leclerc, the first 
martyr, had been welcomed there, and it 
still possessed Briconnet. Calvin sought 
to win the latter back to the Gospel ; but 
the timid bishop replied : "I cannot walk 
with those people ; I cannot conform my 
manners to theirs." Calvin, however, 
did not fail to propagate the Gospel at 
Meaux. Luther took Plautus and Terence 
into the convent with him , Calvin wrote 
to Daniel for his own copy of the Odyssey 
of Homer. He soon returned to Paris, 
which opened a wider field of labor to 
him, and sought fresh strength from 
Christ in all his trials. 

Meanwhile the Sorbonne, proud of its 
late triumph over Berquin, decided to 
pursue its triumphs. Beda did not attack 
so low as Calvin ; he aimed at the doctors 
whom Francis had invited to Paris for 
the advancement of learning. He cited 
Danes, Vatable, and others before the 
parliament for neglecting Aristotle, and 
studying the Holy Scriptures only. The 
professors ably retorted against their craft 
and sophistry, and the charges were dis- 
missed ; but the Sorbonne condemned the 
study of the Scriptures in Greek and 
Hebrew. Calvin noted this struggle, and 
saw that the renewal of the church must 
be done by faith and by Scripture. But 
his hour was not yet come. When that 
student, so thin, pale, and obscure, in ap- 
pearance so mean, in manner so timid, 
passed down the street of St. Jacques or 
of the Sorbonne ; when he crept silently 
past the houses, and slipped unobserved 
into one of them, bearing with him the 
Word of life, there was not even an old 
woman that noticed him. And yet the 
time was to come when Francis I., with 
his policy, conquests, priests, court, and 
festivities, would only call up frivolous 
or disgusting recollections ; while the 
work which this poor scholar was by 
God's grace then beginning, would in- 
crease day by day for the salvation of 
souls and prosperity of nations, and would 
advance calmly but surely to the conquest 
of the world. 

When was France to turn herself to- 
wards the Word of God ? At the time of 
her brother's return from his Spanish cap- 
tivity, Margaret had solicited him to grant 
liberty of preaching the gospel, and the 
king had deferred the matter until nis 
sons were restored to freedom. That mo- 
ment seemed to have arrived. In order to 
recover his children, Francis had sacrificed 
at Cambray, (June, 1529, ) in the Ladies' 1 
Peace, the towns he had conquered, the 
allies who had been faithful to him, and 
two millions of crowns besides. It was 
not. however, until ten months later that 
the children returned. All the royal fam- 
ily hurried to the Spanish frontier to re- 
ceive them, except Margaret, who was de- 
tained at Blois by her approaching con- 



finement. She loved the king's children 
dearly, and was overjoyed at their recov- 
ery. Margaret now strove to put an end 
to all the divisions among the evangelicals, 
and commanded Bucer to act as a peace- 
maker. He was deeply attached to the 
queen, and without delay informed Luther 
of the princess' injunctions. "If our 
opinions are compared with yours," he 
said, "it will be easily seen that they are 
radically the same, although expressed in 
different terms. Let us not furnish our 
enemies with a weapon with which to at- 
tack truth . " He added : ' ' Christ will soon 
be publicly confessed over the whole king- 
dom." 

Great joy and great anguish now dis- 
tracted the thoughts of the Queen of 
Navarre. A son was born to her about a 
fortnight after the return of the children 
of France ; but the child died on Christ- 
mas day, 1530, at the age of five months 
and a-half. The queen felt as if her life 
had been torn from her , her strength was 
exhausted ; her heart bled, but God con- 
soled her. "I place him," she said, "in 
the arms of his father ;" and as she felt 
the necessity of giving glory to Gocl pub- 
licly, she sent for one of her principal of- 
ficers, and, with a voice stifled by tears 
and sighs, ordered that the child's death 
should be posted up in the principal quar- 
ters of the city, and that these words 
should be at the foot of the notice: • 
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
away. 

The pious mother ordered a Te Deumto 
be sung. Francis, who had lately lost two 
daughters, wrote to his sister : "It is the 
third of yours and the last of mine, whom 
God has called away to his blessed com- 
munion, acquired by them with little 
labor, and desired by us with such great 
travail. ' ' 

Margaret soon had to quit Alencon for 
St. Germain, where preparations were 
making for the marriage of Francis to 
Queen Eleanor, the Emperor's sister. The 
court had never been more brilliant. The 
less happiness there was in this marriage, 
the more pomp the king desired to dis- 
play ; joy of the heart was replaced by the 
sound of the fife and drum and of the 
hautboy. The dresses were glittering, 
the festivities magnificent. Princes, arch- 
bishops, bishops, barons, knights, gentle- 
men of parliament, and the magistrates of 
the city, were assembled for this illustrious 
marriage ; scholars and poets were not 
wanting. 

In the midst of all these men of letters was 

Margaret, the fairest flower 
That ever grew on earth. 

The poor mother strove to recall a wan- 
dering sheep from the midst of this worldly 
agitation, and said : 

" Come to my fountain pure and free 
Drink of its stream abundantly. 
Hasten, sinners, to the call 
Of your God, who speaks to all : 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



867 



Come and drink — it gives relief 
To every lorm of mortal grief; 
Come and drink the draught divine, 
Out of this new fount of mine. 
Wash away each mortal stain 
In the blood of Jesu slain. 
No return I seek from thee 
But works of love and charity." 

These appeals were not unavailing. 
Margaret was the evangelist of the court 
and of the king. Yet not to these alone 
did she devote the attentions of her ardent 
charity. Louisa of Savoy was taken se- 
riously ill at Fontainebleau, and Margaret 
hurried to her side. Never had mother 
so depraved and daughter so virtuous felt 
such love for each other. In the midst of 
all these mournful occupations, the prin- 
cess kept watch over the friends of the 
Gospel, and gave an asylum to Lef evre at 
Nerac in her own states. Louisa, feeling 
a little better, travelled from Fontaine- 
bleau to Grey, but could go no farther. 
Margaret prayed earnestly for her mother ; 
she sat by her and spoke to her of the 
Saviour. "Madame," she said, "I en- 
treat you to fix your hopes elsewhere. 
Strive to make God propitious to you." 
This woman, so ambitious, clever, false, 
and dissolute, whose only virtue was ma- 
ternal love, does not appear to have 
opened her heart to her daughter's voice. 
She breathed her last on the 29th of Sep- 
tember, 1531, in the arms of the Queen of 
Navarre. 

Margaret soon became engrossed in plans 
to achieve a reform which should leave 
catholicity intact. To set before herself 
a universal transformation of the church, 
was certainly a noble and a christian aim ; 
but Calvin, Luther, Farel, and others saw 
that it could only be attained at the ex- 
pense of truth. , 

The royal trio was now broken up. 
Margaret, knowing well that her mother 
had always influenced her brother in favor 
of popery, hoped to profit by an event 
that had cost her so many tears, and im- 
mediately attempted to incline him to the 
side of the Reform. But the Sorbonne, 
the bishops, Montmorency, and even the 
emperor endeavored to set Francis against 
the evangelicals. Noircarmes, the envoy 
of the latter, gave utterance to all the 
usual calumnies against the Reformation, 
and the king while yet excited bore them 
to his sister. "Madame," said he angrily, 
"do you know that your friends the pro- 
testants preach the community of goods, 
the nullity of the marriage tie, and the 
subversion of thrones? Noircarmes says 
that if I clo not destroy Lutheranism, my 
crown will be in danger." "Sire," she 
answered, "the reformers are righteous, 
learned, peaceful men, who have no other 
love than that of truth, no other aim than 
the glory of God, and no other thought 
than to banish superstition and to correct 
morals." 

Margaret called upon the protcstants of 



Germany to contradict these charges, and 
this they did immediately. Matthew 
Reinhold, a devoted evangelical and a 
clever diplomatist, delivered to the king 
in April, 1531, a letter from the Elector of 
Saxony,- the Landgrave of Hesse, and their 
allies, disclaiming these charges. The 
king read it graciously, and after several 
days returned answer: " In orclejr to heal 
the sores of the christian republic, there 
must be a council ; provided the Holy 
Ghost, who is the lord of truth, has the 
chief place in it." Then he added : "Do 
not fear the calumnies of your enemies." 
The first step was taken. 

The grand idea of the counsellors of 
Francis I., and of the king himself, was, 
at this time, to substitute for the old 
policy of France a new and more inde- 
pendent policy, which would protect it 
against the encroachments of the papacy. 
Melancthon was charmed at the king's 
letter. "The Frenchman answered us in 
the most amiable manner," he said, "A 
council guided by the Spirit of God was 
precisely what the German protestants 
demanded." Gervais Waimwas commis- 
sioned as embassador to the German 
States ; but unfortunately he was an up- 
holder of ancient things, and full of preju- 
dices against the Reformation. He was 
treated with great consideration in Wit- 
temberg, but soon alienated the people by 
declaring : ' ' You have neither church, 
nor magistrate, nor marriage." — "This 
man," said Melancthon, "is a great enemy 
of our cause." 

Margaret, believing that the triumph of 
the good cause was not far off, struck out 
of her prayer-book all the prayers ad- 
dressed to the Virgin and to the saints. 
This she laid before the king's confessor, 
William Petit, Bishop of Senlis. "Look 
here !" she said ; "I have cut out all the 
most superstitious portions of this book." 
"Admirable!" exclaimed the courtier; 
"I should desire no other." The queen 
took the prelate at his word ; "Translate 
it into French," she said, "and I will 
have it printed with your name." The 
courtier-bishop did not dare withdraw ; 
and it appeared under the title of Heures 
de la Rot ne de Marguerite ("Queen Mar- 
garet's Prayer-book. ") 

Nor did the Queen of Navarre stop here. 
At this time a cure named Lecoq, a man 
of talent who leaned to the evangelical 
cause because it appeared to be in favor, 
by his preaching drew great crowds to St. 
Eustache. The king was pursuaded to 
attend, and the cure was informed of his 
intention. The coming Sunday found an' 
immense congregation. Gradually the 
sermon grew warmer, and words full of 
life were heard. "Seek those things which 
are above. Do not confine yourselves dur- 
ing mass to what is upon the altar ; raise 
yourselves by faith to heaven, there to 
find the Son of God. After he has conse- 
crated the elements, does not the priest 



888 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cry out to the people : Surrum cor da ! lift 
up your hearts ! These words signify : 
Here is the bread, and here is the wine, 
but Jesus is in heaven. For this reason, 
sire," continued Lecoq, boldly turning to 
the king, "if you wish to have Jesus 
Christ, do not look for him in the visible 
elements ; soar to heaven on the wings of 
faith. It is by believing in Jesus Christ that 
we eat his flesh, says St. Augustin. If it 
were true that Chrst must be touched with 
the hands and devoured with the teeth, 
we should not say sursum, upwards ! but 
deorsum, downwards ! sire, it is to heaven 
that I invite you. Hear the voice of the 
Lord : sursum corda, sire, sursum cordaV 

The king was impressed, and invited the 
priest to a private interview ; but Lecoq 
advanced his doctrines so zealously that 
the king ordered him to be examined as 
a heretic by a Romish doctor, "and to 
be admitted to prove his assertions by 
the testimony of Holy Scripture." The 
cardinals of Loraine and Tournon speedily 
arranged a conference, and said to Lecoq : 
"The Church has spoken ; submit to her 
decrees." Frightened and soothed by 
turns, the cure of St. Eustache at last re- 
tracted what he had preached. Lecoq had 
none of the qualities of a martyr. 

Happily there were in France firmer 
christians than he. Toulouse was at this 
period filled with images, relics, and 
"other instruments of Romish idolatry." 
"The bloody parliament "' said to their 
officers : " Keep an eye upon the heretics. 
If any man does not lift his cap before an 
image, he is a heretic. If any man, when 
he hears the Ave Maria bell, does not bend 
the knee, he is a heretic. If any man 
takes pleasure in the ancient languages 
and polite learning, he is a heretic. . . . 
Do not delay to inform against such per- 
sons. . . . The parliament will condemn 
them, and the stake shall rid us of them." 

The licentiate Jean de Caturce, a pro- 
fessor of laws, and a native of Limoux, 
visited his native town at the Epiphany, 
1532, to openly proclaim the mercy of 
the Saviour whom he loved. It was the 
custom to have a grand supper, at which 
the king of the feast was proclaimed 
with boisterousness. Caturce resolved 
this should not pass off in the usual 
manner. They were about to celebrate 
the new royalty by the ordinary toast : 
The king drinks ! when Caturce stood up. 
"There is only one king," he said, 
"and Jesus Christ is he. It is not 
enough for his name to flit through our 
brains — he must dwell in our hearts. He 
who has Christ in him wants for nothing. 
Instead, then, of shouting the king drinks, 
let us say this night : May Christ, the true 
king, reign in all our hearts /" Many sym- 
pathized, at least by their silence, with 
the new toast. Caturce continued : "My 
friends, 1 propose that after supper, in- 
stead of loose talk, dances, and revelry, 
each of us shall bring forward in his turn 
one passage of Holy Scripture. ' ' The pro- 



posal was accepted, and tire noisy supper 
was changed into an orderly christian as- 
sembly. 

The report of this supper led to the ar- 
rest of the licentiate at the university ; 
but in the discussion that followed, he 
silenced the most learned theologians by 
pertinent quotations from Scripture, and 
was sent back to prison. He was tempted 
to sign a recantation, but refused, saying : 
" It is a snare of the evil one. ' ' Thereupon 
he was declared a heretic, condemned to 
be burnt alive, and taken to the square of 
St. Etienne. In the presence of a great 
crowd, his academical robes were taken 
off, and the costume of a merry-andrew 
was put on him. A Dominican monk now 
essayed to preach "the sermon of the 
catholic faith," and read his text : " The 
Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter 
times some shall depart from the faith, giving 
heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of 
devils." Caturce cried out with a clear 
voice : " Read on." The Dominican, who 
felt alarmed, stopped short, upon which 
Caturce himself completed the passage : 
" Forbidding to marry, and commanding to 
abstain from meats, which God hath created 
to be received with thanksgiving of them 
which believe.'''' The monks were con- 
founded ; the students and other friends 
of the licentiate smiled. "We know 
them," continued the energetic professor, 
these deceivers of the people, who, instead 
of the doctrines of faith, feed them with 
trash. In God's service there is no ques- 
tion of fish or of flesh, of black or of grey, 
of Wednesday or Friday. ... It is 
nothing but foolish superstition which re- 
quires celibacy and abstaining from meats. 
Such are not the commandments of God." 
The poor Dominican could not preach his 
sermon, and Caturce was led back to the 
court to be condemned. When the sen- 
tence was pronounced, he indignantly ex- 
claimed in Latin : ' ' Thou seat of iniquity ! 
Thou court of inj ustice !" He was now led 
to the stake, and died exhorting the peo- 
ple to know Jesus Christ. His death 
brought forth much fruit, especially 
among the students. Certain preachers 
backslided at this time ; among them were 
the prothonotary of Armagnac, the corde- 
lier Des Noces, and his companion the 
youthful Melchior Flavin. A grey friar 
at Marcii, awakened by the death of 
Caturce, sealed with his blood at Toulouse 
the doctrines he had been taught to faith- 
fully proclaim. 

Lecoq had been caught in the snares 
of the world ; Caturce had perished in the 
flames ; some elect souls appeared to be 
falling into a third danger — a sort of Chris- 
tianity, partly mystical, partly worldly, 
partly Romanist. But there was a young 
man among the evangelical who was begin- 
ning to occasion some uneasiness in the 
lukewarm. Calvin was successively at- 
tacked on these three sides, and yet he re- 
mained firm. He did more than this, for 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



869 



every day lie enlarged the circle of his 
christian activity. An advocate, a young 
frondeur, a pious tradesman, a catholic 
student, a professor of the university, and 
the Queen of Navarre— all received from 
him at this time certain impulses which 
carried them forward in the path of re- 
ligious duty. 

The advocate Daniel loved him dearly, 
and sought to keep him in the Romish 
communion. A new bishop of Orleans 
was appointed in 1532, and Daniel in- 
sinuated that Calvin might be appointed 
official. Had he been made vicar-general 
at so early an age, he would not have 
stopped there ; that office often led to the 
highest dignities, and his brilliant genius, 
his great and strong character, would 
have made him a bishop, cardinal, who 
can say? . . . perhaps pope. Instead of 
freeing the Church he would have enslaved 
it ; and instead of being plain John Calvin 
he might perhaps have been the Hilde- 
bfand of his age. But Calvin chose the 
rougher road, and gave himself to God 
alone. 

Calvin looked with love upon the mar- 
tyrs and their burning piles, and sought 
to speak in behalf of the innocent victims. 
He had finished his commentary upon 
Seneca's treatise on Clemency, written in 
the time of the first persecutions of the 
christians, and determined to publish it in 
hopes that it might influence the king. 
These are the words of Seneca, which, 
thanks to Calvin, were now heard in the 
capital of the kings of France: "Clem- 
ency becomes no one so much as it does a 
king. — You spare yourself, when you seem 
to be sparing another. We must do evil 
to nobody, not even to the wicked ; men 
do not harm their own diseased limbs. It 
is the nature of the most cowardly wild 
beasts to rend those who are lying on the 
ground, but elephants and lions pass by 
the man they have thrown down. To 
take delight in the rattling of chains, to 
cut off the heads of citizens, to spill much 
blood, to spread terror wherever he shows 
himself — is that the work of a king? If 
it were so, far better would it be for lions, 
bears, or even serpents to reign over us !" 

As the booksellers would not print this 
work, Calvin issued it at his own expense. 
"Upon my word," said he, "it has cost 
me more money than I had imagined." 
On the title page he wrote his name in 
Latin, C echinus ; from this Calvin was 
derived, which has replaced his family 
name Cauvin. Calvin was concerned about 
the good his book would do, and about 
the repayment of his outlay by its sale, as 
all his money was spent. He showed 
great activity in making it known, and 
begged several of the professors to use his 
book in their public lectures. It is not 
certain whether the king read the treatise ; 
at any rate, Calvin was not more fortu- 
nate with Francis I. than Seneca had been 
with Nero. At this time Daniel had com- 
missioned his friend to purchase some 



Bibles ; but he found great difficulty in 
procuring them, as the Sorbonne had pro- 
hibited the sale of editions in French. "I 
have executed your commission about the 
Bibles," he wrote to Daniel , " and it cost 
me more trouble than money." He of- 
fered to send his friend a hundred copies 
of his treatise, if he would lecture upon it. 

A fellow student of Calvin's now called 
forth his sympathy. He was a christian, 
but retained some remnants of a proud 
spirit. One day he said to his friends: 
"I cannot bend my neck beneath the 
yoke to which you so willingly submit. 
Farewell ! I am going to Strasburg, and 
renounce all intention of returning to 
France."' Strasburg did not satisfy him, 
and he was continually in hot discussions. 
One day his adversary accused him of 
being an anabaptist. This dreadful re- 
proach cut him off from all sympathy, 
and falling into great poverty he was com- 
pelled to beg his way back to Noyon. 
Calvin espoused his cause, and warmly 
defended him from his accusers. 

Calvin now returned to Paris. Guida- 
cero, a layman of Venice, had angered the 
Sorbonne by publishing comments on the 
Song of Solomon, and the Sermon on the 
Mount. Some students acted in a bur- 
lesque entitled : " The university of Paris 
is founded on a monster." Beda was en- 
raged : "They mean me," he exclaimed. 
But the inquisitors had the good sense not 
to press a prosecution. Calvin every day 
attended religious meetings privately held, 
and kept himself free from the jeering 
attacks on the priests. One of his inti- 
mate associates at this time was Stephen 
de la Forge, a merchant most liberal to 
succor the poor, and to propagate the 
Gospel. Of him Calvin exclaimed in Ge- 
neva : "0 holy martyr of Jesus Christ! 
thy memory will always be sacred among 
believers." Louis du Tillet was another 
of his friends. He was a gentle, moderate 
christian, who was continually fluctuating 
between Calvin and his own relatives, be- 
tween Scripture and tradition, between 
God and the world. 

Calvin, thanks to the numerous friends 
who saw him closely, began to be appre- 
ciated even by those who calumniated his 
faith. "This man at least leads an aus- 
tere life," they said : ''he is not a slave to 
his belly ; from his youth he has abhorred 
the pleasures of the flesh ; he indulges 
neither in eating nor drinking. . . . Look 
at him . . . his mind is vigorous ; his 
soul unites wisdom with daring. . . But 
his body is thin and spare ; one clearly 
sees that his days and nights are devoted 
to abstinence and study." — "Do not sup- 
pose that I fast on account of your super- 
stitions," said Calvin. "No! it is only 
because abstinence keeps away the pains 
that disturb me in my task." 

During the time when the piety of the 
Queen of Navarre was the purest, a mu- 
tual respect and affection united these 
two noble characters. "I conjure you," 



870 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



said Margaret to Calvin, "do not spare me 
in anything wherein you think I can be of 
service to you. Rest assured that I shall 
act with my whole heart, according to the 
power that God has given me." — "A man 
cannot enter the ministry of God," says 
Calvin, " without having been proved by 
temptation." Would he be led to become 
Margaret's chaplain, like Roussel? "I 
should be pleased to have a servant like 
you," she told him one day. But the 
simple and upright man replied : " Ma- 
dame, I am not fitted to do you any great 
service ; the capacity is wanting, and also 
you have enough without me. ' ' He took 
advantage of the opportunity, and nobly 
conjured Margaret to speak out more 
frankly in favor of the Gospel. She de- 
clared herself ready to move forward. 

An opportunity soon presented itself of 
realizing the plan she had conceived of 
renewing the universal church without 
destroying its unity ; but the means to be 
employed were not such as Calvin desired. 
They were about to have recourse to 
carnal weapons. "Now the only founda- 
tion of the kingdom of Christ," he said, 
"is the humiliation of man. I know how 
proud carnal minds are of their vain 
shows ; but the arms of the Lord, with 
which we fight, will be stronger, and will 
throw down all their strongholds, by 
means of which they think themselves 
invincible." 

Luther now appears again on the scene * 
and on this important point Luther and 
Calvin are one. 



France, or at least the king and the in- 
fluential men, appeared at this time to 
be veering towards a moderate reform 
Francis I. seemed to have some liking for 
his sister's religion ; but there were other 
motives inclining him to entertain these 
ideas. Finding himself without allies in 
Europe, he endeavored to gain the friend- 
ship of the protestants, hoping that with 
their help he would be in a condition to 
oppose the emperor and restore the French 
preponderance in Italy. One man in par- 
ticular set himself the task of directing 
his country into a new path ; this was 
William du Bellay, brother to the bishop 
of Paris, and "one of the greatest men 
France ever had, ' ' says a catholic historian. 
A skilful, active, and prudent diplomatist, 
Du Bellay thought that the sixteenth cen- 
tury would substitute for the papacy of 
the middle ages a form of Christianity, 
catholic of course, but more in conformity 
with the ancient Scriptures and the mo- 
dern requirements. From that hour his 
dominant idea was to unite catholic France 
to protestant Germany. Bearing the in- 
structions of Francis I., Du Bellay crossed 
the Rhine in April, 1532. At Schweinfurth- 
on-the-Maine, between Wurtzburg and 
Bamberg, he found an assembly composed 
of a few protestant princes on one side, 
and a few mediators on the other, among 



whom was the elector -archbishop cf 
Mayence. 

After the great diet of Augsburg in 
1530, everything betokened the bursting 
of a storm in the next spring. The party 
of prudence wished the evangelical states 
to seek powerful alliances, and prepare to 
meet the emperor by force of arms ; the 
party of piety called to mind that the Re- 
formation had triumphed at Augsburg by 
faith, and added that from faith all its 
future triumphs were to be expected. " If 
war breaks out," said Luther, " I call God 
and the world to witness that the Luther- 
ans have in no wise provoked it ; that they 
have never drawn the sword, never thrown 
men into prison, never burnt, killed, and 
pillaged, as their adversaries have done ; 
and, in a word, that they had never sought 
any tiling but peace and quietness." On 
the 29th of March, 1531, the deputies of 
the protestant states met at Smalcald, in 
the electorate of Hesse. They were dis- 
appointed in their hope of seeing Den- 
mark, Switzerland, Mecklenburg, and 
Pomerania join them. Nevertheless, they 
did not hesitate, notwithstanding their 
weakness, to assert their rights against 
the power of Charles V. Nine princes 
and eleven cities entered into an alliance 
for six years "to resist all who should try 
to constrain them to forsake the Word of 
God and the truth of Christ." Some per- 
sons proposed, with a view of making the 
alliance closer, to introduce into all the 
evangelical churches a Derfect uniformity 
both of worship and ecclesiastical consti- 
tution ; but energetic voices exclaimed 
that this would be an infringement of 
religious liberty under the pretence of 
upholding it. When the deputies met 
again at Frankfort, on the 4th of June, 
these generous men said boldly ': "We will 
maintain diversity for fear that uniformity 
should, sooner or later, lead to a kind of 
popery." They understood that the in- 
ward unity of faith is better than the su- 
perficial unity of form. 

After various negotiations the evangel- 
icals met at Schweinfurth to receive the 
proposals of their adversaries ; and it was 
during this conference (April and May, 
1532) that the ambassador of the King of 
France arrived. When the protestants saw 
him appear they were rather embarrassed ; 
but still they received him with respect. 
He soon found out in what a critical posi- 
tion the men of the confession of Augs- 
buig were placed. True, the mediators 
offered them peace, but it was on condition 
that they made no stipulations in favor of 
those who might embrace the Gospel here- 
after. This proposal greatly irritated the 
Landgrave of Hesse, his chancellor Feig, 
and the other members. Luther was not ac 
Schweinfurth, but he kept on the lookout 
for news. To presume to save the faith 
with protocols was almost blasphemous 
in his eyes, and he wrote to the conference, 
asking: "Is not God as mighty now as 
then? Does the Almighty want us to voto 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



871 



the aid that we mean to give him in future 
by our human stipulations ?" These words 
of Luther caused general consternation, 
and the deputies said : "The great man is 
not quite right in his mind in his advice 
against treaties." But Luther began to 
agitate Wittemberg, anddrewup an opinion 
in which he said : "I will never take upon 
my conscience to provoke the shedding of 
blood, even to maintain our articles of faith. 
It would be the best means of destroying 
the true doctrine, in the midst of the con- 
fusion of war. ' ' The reformer thought that 
if the Lutherans and the Zwinglians, the 
Germans and the Swiss united, they would 
feel so strong that they would assume the 
initiative and draw the sword — which he 
wished to avert by all means in his power. 

But the politicians were not more in- 
clined to give way than the theologians. 
The protestant deputies withdrew to the 
little town of Konigsberg in Franconia, 
and resolved themselves into secret com- 
mittee to receive the ambassador of France. 
Du Bellay stated : "My august master, de- 
sirous of avoiding further delay, has com- 
missioned me to say that you will find him 
ready to assist you. Though his brother 
of England (which he does not believe) 
were to refuse ; though the emperor should 
march his armies against you, the king wili 
not abandon you." But the pacific ideas 
of Luther prevailed over those of Francis I. 
The Elector of Saxony sided with the re- 
former, and it was agreed to name in the 
act of alliance only ihe princes and cities 
that had already adhered to the confession 
of Augsburg. The Landgrave of Hesse 
complained: "The future will show 
whether they have acted wisely in this 
matter." Du Bellay skilfully adverted to 
the vexed question of Wurtemberg, whose 
government was now usurped by Ferdi- 
nand, brother of the emperor, to the de- 
spoilment of the protestant Duke Ulrich. 
"As for the Duke of Wurtemberg, the 
king my lord will heartily undertake to 
serve him to the utmost of his power, with- 
out infringing the treaties." 

A mixed assembly of catholics and pro- 
testants having met at Nuremberg in the 
month of May, the protestants demanded 
a council in which everything should be 
decided "according to the pure Word of 
God." The members of the Roman party, 
as the Turks were threatening the empire, 
reluctantly agreed that, while waiting 
for the next free and general council, the 
status quo should be preserved. During 
this first religious peace, on the 14th of 
August, 1532, the Venerable Elector John 
of Saxony, "the Father of the German 
land, " was struck with apoplexy and died, 
saying : "God help me." Du Bellay, de- 
sirous of emancipating France from Rome, 
accepted the conditions of the protestants, 
and the two parties signed a sort of agree- 
ment. 

Francis I. having heard Du Bellay' s ex- 
perience, sent him instantly to England to 
give Henry VIII. a full account of these 
56 



negotiations with the protestant princes. 
Articles of alliance were drawn up with 
Henry on the 23d of June, 1532, when that 
prince was most out of humor with the 
court of Rome. Francis I. was not ready 
to break with Rome ; but he sought to ally 
himself with Germany and England that 
were separating from the pope, to shake 
off the supremacy of Charles V. The two 
kings determined to have an interview, and 
they had a four days' meeting at Boulogne. 
They each had "great complaints and 
grievances" against Clement VII., and re- 
solved to "take from the pope the obedi- 
ance of their kingdoms." Francis desired 
to begin with milder means, and Henry 
consented that France should forward his 
grievances to Rome. Grand entertain- 
ments were given by Henry at Calais, 
and at a masked ball there Francis was 
charmed with Anne Boleyn, Marchioness 
of Pembroke, who died as one of the wives 
of Henry VIII. The princes agreed to raise 
an army of 65,000 infantry and 15,000 cav- 
alry, apparently against the Turks. 

Wishing to make a last effort before de- 
termining to break with the pope, Francis 
summoned Cardinals de Tournon and de 
Gramont, men devoted to his person, and 
said to them: "You will go to the holy 
father and lay before him in confidence 
both our grievances and our dissatisfac- 
tion. You will tell him that, in accord 
with other christian princes, we shall as- 
semble a council without him, and that we 
shall forbid our subjects in future to send 
money to Rome. You will add — but as a 
secret and after taking the pope aside— 
that in case his holiness should think of 
censuring me and forcing me to go to 
Rome for abso'ution, I shall come, but so 
well attended that his holiness will be only 
too eager to grant it me." 

Such were the proud words France sent 
to Rome. The two kings separated. A 
young prince, held captive by Charles V., 
gave them the first opportunity of acting 
together against both emperor and pope. 

The news of the meeting of Francis I. 
and Henry VIII., alarmed Germany, Italy, 
and all Europe ; but nobody was more 
alarmed than the pope. Already he saw 
France, like England, throwing oft' the 
yoke of Rome. On leaving Boulogne, 
Francis went to Paris, and the priests in 
their new uneasiness, granted the king 
nearly six hundred thousand ducats on his 
request. An unexpected event furnished 
the opportunity of employing the priests' 
money in favor of the Reformation. 

The haughty Soliman had invaded Hun- 
gary with numerous hordes in July, 1532; 
but ere long Charles forced the magnificent 
barbarian to retire. The emperor hast- 
ened to pass the Alps in the summer of 1532, 
as he desired to join the pope in combat- 
ing projects which threatened them both 
from the alliance of England and France. 
In his train was a young prince of eigh- 
teen, Christopher, son of Duke Ulrich, of 



872 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Wurtemberg. "When his father was ex- 
pelled from his duchy by the Austrians, 
this boy of five years was torn from his 
parents and his country. In his early life 
at Innsbruck, hisdr^ss was neglected, and 
he was often half-starved. Michael Tifer- 
nus, a faithful follower, was appointed his 
tutor, and under his care the prince be- 
came an accomplished young man. At 
the diet of Augsburg, Christopher was 
struck with the fidelity and courage of the 
protestants ; there he saw Ferdinand in- 
vested with the duchy of Wurtemberg, 
and he determined to recover his inheri- 
tance and give his support to the Reforma- 
tion. Watching a favorable opportunity 
in crossing the Alps into Italy, he lagged 
behind with his follower until sheltered 
by a turn in the road, and then set off at 
full gallop for Salzburg. It was believed 
the two young men had been murdered by 
brigands among the mountains ; and 
Christopher kept himself in concealment 
under the protection of his near relatives, 
the dukes of Bavaria. The Austrians were 
confident of his death until, in Novem- 
ber, 1532, a document bearing his name 
and claiming his inheritance, was sud- 
denly circulated all over Germany. This 
paper caused great joy in Wurtemberg, 
and all Protestant Germany. 

We must now return to the country of 
Margaret of Navarre, and see how this 
princess began to realize her great project 
of having the pure Gospel preached in the 
bosom and under the forms of the Roman 
Catholic Church. 

The alliance with England, and the hope 
of being able, sooner or later, to triumph 
over Charles V., filled the king of France 
with joy ; and accordingly the carnival of 
the year 1533 was kept magnificently at 
Paris. The court was absorbed in enter- 
tainments, balls, and banquets. As soon 
as the carnival was ended, Francis started 
for Picardy, leaving the King and Queen 
of Navarre at Paris. Margaret had been 
compelled, willingly or unwillingly, to 
take part in all the court fetes ; and she 
now determined to make up for it by or- 
ganizing a great evangelical preaching in- 
stead of the " bacchanalia. " Was not 
Francis holding out his hand to the King 
of England and to the protestants of Ger- 
many ? The opportunity should be seized 
of preaching the new doctrine boldly. 

The Queen of Navarre sent for Roussel 
and communicated her intention to him. 
She will open the great churches of the 
capital, and from their pulpits the inhabi- 
tants of Paris shall hear the mighty sum- 
mons. The poor almoner was dismayed, 
and he begged the queen to find some 
other person ; but he was at last prevailed 
on to preach. This obstacle having been 
surmounted, Margaret met with another. 
It was the custom of the Sorbonne to ap- 
point the preachers, and despite the influ- 
ence of the Queen of Navarre, the pulpits 
of the capital were closed against the al- 



moner. But nothing could stop the Queen, 
and she opened to Roussel the palace of 
the king. The largest halls in the Louvre, 
with the galleries and adjoining rooms, 
were thronged every day in Lent, to hear 
these Lutheran sermons. Nobles, lawyers, 
men of letters, merchants and trades-peo- 
ple, to the number of four or five thousand 
hearers, crowded daily around R.oussel. 
The King and Queen of Navarre were in 
the chief places. The Scriptures were 
read, and in simple but touching language, 
Roussel proclaimed the salvation obtained 
by a living faith. Instead of attacking 
the Roman religion, he appealed to the 
conscience ; and this preaching of the 
Gospel won, instead of irritating men's 
minds. The satisfaction was general. 
Some of his hearers wrote in their admira- 
tion to Melancthon, who informed Luther, 
Spalatin, and others of it. Germany re- 
joiced to see France begin to move at last. 

Margaret resolved to prosecute her 
work, and win the prize of the contest by 
opening the churches to the Gospel. She 
therefore began to work upon 1he king, 
and, as he was thinking only of his alli- 
ances with Henry VIII. and the protest- 
ants, she obtained from him an order au- 
thorizing the Bishop of Paris to appoint 
whom he pleased to preach in his diocese. 
The prelate, who was a brother of the di- 
plomatist Du Bellay, at Margaret's re- 
quest named two evangelical Augus- 
tine monks— Courault and Berthaud. 
' ' Strange I' ' said the public voice ; ' ' here 
are men of the order to which Luther be- 
longed going to preach the Vloctrine of the 
great reformer in the capital of France." 
All the evangelicals were overjoyed and 
wrote to their friends everywhere that 
1 ' Paris was supplied with three excellent 
preachers, announcing the truth . . . with 
a little more boldness than was customary. ' ' 

Couralt, a sincere scriptural christian, 
attacked unsparingly the errors of the 
Church, and the vices of the professors ; 
in after years, a blind exile in Switzer- 
land, he was Calvin's colleague. Ber- 
thaud, the other preacher named by the 
bishop, subsequently deserted the Gospel 
and died a canon of Besancon. These 
evangelical preachings were important 
facts, and were attentively watched by the 
Sorbonne. "Let the preachers be seized 
and put to death like Berquin," urged 
Beda. According to his advice, Roussel 
was denounced to the king. The doctors 
were referred first to Duprat, who sent 
them to the bishop; but the liberal Du 
Bellay only laughed at them, aud the first 
president gave them no support. "They 
are at the end of their tether and cannot 
succeed," said Sturm ; "for those who 
can help them will not, and those who will 
cannot." 

The doctors of the Sorbonne now lost 
all moderation. "The king," said they, 
"who publicly supports the heretics, 
his sister and the Archbishop of Paris, 
who protect them, are as guilty as they." 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rs 



Orders were sent through all the ' camp : 
every pulpit became a volcano. Furious 
declamations, superstitious sermons, scho- 
lastic discourses, violent and grotesque 
speeches — the supporters of Rome made 
use of all. Le Picard, a bachelor of divin- 
ity, professor of the college of Navarre, in 
his sermon invoked the Virgin, and bluntly 
accused the king of heresy. " Stir up the 
people by your discourses," said Becla to 
nis orators. " Though the monarch deserts 
the papacy, agitate, still agitate !" It 
was a critical moment : it was in the 
balance whether France would remain 
catholic or become heretic. The mendi- 
cant friars, who had access to every fam- 
ily were set to work to whisper in the 
people's ears: "The pope is above the 
king. If the king favors the heretics, the 
pope will free us from our oaths of fidel- 
ity." These incendiary discourses and a 
series of bigoted practices ordered in 
honor of St. James, succeeded in exciting 
the people to gather in crowds and cry 
out : ' k The pope forever ! down with his 
enemies !"' 

But even that was not sufficient. There 
was still wanting a theological decision 
from the first academical authority of 
Christendom, which should place Roussel 
in the same rank as the arch-heretic Lu- 
ther. The Sorbonne, wishing to strike a 
decisive blow, published a certain number 
of the so-called pernicious and scandalous 
doctrines imputed to Roussel, and con- 
demned them as being similar to the 
errors of Luther. The alarm and agita- 
tion were now at their height ; the people 
fancied they could see the . monk of Wit- 
temberg breathing his impious doctrines 
over Paris. Rome fought boldly, and 
everything was in confusion. But Calvin 
was undaunted. 

Margaret and her husband, with the 
Bishop Du Bellay, alarmed at the storm, 
resolved to lay their complaints before 
Francis I. The kingly authority was 
threatened : these hot-headed "wallet- 
bearers" were the predecessors of those 
who instigated the murders of Henry III. 
and Henry IV. The King of Navarre and 
the Bishop of Paris laid before their sove- 
reign an alarming picture of the state of 
the capital. "The blood of Berquin does 
not satisfy these fanatics," they said ; 
"they are calling for fresh acts of cruelty. 
. . . And who will be their victims now ? 
. . . They are planning a crime, a revolt." 
But while Francis was listening to his sis- 
ter's denunciations with one ear, he was 
receiving those of the Sorbonne in the 
other. "Sedition!" said one party. 
"Heresy!" cried the other. "Sire," re- 
peated the theologians incessantly, "shut 
the pulpits against Roussel and his col- 
leagues." Thus pulled in different direc- 
tions, the king, puzzled which to believe, 
resolved to punish both parties alike. " I 
will confine them all to their houses," he j 
said ; "Beda with his orators on one side, i 



and Gerard Roussel with his preachers on 
the other. We shall then have some peace, 
and be able at our leisure to examine these 
contradictory accusations." Thus, at the 
same moment, Beda, Maillard, Ballue, 
and Bouchigny of the church party, and 
Roussel, Courault, and Berthaud of the 
evangelical party, received orders not to 
leave their houses. 

The theologians were indignant at being 
placed in the same rank with the Luther- 
ans. The turbulent Beda maxie light of 
the King's commands, and frequently 
rode into the city on his mule to aid his 
agents in arousing the fanatical passions 
of the populace. In some respects this 
defender of the pope was stronger than the 
king. A riot seemed about to break out. 
The friends of learning and of the king 
were alarmed. The king, who was at 
Meaux, gave way to a paroxysm of anger. 
He ordered Cardinal Duprat and the 
Bishop of Senlis to make all haste to Paris, 
stop the intrigues of the Sorbonne and the 
promenades of Beda, and also arrest Le 
Picard. "As for the inquiry about 
heresy, " said the king, "I reserve that for 
myself." Heresy was treated with more 
tenderness than the first catholic faculty 
of Christendom. Scarcely had the two 
prelates left Meaux, when a deputation 
from the Sorbonne arrived. The theolo- 
gians desired, if possible, to win the king 
by meekness ; but soon they irritated him 
by declaring it was the prerogative of the 
Sorbonne, and not of the prince, to give 
their opinion in a matter of heresy. Still 
he contained himself, until the doctors, 
coming to threats of revolt, and shouting 
their loudest, reminded him of the possi- 
bility of a deposition of kings by the popes. 
Then, aroused to a terrible fit of anger, he 
drove the reverend fathers from his pres- 
ence, saying: " Get about your business, 
you donkeys !" The Sorbonne now placed 
their hope in the cardinal. But Duprat 
served his master before all things, and he 
could not hide from himself that the hot- 
headed catholics were threatening the 
king's crown. He resolved to strikeheavily. 

As soon as he reached Paris, he had Le 
Picard arrested, as being the most com- 
promised, and had him interrogated by 
the advocate-general. He was condemned 
to be shut up in the abbey of St. Magloire, 
and forbidden to teach. Nor did Duprat 
stop there. He was shocked that the pal- 
try priests should dare to speak against 
that royal majesty of Francis I. for which 
he, a cardinal and chancellor, had nothing 
but humble flatteries. He summoned 
some of the mendicant friars before him and 
demanded sternly: "Who permitted, or 
who authorized you to insult the king and 
excite the people?" The terrified -priests 
replied : "It was with the consent and the 
good pleasure of our reverend masters '?"' 
The theologians of Sorbonne were now 
summoned in their turn. In their affright, 
they managed to take shelter behind cer- 
tain clever reservations : they had hinted 



874 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the insult, but they had not commanded 
it. The Sorbonne thought themselves 
safe, but the vigilant Duprat informed the 
king of the result. 

Francis had never been so angry with 
the catholics, and he determined on se- 
vere measures to convince his protestant 
allies of the sincerity of his professions. 
On the 16th of May, 1533, the indefatigable 
Beda, the fiery Le Picard, and the zealous 
friar Mathurin, the three most intrepid 
supporters of the papacy in France, ap- 
peared before the parliament. An event 
so extraordinary filled both university and 
city with surprise and emotion. Devout 
men raised their eyes to heaven ; devout 
women redoubled their prayers' to Mary ; 
but Beda and his two colleagues, proud of 
their Romish orthodoxy, appeared before 
the court, and compared themselves with 
the confessors of Christ standing before 
the proconsuls of Rome. They were 
amazed and terrified when the president 
pronounced their sentence : " Reverend 
gentlemen, you are banished from Paris, 
and will henceforward live thirty leagues 
from this capital ; you are at liberty, how- 
ever, to select what residences you please, 
provided they be at a distance from each 
other. You will leave the city in twenty- 
four hours. If you break your ban, you 
will incur the penalty of death. You will 
neither preach, give lessons, nor hold any 
kind of meeting, and you will keep up no 
communication with one another, until 
the king has ordered otherwise." As if 
the king wished to show the triumph of 
evangelical ideas, he cancelled the injunc- 
tion against Roussel ; and Margaret' s al- 
moner was able once more to preach the 
Gospel in the capital. "If you have any 
complaint against him," said the king to 
the Sorbonne, "you can bring him before 
the lawful tribunals." 

The doctors of the Sorbonne were seized 
with a fit of terror, and sent deputies to 
the king ; but Francis rejected every de- 
mand. All the city was in commotion, 
some being against the decree, others for 
it. The friends of learning leaped for joy. 
Some of the most intelligent men imagined 
that France was about to be regenerated 
and transformed. The friends of the Re- 
form indulged in transports, and, as it 
were, a universal shout welcomed the open- 
ing of a new era. But alas ! France was 
still far distant from it ; she was not judged 
worthy of such happiness. Instead of 
seeing, the triple banner of the Gospel, 
morality, and liberty raised upon her walls, 
that great and mighty nation was destined, 
owing to Romish influence, to pass through 
centuries of despotism and wild democ- 
racy, frivolity and licentiousness, super- 
stition and unbelief. 

A student of Alsace, who called himself 
Sidsrander, "a man of iron,' 1 '' an amiable 
but particularly curious young man, has 
left some interesting notes of the times. 
Pie records his disappointment at not see- 
ing the great papists going into banish- 



ment on the appointed day, as the govern- 
ment dreaded a riot. The next morning, 
at an early hour, the four culprits, Beda, 
Le Picard, Mathurin, and a Franciscan, 
came forth under guard and without noise. 
The doctors, humiliated at being led out 
of the city like malefactors, did not even 
raise their heads. But the precautions 
of the police were useless : many people 
were on the look-out, the news spread in 
a moment through the quarter, and a 
crowd of burgesses, monks, and common 
people filled the streets to see the cele- 
brated theologians pass, dejected, silent, 
and with downcast eyes. The glory of the 
Sorbonne had faded ; even that of Rome 
was dimmed ; and it seemed to many as 
if the papacy was departing with its four 
defenders. 

The disciples of the Gospel did not con- 
fine themselves to words. While the Sor- 
bonne bent its head, the Reformation was 
looking up. In every quarter of Paris, 
the evangelists boldly proclaimed the 
truth revealed of Jesus Christ in the Word 
of God. The friends of the Gospel, trans- 
ported with joy, exclaimed: "At last 
Christ is preached public iy in the pulpits 
of the capital, and all speak of it freely. 
May the Lord increase among us day by 
day the glory of his Gospel !" 

Unfortunately the Reformation had less 
upright auxiliaries in the sixteenth cen- 
tury. The students, especially, did not 
spare satire. They posted up a long placard, 
written carefully with ornamented letters 
in French verse, in which the four theolo- 
gians were described in the liveliest and 
most fantastic colors. Two of their col- 
leagues were also introduced, and also 
Pierre Cornu, who was especially notori- 
ous for his curious begging sermons, full 
of bad French and bad Latin. The Sor- 
bonne, however, had friends who replied 
to these jests by bursts of passion. "The 
man who wrote these verses is a heretic," 
they exclaimed. From insults they passed 
to threats ; from threats they came to 
blows, and the placard was soon torn 
down. Two days after another placard 
was posted up, containing some rude 
rhymes which in time became the motto 
of the catholic party. Pierre Siderander 
copied them, and thus they were handed 
down to our times : 

To the stake! to the stake! with the heretic crew, 
That day and night vexes all good men and true. 
Shall we let them Saint Scripture and her edicts 

defile ? 
Shall we banish pure science for Lutherans vile? 
Do you think that our God will permit such as these 
To imperil our bodies aad souls at their ea^se? 

Paris, of cities the flower and the pride, 
Uphold that true faith which these her'tics deride; 
Or else on thy towers storm and tempest shall fall. . . 
Take heed by" my warning ; and let us pray all 
That the King of all kings will be pleased to con- 
found 
These dogs so accursed, where'er they be found, 
That their names, like bones going fast to decay, 
May from memory's tablets be clean wiped away.. 

To the stake ! to the stake ! the fire is their home ! 
As God hath permitted, let justice be done. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



875 



Other placards stirred up the people, 
and Roussel was mentioned by name as 
one who deserved to be burnt. The zeal 
of the Sorbonne displayed itself on every 
side. " Justice ! justice, " they exclaimed ; 
" let us punish these detestable heretics, 
and pluck up Lutheranism root and 
branch." The whole city was excited. 

In the midst of all this agitation the 
Reformation was advancing quietly but 
surely. While the Queen of Navarre 
boldly professed her living piety in the 
palace, and preachers proclaimed it from 
their pulpits to the believing crowd, evan- 
gelical men, still in obscurity, were 
modestly propagating around them a 
purer and mightier faith. At this period 
Calvin spent four years in Paris, (1529- 
1533,) where he at first engaged in litera- 
ture, and then devoted himself to the 
service of God. He felt the necessity of a 
time of silence and christian meditation ; 
but now he displayed great activity, 
visited the different quarters of Paris 
where secret assemblies were held, and 
there proclaimed a more scriptural, a more 
complete, and a bolder doctrine. He 
usually ended his discourses, we are told, 
with these words : "If God be for us, who 
can be against us" All persons rendered 
the strongest testimony to his piety and 
his faithfulness. 

These christians were full of hope, and 
even Calvin entertained the bold idea of 
winning the king, the university, and in- 
deed France herself, over to the Gospel. 
Paris was in suspense. Every one thought 
that some striking and perhaps sudden 
change was about to take place in one 
direction or another. Will Rome or will 
the Reformation have the advantage? 
Public attention was particulary turned 
towards the Sorbonne, where it was known 
that the heads of the Roman party were 
holding council. The inquisitive Sider- 
ander often asked the sons of the celebrated 
Budaeus what their father was planning. 
1 ' He is much with the bishop," answered 
they, "but he is planning nothing." The 
Sorbonne, the religious orders, and all 
fervent catholics, being convinced that the 
innovators, by exalting Jesus Christ and 
his Word, were humbling the Church and 
the papacy, were determined to wage a 
deadly war against them. They thought 
that if they first struck down the most 
formidable of their adversaries, they 
could easily disperse the rest of the rebel 
army. But against whom should the first 
blow be aimed ? This was the subject of 
deliberation in those councils which the 
curious Siderander desired so much to 
overhear. 

Before we learn what was preparing at 
the Sorbonne, we must enter more illus- 
trious council-chambers,' and transport 
ourselves to Bologna. 

The emperor, having descended the 
Italian slopes of the Alps and crossed the 
north of Italy, arrived at Bologna on the 



5th of December, 1532, somewhat annoyed 
at the disappearance of Duke Christopher. 
The pope had arrived in that city ; princes, 
nobles, prelates, and courtiers filled its 
numerous palaces. The emperior desired 
a conference with the pope, with the in- 
tention of uniting closely with him, and 
through him with the other catholic 
princes against France and the. Refor- 
mation. But Charles was mistaken if he 
thought to find himself alone with the 
pope at Bologna. He was to meet with 
opponents who would hold their own 
against him ; a struggle was about to be- 
gin around Clement VII., between France 
and the empire. Francis I., who had just 
had a conference with Henry VIII., did 
not care, indeed, to meet Charles ; but 
his place in Italy was to be supplied by 
men who would do his work better than 
he could do it himself. On the 4th of 
January, 1533, Cardinals de Tournon and 
de Gramont, sent by Francis to Clement 
to threaten him with a certain "great 
injury," which he might have cause to 
regret forever, arrived in this city. 
Would the presence of the two cardinals 
thwart Charles' plans ? 
_ The first point which the emperor de- 
sired to carry was the convocation of a 
general council. A grave man and always 
occupied with business, he possessed a 
soul greedy of dominion. He had planned 
to unite Germany under his patronage, if 
not under his sceptre, and he was humili- 
ated to see it divided into two pieces in 
his hands. He had gone to the diet of 
Augsburg to crush the Reformation, and 
had been forced to recognize it. Other 
means must be resorted to, to bring the 
schism to an end. But Clement VII., 
feared a council as much as Charles de- 
sired it, and he cunningly determined to 
put off this assembly indefinitely, although 
always promising it. " They would want 
to redress grievances," he said to his 
confidants, "and reform abuses, quite as 
much as to extirpate heresy." While the 
emperor recognized the inefficiency of 
temporal arms, the pope felt still more 
keenly the inefficiency of spiritual arms. 
Each of these two personages distrusted 
the power of which he had most experi- 
ence. The humble Gospel of the refor- 
mers intimidated both Church and 
Empire. These two potentates met in 
conference in the palace of Bologna, and 
each tried unsuccessfully to convert the 
other to his views. The papacy in the 
sixteenth century was active enough as a 
political power, but as a spiritual power 
it was nothing. Clement reduced Charles 
to despair by his evasions, and the latter 
induced the cardinals to decide for an im- 
mediate convocation of a council. A 
second consistory was called, and coincided 
with the pope. 

Charles meditated the formation of a 
defensive Italian league against Francis, 
and communicated his plan reservedly to 
the pope. Clement dreaded the couteder- 



876 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ation, but professed himself charmed ; at I 
the same time he informed the ambassador | 
of Venice of the proposition. The pontiff 
had always two faces and two mean- 
ings. " Clement determined to move cau- 
tiously," said Du Bellay, "temporizing, 
quibbling, waiting, and stopping to see 
what the French cardinals would bring 
him." They arrived just at this critical 
moment. Cardinal de Tournon, the able 
accomplice of the Guises in after years, 
was the more hierarchial of the two ; his 
colleague, Cardinal de Gramont, after- 
wards Archbishop of Toulouse, was the 
more politic ; both had the interests of 
their master Francis at heart. Tneir mis- 
sion was difficult, but they were skilful. 
To win the pope from Charles V. and give 
him to Francis I., to save Catholicism in 
France, and to lay the kingdom at the 
pope's feet, were their aims. " Let us carry 
out our instructions," they said, "by be- 
ginning with the last article. Instead of 
employing severity first and mildness last, 
we will do just the contrary." 

The cardinals were received with great 
respect by the pontiff, and tried to make 
him understand that, for the good of the 
holy see, he ought to proserve the good- 
will of the most christian king. They 
therefore proposed an interview with 
Francis, and even with the King of Eng- 
land, that prince being eager to put an 
end to the difficulties of the divorce. 
"Finally," they added, laying a slight 
stress upon the word, " certain proposals, 
formerly put forward in the king's name, 
might be carried out." "These propo- 
sals," says Du Bellay, " would lead, it must 
be understood, to the great exaltation of the 
pope and his family. ' ' The last argument 
was the decisive stroke which gained 
Clement VII. 

Francis, after great hesitation, now pro- 
posed to the pope, by a special ambassa- 
dor, the Duke of Albany, the marriage of 
his son Henry, Duke of Orleans, with a 
girl of fourteen, a relative of the pope's, 
and who was named Catherine de Medici. 
This was a scheme which would fill all 
Europe with surprise : a deplorable com- 
bination which by uniting the pope, indis- 
solubly as it appeared, to the interests of 
the Valois, was sooner or later to separate 
France from England, change the channel 
that divides them into a deep gulf, infuse 
Florentine blood into the blood of France, 
introduce the vilest Machiavellism into 
the hearts of her kings, who boasted of 
their chivalrous spirit, check the spread 
of learning, turn back on their hinges the 
gates that were beginning to open to the 
sun, confine the people in darkness, and 
install an era of debauchery, persecution, 
and assassination both private and public. 

Catherine was the daughter of Lorenzo 
II. de Medici, nephew of Leo X., and in- 
vested by his uncle in 1516 with the duchy 
of Urbino. On the death of her father 
she had been left a portionless orphan. 
Clement • was transported with delight at 



the prospect of placing a Medici on the 
throne of France. Francis in turn de- 
manded for his son Henry a fine Ital- 
ian state composed of Parma, Florence, 
Pisa, Leghorn, Modem, Urbino and Reg- 
gio ; besides (said the secret articles) the 
duchy of Milan and the lordship of Genoa. 
Clement agreed to these terms, with no 
intention of ever fulfilling them. In their 
stead France was to receive the imbecile 
Francis II., the sanguinary Charles IX., 
the abominable Henry III., the infamous 
Duke of Anjou, and that witty, dissolute 
woman who became the wife of Henry IV. 
The pope rejoiced at this good luck from 
heaven, which secured to him France and 
her king, and released him from entering 
the Italian league. 

Charles had heard something about this 
marriage sometime before ; but the ridicu- 
lous story had only amused him. The 
King of France unite himself with the 
merchants of Florence ! . . . And Clement 
can believe this ! . . . "Hence Charles V., 
thinking," as Du Bellay tells us, "that 
the affair would never be carried out, had 
advised the pope to consent." 

Meanwhile Francis lost no time. He 
had commissioned Du Bellay, the diplo- 
matist, to communicate his intentions to 
his good brother the King of England, 
who had a claim to this information, as 
he was godfather to the future Henry 
II. — worthy godfather and worthy god- 
son. The self-conceit of the Tudor was 
still more hurt than that of the Valois. 
Henry, however, consented that Francis 
should deal with the pope about his god- 
son ; he only wished that he might be sold 
dear. His own full restoration to the 
favor of the court of Rome after his mar- 
riage with Anne Boleyn, would have made 
Henry willing to restore England to the 
Roman Church. 

When the emperor was informed of 
these matters, he began to knit his brows. 
A flash of light revealed to him the inge- 
nious plans of his rival, and he took im- 
mediate steps to prevent the dangerous 
union. Charles V., Francis L, Henry 
VIII., and the pope, were all in commotion 
at the thought of this marriage, and little 
Catherine was the Briseis around whom 
met and contended the greatest powers of 
the world. , 

At first the emperor endeavored to instil 
into the pope's mind suspicions of the 
good faith of the King of France. That . 
was no difficult matter. Clement, who 
always tried to deceive, was naturally in- 
clined to believe that the king was doing 
the same. Charles then shrewdly asked 
the young lady's hand for Francis Sforza, 
Duke of Milan. Clement replied : " It is 
a great offer ; but I cannot listen to any 
other proposal without offending the 
king." Clement maintained Francis was 
sincere in his offer. Charles replied : 
' ' Ask the two cardinals to procure imme- 
diately from France the powers necessary 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



877 



for settling the marriage contract. You 
will soon see whether his proposal is any- 
thing better than base money which they 
want to palm off upon you." Clement 
assented. "Nothing is more easy," said 
Tournon and Gramont, who wrote to their 
master without delay. Francis I. was 
startled at this dispatch, and would have 
liked to proceed slowly ; but he dared not 
allow Charles to triumph by his refusal. 
The king's ambition was stronger than 
his vanity ; he had the full powers drawn 
up, signed, and sent off. 

They arrived at Bologna about the mid- 
dle of April, and the pope immediately 
communicated them to the emperor. 
Charles could not believe it, and said : 
"The king has only sent this document 
for a show ; if you press the ambassadors 
to go on and conclude the treaty, they will 
not listen to you." The cardinals replied 
to the pope : " We offer to stipulate forth- 
with the clauses, conditions, and settle- 
ments that are to be included in the con- 
tract." The pope was overjoyed, and told 
the emperor that the terms of the con- 
tract were being drawn up. 

Charles sought a last means of breaking 
up " this detestable cabal," and required 
the insertion in the contract of four arti- 
cles by the pope. "You promised me," 
said Charles, ' ' first, that the king should 
bind himself to alter nothing in Italy ; 
second, to confirm the treaties of Cambray 
and Madrid ; third, to consent to a coun- 
cil ; and fourth, to get the King of Eng- 
land to promise to make no innovations in 
his country until the matter of his divorce 
was settled in Rome. ' ' The King of France 
would never agree to such conditions ; 
the pope was dismayed. "I made no 
such promises," he exclaimed eagerly ; 
but he probably had for form sake. The 
emperor, a master in dissimulation, tried 
to conceal his vexation, but without suc- 
cess ; this unlucky marriage baffled all his 
plans. Francis had been more cunning 
than himself. . . . Who would have 
thought it ? The King of France had 
sacrificed the honor of his house, but he 
had conquered his rival. 

Another circumstance gave him hope of 
embroiling the pope and the King of 
France. The emperor had asked for a 
general council, in order "to bring back 
the heretics to union, with the holy faith." 
The pope, who thought much more of 
himself and of his family, had rejected this 
demand. Clement never troubled him- 
self about the Gospel ; MacMavelli was 
the gospel of the Medici. The policy of 
the King of France was as interested, but 
more frank and honest. He had, like 
Henry VIII., the intention of emancipat- 
ing kings from the pontifical supremacy, 
and desired to make the secular instead of 
the papal element predominate in christian 
society. He enunciated a third policy most 
original and bold, which filled the emperor 
with astonishment, and the pope with 
alarm. " Let all the christian potentates, 



whatever be their particular doctrine, (the 
King of England and the protestan*- 
princes of Germany and the other evan- 
gelical states, were therefore included, ) 
first communicate with one another on 
the subject, and then let each of them 
send to Rome as soon as possible ambas- 
sadors provided with ample powers to 
discuss and draw up by common accord 
all the points to be considered by the 
council. They shall have full liberty to 
bring forward anything that they imagine 
will be for the unity, welfare, and repose 
of Christendom, the service of God, the 
suppression of vice, the extirpation of 
heresy, and the uniformity of our faith. 
No mention shall be made of the remon- 
strances of our holy father, or of the de- 
cisions of former councils ; which would 
give many sovereigns an opportunity or 
an excuse for not attending." Whatever 
states did not agree in council with the 
others, would thus be openly condemned. 

It was very near the end of February 
when the emperor received at Bologna 
this singular opinion of the French King, 
as he was busy forming the Italian league, 
and preparing to leave for Spain. Charles 
instinctively felt the encroachment of 
modern times in this project of Du 
Bellay's. "That," said he, "would be 
depriving the council of its authority by 
a single stroke." Francis' proposal did 
not succeed, but in 1562, in the coun- 
cil at Trent, his scheme was partially 
realized. 

Clement resolved to give Charles the 
trifling satisfaction of signing a league 
whose object was to exclude Francis I. 
from Italy, although he was stipulating 
directly the contrary with the French 
King. The first articles were signed on 
the 28th of February, the day of the em- 
peror's departure. Charles' then de- 
manded a cardinal's hat for three of his 
prelates ; but the pope granted one hat 
only. The French ambassador then de- 
manded one for the Bishop of Orleans, 
which was granted, and one on behalf of 
the King of England. " This request of a 
hat for England," exclaimed Charles, 
"displeases me more than if the ambas- 
sador of France had asked four for his 
master." The emperor departed "evil 
contented." 

Francis now arranged that the pope, 
who had waited for the emperor in Italy, 
should come and seek him in his own 
kingdom. The pope thus showed him 
greater honor than he had shown Charles 
—on which point he was very sensitive. 
Marseilles was accordingly agreed upon. 
The pope was at the summit of happiness, 
and the bride's eyes sparkled with delight. 
The die was cast ; Catherine de Medici 
would one day sit on the throne of France ; 
the St. Bartholomew was in store for that 
noble country, the blood of martyrs would 
flow in torrents down the streets of Paris, 
and the rivers would roll through the 
provinces long and speechless trains of 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



corpses, whose ghastly silence would cry- 
aloud to heaven. 

But that epoch was still remote ; and 
just now Paris presented a very different 
spectacle. It is time to return thither. 

The Romish party would not be com- 
forted under its defeat. Beda, Le Picard, 
and Mathurin in exile ; evangelical ser- 
mons freely preached in the great churches 
of the capital ; the new doctrines carried 
through Paris from house to house ; and 
the Queen of Navarre seated, as it were, 
upon the throne during her brother's ab- 
sence, protecting and directing this Lu- 
theran activity — it was too much ! The 
anxiety and alarm of the ultramontanists 
increased every day, and they held numer- 
ous conferences. "The queen," they said, 
"is the modern Eve by whom the new re- 
volt is enteiing into the world." — "It is 
the Queen of Navarre who supports the dis- 
ciples of Luther in France ; she has placed 
them in schools ; she alone watches over 
them with wonderful care, and saves them 
from all danger. Either the king must 
punish her, or she must publicly recant 
her errors." The ultramontanists did not 
restrict themselves to words : they entered 
into a diabolical plot to ruin the pious 
princess. This was not easy, as the king 
loved her, all good men revered her, and all 
Europe admired her. But they sought to 
destroy her through the influence of the 
grand-master Montmorency, in whom she 
trusted, but who was irritated at her senti- 
ments. 

An opportunity occurred for beginning 
the attack, and the Sorbonne caught at it. 
In 1533 the Queen of Navarre published a 
new edition of her christian poem— with- 
out the author's name, and without the au- 
thorization of the Sorbonne — first issued 
two years before, entitled : The Mirror 
of the Sinful Soul, in which she discovers 
her Faults and Sins, as also the Grace and 
Blessings bestowed on her by Jesus Christ 
her Spouse. The poem was mild, spiritual, 
inoffensive ; but the essential doctrine of 
the Reformation, salvation by Jesus Christ 
alone, was strongly impressed upon it, and 
it made a great sensation. The alarmed 
Sorbonne cried out — "heresy!" The cen- 
sor Beda, who had not then been banished, 
devoured it, and at last declared he had 
"literal, clear, complete proofs that the 
Queen of Navarre was really a heretic." 
"What !" he exclaimed, "what ! no more 
auricular confessions, indulgences, pen- 
ance, 'and works of charity !" The Sor- 
bonne assembled, and Beda read out to his 
colleagues the most flagrant passages, full 
of pure theology of the heart, not of the 
schools : 

Jesus, true fisher thou of souls ! 

My only Saviour, only advocate! 
Since thou God's righteousness has satisfied, 

I fear no more to fail at heaven's gate. 
My Spouse bears all my sins, though great 

they be, 
And all his merits places upon me, . . 



Come, Saviour, make thy mercies known. . . 
Jesus for me was crucified : 
For me the bitter death endured, 
For me eternal life procured. 

Satan, where is now thy tower? 
Sin, all withered is thy power. 
Pain or death no more I fear, 
While Jesus Christ is with me here. 
Of myself no strength have I, 
But God, my shield, is ever nigh. 

"Observe the foolish assurance." said 
the syndic, "into which the new doctrine 
may bring souls :" 

Not hell's black depth, nor heaven's vast 

height, 
Nor sin with which I wage continual fight, 
Me for a single day can move, 
O holy Father, from thy perfect love. 

How beautiful is death, 
That brings to weary me the hour of rest ! 
Oh ! hear my cry and hasten, Lord, to me, 
And put an end to all my misery. 

Some one having observed that the 
Queen of Navarre had not appended her 
name to the title of her work, her accuser 
replied : "Wait until the end ; the signa- 
ture is there ;" and then he read the last 
line : 

The good that he has done to me, his Margaret. 

In a short time insinuations and accusa- 
tions against the sister of the king were 
heard from every pulpit. 

Margaret did not love the monks, and 
desired to see monastic life with its mani- 
fold corruptions abolished. She wrote for 
private circulation several tales describing 
faithfully, unaffectedly, and sometimes too 
broadly, the avarice, debauchery, pride, 
and grovelling character of their lives, and 
opposed to their practices the simple, se- 
vere, and spiritual teaching of the Gospel. 
We acquit the author as regards her in- 
tentions, but we condemn her work. Sev- 
eral of these copies fell into the hands of 
the ecclesiastics, and added fuel to their 
rage. The priest Leclerq was ordered to 
seize The Mirror of the Sinful Soul in all 
the bookstores, and he returned to the 
Sorbonne laden with his spoils. The 
Faculty next deliberated what to do. 
"Let us have less ceremony," exclaimed 
a grey friar ; ' ' put the Queen of Navarre 
into a sack and throw her into the river " 
Margaret supported these insults with ad- 
mirable calmness, and wrote confidingly 
to Montmorency, saying: "I rely upon 
you." The society, without pretending 
to know the author, declared the Mirror 
of the Sinful Soul prohibited, and put it in 
the Index Librorum Prohibltorum. 

This was not enough. The theologians 
composed a drama to render the queen 
hateful and ridiculous, and induced the 
students to act it at the college of Na- 
varre, on the 1st of October. A great 
crowd attended at the representation, and 
the curtain rose. 

A queen, magnificently dressed and sit- 
ting calmly on the stage, was spinning, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



879 



and seemed to be thinking of nothing but 
her wheel. " It is the king's sister," said 
the spectators; "and she would do well 
to keep to her distaff." Next a strange 
character appeared : it was a woman 
dressed in white, carrying a torch and 
looking fiercely around her. Everybody 
recognized the fury Megsera, and saw her 
gradually divert the attention of the 
queen by her torch. Megaera has con- 
quered, and in exchange for the distaff 
she places the Gospel in the queen's 
hand. The effect is magical : in a mo- 
ment the queen is transformed. She was 
meek, she becomes cruel ; she forgets her 
former virtuous habits ; she rises, and, 
glaring around with savage eyes, takes up 
a pen to write out her sanguinary orders, 
and personally inflicts cruel tortures on 
her wretched victims. Scenes still more 
outrageous than these follow. The sensa- 
tion was universal ! "Such are the fruits 
of the Gospel !" said some of the specta- 
tors. " It entices men away to novelties 
and folly ; it robs the king of the devoted 
affection of his subjects, and devastates 
both Church and State." 

At last the play was ended. The Sor- 
bonne exulted ; the Queen of Navarre, 
who had formerly lashed the priests and 
monks, was now scourged by them in 
return. 

Montmorency now lent himself to the 
intrigue to secure the banishment of 
Margaret. He spoke cautiously to the 
king about the dangers of heresy, and 
then added hesitatingly : "It is true, sire, 
that if you wish to extirpate the heretics, 
you must begin with the Queen of Na- 
varre." And here he stopped. Margaret 
did not hear at once of this perfidy ; but 
to check the impertinence of the monks, 
she demanded of her brother that the con- 
demnation by the theological faculty 
should be rescinded, and the college of 
Navarre called to account. 

Calvin watched the whole business very 
closely ; it might almost be said, after 
reading his letter, that he had been among 
the spectators. He severely censured the 
behavior of both scholars and masters. 

Francis was not at Paris when the storm 
broke out against his sister, but in the 
city of Toulouse. It was by letter, there- 
fore, that he heard of what was taking 
place. All were asking what he would 
do. His better self gained the upper 
hand ; his hatred of the absurdities of the 
monks was aroused ; his great suscepti- 
bility made him take the affronts offered 
to his sister as if they had been offered to 
himself; and one after another he gave 
Margaret's enemies a forcible lesson. 

The first whom he taught his place was 
Montmorency. When the latter endeav- 
ored to instil his perfidious insinuations 
into the king's mind, Francis, silenced 
him: "Not a word more about it," he 
said, ' ' she is too fond of me to take up 
with any religion that will injure my 



kingdom." Margaret was informed sub- 
sequently of the attempt of the grand- 
master, "whom she never liked more." 

The second to feel the king's hand was 
the prior of the Franciscans who had pro- 
posed to sew Margaret in a sack and 
throw her into the Seine. " Let him suffer 
the punishment he desired to inflict upon 
the queen," he exclaimed. But the queen 
interceded for the wretch : he was simply 
deprived of his ecclesiastical dignities and 
sent to the galleys for two years. 

The play represented against the queen, 
as well as the priests who had composed 
it and superintended the representation, 
next engaged the king's attention ; he re- 
solved not to spare them, and at the least 
to put them in a terrible fright. Calvin 
relates that the lieutenant of police sur- 
rounded the college of Navarre with a 
hundred archers, searched ineffectually 
for the author, and after a stout resistance 
seized the actors, and compelled them to 
repeat before him what they had said on 
the stage. The "great-master Lauret" was 
taken to the house of a commissary ; Mas- 
ter Morin was kept to his room ; and the 
students were sent to prison. 

The most important affair still remained 
— the decision come to by the Sorbonne 
against Margaret's poem. The king, 
wishing to employ gentle means, simply 
ordered the rector to ask the faculty if 
they had really placed the Mirror in the 
list of condemned books, and in that case 
to be good enough to point out what they 
saw to blame in it. The rector chanced 
to be Nicholas Cop, a particular friend of 
Calvin's, who had been elected a few days 
before. He convened the four faculties 
on the 24th of October, 1532 ; full of the 
ardor of a recent conversion, he delivered 
a long and severe speech, confounding the 
conspirators who were plotting against 
the Word of God. He warned the faculty 
of theology: "Do not mix yourselves up 
in a matter so full of danger, or beware 
of the terrible anger of the king." The 
four faculties basely abandoned Le Clerq, 
cure of St. Andre, who had only carried 
out a general resolution, and disavowed 
the act. Le Clerq was very indignant ; 
yet he prudently began to extol the justice 
of the king, and the "august princess 
whose morals are so holy, whose re- 
ligion is so pure. . . I consider such 
obscene productions as Pantagruel ought 
to be prohibited ; but I place the Mirror 
simply among the suspected books, be- 
cause it was published without the appro- 
bation of the faculty. If that is a crime, 
we are all guilty— you, gentlemen," he 
said to his colleagues, "you as well as 
myself, although you disavow me." 

This speech, so embarrassing to the doc- 
tors of the faculty, secured the triumph of 
the queen. "Sirs," said the king's con- 
fessor, "I have read the inculpated vol- 
ume, and there is really nothing to blot 
out of it, unless I have forgotten all my 
theology. I call, therefore, for a decree 



880 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



that shall fully satisfy her majesty." The 
rector replied: "The university neither 
recognizes nor approves of the censure 
passed upon this book. We will write to 
the king, and pray him to accept the 
apology of the university." Thereupon 
the meeting broke up. 

Thus did Margaret, the friend of the 
reformers, come out victorious from this 
attack of the monks. 

An astonishing change was taking place 
in France. Calvin and Francis appeared to 
be almost walking together. The fanatical 
doctors are in exile ; the most influential 
men both in Church and State are favor- 
able to the reform. The Bishop of Senlis, 
confessor to the king ; John du Bellay, 
Bishop of Paris, who possesses the king's 
entire confidence ; his brother William, 
one of the greatest men in France, seem 
all to be placing themselves at the service 
of evangelical truth. As Berquin was 
no more, and Calvin had hardly appeared, 
it was Du Bellay, in their opinion, who 
would reform France. "0 that the Lord 
would raise up many heroes like him !" 
said the pious Bucer. If Francis I. had 
turned to the Gospel, the noblest minds 
would have followed him, and France 
would have enjoyed days of peace and 
marvellous prosperity. Calvin did not 
place his hope in the powers of the world. 
" Our wall of brass," he said, " is to have 
God propitious to us. If God be for us — 
that is our only support. Having him for 
our defender, we need fear no evil. ' ' And 
yet the blows warded by the king from 
the head of the queen, were to fall upon 
Cop and Calvin himself. But before we 
come to these persecutions, we must fol- 
low the king, who, quitting Toulouse and 
Montpellier, proceeded to Marseilles to 
meet the pope. 

This interview of the pope with the king 
might be more injurious to the Gospel 
than all the attacks of the Sorbonne. If 
Clement united sincerely with Francis 
against Charles ; if Catherine de Medici 
became the pledge of union between Rome 
and France ; would not the Reformation 
soon be buried by the mournful glare of 
the pale torches of this fatal marriage ? 
Yet men si.il! hoped that the projected in- 
terview would not take place. In fact, 
Henry VIII. and the emperor did all they 
could to prevent Francis from meeting the 
pope. But Clement cared naught for the 
emperor or the king of England ; and in 
April, 1533, he convoked a sacred college 
at Rome to whom he communicated his 
plans. "It is for holy opportunities " Y& 
told them. The Spanish cardinals met in 
June, and protested : "Such a journey 
would be dangerous, considering the ex- 
treme heat of Provence." "Never mind 
that," cunningly answered the pope; "I 
shall not start until after the first rains." 
Charles next demanded that justice should 
be done to his aunt, the late queen of 
Henry VIII., as that king had married 



Anne Boleyn, thus hoping to secure de- 
lay. Clement hastily assembled a con- 
sistory, and pronounced against Henry 
VIII. all the censures which Charles V. 
demanded. He ended by saying : "Gen- 
tlemen, if any of you desire to make the 
voyage with me, you must hold yourselves 
in readiness for departure." 

Immediate preparations were made for 
fitting up the galleys of Rhodes, in which 
the pope was to sail ; but the imperialists 
demanded they should be sent to defend the 
Greek city of Corun against the Turks. . . 
The pope understood ; it was difficult to 
beat him in cunning. " Well, well," said 
he, " make haste ; fly to the help of Chris- 
tendom. ... I will lend you the said gal- 
leys, and will add my own . . . and . . . 
I will make the passage on board the gal- 
leys of France. ' ' Then the emperor turned 
to the Swiss to unite them into the Italian 
league ; but the money of Francis I. kept 
them quiet. As a last resort, the pope 
was frightened with the dread of Moorish 
pirates ; but at length he decided to go 
"solely for the interests of Christendom." 
He begged the D uke of Albany to escort 
their common relative to Nice, where she 
should wait for further orders. "There 
is the real cause of the strange journey of 
a pope to France," said the people, point- 
ing to the ship in which sailed Catherine. 
She was a young creature, of middle stat- 
ure, with sparkling eyes and bell-like 
voice, who appeared to possess some su- 
pernatural power, and singularly fasci- 
nated every one that came near her. Her 
enchantments and her philtres were the 
subtle poison on which the papacy relied 
for destroying heresy. This child, be- 
tween thirteen and fourteen years of age, 
skipped with joy about the stately ship. 
' ' I am going to be the daughter-in-law of 
the glorious King of France," she said to 
herself. 

The papal fleet, all fluttering with ban- 
ners, sailed on the 4th of October, and had 
a smooth passage. Clement could with- 
out interruption meditate on a thousand 
different projects. Marry Catherine to 
the son of the King of France ; free him- 
self, thanks to the support of this prince, 
from the patronage of the emperor whom 
he detested ; put off indefinitely the coun- 
cil which Charles had been so bold as to 
promise to the protestants ; and finally 
crush the Reformation, both in France 
and elsewhere. He had with him a bull 
against the heretics, which he purposed to 
have executed by Francis, as a wedding 
present. 

The papists in Marseilles received the 
pope with great joy. "Behold the real 
representative of Christ," they said ; "the 
father of all christians ; the only man who 
can at will give new laws to the Church ; 
the man who has never been mistaken and 
never will be ; whose name is alone in the 
world, vice-God upon earth." Clement 
smiled ; in Italy he had never heard such 
exclamations or witnessed such enthusi- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



881 



asm. Francis secretly paid a nocturnal 
visit to Clement, and retired apparently- 
satisfied. The next day the pope was 
borne with great pomp into the city. The 
Bishop du Bellay delivered the address of 
welcome as prepared by the pope, so as to 
give the emperor no offence. 

The conferences began. Francis was 
inexhaustible in his demands, and Clem- 
ent equally so in his promises, as he in- 
tended to give nothing ; at last the youth- 
ful Catherine was sent for. The bull of 
excommunication next followed, in spite 
of the opposition of Du Bellay ; but the 
king considered it as only a papal form. 
The wedding ceremony was soon con- 
ducted with great magnificence. The 
bride advanced, young, brilliant, radiant 
with joy, with smiling lips and sparkling- 
eyes, her head adorned with gold, pearls, 
and flowers ; and in her train . . . Death 
. . . Death ! who was always her faithful 
follower, who served her even when she 
would have averted his dart ; who, by 
striking the dauphin, was to make her the 
wife of the heir to the crown ; by striking 
her father-in-law, to make her queen ; and 
by striking down successively her husband 
and all her sons, to render her supreme 
controller of the destinies of France. In 
gratitude, therefore, to her mysterious and 
sinister ally, the Florentine woman was, 
forty years later, and in a night of August, 
to give him a magnificent entertainment 
in the streets of Paris, to fill a lake with 
blood that he might bathe therein, and or- 
ganize the most terrible festival that had 
ever been held in honor of death. Cathe- 
rine approached the altar, trembling a 
little, though not agitated. The pope 
officiated, desirous of personally com- 
pleting the grandeur of his house, and 
tapers without number were lighted. The 
King and Queen of France, with a crowd 
of courtiers dressed in the richest cos- 
tumes, surrounded the altar. Catherine 
de Medici placed her cold hand in the 
faithless hand of Henry of Valois, which 
was to deprive the Reform of all liberty, 
and France herself, in the Unhappy Peace, 
of her glory and her conquests. Clement 
gave his pontifical blessing to this tragic 
pair. 

Clement's joy was incredible, and before 
his departure he gave four hats to four 
French bishops. In his turn, Francis made 
a pretence of proceeding against the here- 
tics. The pope returned to Rome worn out, 
and feeling that his end was near. His only 
consolation, the approaching destruction 
of the protestants, seemed to fail him in 
his last days. Even during his interview 
with the pope, Francis was secretly in- 
triguing to unite with the most formidable 
of the enemies of Rome. In the space of 
two months he had two interviews as op- 
posite as possibly could be. This modern 
Janus had a head with two faces. But 
before we follow the King of France in 
his oscillation towards Germany and the 
protestants, we must return to Calvin. In 



October, 1533, Francis and Clement had 
met at Marseilles ; and on the 1st of No- 
vember, while those princes were still di- 
plomatizing, a great evangelical demon- 
stration took place at Paris. 

Calvin had not quitted Paris. He knew 
that the cause of G-od in general advances 
painfully ; but he believed that He who is 
the Head of the Church would help it to 
overcome all its enemies. ' ' Only, ' ' he 
said, ' ' those who bear its standard must 
mount to the assault with unflinching 
courage." Calvin, thinking that the time 
for the assault had come, desired that in 
the university itself, from that pulpit 
which all Europe respected, the voice of 
truth should be heard after centuries of 
silence. A very natural opportunity oc- 
curred in November, 1533. 

It was the custom of the university for 
the rector to deliver an inaugural address 
in Latin on All Saints' Day, in one of the 
churches of Paris. Calvin urged Cop to 
take advantage of this opportunity to pro- 
claim the Gospel boldly in the face of 
France ; Cop consented to deliver the ad- 
dress which Calvin should write, bearing 
the academic name of Christian Philoso- 
phy. Mathurins' church was thronged on 
All Saints' Day; many monks attended 
to note the discourse, and apart sat Cal- 
vin — a young man of humble appearance, 
calm, modest, and attentive. The dis- 
course praised the excellence of Christian 
philosophy, which taught the will of God. 
"And what is the hidden will that is re- 
vealed to us here ? It is this : The grace 
of God alone remits sins. . . . The holy 
Ghost, which sanctifies all hearts and gives 
eternal life, is promised to all christians. ' ' 

The rector then announced he would 
explain the Gospel of the day, the beati- 
tudes .pronounced by Jesus on the moun- 
tain. "But first of all," he said, "unite 
with me in earnest prayer to Christ, who 
is the true and only intercessor with the 
Father, in order that by his fertilizing 
Spirit he may enlighten our understand- 
ings, and that our discourse may praise 
him, savor of him, be full of him, and reflect 
his image, so that this divine Saviour, pene- 
trating our souls, may water them with the 
dew of his heavenly grace /" Then he ex- 
plained the happiness of those who are 
poor in spirit, who mourn, who hunger and 
thirst after righteousness. 

The university had never heard the like. 
An admirable proportion was observed 
throughout the address ; it was academi- 
cal and yet evangelical — a thing not often 
seen. Calvin had discovered that tongue 
of the wise which useth knowledge aright. 
But the enemies of the Gospel were not 
deceived. The Sorbonne was filled with 
anger and alarm. To select the day of the 
festival of All Saints, in order to proclaim 
that there is only one intercessor ! Such a 
crime must not remain unpunished. The 
rector was not incli-ned to give way to the 
monks. On the 19th of^ November he 



882 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



convoked the four faculties, and having 
undertaken the defence of his address, 
complained bitterly, the university "has 
been insulted by this denunciation of its 
chief to the parliament, and these impu- 
dent informers must give satisfaction for 
the insult." Great confusion ensued at 
the meeting. "The Gospel, philosophy, 
and liberty !" cried one party ! " Popery, 
tradition, and submission !" said the other. 
The faculties of letters and medicine were 
for Cop's proposition, while law and di- 
vinity were against it ; Cop would not cast 
the deciding vote. 

The rector's address, and the discus- 
sions to which it gave rise, made a great 
noise at the court as well as in the city ; 
but no one took more interest in it than the 
Queen of Navarre. The question of her 
poetry had been the first act; Calvin's 
address was the second. Margaret knew 
that he was the real author of the dis- 
course, and for him she anticipated the 
highest destinies. The Queen of Navarre 
summoned Calvin to court, and heard him 
with great pleasure. The two finest ge- 
niuses which France then possessed were 
thus brought face to face — the man of the 
people and the queen, so different, but yet 
both animated with an ardent desire to 
see the triumph of the Gospel. Calvin, 
notwithstanding the persecution, was full 
of courage, and the queen promised to use 
all her influence to calm the storm. 

The rector now received a message from 
the sovereign court summoning him to 
appear before it, and Cop, strengthened 
by his friend's words, determined to at- 
tend before parliament at its bidding. He 
put on his academical robes, and preceded 
by beadles and apparitors, with their 
maces and gold-headed staves, set out with 
great ceremony for the Palace of Justice. 
He was going to his death. The parlia- 
ment had sent a company of archers to 
arrest him, but an evangelical member of 
the court warned him by a trusty messen- 
ger while on the road: "Beware of the 
enemy ; they intend shutting you up in 
the Conciergerie ; Berquin's fate awaits 
you ; I have seen the officers authorized 
to seize you ; if you go farther you are a 
dead man." . . . What was to be done? 
... If it had been Calvin instead of Cop, 
he would perhaps have gone on. Cop, 
overtaken by this news of death at the 
very moment he fancied he was marching 
to victory, lost his presence of mind, 
stopped the procession, was suddenly sur- 
rounded by several friends, and, the dis- 
order being thus augmented, he escaped 
and hastily returned home. There he 
flung off his academical dress, and set off 
stealthily for Basle. Parliament offered 
three hundred crowns for his capture, 
dead or alive ; but the rector finally reached 
Switzerland in safety. 

The Roman party consoled themselves a 
little for this escape by saying that Cop was 
only a puppet, and that the man who had 
pulled the strings was still in their power. 



"It is Calvin," they said, "whom we 
must seize. He is a daring adventurer, a 
rash, determined man. If he is permitted 
to live, he will be the Luther and the fire- 
brand of France." The parliament or- 
dered the lieutenant-criminal to seize the 
reformer and shut him up in the Concier- 
gerie. Calvin, trusting to his obscurity 
and, under God, to the protection of the 
Queen of Navarre, was sitting quietly in 
his room in the college of Fortret, when 
warned that the sergeants were before the 
college to seize him. While several stu- 
dents engaged the attention of the officers 
for a few minutes, others remaining with 
Calvin twisted the bed-clothes into a rope, 
and fastened them to the window. Cal- 
vin, leaving his manuscripts scattered 
about, caught hold of the sheets and low- 
ered himself down to the ground. He was 
not the first of Christ's servants who had 
taken that road to escape death. These 
letters and documents were at once seized ; 
they exposed Calvin's friends to great 
danger, and even to death. 

Calvin, having landed in the street of 
the Bernardins, entered that of St. Victor, 
and then proceeded towards the suburb of 
that name. At the extremity of this sub- 
urb, not far from the open country, (a 
catholic historian informs us,) dwelt a 
vine-dresser, a member of the little 
church of Paris ; with him he exchanged 
clothes, and placing a hoe on one shoulder, 
and a wallet with provisions on the other, 
he started off again. A canon whom he 
knew met and recognized him. He knew 
what was the matter, for all Paris was full 
of it. The canon immediately remonstra- 
ted with him : " Change your manner of 
life ; look to your salvation, and I will 
promise to procure you a good appoint- 
ment." But Calvin, " who was hot-head- 
ed," replied : "I shall go through with it 
to the last." Calvin was then beginning 
an exodus which has gone on unceasingly 
for three centuries. The disciples of the 
Gospel in France, summoned to abjure 
Christ, have fled from their executioners 
by thousands, and under various disguises. 
For some time Calvin remained in hiding 
at the chateau of the Sieur de Hasseville, 
situated beyond Versailles. The king was 
angry at Cop and Calvin, and ordered a 
persecution of their adherents ; many 
compromised evangelicals left Paris. The 
greater part of the friends of the Gospel 
remained in Fiance, and Margaret suc- 
ceeded in appeasing the storm. 

The Queen of Navarre, exhausted by 
all these shocks, disgusted with the dissi- 
pations of the court, distressed by the 
hatred of which the Gospel was the object 
among all around her, turned her face to- 
wards the Pyrenees. Her health was not 
strong, and she desired to pass the winter 
at Pau. But, above all, she sighed for 
solitude, liberty, and meditation ; she had 
need of Christ. She therefore bade fare- 
well to the brilliant court of France, and 
departed for the quiet Beam. 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 



8S3 



Almost about the same time, Francis 
bent his steps towards the Rhine. The 
establishment of the Reform throughout 
Europe depended, as many thought, on 
the union of France with protestant Ger- 
many. This union would emancipate 
France from the papal supremacy, and all 
Christendom would then be seen turning 
to the Gospel. The king was preparing to 
hold a conference with the most decided 
of the protestant princes of Germany. 
Rarely has an interview between two sov- 
ereigns been of so much importance. 
Francis I. had hardly parted from the pope 
at Marseilles and arrived at Avignon, ere 
he assembled the council, (November 25th, 
1533,; and communicated to it the desire 
for an alliance which the German protest- 
ants had proposed to him. The opportu- 
nity seemed to him unprecedented ; in 
fact, he could at one stroke gain the pro- 
testants to his cause, and inflict an im- 
mense injury on Austria and Charles Y. 

The young Prince of Wurtemberg who 
had lately escaped across the Alps, chiefly 
occupied the attention of Francis at Avig- 
non. " Sire," wrote Christopher himself, 
"during the great and long calamity of 
my father and myself, what first made 
hope spring up in our hearts was the 
thought that you would interpose your in- 
fluence to put an end to our misery. . . . 
Your compassion for the afflicted is well 
known. I doubt not that, by your assist- 
ance, we shall soon be restored to our 
rights." Francis did not conceal his in- 
tention to aid the Prince. "But," he 
added, "I would do it under so colorable a 
pretext, that I may affirm that I have in- 
fringed no treaty." To humble the em- 
peror and to exalt the protestants, without 
appearing to have anything to do with it, 
was what Francis desired. 

William Du Bellay also urged the king 
to return the duke a favorable answer ; 
for he was a friend of independence and 
sound liberty. As a diet was about to be 
held at Augsburg, Du Bellay said : "Let 
us send an ambassador to support the 
claims of the dukes of Wurtemberg, and 
Austria must either restore these princes 
to their states, or arouse the hostility of 
all Germany against it." The king 
ordered Du Bellay to proceed to Augsburg 
forthwith. His minister was satisfied. 
He wibhed for more than the king did ; he 
desired to emancipate France from the 
papal supremacy, and with that object to 
draw Francis and protestantism closer to- 
gether. He departed, taking the road 
through Switzerland. Du Bellay desired 
to induce the protestant cantons of Swit- 
zerland, bordering on Wurtemberg, to 
unite their efforts with those of protestant 
Germany, if necessary, in wresting that 
duchy from the Austrian- rule ; but he 
failed. When Du Bellay arrived at Augs- 
burg, he met the young Duke Christo- 
pher ; this prince, so amiable, but at the 
same time so firm, was his man. The first 
thing was to restore him to his throne. 



The balance was at that time pretty even 
in Germany between Rome and ihe Gos- 
pel, and the restitution of Wurtemberg 
would make it incline to the side of the 
Reformation. Du Bellay paid a visit to 
the delegates from Austria, and said : "It 
is time to restore the son to the father, 
the father to the son, and to both of them 
the states of their ancestors. If entreaties 
are not sufficient," added Du Bellay 
firmly, "the king my master will employ 
all his power." 

Christopher appeared before the diet on 
the 10th of December, 1533. He was sup- 
ported by the delegates of Saxony, Prus- 
sia, Brunswick, Mecklenburg, Luneberg, 
Hesse, Cleves, Munster, and Juliers, 
while the King of Hungary pleaded his 
cause in person. The Austrian commis- 
sioners began to temporize, and proposed 
that Christopher should accept as compen- 
sation some town of small importance. 
He refused, saying: "I will never cease 
to claim simply and firmly the country of 
my fathers." Du Bellay now warmly sec- 
onded his claim : "The Dukes of Wurtem- 
berg are of high descent. Their punish- 
ment has been permitted, but not their 
destruction. Help this innocent youth, 
(Christopher,) receive this penitent, (Ul- 
rich,) and reestablish them both in their 
former dignity. ' ' The Austrians held firm. 
The deputies of Saxony, Hesse, Prussia, 
Mecklenburg, and the other states, now 
made up their minds to oppose Austria. 
Du Bellay openly denounced the oppression 
and injustice of the latter. He assured 
the prince : " Duke Christopher, rely upon 
it, the Most Christian King will do all 
that he can in your behalf, without injury 
to his faith, his honor, and the ties of 
blood?" The cause was won: the Swa- 
bian league, the creature of Austria and 
the enemy of the Reformation, was not to 
be renewed. Du Bellay left Augsburg, 
continued his journey through Germany, 
and endeavored to form a new confedera- 
tion against Austria which Francis I. and 
Henry VIII. could join. 

Francis I., after leaving Avignon, trav- 
elled in the east of France ; in January, 
1534, he reached Bar-le-Duc, thus gradually 
drawing nearer to the German frontier. 
He desired to meet the Landgrave of 
Hesse, one of the leading princes of the 
Reformation in talent, strength, and ac- 
tivity, although in purity and godliness 
of life he was far from being a pattern. 
The landgrave was anxious to take away 
Wurteinberg from Austria ; he had the 
men at* hand, but he lacked the money. 
Du Bellay promised him a subsidy from 
the contributions raised by the clergy of 
France ; and endeavored to bring together 
Francis and Philip of Hesse. But the 
theologians of the Reformation detested 
these foreign alliances and wars. Luther 
and Melancthon, encouraged by the elector, 
travelled from Wittemberg to Weimar to 
dissuade Philip from- an alliance with tho 
King of France. "This war," they said, 



884 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



"will ruin the cause of the Gospel, and fix 
on it an indelible stain. Pray do*not dis- 
turb the peace." At these words the 
prince's face grew red ; he did not like 
opposition, and gave the two divines an 
angry answer. " They are people who do 
not understand the affairs of this world," 
he said ; and returning to Hesse, he pursued 
his plans with vigor. The King of France 
now invited him to come and meet him, 
' ' without forgetting to bring Melancthon. ' ' 
Philip set off gladly, and met Francis at 
Bar-le-Duc, in January, 1584. Politics 
and religion immediately occupied their 
attention. The king expressed himself 
strongly in favor of the ancient liberties 
of the Germanic empire, which Austria 
threatened, and pronounced distinctly for 
the restoration of the dukes of Wurtem- 
berg. Coming then to the grand question, 
he said : " Pray explain to me the state of 
religious affairs in Germany ; I do not 
quite understand them." The landgrave 
explained the evangelical principles, and 
the king listened to what he would not 
hear from Zwingle or Calvin. Francis 
delighted Philip by answering : " I refused 
my consent to a council in Italy ; I desire 
a neutral city, and instead of an assembly 
in which the pope can do what he pleases, 
I demand a free council." 

The secret conference being ended : 
"Now," said Francis to the landgrave, 
' ' pray present Melancthon to me. ' ' Philip 
having answered that Melancthon was not 
with him: "Impossible!" exclaimed the 
king, and all the French nobles echoed the 
word. "Impossible! you will not make 
us believe that Melancthon is not with 



you 



"Everybody wishes to convince 



us that we had Philip with us," said the 
landgrave. — " Show him to us," they ex- 
claimed, "almost using violence towards 
us." It was indeed a great disappoint- 
ment. Melancthon was the most esteemed 
representative of the Reformation ; and 
some had looked to hear him give a 
detailed explanation of the doctrines of 
the Reformation. 

A pretext was now sought under which 
to covertly supply funds for a war against 
Charles V. It was agreed Duke Ulrich 
should sell Montbeliard to France for 
125,000 crowns, with the privilege of buy- 
ing it back in three years, which condi- 
tion was subsequently fulfilled. The 
landgrave went back into Germany, and 
the King of France to the interior of his 
* states. 

The consequences of the meeting at 
Marseilles were to be felt at Paris. After 
Calvin's flight, the Queen of Navarre had 
succeeded in calming the storm ; and yet 
the evangelical cause had never been 
nearer a violent persecution. The prisons 
were soon to be filled ; the fires of mar- 
tyrdom were soon to be kindled. During 
the year 1533, Lutheran discourses had 
greatly multiplied in the churches. 
"What!" exclaimed the doctors of the 



Sorbonne, "the king is uniting with the 
pope at Marseilles, and in Paris the 
churches are open to heresy ! Let us 
make haste to close them." Du Bellay, 
Bishop of Paris, yielded to their entreaties. 
The pious Roussel, the energetic Couralt, 
the temporizing Berthaud, and others be- 
sides, were forbidden to preach, and one 
morning the worshippers found the church 
doors shut. 

Great was their sorrow and agitation. 
Many went to Roussel and Couralt, and 
loudly expressed their regret ; but soon the 
ministers took courage, and turned their 
meetings into lectures at private houses. 
The Sorbonne declared they ' 'disliked these 
lectures still more than the sermons. ' ' By 
means of spies, the meeting places were dis- 
covered, the pastors seized, and the flocks 
dispersed. The latter exclaimed : "Since 
our guides are taken away from us here, 
let us seek them elsewhere." Many 
French evangelicals fled into foreign coun- 
tries. 

The Sorbonne loudly demanded the re- 
turn of Beda and the other exiles. The 
demand was granted by Cardinal Duprat, 
and Beda's first use of his liberty was to 
"accuse the king's readers in the uni- 
versity of Paris " to the parliament. 
"Their interpretations of the text of 
Scripture," continued Beda, "throw dis- 
credit on the Vulgate, and propagate the 
errors of Luther. I demand that they be 
forbidden to comment on the Holy Scrip- 
tures." Beda, Le Picard and their follow- 
ers now entered the pulpits, and denounced 
the heretics as enemies of the altar and 
the throne. " It is not enough to put the 
Lutheran evangelists in prison," said 
they; "we must go a step further and 
burn them." The parliament of Pa'ris 
decreed that whoever was convicted of 
Lutheranism on the testimony of two wit- 
nesses, should be burnt forthwith. Beda 
demanded the decree should be enforced 
against the evangelists Couralt, Berthaud, 
and Roussel ; bat the Sorbonne dared not 
act thus without the consent of the king. 
The inoffensive Lutherans were now seized 
in all directions. The algnazils of the 
Sorbonne lodged about three hundred 
prisoners in the Conciergerie. 

At last the king returned to the capital, 
whereupon Beda, through his confidants, 
begged that Roussel and his friends might 
be burned. But how could that prince 
send the Lutherans of France to the stake 
at the very time he was seeking an alliance 
with the Lutherans of Germany? "No- 
body is condemned in France," he said, 
"without being tried. Beda wishes to 
have Roussel and his friends burnt ; very 
well ! let him first go to the Conciergerie 
and reduce them to silence." Beda with 
great reluctance essayed the task ; but the 
meek Roussel overwhelmed him with 
shame by the use of the Scriptures of God. 
While Beda was thus disputing, the king 
in the Louvre had picked up a little book, 
elegantly bound, which some one had laid 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



885 



near to his hand. It was a work published 
by Beda in his exile, full of insults and 
slanders. He opened and read : "Francis I. 
regards neither the pope nor Medici : in 
his eyes, the chief infallibility is always 
his own." — "Send, those wretches to 
prison," he exclaimed; and immediately 
Beda, Le Picard and Le Clerq were shut 
up in the bishop's prison on a charge of 
high treason. 

And now the chiefs of both causes were 
in confinement ; Gerard Roussel, Courault, 
and Berthand on one side ; Beda, Le 
Picard, and Le Clerq on the other. Would 
any one dare affirm that the King of 
France did not keep the balance even be- 
tween the two schools? Margaret, be- 
lieving the time to be critical, displayed 
indefatigable activity, and the king 
yielded. In the month of March, 1534, he 
published an ordinance vindicating the 
evangelical preachers from the calumnies 
of the theologians, and setting them at 
liberty. Both the city and the Sorbonne 
were deeply excited ; the evangelists, on 
the contrary, were delighted. 

Surprising news now came from Lyons, 
where an invisible preacher kept the whole 
population in suspense. The Friar De la 
Croix, had fled as an evangelical from 
Paris to Geneva ; from that city he was 
banished as a heretic, and he soon sought 
to preach the Gospel in Lyons, assuming 
the name of Alexander. He was prompt 
in his decisions, full of spirit in his ad- 
dresses, ingenious in his plans. He 
preached constantly from house to house. 
The priests endeavored to seize him ; but 
his friends, at the conclusion of his sermon, 
always surrounded him, and conducted 
him to a safe hiding-place. The evangel- 
ist was everywhere and nowhere , he 
proclaimed the Gospel loudly, and yet he 
was invisible. He even dared once to enter 
the bishop's dungeons, and exhort the 
brethren imprisoned for the Gospel. 

The Queen of Navarre determined that 
on the approaching Easter festival the 
Gospel should be preached in Notre Dame 
by Roussel, and the king assented. The 
priests became enraged ; they so excited 
the people that an immense crowd gathered 
about the cathedral, and the Lutherans 
could not get in. A few weeks after, a 
prisoner loaded with chains was brought 
to the Conciergerie. It was Alexander 
Canus, once Father Laurent de la Croix ; 
he had been seized at Lyons while preach- 
ing openly on Easter Monday. He was at 
once condemned to death ; but he appealed 
to the king, and was transferred to Paris. 
So godly was his conversation that "the 
captain was converted while taking him 
to Paris." — "Wonderful thing!" says 
the chronicler, "he was more useful at 
the inns and on the road than he had ever 
been before." 

This remarkable prisoner was soon 
talked of in many quarters of Paris. The 
case was a very serious one. " A friar, a 
Dominican, an inquisitor," said the I 



people, "has gone over to the Lutherans, 
and is* striving to make heretics every- 
where." The monks of his own convent 
made the most noise. The king, who 
detained Beda in prison, desired to pre- 
serve the balance by giving some satis- 
faction to the catholics, and he suffered 
Alexander to be brought before a court of 
parliament. "He was severely tortured 
several times to great extremity of 
cruelty," and his left leg was crushed by 
"the boot?" He appealed to Budaeus 
for clemency, and the latter said : "It is . 
enough, he has been tortured too much ; 
you ought to be satisfied." — " The execu- 
tioners lifted up the martyr and carried 
him to his dungeon a cripple." He was 
soon brought before the court again, and 
was condemned to be burnt alive. A flash 
of joy suddenly lit up his face. ' ' Truly, ' ' 
said the spectators, "is he more joyful 
than he was before." The sacerdotal 
degradation now began ; his head was 
shaved, his priestly dress stripped off, and 
a garment of coarse cloth put on him. 
When the pious martyr caught sight of it, 
he exclaimed, "O God, is there any 
greater honor than to receive this day the 
livery which thy Son received in the 
house of Herod?" He, was now led to ex- 
ecution in a cart used to carry mud and 
dirt. As he spoke to the people of the 
Gospel, one of the monks said to him 
coarsely: "Either recant, or hold your 
tongue." Alexander turned round and 
said to him with firmness : "I will not 
renounce Jesus Christ. . . Depart from 
me, ye deceivers of the people !" 

At the scaffold, Alexander asked per- 
mission to say a few words to the people, 
and he was permitted to speak. Then, 
seized with an holy enthusiasm, he ear- 
nestly confessed the Saviour whom he 
loved so much, and for whom he was 
condemned to die . " Yes, ' ' he exclaimed, 
"Jesus, our only redeemer, suffered death 
to ransom us to God his Father. I have 
said it, and I say it again, O ye christians 
who stand around me, pray to God that, 
as his Son Jesus Christ died for me, he 
will give me grace to die now for him." 
Having thus spoken, he said to the 
executioner: "Proceed." The officers 
of justice approached ; they bound him to 
the pile, and set it on fire. In the midst 
of the flames he exclaimed :" Jesus 
Christ, have pity on me ! Saviour re- 
ceive my soul ! . . . My Redeemer !" he 
repeated, " O my R« deemer !" At last his. 
voice was silent. The people wept ; the 
executioners said to one another : " What a 
strange criminal!" and even the monks 
asked : "If this man is not saved, who 
will be ?" Many beat their breasts and said : 
"A gre t wrong has been done to that 
man !" And as the spectators separated, 
they went away thinking : "It is wonder- 
ful how these people suffer themselves to 
be burnt in defence of their faith." 

The idea of correcting the errors of the 



836 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION, 



Church without changing its government, 
was not new in France. By the Prag- 
matic Sanction in 1269, St. Louis had 
founded the liberties of the Gallican 
Church ,' and the great idea of reform had 
been widely spread since the time of the 
council of Constance, (1414, )of Clemengis, 
and of Gerson. The two Du Bellays, 
with many priests, scholars, and noble- 
men, thought it was the only means of 
calming down the agitations of Christen- 
dom, and Margaret of Valois had made it 
the great business of her life. 

William du Bellay, on his way back 
from Augsburg, where he had delivered 
such noble speeches in favor of the 
protestant dukes of Wurtemberg, had 
stopped at Strasburg, and had several 
meetings with the pacific Bucer. "It is 
a greater work," he said to Bucer, "than 
this union of Zwinglians and Lutherans 
which has hitherto been your sole and 
constant occupation. We wish to effect 
a fusion between Catholicism and the 
Reformation. We shall maintain the 
unity of the former ; we shall uphold the 
truth of the latter." Bucer was in 
ecstasies, and the encouraged counsellor 
of Francis hastened to Paris to carry out 
his plan. Everything seemed favorable. 
Melancthon had said : " Preserve all the 
old ceremonies that you can : every in- 
novation is injurious to the people." 
Margaret warmly praised this great and 
good man to her brother. " Melancthon' s 
mildness," she said, "contrasts with the 
violent temper of Zwingle and Luther." 

Francis listened. To be king both in 
Church and State, to imitate his dear 
brother of England, who at heart was 
more catholic than himself, — this was his 
desire. Du Bellay, noticing this dispo- 
sition, labored vehemently to introduce 
the Melancthoiiian ideas into France. The 
king resumed the reading of the Bible, and 
often used it as a weapon to enable him to 
gain a victory over the emperor. Francis 
desired to remain in union with Rome for 
form's sake, if it were only by a thread. 
But Rome is not contented with a thread. 
He hoped that the protestants of Germany 
would now enter upon a war in which the 
empire and the papacy would fall beneath 
their blows. 

The landgrave prepared everything for 
the great blow he was about to strike. 
He personally secured the assistance of 
the Elector of Treves and the elector-pala- 
tine, by promising to have Charles' brother 
recognized as King of the Romans if Wur- 
temberg was restored to its lawful princes. 
The agent of the Waywode (hospodar) of 
Wallachia, who had also been dispossessed 
by Austria, was cordially recived by Francis 
I. at the Louvre on Easter Monday, 1534. 
The other evangelical princes and doctors 
did all they could to thwart an enterprise 
which would, in Philip's opinion, secure 
their triumph. "The restoration of the 
Duke of Wurtemberg," said the wise Me- 
lancthon, "will engender great troubles. 



Even the Church will be endangered by 
them. You know my forebodings. Ail 
the kings of Europe will be mixed up in 
this war. It is a matter full of peril, not 
only to ourselves, but to the whole world." 
Astrology interfered in the matter, and 
spread terror among the people, by pre- 
dicting the overthrow of France. Ferdi- 
nand of Austria dreaded the approaching 
attack, and appealed to the pope for aid. 
Clement recollected the sack of Rome by 
the imperialists in 1527, and was not sorry 
to see the emperor punished by an heretical 
scourge. He promised everything, but did 
nothing. Charles V. was taking his ease 
in Spain, and the pope took courage to do 
the same. The judgments of God were 
about to be executed. Melancthon was 
grieved that war was at hand ; but the 
theologians of the Reformation said to 
themselves at times : "Still ... if Philip 
takes up arms, it is to restore legitimate 
princes to the throne of their fathers, and 
secure a free course to the Word of God." 

At the beginning of May everything was 
astir in Hesse, Pomerania, Mecklenburg, 
Brunswick, Westphalia, and on the banks 
of the Rhine ; the landgrave was preparing 
to march against Austria. Almost all the 
soldiers and a great many of the officers 
belonged to the evangelical confession. It 
was, alas ! the first politico-religious army 
of the sixteenth century, and this cam- 
paign was the first Germanico-European 
opposition to the house of Austria. The 
soldiers of Austria marched to Laufen 
on the Neckar, and there waited for the 
enemy. The landgrave's army, full of 
hope and courage, uttered loud shouts of 
joy when they heard of it. The impetuous 
landgrave surprised the imperial army 
by a forced march ; their commander, the 
count palatine, was wounded, the soldiers 
retreated in disorder and part of them 
were driven into the Neckar. Wurtem- 
berg was gained ; the people received 
with joyous acclamation Duke Ulrich 
and Prince Christopher. The landgrave 
pushed on, and on the 18th of June 
reached the Austrian frontier. Great was 
the consternation at Vienna and in Rome. 
"A general council," exclaimed the car- 
dinals, "is the only remedy that can save 
us from heresy and all the calamities 
by which Christendom is threatened." 
Francis was overjoyed ; he already saw 
the landgrave in Vienna, and himself at 
Genoa, Urbino, Montferrat, and Milan. 
Much as Francis desired to see the war 
become general, Philip of Hesse labored 
to keep it local. Satisfied with having 
restored Wurtemberg to its princes, he 
meant to respect the empire. The kings 
of France and England were seriously 
vexed: "The Duke of Wurtemberg, re- 
stored by my help and yours, ' ' said Henry 
VIII. to Francis I., "is only seeking how 
to make peace with the emperor." 

On the 25th of June the peace of Cadan 
put an end to all differences, and restored 
Wurtemberg to its national princes, with 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



887 



a voice in the council of the empire. The 
emperor having received his lesson, the 
pope's turn came next King Ferdinand 
desired to at least maintain the authority 
of the pope, and proposed an article in the 
treaty forbidding any change in religious 
matters ; but the elected chancellor wrote 
on its margin : Rejected. " You are in no 
respect bound as to the faith," said the 
evangelical princes to Ulrich. The gates 
of Wurtemberg were thus opened to the 
Reformation. Ulrich and Christopher set 
to work immediately. They invited to 
their states Ambrose Blaarer, the friend 
of Zwingle and Bucer, and Ehrard 
Schnepf, the friend of Luther, converted 
by his means at Heidelberg at the begin- 
ning of the Reformation. Their labors 
and those of other servants of God spread 
the evangelical light over the country. 
Baden, Hanau, Augsburg, Pomerania, 
Mecklenburg, and other places began, ad- 
vanced, or completed their Reformation 
about this time. French money had never 
before returned such good interest. 

France was now about to undertake a 
still greater task. We have seen that 
there were at that time two systems of 
reform : Margaret's system and Calvin's. 
It was in the order of things that the one 
which remained nearest to Catholicism 
should be tried first. When Margaret 
failed, there remained Calvin. The nar- 
rative of this experiment ought to occupy 
a remarkable place in the religious history 
of the sixteenth century. 

The Wurtemberg affair being ended, 
Du Bellay thought of nothing but his 
great plan ; that is, a Reformation accord- 
ing to the ideas of the Queen of Navarre — 
the combination of Catholicism and truth 
by the union of France and Germany. 
Roussel, Bucer, and many other evangeli- 
cal christians asked themselves whether 
the great success obtained in Germany 
would not decide the reformation of 
France. 

* In the month of July, 1534, the Queen 
of Navarre gave audience in her palace to 
a poor student from Wittemberg, Claude 
Baduel of Nimes. Poverty had compelled 
him to give up his studies, and he sought 
the assistance of the liberal-hearted queen, 
bearing a letter of commendation from 
Melancthon. "It is certainly a great 
boldness," wrote the illustrious reformer, 
"for a man like me, of low condition and 
unknown to your highness, to dare re- 
commend a friend to you ; but the repu- 
tation of your eminent piety, spread 
through all the world, does not permit me 
to refuse an upright and learned man the 
service he begs of me. The liberal arts 
can never be supported except by the 
generosity of princes." Margaret read 
the letter with great interest, and ques- 
tioned eagerly about the great reformers. 
"Talk tome," she said, " about Melanc- 
thon and Luther ; tell me how they teach 
and how they live, what are their relations 
57 



with their pupils, and what they think of 
France." Thanks to her care, the young 
scholar became ere long a professor at 
Paris ; but in after years persecution 
obliged him to take refuge at Geneva, 
where he was a professor in the academy 
founded by Calvin. 

Ulric Chelius, a great friend of Sturm 
and Bucer, then living at Strasburg, was 
quietly sent to Wittemberg in July, 1534, 
empowered to ask the doctors of the Re- 
formation for a sketch of the means best 
suited to found an evangelical Catholicism 
in Europe. As soon as Chelius reached 
Wittemberg, he called upon Melancthon. 
"King Francis," he said, " desires truth 
and unity. In almost every particular he 
is in accord with you, and approves of 
your book of Common-places. I am au- 
thorized to ask you for a plan to put an 
end to the religious dissensions which 
disturb Christendom ; and I can assure 
you that the King of France is doing, and 
will do, all he can with the pope to procure 
harmony and peace." Nothing was better 
adapted to captivate Melancthon, and to 
dispel the despondency which he then felt 
at the dissensions in the religious world ; 
he eloquently urged the matter upon 
Luther's attention. Melancthon at once 
busied himself with sketching the plan of 
the new Church, which with God's help 
and the support of the great monarchs, 
was to become the Church of modern 
times ; he gave his sketch when finished 
to Chelius. Yet, there were simple, ear- 
nest, christian men, with minds determined 
to set truth above everything, who saw 
with uneasiness these theologico-diplo- 
matic negotiations. Neither Farel, nor 
Calvin, nor probably Luther, was among 
those who rallied round the standard 
raised by Du Bellay and grasped by 
Melancthon. 

Chelius, imagining that he-held the sal- 
vation of the Church in his hands, hast- 
ened to Strasburg to communicate Melanc- 
thon's project to his friends. He met 
Bucer on the 17th of August, and the 
latter said : " If we are to unite, all addi- 
tions must be cut away, and we must re- 
turn simply to the doctrine of Scripture 
and of the Fathers." Chelius received 
the opinion of Bucer in writing on the 
27th, and waited another day to obtain 
that of Hedio, a meek, pious, and firm 
doctor, an old friend of Zwingle' s. He 
then started without delay for Paris, con- 
vinced that catholicity and truth were 
about to be saved by these memoirs of the 
three doctors. The papers were trans- 
ferred to William du Bellay, who imme- 
diately laid them before the king. The 
latter ordered that the Bishop of Paris and 
certain of the nobles, men of letters, and 
ecclesiastics, who desired to see a united 
but reformed Church, should have these 
documents communicated to them. The 
arrival of this ultimatum of the Reforma- 
tion was an event of great importance. 
Three of the reformers, with England, 



888 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Francis I., and some of the most eminent 
men of the epoch, demanded one only- 
catholic but reformed Church. 

At this time several meetings of an ex- 
traordinary kind were held at the Louvre, 
at which Melancthon, Bucer, and Hedio 
were represented by their memoirs. We will 
let the reformers speak from these writ- 
ings ; for the wise recognize the fact that 
the world is moved by ideas, principles 
and doctrines, more than by facts and 
sensations. For brevity's sake, we shall 
designate these memoirs by the names of 
their authors. To place the moderate 
Melancthon by the side of the pacific 
Bishop of Paris, well and good ! But to 
hope to unite the unyielding Luther and 
the fiery Beda, the pious elector and the 
worldly Francis . . . what a strange un- 
dertaking ! Let us listen, however ; for 
these personages have taken their seats, 
and the inquiry is about to begin. 

Bucer. — "There can be no concord in 
the Church except between those who are 
really of the Church. There is nothing 
in common between Christ and Belial. 
We cannot unite God and the world. . . . 
Now, what are the majority of bishops and 
priests? . . I grieve to say." 

Melancthon. — "The catholic doctrine, 
say some, has a few trilling blemishes 
here and there ; while we and our friends 
have been making a great noise without 
any cause. . . That is a mistake. Let not 
the pontiff and the great monarchs of 
Christendom shut their eyes to the diseases 
of the Church. They ought, on the con- 
trary, to acknowledge that these pretended 
trifling blemishes destroy the essential 
doctrines of the faith, and lead men into 
idolatry and manifest sin." 

Bucer. — "If you wish to establish 
christian concord, apply to those who 
truly believe in Christ. Those who do not 
listen to the Word cannot explain the 
Word. . . What errors have been intro- 
duced by wicked priests ? Shall we apply 
to other priests to correct them, who per- 
haps surpass the former in wickedness ?' ' 

More conciliatory words followed, es- 
pecially upon Church government. 

Bucer. — "All that can be conceded, 
while maintaining the faith and the love of 
God, we will concede. Every salutary 
custom, observed by the ancients, we will 
restore. We have no desire to upset 
everything that is standing, and we know 
very well that the Church here below can- 
not be without blemish. . . . The king- 
dom' of Christ ought not to be without a 
government. In no place ought order to 
be stricter, obedience more complete, and 
power more respected " 

Francis was delighted with Melancthon' s 
idea that a pontiff may " serve to maintain 
harmony of faith between the different 
nations of Christendom ;" but evangeli- 
cals look upon this suggestion as a fantas- 
tic dream. 

Melancthon. — "As for the Roman 
pontiff's claim to transfer kingdoms from 



one prince to another, that concerns 
neither the Gospel nor the Church ; and 
it is the business of kings to combat that 
unjust pretension." 

The evangelicals now became bolder in 
their utterances. 

Bucer.— "The first of doctrines is the 
justification of sinners." 

Melancthon. — "Remission of sins 
ought to be accompanied by a change of 
life ; but this remission is not given us be- 
cause of this new life ; it comes to us only 
through mercy, and is given to us solely 
because of Christ." 

Bucer. — "Thus, then, Ave have- done 
with the merits ascribed to the observ- 
ances and prayers of the monks and 
priests : we have done with all vain confi- 
dence in our own works. Let the grace of 
God be obscured no longer, and the right- 
eousness of Christ be no more diminished ! 
It is on account of the blood of his only 
Son that God forgives us our sins." 

Francis and his advisers raised no oppo- 
sition to this doctrine of justification by 
faith ; for the schoolmen had used this lan- 
guage. But what will they say about the 
mass ? 

Bucer. — "What! to be present every 
day at mass without repentance, without 
piety, even without thinking of the mys- 
teries connected with it, will suffice to ob- 
tain all kinds of grace from God ! . . . 
No ! when we celebrate the sacrament of 
our Lord's body and blood, there must be 
a living communion between Christ and 
the living members of Christ." 

Melancthon.— "The mass is the only 
knot we cannot untie ; for it contains such 
horrible abuses . . . invented for the 
profit of the monks. All impious rites 
must be interdicted, and others established 
in conformity with the truth." v 

"The mass must be preserved," said 
Francis; "but the stupid, absurd and 
foolish legends abolished." 

Bucer.— "The body of Christ is re- 
ceived in the hands of the communicants, 
and eaten with their mouths, say some. 
The body of Christ is discerned by the 
soul of the believer and eaten by faith, 
say others. There is a way of putting an 
end to this dispute by simply acknowledg- 
ing that, whatever be the manner of eat- 
ing, there is a real pr£sence of Christ in 
the Lord's Supper." 

Melatscthon. — "We must teach the 
people that the saints are not more merci- 
ful than Jesus Christ, and that we must 
not transfer to them the confidence due to 
Christ alone. 

"The monasteries must be converted 
into schools. 

" Celibacy must be abolished, for most 
of the priests live in open uncleanuess." 

Bucer. — "The Church must have a 
constitution in which everything will be 
decided by Scripture ; and a conference of 
learned and pious men is wanted to draw 



it up." 
Hedio.- 



'That assembly must not be 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



889 



composed of divines only, but of laymen 
also ; and, above all things, no forward 
step should be taken so long as the pope 
and the bishops persist in their errors, and 
even defend them by force." 

Melancthon. — " O that the Lord Jesus 
Christ would look down from heaven and 
restore the church for which he suffered to 
a pious and perpetual union, which may 
cause his glory to shine afar 1" * 

Francis and his councillors were satisfied 
upon the whole ; but the doctors of Rome 
looked with an uneasy eye upon these (to 
them) detestable negotiations. An event 
occurred to give him a fresh impulse, and 
to leeitimatize in his eye the reforms de- 
manded by his minister. 

Calvin, it will be remembered, had 
studied and evangelized at Orleans. The 
wife of the city provost there seems to 
have been one of the souls converted by 
the- ministry of the young reformer. 'On 
her death-bed she dictated in her will : "I 
forbid all bell-ringing and chanting at my 
funeral, and no monks or priests shall be 
present with their tapers. I desire to be 
buriedwithout pomj3 and with out torches." 
Her husband (an upright, energetic mag- 
istrate and a great land-owner; promised 
her wishes should be kept sacred. When 
the funeral ceremony was over, the pro- 
vost said to the Franciscans in whose 
cemetery the burial had taken place : "As 
you were not called upon to do duty, here 
are six gold crowns by way of compensa- 
tion." But the monks thought this a 
meagre pittance, and swore to be revenged. 
Shortly after, when the provost was having 
felled a wood near Orleans, the monks de- 
manded permission to send for a wagon- 
load each day ; he answered : "What ! a 
wagon a day ! Send thirty, my reverend 
fathers, but (of course) with ready money. 
All that I want, I assure you, is good speed 
and good money." — "These gentlemen, 
to be revenged, proceeded to devise a 
fraud," says Calvin. In this, brothers 
Coliman and Stephen were most promi- 
nent. 

Brother Stephen, esteemed for his vul- 
gar eloquence, began the drama by a sen- 
sational discourse upon the sufferings of 
the souls in purgatory. "You know it," 
he exclaimed ; "you know it." The un- 
happy spirits, tormented by the fire, es- 
cape ; they return after death, sometimes 
with great tumult, and pray that some 
consolation may be given them. Luther, 
indeed, asserts that there is no purgatory. 
. . What horror ! what abominable im- 
piety!"— "The friar forgot nothing," 
says Beza, "to convince his audience that 
spirits return from purgatory." The con- 
gregation dispersed in great excitement ; 
and after that the least noise at night 
frightened the devout. On the following 
night the monks began their chants in 
C liurch at the usual hour, when suddenly 
a frightful tumult was heard, coming from 
heaven as it seemed, or at least from the 



ceiling of the church. Coliman conjured 
the evil spirit, but it answered only by 
another uproar. The hearers, not in the 
secret, were terror-stricken, and the news 
was bu ily circulated throughout Orleans. 

Many citizens attended the convent at 
midnight, and the same frightful noise 
interrupted the chanting. Coliman asked 
many questions, which, at his suggestion, 
were answered by two knocks for Yes, 
and three for No. After a long circuit, 
the exorcist came at last to the point he 
desired : "Art thou the Ghost of the pro- 
vostess ?" The spirit replied with a loud 
Yes! The mystery seemed about to be 
cleared up : a new act of the comedy be- 
gan. ' ' Spirit, for what sin hast thou been 
condemned?" asked the exorcist : "Is it 
for pride?" — No! "Is it for unchas- 
tity?" — No! Coliman, after running 
through all the sins enumerated in Scrip"- 
ture, bethought himself at last, and said : 
"Art thou condemned for having been a 
Lutheran?" Two knocks answered Yes, 
and all the monks crossed themselves in 
alarm. "Now tell us," continued the 
exorcist, " why thou makest such an up- 
roar in the middle of the night ? Is it for 
thy boiy to be exhumed ?" — Yes ! There 
could no longer be any doubt about it : 
the provostess was suffering for her Lu- 
theranism. The report had been prepared 
beforehand, but a few witnesses refused 
to sign it, suspecting some trick. 

The news of this affair irritated the 
bishop's official, to whom the Franciscans 
were pretty well known. "There is some 
monkish trick at the bottom," said the 
estimable and upright clergyman. He 
called the monks together and ordered 
the conjurations to be performed in his 
presence, while others should mount to 
the roof to watch for any ghost ; but both 
exorcist and ghost remained dumb. 

The provost, true to his character, was 
not willing to lose this opportunity of 
giving the friars a severe lesson. ' ' What !' ' 
he exclaimed, "shall these wretches make 
her, who rests at peace in the grave, the 
talk of the whole city? If she had been 
accused in her life-time, I would have de- 
fended her, much more will I do so after 
her death !" He determined to lay the 
matter before the king, and set out for 
Paris. The king gladly granted all the 
provost asked , he nominated councillors 
of parliament to investigate the matter ; 
and as the cordeliers pleaded t^eir immu- 
nities, Duprat, in his quality of legate, 
gave, by papal authority, power to the 
commissioners to proceed. 

The otlicers of the parliament spoke to 
the monks with authority, exhibited their 
powers, and arrested the principal cul- 
prits, to the great consternation of all the 
other monks. They were removed from 
the monastery in wretched carts like vul- 
gar criminals, amid the jeers of the stu- 
dents. "Fine champions, indeed, to op- 
pose the Gospel," said some. "Who 
made the monks?" asked one. "The 



890 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



devil," answered another. "God having 
created the priests, the devil (as is always 
the case) wished to imitate him ; but in 
his bungling he made the crown of the 
head too large, and instead of a priest he 
turned out a monk?" The deception was 
manifest ; but the monks feared punish- 
ment, and would not make a confession. 
The novice who had acted the part of the 
ghost was terribly agitated, and at length 
he "explained the whole affair to the 
judges," said Beza. "I made a hole in 
the roof," he said, " to which I applied my 
ear, to hear what the provincial said to me 
from below. Then I struck a plank which 
I held in my hand, and I hit it hard 
enough for the noise to be heard by the 
reverend fathers underneath. That was 
all the /mw," he added. 

The haughty Coliman, the eloquent 
brother Stephen, and their accomplices 
were now forced to stand at the bar, 
and sentence was solemnly delivered. 
They were to be taken to the Chatelet 
prison at Orleans ; there they would be 
stripped of their frocks, be led into the 
cathedral, and then, set on a platform with 
tapers in their hands, they were to confess 
"that, with certain fraud and deliberate 
malice, they had plotted such wicked- 
ness." Thence they were to be taken to 
their convent, and afterwards to the place 
of public execution, where they would 
again confess their crime. The sentence, 
however, was never executed, as the gov- 
ernment feared to appear too favorable to 
the Lutherans. Some of the monks died 
in prison, and others were suffered to 
escape. Thus ended an affair which 
characterizes the epoch, and shows the 
weapons that a good many priests used 
against the Reformation. The moral in- 
fluence of the story was immense, and we 
shall presently see some of its effects. 

The disgust inspired by the imposture 
of the cordeliers of Orleans, and the jests 
lavished upon the monks in the Louvre 
and throughout Paris, were further en- 
couragements to the king to prosecute his 
alliances with protestantism. Francis de- 
termined to acquaint the protestant princes 
with his sentiments on Melancthon's me- 
moir. ' ' My envoy, on his return to Paris, ' ' 
he wrote, "having laid before me the opin- 
ions of your doctors on the course to be 
pursued, I entertain a hope of seeing the 
affairs of religion enter upon a fair way at 
last.'" Du Bellay informed the magistrates 
of Augsburg, Ulm, Nuremberg, Meiningen, 
and other imperial cities, that the King of 
France approved of the Lutheran doctrines, 
and would protect the protestants. In Oc- 
tober and November, 1534, an agent from 
Francis I. visited the cities of the Germanic 
empire, announcing every where that "the 
king now saw his mistake in religious mat- 
ters," and that the Germans who followed 
Luther thought correctly as regards the faith 
that is in Ohrist. The worthy burgomas- 
ters and councillors of Germany were 



amazed, and the Archbishop of Lunden 
informed Charles V. that Francis I. sought 
an alliance with Germany. 

When Francis I. annulled the pragmatic 
sanction at the beginning of his reign, 
he had reserved the right of appointing 
bishops, and had thus made the Church 
subordinate to the State. The time seemed 
to have arrived for taking a second step. 
He now proposed, by a wise reform, to 
maintain in Europe the catholicity of the 
Church. To that end he had a revised 
edition of the opinions of the Reformers 
prepared, probably by Da Bellay and the 
Bishop of Paris, which excited great dis- 
content among the German protestants. 
Copies of this were sent to the astonished 
Vatican and to the Sorbonne. "Gentle- 
men," said Du Bellay to the latter, "by 
the king's commands I have endeavored to 
prevail upon the German churches to mod- 
erate the doctrines on which they separated 
from the Roman Church, wishing thus to 
lead them back to union. By order, there- 
fore, of my master, I hand you the present 
articles, to receive instruction from you as 
to what I shall have to say to the German 
doctors." The sacred faculty delegated 
to examine the articles, "eminent men, 
doctors of experience in such matters," 
who set to work at once. 

The venerable company had some diffi- 
culty to recover from their alarm. What ! 
really, not in a dream, not figuratively, 
heresy is at the gates of the Church of 
France, introduced by the king . . . who 
courteously offers her his hand ! . . . The 
terrified Sorbonne raised a cry of terror, 
and collected all their forces to prevent the 
heretic from entering. Alas ! Beda was no 
longer there to help them : the strong men 
were in the camp of Luther, Calvin, and 
Melancthon. Master Balne and Master 
Jaques Petit were elected to go to court. 
We will allow the parties to speak for 
themselves, from the memoir sent by the 
king to the Sorbonne, and the answer re- 
turned by that body to the king. 

The King's Ministers. — "To establish 
a real concord in the Church of God, we 
must all of us first look to Christ ; we must 
subject ourselves to him, and seek his 
glory, not our own." 

Sorbonne — " We have heard his Majes- 
ty's good and holy words, for which we 
all thank God, praying him to give the 
king grace to persevere." 

This was doubtless a mere compliment. 

Ministers. — "Above all things let us 
remember that the doctors of the Word 
of God ought not to fight like gladiators, 
and defend all their opinions mordicus 
(tooth and nail ;) but rather, imitating St. 
Augustin in his Retractations, they should 
be willing to give way a little to one 
another . . . without prejudice to truth." 

Sorbonne. — " Open your eyes, Sire ; the 
Germans desire, in opposition to your 
catholic intention, that we should give way 
to them by retrenching certain ceremonies 
and ordinances which the Church has 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



801 



hitherto observed. They wish to draw I 
us to them, rather than be converted to 
us." 

Ministers. — " You are mistaken : im- 
portant concessions have been obtained. 
The Germans are of opinion that bishops 
must hold the chief place among the 
ministers of the Churches, and that a pon- 
tiff at Rome . should hold the first place 
among the bishops. But, on the other 
hand, the pontifical power must have re- 
spect for consciences, consult their wants, 
and be ready to concede to them some 
relaxation." 

Sorbonne. — "It must not be forgotten 
that the ecclesiastical hierarchy is of di- 
vine institution, and will last until the 
end of time ; that man can neither establish 
nor destroy it, and that every christian 
must submit to it." 

Ministers. — "Having established the 
catholicity of the Church, let us consider 
what reforms must be effected in order to 
preserve it. First, there are indifferent 
matters, such as food, festivals, ecclesias- 
tical vestments, and other ceremonials, on 
which we shall easily come to an under- 
standing. Let us beware of constraining 
men to fast by commandments which 
nobody observes . . . and least of all those 
who make them." 

Sorbonne. — ' ' None resist them but men 
corrupted by depraved passions." 

Ministers. — "Let the people be ex- 
horted not to transfer to the saints the 
confidence which is due to Jesus Christ 
alone. It is Christ's will to be invoked 
and to answer prayer. What abuses and 
disorders have sprung out of this wor- 
ship of man ! Observe the words, the 
songs, the actions of the people on the 
saints' day, near their graves, or near 
their images ! Mark the eagerness with 
which the idle crowd hurries off to ban- 
quets, games, dances, and quarrels. 
Watch the practices of all those paltry, 
ignorant, greedy priests, who think of 
nothing but putting money into their 
purses, and then . . . tell us whether we 
do not in all these things resemble pagans, 
and revive their shameful superstitions." 

Sorbonne. — "Let us beware how we 
forsake ancient customs. Let us address 
our prayers directly to the saints who are 
our patrons and intercessors under Jesus 
Christ. To assert that they have not the 
prerogative of healing diseases, is in op- 
position to your Majesty's personal expe- 
rience and the gift you have received from 
God of curing the king's evil. . . Let us 
also pay our devotions to statues and 
images, since the seventh general council 
commands them to be adored." 

Ministers. — "There ought to be in the 
Church a living communion of the mem- 
bers of Christ. But, alas! what do we 
find there? A. crowd of ignorant and 
filthy priests, the plague of society, a bur- 
then to the earth, a slothful race who can 
do nothing but say mass, and who, while 
saying it, do not even utter those five in- 



telligible words, preferable, as St. Paul 
thinks, to ten thousand words in an un- 
known tongue. . . . We must get rid of 
these mercenaries, these mass-mongers, 
who have brought that holy ceremony ini o 
contempt, and we must supply their place 
with holy, learned, and experienced men. 
Then perhaps the Lord's Supper will re- 
cover the esteem it has lost. Then, instead 
of an unmeaning babble, we shall have 
psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs. 
Then we shall sing to the Saviour, and 
every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ 
is the Lord, to the glory of God the 
Father. . . What false confidence, what 
wretched delusion is that which leads so 
many souls to believe that by attending 
mass every day, even when piety is neg- 
lected, they are performing an act useful 
to themselves and their friends, both for 
this life and for that which is to come !' ' 

Sorbonne. — "The mass is a real sacri- 
fice, of great benefit to the living and the 
dead, and its excellence is founded on the 
passion of Jesus Christ. It is right, there- 
fore, to bestow temporal gifts on those 
who celebrate it, be they good or bad ; 
and the priests who receive them ought 
not to be called mass-mongers, even though 
they are paid." 

Ministers. — "Let us put aside the dis- 
putes that have divided us so long. Let 
us all confess that in the eucharist the 
Lord truly gives believers his body to eat 
and his blood to drink, to feed our souls in 
life everlasting : and that in this manner 
Christ remains in us and we in Christ. 
Whether this sacrament be called the 
Lord's Supper, the Lord's bread and wine, 
mass, eucharist, love-feast, or sacrifice, is 
of little moment." 

Sorbonne. — " It is very useful and often 
very necessary for the extirpation of her- 
esy, to employ words not to be found in 
Scripture, such as transubstantiation, etc. 
Yes, the bread and the wine are truly 
changed in substance, preserving only the 
accidents, and becoming the body and 
blood of Christ ; . . . and it is certain that 
neither laymen nor women can accomplish 
this miraculous act, but priests only. ' ' 

The controversy next turned on con- 
fession, justification, faith, works, free 
will, the monasteries, and marriage of the 
clergy ; the Sorbonne declared the latter 
"as dangerous as the secularization of 
monks." 

Ministers. — "In this age, when every- 
thing is in a ferment, and when so many 
sects are raising their heads in various 
places, the interest of the christian Church 
requires that there should be an assembly 
composed not only of priests and theolo- 
gians, but also of laymen and upright, 
sensible, courageous magistrates, who 
have at heart the glory of the Lord, pub- 
lic morality, and general usefulness. . . 
Ah ! it would be easy to agree if we 
thought of Christ's glory rather than of 
our own !" 

Sorbonne. — "Beware! . . . it is to be 



892 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



feared that, under the pretext of uniting 
with us, the heretics are conspiring to lead 
the people astray. . . Have we not seen 
such assemblies in Germany, called to- 
gether on a pretence of concord, produce 
nothing but divisions, discord, and infinite 
ruin of souls?" 

But the Sorbonne warned the king in 
vain. Francis at this time, through policy 
no doubt, was opposed to the doctrines 
maintained by the priests. The meetings 
of the Sorbonne became more and more 
agitated. The members of the Roman 
party thought that Francis I. was about 
to adopt the same course in his kingdom 
as Henry VIII. in England. There was 
indeed a difference between the systems of 
these two princes. Henry desired the 
doctrine of Rome, but not its bishop ; 
Francis accepted the bishop, but rejected 
the doctrine. Nevertheless, as each of 
these reforms was a heavy blow aimed at 
the system of the middle ages, they were 
looked upon as identical. The success 
which Henry's plan had met with in Eng- 
land, was an indication of what Francis' 
plan would meet with in France. The two 
monarchs who reigned on each side of the 
Channel were equally absolute. 

The doctors of the faculty appealed to 
the papal nuncio, and the latter endeav- 
ored to startle Francis I. "Sire," he said, 
"be not deceived. The protestants will 
upset all civil as well as religious order. 
The throne is in as much danger as the 



altar. The introduction of a new religion 
must necessarily introduce a new govern- 
ment." Francis now hesitated : but the 
attacks of the pope on Henry VIII. and 
the prosperity of the latter' s kingdom 
under the Reformation, drew him again to 
the protestants. This movement on the 
part of Francis emboldened the evangeli- 
cals, and many began to encourage one 
another. But other christians said : " No, 
the Roman episcopate will never be re- 
formed. Remodel it as you like, it will 
always betray its domineering spirit, re- 
vive its ancient tricks, and regain its as- 
scendancy, even by fire. We must be on 
our guard. . . Between Rome and the 
Reformation is a matter of mere yes or no : 
the pope or Jesus Christ !" 

While the mild and prudent voices of Me- 
lancthon and Bucer were soothing France 
to sleep, innocently enough no doubt, bol- 
der and freer voices, those of a Farel and 
a Calvin, were preparing to arouse it. A 
loud peal of thunder would be heard, and 
the heavy atmosphere which stifled men's 
minds would be followed by a pure and 
reviving air. We shall describe hereafter 
the event which had so notable an influ- 
ence on the destinies of the Reformation 
in France. They were Frenchmen who 
caused it ; it was a Frenchman who was 
the principal author ; but it was from 
Switzerland, as we shall see, that this for- 
midable blow was to come, and to that 
country we must now return. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



803 



BOOK III. 



1526—1532. 

The Renaissance, the Reformation, the Middle Ages — The Gospel at Geneva, and the Sack 
of Rome — The Bishop clings to Geneva, but the Canons depart — The, Bishop-Prince flees 
from Geneva — Excommunication of Geneva and Funeral Procession of Popery — The 
Knights of the Spoon league against Geneva at the Castle of Bursinel -Intrigues of the 
Duke and the Bishop — Death of Pontverre — The Reformation begins to ferment In Geneva, 
and the Opposition Without — Various movements in Geneva, and secondlmprisoument of 
Bonivard — The Attack of 1530 — Geneva Reclaimed by the Bishop, and Awakened by the 
Gospel — Dangers to which the Defeat at Cappel exposes Geneva — An Emperor and a School- 
master — The Pardon of Rome and the Pardon of Heaven. 



The Reformation was necessary to 
christian society. The Renaissance, 
daughter alike of ancient and of modern 
Rome, was a movement of revival, and 
yet it carried with it a principle of death, 
so that wherever it was not transformed 
by heavenly forces, it fell away and be- 
came^ corrupted. The influence of the 
humanists — of such men as Erasmus, Sir 
Thomas More, and afterwards of Mon- 
taigne — was a balmy' gale that shed its 
odors on the upper classes, but exerted no 
power over the lower ranks of the people. 
In the elegant compositions of the men of 
letters, there was nothing for the con- 
science, that divinely appointed force of 
the human race. The work of the Re- 
naissance, had it stood alone, must of 
necessity, therefore, have ended in failure 
and death. It was necessary to have re- 
course to the primitive sources of faith. 

When the Gospel lifted up its voice in 
the days of the Reformation, the people 
listened. It spoke to them of God, sin, 
condemnation, pardon, everlasting life — 
in a word, of Christ. The human soul 
discovered that this was what it wanted ; 
and was touched, captivated, and finally 
renewed. The movement was all the 
more powerful because the doctrine 
preached to the people had nothing to do 
with animosities, traditions, interests of 
race, dynasties, or courts. True, it got 
mixed up with these things afterwards ; 
but in the beginning it was simply the 
voice of God upon earth. It circulated a 
purifying fire through corrupted society, 
and the new world was formed. 

The old society, whose place was about 
to be occupied, did all in its power to re- 
sist the light. A terrible voice issued 
from the Vatican ; a hand of iron exe- 
cuted its behests in many a country, and 
strangled the new life in its cradle. Spain, 
Italy, Austria, and France, were the chief 
theatres of the deplorable tragedies, whose 
heroes were Philip II. and the Guises. 

Geneva, by its alliance with the Swiss 
cantons in 1526, had thought • only to 
secure its liberties, but through it came 
also news of that spiritual salvation which 
makes all men free from death. Ry the 



instrumentality of Calvin, one of the 
noblest spirits that ever lived, "she was 
about to become the rival of Rome," says 
an historian, "and wrest from her the 
dominion of half the christian world." 
This alliance which opened Geneva on the 
side of Switzerland, raised a wall of sep- 
aration between that city and Savoy. 

The energetic, freebooting lords of the 
neighboring castles of Genevois, Chablais, 
and the Pays de Vaud, urged on by the 
fanatical Francois de Ternier, seigneur of 
Pontverre, were especially indignant at 
this alliance which, they believed, men- 
aced the rights of Savoy, the temporal 
(and even, the spiritual) power of the 
bishop, and Roman Catholicism. These 
nobles revived the oppressions of feudal 
times. Issuing armed from their strong- 
holds, they covered the district around 
Geneva like a cloud of locusts. They al- 
lowed nobody to enter the city, and car- 
ried off at pleasure property, provisions, 
and cattle ; some even resorted to piracy 
on the lake, and pillaged country-seats. 
To distinguish the huguenots, they ques- 
tioned all strangers, and carried off who- 
ever replied in French— the language of 
Geneva. France, Berne, and Geneva 
complained bitterly ; but the lords (for 
the most part Savoyards) replied only by 
threats and taunts. Said one to a Genevan: 
"Go and tell your friends that w r e are 
coming to Geneva shortly, and will throw 
all the citizens into the Rhone. No, I 
think it will be better to cut off their 
heads, in order to multiply the relics." 
This was an allusion to Berthelier's head, 
which had been solemnly buried. 

Thus the middle ages seemed to be ris- 
ing in defence of their rights. The tem- 
poral and spiritual authority of the bishop- 
prince was protected by bands of high- 
waymen. But Besan.on Ungues, now 
captain-general of Geneva, gave the signal 
for the citizens to arm, and they rose like 
one man to save their liberties and their 
new aspirations. The walls and gates 
were repaired, guards placed, and chains 
stretched across the streets, while the 
city was lighted all the night long. The 
huguenots now demanded the oonfis< 



894 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of the property of the mamelukes ; but 
the syndics gave the matter a rigorous in- 
vestigation, and only deprived them of the 
rights of citizenship. The Swiss cantons, 
discontented because the impoverished 
Genevans had not repaid the expenses in- 
curred in their behalf, now required that 
the mamelukes should be allowed to re- 
turn to the city. Two good huguenots 
were sent to the great council at Berne, 
which met on the 5th of June, 1526 ; they 
wrote home advising the immediate pay- 
ment of the claim. 

In Geneva at this time, Cartelier, who 
had basely intrigued to deliver the city to 
Savoy, was seized and condemned to death 
for conspiring against the State. The 
rope was about his neck for his execution, 
when the bishop wrote commuting his 
punishment into a fine of six thousand 
golden crowns, payable to the prelate and 
to the city ; the citizens were indignant 
at this covetousness. The bishop was 
now continually hesitating, and did not 
know what party to side with. The epis- 
copal office appeared a heavy burden to 
him ; but it put him in a position to give 
good dinners to his friends, and that was 
one of the most important duties of his 
life. "I have wine for the winter," he 
wrote in a postscript to the letter in which 
he made many complaints, "and plenty 
to entertain you with." Such were his 
episcopal consolations. 

The bishop was about to have enemies 
more formidable than the duke and the 
League. The Reformation was approach- 
ing. There is a characteristic trait in the 
history of Geneva ; the several surround- 
ing countries were by turns to scatter the 
seeds of life in that city ; in it was to be 
heard a concert of voices from France, 
Italy, and German Switzerland. It was 
the last of these that began. 

At the time when treason was expelled 
from the city in the person of Cartelier, 
the Gospel entered it in that of an honest 
Helvetian, one of the Bernese and Friburg 
deputies who went there in 1527 about the 
affairs of the alliance concluded in 1520. 
Thomas ab Hofen, a friend of Zwingle, 
whose mission was diplomatic, with sor- 
row wrote to the great reformer of Zurich : 
"The number of those who confess the 
doctrine of the Gospel must be increased." 
This simple-minded, zealous christian em- 
ployed all his leisure time in speaking to 
the households of the leading huguenots 
about the Word of God, of its authority, 
superior (he said) to the pope's, and of the 
salvation which it proclaimed. At first 
the priests received the evangelist magis- 
trate rather favorably, and complained to 
him : " Alas ! the faithful bring us no more 
offerings, and people do not run so ardently 
after indulgences as they used to." 

The Bernese envoy continued to an- 
nounce quietly the simple Gospel, and 
some began to believe ; others opposed, 
and Ab Hofen grew dispirited. Zwingle 



wrote encouraging words : ' ' Take care 
that the work so well begun is not stopped. 
While transacting the business of the pub- 
lic, do not neglect the business of Jesus 
Christ. You will deserve well of the citi- 
zens of Geneva if you put in order not only 
their laws and their rights, but their souls 
also. Now what can put the soul in order 
except it be the Word and the teaching of 
Him who created the soul?" Ab Hofen 
redoubled his efforts ; but the priests eyed 
him angrily, and excited the people against 
him. " All my efforts are vain," he wrote 
to Zwingle; "there are about seven hun- 
dred clergymen in Geneva who do their 
utmost to prevent the Gospel from flour- 
ishing here. What can I do against such 
numbers? And yet a wide door is opened 
to the Word of God. . . . The priests do 
not preach : and as they are unable to do 
so, they are satisfied with saying mass in 
Latin. . . . Miserable nourishment for 
the poor people !" The pious and sensi- 
tive man returned heart-broken to Berne, 
and died in the following November, "as 
a christian ought to die." Among those 
who profited by his teaching were Besan- 
con Hugues and Baudichon de la Maison- 
Neuve ; the former remained on the 
bishop's side, while the latter was a de- 
cided huguenot. 

While the Gospel was entering Geneva, 
desolation was entering Rome. It is a 
singular circumstance, the meeting of 
these two cities in history : one so power- 
ful and glorious, the other so small and 
obscure. Conquerors must have treasures 
and armies ; but evangelical Christianity, 
which undertakes to change man, nations, 
and the whole human race, has need of the 
strength of God, and God affects little 
things. In the first century, he chose 
Jerusalem ; in the middle ages, the Wal- 
densian valleys ; in the sixteenth century, 
Wittemberg and Geneva. "God hath 
chosen the weak things of the world to 
confound the things which are mighty." 

In the month of May (1527) a rumor 
of startling importance suddenly spread 
through the world : "Rome has just been 
destroyed," said the people, " and there is 
no more pope " The troops of Charles V. 
had taken and sacked the pontifical city, 
and if the pope was still alive, he was in 
concealment and almost in prisou. The 
servants of the Church, who were terrified 
at first, soon recovered their breath, and 
directly their alarm was dissipated, avarice 
and covetousness took its place. In the 
presence of the ruins of that ancient city, 
its friends thought only of seizing its 
spoils. The Bishop of Geneva, in par- 
ticular, divided the vacant benefices be- 
tween his followers and himself. 

The evangelicals could scarcely believe 
the wonderful news for joy. They thought 
to themselves that "if the emperor had set 
aside the bishop and prince of Rome, they 
might well abandon the prince and bishop 
of Geneva." They asked : "Are we not 
much more oppressed by ecclesiastical 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



895 



tyranny than by secular tyranny ? Are we 
not forced to pay, always to pay, and is it 
not our money that makes the bishop's pot 
boil?" Further, the shameful and profli- 
gate conduct of many of the ecclesiastics 
exasperated the citizens of Geneva, and 
made the better disposed long for a refor- 
mation of faith and morals. They could 
not make that separation between religion 
and morality of which the greater part of 
the clergy set the example. They longed 
for a Christianity of living faith, sanctifi- 
cation, morality, and christian works. 

The sack, of Rome had made a great 
sensation in catholic countries. Pierre de 
la Baume almost believed that the reign 
of popery had come to an end, and was 
much alarmed for himself. If a prince so 
powerful as the pope had succumbed, 
what would become of the Bishop of Gen- 
eva ? The alliance with the cantons, and 
the "Gospel which a Swiss magistrate had 
just been preaching, seemed to him the 
forerunners of his ruin. He preferred the 
Savoyard despotism ; but he was ready to 
pay court to liberty. The bishop, there- 
fore, sanctioned the sequestration of the 
property of the mamelukes, and made 
Besancon Hugues a magnificent present — 
the perpetual fief of the fishery of the 
lake, the Rhone, and the Arve. He fur- 
ther sought to secure the protection of the 
Swiss against the impetuosity of the hu- 
guenots, and the tyranny of the Duke of 
Savoy ; through Robert Vandel, he en- 
treated Friburg and Basle to admit him 
into their citizenship. ' ' We will not have 
the bishop for our fellow-citizen," they 
rudely made answer, "and that for four 
reasons : first, he is fickle and changeable ; 
second, he is not beloved in Geneva ; third, 
he is imperialist and Burgundian ; and 
fourth, he is a priest /" The alarmed pre- 
late now sent Besancon Hugues, a more 
influential diplomatist, to Berne ; but 
that good citizen returned disheartened at 
their answer : " The name of the bishop is 
more hateful among us than that of the 
devil himself." The vain and frivolous 
Pierre de la Baume made merry with these 
reproaches. 

For some time Charles III., Duke of 
Savoy, had been vexed at the bishop's 
overtures to the Genevans, and the news 
of these two envoys to the Swiss highly 
incensed him. He resolved to kidnap the 
prelate, and the canons of Geneva urged 
his seizure wlrfe attending mass on Satur- 
day at Our Lady, of Grace, outside the 
city. These good catholics added : "Let 
him be dragged hastily to the other side 
of the Arve, and once in the territory of 
Savoy, he can be put to death as a traitor." 
The Genevans would have been glad to 
be rid of their bishop, that the city might 
become free ; but his highness, having 
"snapped up" the bishop, expected to 
"snap up" the city also, in the confusion 
resulting. The duke posted ambuscades 
around the city, and guarded the passes 



of the Jura ; but the bishop was warned 
while attending mass : " Monseigneur, the 
archers of Savoy are preparing to clutch 
you." The affrighted La Baume rushed 
hastily out of the church, and leaped upon 
his mule "without putting his foot in the 
stirrup, for he was a very nimble person," 
says Bonivard ; then, using his heels for 
spurs, he struck the animal's flanks and 
galloped off at full speed, shouting, at the 
top of his voice, to the guards as he passed : 
"Shut the gates !" The prelate reached 
the city out of breath, and all of a trem- 
ble. 

The city was soon in commotion. Bes- 
ancon Hugues, notwithstanding the oppo- 
sition of the canons, ordered the great bell 
to be rung, and the Savoyard captains 
postponed the attack for a better oppor- 
tunity. In the midst of the excitement, 
the traitors who had corresponded between 
the canons and the duke fled from the city. 
La Baume was in great distress, and se- 
creted himself for a time in the house of 
one of his partisans. 

This attack, abortive as it was, had one 
important consequence ; it delivered the 
city from the canons, and thus paved the 
way for the Reformation. These men 
were in Geneva the representatives and 
supporters of all kinds of religious and 
political tyranny, more bigoted and fanat- 
ical than the worldly prelate. Some Gen- 
evan liberal complained to La Baume : 
" The canons, my lord, are the duke's 
spies ; so long as they remain in Geneva, 
Savoy will have one foot in the city." 
The poor bishop at once sacrificed these 
staunchest catholics. "Let them be ar- 
rested," he said. " It is they who wished 
to see me kidnapped. Let them be put in 
prison !" Messieurs De la Madelaine, De 
Montrotier, De Salery, De Veigy, and 
others, were accordingly imprisoned. 
La Baume at once became alarmed at his 
own rash act. To strengthen his position, 
he determined to have himself made a 
citizen of Geneva, that he might become an 
ally of Berne in spite of Berne. 

On the next morning (15th of July) the 
council-general was convened, and the 
bishop affably said : " 1 recall my protest 
against the alliance with the Swiss. I 
know how you cling to it ; well ! . . . I 
now approve of it ; 1 am willing to give 
my adhesion to it ; and, the more clearly 
to show my approval, I desire that I may 
be made a freeman of the city." Great 
was the astonishment of the people. A 
prince bishop made a plain citizen of Gen- 
eva 1 Such a thing had never been heard 
of. The general council assented, but 
asked him in turn to transfer all civil suits 
to lay jurisdiction. It was a great revolu- 
tion, but the prelate answered " Yes." 

La Baume then said: "I promise, on 
my faith, loyally to perform all that is re- 
quired of a citizen, to prove myself a good 
prince, and never to separate myself from 
you I" The delighted people also raised 
thek hands and exclaimed : " And we also, 



893 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



my lord, will preserve you from harm as we 
would our own heads !" The poor prelate 
would have sacrificed still more to protect 
himself from Charles's attacks, which 
filled him with indescribable terror. 

In this grant La Baume had been guilty 
of a new offence against the duke ; for it 
was in reality the jurisdiction of the 
vidame (that is to say, of the duke) which 
the bishop had thus ceded ; and hence it 
was that he had been induced to do it so 
readily. On the 20th of July, a Savoy am- 
bassador haughtily demanded the release 
of the canons. The embarrassed prelate 
replied : " I release them ; I pardon them. 
I leave vengeance to G-od." 

Twenty-four out of thirty-two canons 
at once fled from the city and settled at 
Annecy, while the huguenots rejoiced at 
their disappearance. As for the canons, 
they never were to enter Geneva again. 

From this time the parties in Geneva 
took new forms and new names. There 
were not simply, as before, partisans of 
the foreign domination and Savoy, and 
those of independence and Switzerland : 
the latter were divided. Some, having 
Hugues and Balard as leaders, declared 
for the bishop ; others, with Maison-Neuve 
and Porral at their head, declared for the 
people. They desired not only to repel 
the usurpations of Savoy, but also to see 
the fall of the temporal power of the bishop 
in Geneva. Two great questions were 
now raised, which sooner or later must 
rise up in every country. The first was 
political, and may be stated thus: "Must 
we accept a traditional dominion which 
has been established by trampling legiti- 
mate rights under foot?" (This was the 
dominion of the bishop. ) The second was 
religious, and may be expressed thus : 
"Which must we choose, popery or the 
Gospel?" 

On the 12th of July some huguenots ap- 
peared before the council. • ' The priests 
of the Magdalen," they said, "keep an 
improper house, in which reside several 
disorderly women." This immoral be- 
havior was at once checked by the council. 
Another scandal succeeding upon this 
and occasioned by the bishop himself, gave 
his authority a death-blow. 

A young girl, of respectable family, was 
forcibly dragged in daytime into the 
bishop's palace, and the gates closed 
against her mother and others who clam- 
ored for her release. A great crowd gath- 
ered, and the citizens exclaimed, "Ha! 
you are now throwing off the mask of 
holiness which you held up to deceive the 
simple. In your churches you kiss God's 
feet, and in your life you daringly spit in 
his face." 

The outcries without disturbed Pierre de 
la Baume at his dinner, and he went to the 
window. There was a profound silence 
immediately, and the syndics made the 
prelate an earnest but very respectful 
speech. The bishop, terrified at the por> 



ularfury, replied : "Certainly, gentlemen, 
you shall have the young woman ... I 
only had her carried off for a harper, who 
asked me for her in return for his ser- 
vices." Monseigneur had not carried olf 
the girl in the violence of passion, but only 
to pay the wages of a musician ! It was 
not more guilty, but it was more vile. 
The palace gates were opened, and the 
girl was restored to her mother. Michael 
Roset does not mention the harper, and 
leads us to believe that the bishop had taken 
her for himself. This scandalous abduc- 
tion was the last act done in Geneva by 
the Roman bishops. 

From that moment the deposition of the 
bishop was signed, as it were, in the hearts 
of most of the citizens. "These, then, 
are the priest's works," they said, "de- 
bauchery and violence ! . . . Instead of 
purifying the manners of the people, they 
labor to corrupt them ! Ha ! ha ! you 
bishopers, a fine religion is that of your 
bishop !" Pecolat, who had been tortured 
in former times, was now on the side of 
the bishop, and a noisy affray took place 
at this time between him and his opponent, 
De la Thoy ; but the combatants were 
parted without injury. 

On the 80th of July the duke summoned 
the Genevans to recognize his claims, under 
penalty of an attack by h i s army. The citi- 
zens made answer : " We will suffer death 
rather." The bishop and the citizens were 
exceedingly agitated. Men, women, and 
children set to work : they cut down the 
trees round the walls,, pulled down the 
houses, and levelled the gardens, while 
four gangs worked at the fortifications. 
"We would rather die defending our 
rights," said the Genevans, "than live in 
continual fear." 

La Baume saw a conspirator in every 
Genevan. More than one bishop, the op- 
pressor of the liberties of his people, had 
fallen during the middle ages under the 
blows of the indignant burgesses. For 
instance, the wretched Gaudri, bishop of 
Laon in the twelfth century, having tram- 
pled the rights of the citizens under foot, 
had been compelled to flee from their 
wrath, and hide himself in a cask in the 
episcopal cellar. But, being discovered 
and dragged into the street, he was killed 
by the blow of an axe, and his body cov- 
ered with stones and mud. If good catho- 
lics had practised such revenge upon their 
bishop, what would huguenots do? 

La Baume had other fears besides. An 
intriguing woman, his cousin Madame de 
Besse warned him : "Make haste to go ! 
for the duke is coming to take you." Tlie 
bishop desired to flee ; but he knew not 
how to pass through the district of Gex, 
and cross the Jura mountains, all filled 
with armed men. He communicated his 
fears to Besanqon H agues, and the latter 
arranged for a nocturnal flight. On the 
night of the 1st of August, 1527, the bishop 
crept out of his palace in disguise, and at- 
tended by Hugues was rowed across the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



897 



lake; then they mounted upon good 
horses, and after four-and-twenty hours of 
cruel fright arrived at St. Claude. 

The day after his departure, the news 
of the bishop's flight caused a great sensa- 
tion in Geneva. The ' patriots rejoiced to 
find themselves delivered by one act both 
from their bishop and their prince. The 
Savoyards were greatly annoyed, and 
swore to arrest Besancon Hugues on his 
return. That faithful citizen had good 
courage, a stout sword, and* a good horse. 
He saved himself " as by a miracle, ' ' and ar- 
rived in Geneva so worn-out that he retired 
at once to bed. But ere long the brave 
man recovered from his fatigue, and the 
city was full of joy. The bishop's flight 
still further increased their cheerfulness : 
it snapped the bonds of which they were 
weary. ' ' The hireling, ' ' they said, ' ' leav- 
eth the sheep, and fleeth, when he seeth 
the wolf coming." "Therefore," they 
added, "he is not the shepherd." 

The Duke of Savoy was greatly enraged 
at this second escape of the bishop. "I 
will go," he said, "and drag him across 
the Alps with a rope around his neck." 
Then he wrote to him : "I will make you 
the poorest priest in Savoy ;" and he 
seized upon the abbeys of Suza and 
Pignerol, which belonged to La Baume. 
When his anger moderated, he endeavored 
to secure the co-operation of the bishop, 
saying: "I will give back all your bene- 
fices, if you contrive to annul the alliance 
between Geneva and Switzerland." La 
Baume consented to everything, to recover 
his revenues and live at his ease in Bur- 
gundy. He loitered about his garden, or- 
dered some beautiful fur robes, lined with 
black satin, for the winter, kept a good 
table, and said : "I am much better sup- 
plied with good wine here than we are at 
Geneva." 

The bishop having fled from his bishop- 
ric like a hireling, — the prince having run 
away from his principality like a conspir- 
ator,— the citizens resolved to take meas- 
ures for preserving order in the State, and 
to make the constitution at once stronger 
and more independent. The general coun- 
cil delegated to the three councils of 
Twenty-five, Sixty, and Two-Hundred, all 
necessary powers. A secret council was 
also constituted of the four syndics and 
six leading huguenots. At this time also 
disappeared mysteriously the white cross 
of Savoy which Charles III. had placed in 
marble on the Chateau del' He, eight years 
before. "I have placed my arms in the 
middle of the city as a mark of sov- 
ereignty," he had said, haughtily, "and 
have had them carved in hard stone. Let 
the people efface them if they dare." It 
was never known who now removed it. 
Bonivard said : " I know the culprit — St. 
Peter ! As patron of Geneva he is unwil- 
ling that a secular prince should have any 
ensign of authority in this city." 

A report was circulated that an excom- 



munication and interdict had been pro- 
nounced against the city, at the request of 
the mamelukes. The general council 
almost unanimously resolved "that no 
metropolitan letters, and further still 
no apostolical letters (that is decrees 
from the papal courts) should be ex- 
ecuted by any priest or any citi- 
zen." Thus the bishop by the Tiber 
found men to resist him by the ob- 
scure banks of the Leman. The pro- 
gressionists rejoiced that the Reforma- 
tion was triumphing among the Swiss ; 
that Zwingle, GScolampadius, and Haller 
were preaching with daily increasing suc- 
cess at Zurich, Basle, and Berne, and that 
all in the latter city had sworn to observe 
the "Lutheran law." 

Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, a great 
enemy to superstition, an active and even 
turbulent man, and daring enough to at- 
tempt anything, resolved to organize a 
funeral procession of the papacy. He 
would attack Rome with the weapons that 
the Roman carnival supplied him, and 
would arrange a great procession. The 
young men disguised themselves as priests, 
as canons, as monks, and indulged in acts 
of outrageous buffoonery while marching 
through the streets of the city. The peo- 
ple greeted their doleful chantings with 
noisy roars of laughter, and every one said 
that popery was singing its De profundis 
— its burial song. The priests took the 
jest in very bad part, and the episcopal 
council severely reprimanded the offenders. 

Bonivard had but little fear of letters of 
excommunication. "If you have done 
what is wrong," he told his friends, " God 
himself excommunicates you; but if you 
have acted rightly, the excommunication 
of priests pan do you no harm. There is 
only one tribunal which has power over 
the conscience, and that is heaven. The 
pope and the devil hurt only those who are 
afraid of them. Do therefore what is 
right, and fear nothing." Bonivard's 
words increased the contempt of the peo- 
ple for the papal excommunications. 

Charles III. was indignant at these acts, 
and a message from him was read in the 
Two-Hundred on the 7th of February. 
"I hear," said the prince, "that the 
Lutheran sect is making way among you. 
. . . Make haste to prevent the ravages of 
that pestilence, and, to that intent, send 
on the 17th two men empowered by you to 
hear some very important things concern- 
ing my authority in matters of faith." 1 
"Really," said the council, "we have had 
enough and too much even of one pope, 
and we do not care to have two — one at 
Rome and the other at our very gates." 
" We will not write to the duke," said the 
syndics ; " we will delegate no one to him, 
seeing that we are not his subjects ; but 
we will simply tell the bearer of this letter 
that toe are going on very well, and that the 
duke, having no authority to correct us, 
ought to mind his own business." 

As for the bishop, his most important 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



missive at this time was a permission " to 
eat milk-food during the coming lent." 

The episcopal council were in great com- 
motion at the syndics' answer, and sent 
M. de Veigy, an eminent canon, to pacify 
the duke. The envoy was harshly threat- 
ened : "If you do not come out of it, you 
will be burnt in it with all the rest." The 
poor canon promised to leave Geneva ; but 
on his return to the city, he forgot his ter- 
ror and his promises, whereupon he re- 
ceived this short message from Charles 
III.: "Ordered, under pain of death, to 
quit Geneva in six days." "He left on 
the 3d of March, and with great regret," 
adds Balard. Charles wished to put the 
canons in a place of safety before he burnt 
the city. 

The partisans of absolutism and the 
papacy rose up on every side against 
Geneva, as if the Reformation were already 
established there. It was not so, however. 
Although Geneva had come out of Roman- 
ism, it had not yet entered Reform : it 
was still in those uncertain and barren 
places, that land of negations and disputes 
which lies between the two. A few 
persons only were beginning to see that, 
in order to separate really from the pope, 
it was necessary, as Haller and Zwingle 
said, to obey Jesus Christ. Bonivard, in 
his priory of St. Victor, wrote: "A 
strange spectacle ! Everybody wishes to 
command, and nobody will obey. From 
tyranny we have fallen into the opposite 
and worse vice, anarchy. There are as many 
tyrants as heads. It is not liberty to do 
whatever we desire, if we do not desire 
what is right. The huguenot leagues are 
not sufficient ; the Gospel must advance, 
in order that popery may recede>" 

Bernese visitors continued Ab Hofen's 
* work, and extolled the Scriptures. " God 
speaks to us of the Redeemer," they said, 
"and not of Lent." But the Friburgers 
exclaimed: " Obey the Church! If you 
separate from the Church, we will break 
off the alliance .' ' 

The bishopers were with Frilmrg, the 
commoners with Berne. The latter were 
divided into three classes : there were 
politicians, to whom religion was only a 
means of obtaining liberty ; serious and 
peaceful men, who called for true piety ; 
(Bonivard mentions Boutelier as one of 
these ;) and, lastly, the enemies of the 
priests, who saw the Reformation from a 
negative point of view, and regarded it 
essentially as a war against Roman super- 
stitions. 

One day several of the latter class 
called upon Bonivard, and told him : 
" We wish to put an end to all this papal 
ceremony ; we wish to drive out all its 
papistical rabble ; and then we mean to 
invite the ministers of the Gospel, who 
will introduce a true christian reformation 
among us." Bonivard desired a refor- 
mation, but one conducted by purer men. 
He sarcastically replied : " You desire to 



expel us, you say, and put Lutheran 
ministers in our place. . . These ministers 
will permit you to break the command- 
ments of the pope, but they will forbid 
you breaking those of God. . . . Either 
leave us in our present condition ; or, if 
you wish to reform us according to the 
Gospel, reform yourselves first." 

These huguenots, headed by De la Mai- 
son- Neuve, resolved to reform themselves 
first ; but they got no further than pruning 
away certain superstitions. They resolved 
to eat meat every day in Lent, as well as 
milk. The council saw this with uneasi- 
ness, and forbade the new practice under 
pain of three days' imprisonment on bread 
and water and a fine of five sols. But 
wishing to hold the balance even, they 
had hardly struck one side before they 
struck the other, and condemned the 
forty-four fugitive mamelukes to confis- 
cation and death. 

This last sentence aroused the anger of 
all the adjacent country. The Sire de 
Pontverre summoned his associates : the 
knights of La Vaux, Gex, Chablais, Gene- 
vois, and Faucigny met in council at the 
castle of Bursinel, on the lake opposite 
Mont Blanc. They despised the burgesses, 
and the latter held them to be bandits and 
brigands. "A contest must decide," 
agreed the company, " whether the future 
times shall belong to the knights or to the 
burgesses, to the Church or to heresy." 

Near the close of the dinner, "it 
chanced," says Bonivard, "that some 
rice (papet) was brought in, with as many 
spoons as there were persons at table." 
Pontverre rose, took up a spoon with the 
same hand that wielded the sword so 
vigorously, plunged it into the dish of rice, 
and, lifting it to his mouth, ate and said : 
"Thus will I swallow Geneva and the 
Genevese." In an instant all the gentle- 
men, "heated with wine and anger," took 
up their spoons, and exclaimed as they 
ate, "that they would make but one 
mouthful of all the huguenots." Pont- 
verre did not stop at this : he took a little 
chain, hung the spoon round his neck, 
and said : "T am a knight of the Spoon, and 
this is my decoration." — " We all belong 
to the same order," said the others, 
similarly hanging the spoons on their 
breasts. They then grasped each other's 
hands and swore to be faithful to the last. 

The spoon was taken up everywhere, as 
in the time of the crusades men took up 
the Cross. Depredations soon began 
upon the property of the Genevans, and 
the city was blockaded closer every day. 
The citizens called the Swiss to their aid, 
fortified their city, and kept strict watch. 
On the 23d of March, the council recorded 
this prayer : " May we be delivered 
from the evils we endure, may we conquer 
and have peace ! May the Almighty be 
pleased to grant it to us !" 

Bonivard, supported by Geneva, re- 
possessed himself of a fief at Cartigny, 
two leagues from the city, which had been 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



899 



seized by the duke. Pontverre detested 
the prior and captured this castle on the 
6th of March, 1528. Bonivard now 
gathered together twenty soldiers, and ac- 
companied by an ex-councillor of Berne, 
named Boschelbach, halted before the cas- 
tle. The ex-chancellor, attended by his 
servant Thiebault, advanced and de- 
manded a parley ; the garrison fired, and 
Thiebault was shot dead. This outrage 
incensed the Genevans. The prior knew 
that his bold actions might lose him St. 
Victor as well as his life : "But what does 
it matter, ' ' he thought, " if by such a sac- 
rifice right is maintained and liberty 
triumphs." 

The lord of Pontverre had more import- 
ant plans to further, and strove to unite 
the duke and the bishop to crush Geneva. 
The prelate tried to become friendly with 
his highness, without breaking with the 
Genevans. "I quitted Geneva," he in- 
formed the duke, ' ' in order that I might 
not be force d to do anything displeasing to 
you." It will be remembered, on the con- 
trary, that he had run away to escape 
from Charles III., who wanted to "snap 
him up ;" but that prince, satisfied with 
seeing La Baume place himself again under 
his guidance, pretended to believe him, and 
cancelled the sequestration of his revenues. 
Being thus reconciled, the bishop and the 
duke set to work to stifle the Reformation. 
"Good," said' Bonivard; "Pilate and 
Herod were made friends together, for 
before they were at enmity between them- 
selves." 

The bishop soon perceived that he could 
not be both with the duke and Geneva ; 
and, every day drawing nearer to Savoy, 
he turned against his own subjects and his 
own flock. 

The first measure Charles exacted from 
his new ally was to revoke the civil rights 
he had conceded to the citizens. The 
bishop consented. He therefore caused 
an order to be posted on the church doors, 
forbidding the magistrates to try civil 
causes under pain of excommunication and 
a fine of one hundred pounds of silver. 
"Remove these letters," said the syndics 
to the episcopal secretary, "and carry 
them back to the bishop, for they are con- 
trary to our franchises." At the same 
time they said to the judges : " You will 
continue to administer justice, notwith- 
standing the excommunication." This, 
be it remarked, occurred at Geneva in the 
beginning of the sixteenth century. 

The bishop angrily replied: "If within 
a fortnight you do not desist from all op- 
position to our authority, we will declare 
you our enemies, and will employ all our 
resources and those of our relations and 
friends to punish you for the outrage you 
are committing against us, and we will 
strive to ruin you totally, whatever may 
be the place to which you flee." On the 
14th of June, 1528, Hugues, the premier 
syndic answered : "We will not renounce 



the independence which our charters se- 
cure to us. . . . . Rather than lose it, we 
will sacrifice our lives and goods, our 
wives, and our children. . . . We will 
give up everything, to our last breath, to 
the last drop of our blood." . . . His 
auditors cried with one voice, "Yes ! yes ! 
that is the answer we will make." 
Strange to say this action seemed bravado 
and fool-hardy to the Swiss : " These Ger- 
mans are all mad," said they, forgetting 
the victories of their ancestors. 

La Baume was very angry against his 
perverse flock, who disturbed him with 
their bold speeches, in the midst of his 
peaceful retreat in Burgundy, where he 
kept "a dainty table with good wines," 
and was liberal to women of doubtful 
character. The arrival of a messenger 
from Geneva, Martin de Combes, bearing 
a letter full of friendly terms, drew a 
furious answer from the intoxicated 
bishop. ' ' Tell the folks in Geneva that 
they are all traitors— all of them, men, 
women, and children, little and big ; that 
I will have justice done shortly, and that 
it will be something to talk about. Tell 
them never to write to me again. . . . 
Whenever I meet any persons from that 
city, I will have them put to death. . . . 
And .as for you, get out of my sight in- 
stantly !" The poor messenger, who 
trembled like a leaf, did not wait to be told 
twice. Ail this was a deadly blow to the 
consideration due to the clergy. 

While the bishop was putting himself 
into a passion like a soldier, the Duke of 
Savoy was convoking a synod like a 
bishop. It met on the 12th of July, 1528. 
The intelligent and energetic Pierre Gaz- 
zini, Bishop of Aosta, who afterwards 
contended in his episcopal city with Calvin 
himself, called for harsh measures against 
Geneva, which was corrupting Savoy : 
"The people will no longer pay for 
masses, or keep the fasts ; men go about 
everywhere saying that the property of 
the abbots and prelates ought to be sold to 
feed the poor and miserable." Charles 
III. determined to adopt harsh measures. 
He was also intriguing with the emperor 
and the pope to have Pierre de la Baume 
designated successor to the archbishop of 
Besancon, and his second son, a child four 
years old, made count or prince of Geneva. 

Hugues started for Berne and Friburg, 
with Ami Girard and Robert Yandel ; but 
the Swiss were forsaking Geneva for the 
gold of the duke, and they were treated 
coldly. The indignant ambassadors wrote 
home: "Sooner than do what they ask 
you, set fire to the city, and begin with 
our houses." 

The duke now prepared to support his 
pretensions by more energetic means. 
His agents traversed the districts round 
j Geneva ; they went from door to door, 
from house to house, and said to the peas- 
ants : " Do not venture to carry provisions 
to Geneva." Others went from castle to 
castle, and told the lords: "Let every 



€-00 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



gentleman equip his followers with uni- 
form and arms, and be ready at the sound 
of the alarm-bell." 

Within the city, the Dominican monks 
were enlisted in his cause, and they strove 
to increase his adherents by distributing 
little silver keys, (the arms of Faucigny, ) 
to be worn as a badge of honor. Chap- 
puis, the superior, with the monks Grin- 
galet and Levrat, were the most zealous 
workers. They threatened to transfer the 
property of the convent to some other 
place if Savoy and the papacy did not tri- 
umph in Geneva. The syndics heard of 
these plottings, and called upon the breth- 
ren in their monastery. The premier syn- 
dic said : "You had better say your pray- 
ers and not meddle with politics. You 
pretend to renounce the world, reverend 
brethren, and then do nothing else but in- 
trigue for the things of this world. You 
intend, we hear, to carry away your pro- 
perty, your relics, and your jewels ; gently 
. . . We will spare you that trouble ; we 
will take of them in the grotto of St. 
Pierre, and put your persons in a place of 
safety." . . . The council ordered an in- 
ventory of the goods of the convent to be 
drawn up, and generously left the monks 
three chalices for the celebration of mass. 
They banished Chappuis, Gringalet, and 
Levrat, and placed the other brethren un- 
der the surveillance of two deputies of the 
council. The monks had their wings 
clipped, and the Reformation was begin- 
ning. 

Chappuis, Gringalet, and Levrat filled 
the places through which they passed with 
their complaints, and all the bigots looked 
upon them as martyrs. The knights of 
the Spoon, being informed of the fate 
with which monastic institutions were 
threatened in Geneva, resolved to avenge 
religion and do all the injury they could 
to the audacious burgesses. Pontverre 
spoiled and plundered the Genevans under 
their noses, by having mowers cut down 
the new grass in the meadows of the 
Genevans, on the left bank of the Arve, a 
quarter of an hour's walk from the city, 
while his armed force stood by. " Come, 
come, cheer up !" he cried to the citizens ; 
"why don't you cross the bridge and fetch 
the hay we have cut for you ?' ' The young 
huguenots would have taken him at his 
word, but Bonivard dissuaded them from 
the fight. 

The Genevans solicited men from Berne 
and Friburg ; eight hundred troops ar- 
rived, and were quartered on the adhe- 
rents of the bishop. The duke now per- 
mitted provisions to arrive, and the troops 
left on the 30th of October, 1528. 
. Pontverre summoned another assembly 
of the knights of the Spoon to meet at 
Nyon in December, to arrange for cap- 
turing the city. In a spirit of bravado, 
he determined to repair thither through 
Geneva. At daybreak he passed through 
the Corraterie gate, and rode through the 



streets leisurely ; but he found the Ritffla 
gate not yet opened. The impatient Pont- 
verre slapped the gate-keeper in the face, 
and said. "Rascal, is this the way you 
make gentlemen wait ?" He added with 
violent oaths : "You will not be wanted 
much longer. It will not be long before 
we pull down your gates and trample 
them underfoot, as we have done before." 
He then set spurs to his horse and gal- 
loped away. The people and council were 
excited ; sentinels were now ordered to be 
stationed everywhere. The knight re- 
joiced at his adventure, and cried, "Down 
with Geneva ! Rome and Savoy forever !" 

Pontverre wished to enter Geneva unop- 
posed, and had bought friends who occu- 
pied a house in the Corraterie, the back- 
door of which opened to the outside of the 
city. He told his associate, Sire de Beau- 
fort, governor of Chillon, while enjoining 
secrecy : " We have a gate in Geneva at 
our orders. No one knows of it ; but do 
not fear. I will undertake that you shall 
all enter. " — " Pontverre did indeed enter, ' ' 
said Bonivard, some time after, when he 
heard of this remark ; "he went in, but 
he did not come out." 

Despite the warnings of his friends, 
Pontverre resolved to ride through Geneva 
again. "His hour was come, and it 
pleased God so," says Bonivard. Sire de 
Simon and some armed attendants fol- 
lowed him in this fool-hardy adventure ; 
they reached Geneva on Saturday after- 
noon, the 2d of January, 1529, as night 
was setting in. Pontverre hid his face in 
his cloak, presented himself with his 
escort at the Paquis gate, and passed into 
the streets. The sight of leading hugue- 
nots enraged him ; he threw off his cloak, 
and drawing his sword, "uttered threats 
and insults out of his haughtiness and in- 
solence." He struck one of the citizens 
on the head with his sword, saying with 
a round oath: "We must kill these 
traitors." The huguenots surrounded 
him, and exclaimed : "It is Pontverre." 
The crowd increased and blocked up the 
bridge over the Rhone he wished to cross. 
The knight dashed through the crowd to 
the Corraterie gate, but found it shut. 
He galloped back to the house with the 
private exit outside the city, and rushed 
into the dwelling ; his face was covered 
with blood from a sword-cut on his nose. 
He seems to have lost his presence of 
mind, for he hid himself under a bed like 
a child. Meanwhile his attendants had 
been disarmed and confined. The crowd, 
headed by Ami Bandiere — whose father 
and children had appealed to the council 
in 1526 when he was a fugitive with 
Hugues in Berne — searched the house ; 
and the wretched fugitive received a stab 
in his hiding-place. Regaining his feet, 
Pontverre seized Bandi re, and stabbed 
him in the thigh with a dagger. The cap- 
tain-general of the knights of the Spoon 
fought desperately ; he fell dead as the 
syndic Ami Girard entered, exclaiming : 



HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 



901 



"Stop! stop!" The lord of Pontverre 
fell a martyr to feudalism, say some ; a 
victim to his own insolence, say others. 
His sole idea had been to ruin Geneva, to 
disperse its inhabitants, to throw down 
its walls ; and now- he lay dead a few 
yards from the place where, in 1519, he 
was present at the head of his troopers to 
take part in the murder of Berthelier, and 
in the very place by which he had ar- 
ranged to enter and destroy the city by 
fire and sword. He was buried with 
honor in the convent of Rive, and his 
companions were released. As the medi- 
tated plan of attack was found on his 
body, the inquest found no grounds for 
bringing any one to trial. 

" We will kill all the Genevans we can 
find," now said the brethren of the Spoon. 
' ' They fell upon the first they met, com- 
mitting violence and murder." Jean Lul- 
lin and Robert Yandel, at the risk of 
their lives, offered to call upon Berne and 
Friburg for help. They had hardly started 
upon the lake before the enemy's boats 
were in swift pursuit ; the race was a ter- 
rible one, but they reached Oucby safely, 
dripping with perspiration, and got in 
disguise to Friburg. Many Genevans 
were assaulted and killed, one was tied to 
a cross and compelled to walk back to the 
city, and the citizens dared not pass the 
walls. 

At midnight, on Holy Thursday, (25th 
of March,) the knights of the Spoon, with 
about four thousand Savoyard troops, 
moved forward to take Geneva with sur- 
prise. The whole garrison was but fifty 
soldiers. A detachment with ladders 
reached the foot of the wall. "At the 
moment of execution, a spirit of fear fell 
upon the Savoyards," says a chronicler; 
" God took away their courage, so that 
they were not able to come near." — ''We 
are not strong enough to carry out our 
enterprise," said one. — "If we fail," said 
another, "Messieurs of the Swiss League 
will not fail us." They consequently 
withdrew, and, in order to conceal their 
disgrace, said that the duke or the bishop 
had forbidden them to advance. 

The Genevans entered on the registers 
of the council these simple words : ' ' The 
gentlemen had undertaken to attack the 
city, which God has preserved hitherto." 

While the men of the old times were 
taking fright and retreating, the men of 
the new times were taking courage and 
advancing. They sat down at the firesides 
of the burgesses Of Geneva, and leading 
the way to religious conversation, grad- 
ually scattered new ideas in the city and 
new seeds in men's hearts. Of these 
Lutherans, as they were called, some were 
Genevans, others Bernese ;• and the witty 
Bonivard occasionally joined in this fa- 
miliar talk. Some of these if they saw a 
cordelier passing, with ruddy face, long I 
beard, brown frock, and disgusting aspect, j 
pointed at him and said : "These monks ' 



creep not only into the consciences of the 
citizens, but into their houses, and defile 
the city by their scandals and adultery. 
Our grated windows and bolted doors can 
hardly keep out their unbridled vices, and 
protect the chastity of our wives and 
daughters. God has given them up to 
the lusts of their hearts." Such conver- 
sations as these were continually taking 
place among the Genevans and the Bernese 
during the interval between the reforma- 
tion of Berne and that of Geneva. 

The relics exhibited in the churches ex- 
cited the indignation and contempt of 
many. In the church of St. Pierre was 
shown "the arm of St. Anthony. On 
holiday's, " says a Genevan, " it is brought 
out for the adoration of the people, who 
kiss the relic with holy reverence. But 
this arm some people affirm to be only 
one of the members of a stag." On the 
high altar was a box in which the brains 
of St. Peter were said to be preserved ; 
but the huguenots contended the brains 
were nothing but pumice stone. At the 
church of St. Gervais, the priests begged 
the offerings of good catholics to remove 
the bodies of various saints buried under 
the altar ; and by a series of hidden pipes 
a variety of sounds were produced, which 
they declared to be the voices of the saints 
supplicating this assistance. In the ceme- 
tery at night were to be seen little flames 
creeping among the scattered bones. The 
priests said these were souls out of purga- 
tory ; but when caught they proved to be 
crabs upon which the priests had fastened 
little wax tapers. ' ' That is one of the 
tricks of our clergy, ' ' said a learned hu- 
guenot. "They are buffoons in their re- 
pasts, fools in all difficult discussions, 
snails in work, harpies in exaction, leop- 
ards in friendship, bulls in pride, mino- 
taurs in devouring, and foxes in cun- 
ning." 

On Tuesday, the 4th of January, 1530, 
a number of the huguenots, indignant at 
these impostures, held in the streets an 
auction of mock relics, by way of de- 
rision. The citizens were delighted, but 
the actors were sent to prison. Great 
numbers of the populace gathered before 
the hotel-de-ville, and said to the syndics : 
" We desire that the prisoners be set at 
liberty, and we offer to be bail for them." 
The magistrates summoned the prisoners 
before them the next day, and dismissed 
them with a reprimand. 

At Wittemberg the Reformation began 
in the person of Luther with the internal ; 
at Geneva it began in the huguenots with 
the external. 

The bishop, who was still in Burgundy, 
desired neither external nor internal re- 
form. He was alarmed at what was taking 
place in Geneva ; he complained to the 
duke, the emperor, and even* to the syn- 
dics. He gave the latter to understand 
that he would destroy Geneva rather than 
permit any abuses to be reformed. The 
people answered : "Better have war and 



903 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



liberty than peace and servitude. We do 
not put our trust in princes, and to God 
alone be the honor and glory." They re- 
lied upon the Swiss for aid ; but these can- 
tons, influenced by the Duke of Savoy, 
proposed to revoke their alliance with this 
weak yet obstinate city. 

On the 1st of May an imposing embassy 
arrived from Zurich, Basle, Soleure, Berne, 
and Friburg, and were soon followed by 
delegates from Savoy ; these deputations 
fraternized, but treated the Genevans 
haughtily. On the 22d of May, the Swiss 
demanded the revocation of the alliance, 
and the virtual surrender of the city to 
the duke, under pain of the displeasure 
of Francis I., Charles V., and the King 
of Hungary. Yet the Germans stood 
firm despite these threats, and exclaimed : 
" We will die first." The council-general 
answered: "Most honored lords, as the 
alliance with the League was not con- 
cluded hastily, (a la chaude, ) we hope in 
God and in the oath you made to us that 
it will never be broken. As for us, we are 
determined to keep ours." It was further 
resolved that whoever spoke of annulling 
the alliance should be beheaded. The em- 
bassy were astonished at this unanimity 
of spirit, and returned to Switzerland. 

The duke now sought the influence of 
the pope. Through the Bishop of Aosta 
he narrated the heretical doings of the 
Genevans and solicited his assistance to 
subdue them. Clement VII. would not 
furnish aid, but he answered : " I pray the 
duke to keep his eye particularly upon Gen- 
eva. That city is becoming far too Luthe- 
ran, and it must be put down at any risk.'''' 
Charles V. was now approached success- 
fully, and by letter of the 16th of July, 
1529, the emperor ordered the syndics to 
arrest their Lutheran preachers, " and 
punish them according to the tenor of the 
severest edicts." Geneva was an impe- 
rial city, yet this peremptory letter was 
bravely answered: "Sire, we intend to 
live as in past times, according to God 
and the law of Jesus Christ." Charles 
now promised the duke an armed force, 
and the pope gave him a subsidy of 4, 000 
Spanish livres. 

The courage of the defenders of Catho- 
licism in Geneva was revived by the news 
they received from without ; and the em- 
peror, the pope, and the duke declaring 
themselves ready to do their duty, the 
episcopal officers prepared to do theirs 
also. But one circumstance might para- 
lyze all their efforts : "God, of his good- 
ness, began at this time," says a manu- 
script, ' ' to implant a knowledge of the 
truth, of his holy Gospel, and of the 
Reformation in the hearts of some indi- 
viduals in Geneva, by the intercourse they 
had with the people of Berne." 

These huguenots boldly professed the 
protestant ideas, ridiculed the priests, dis- 
regarded Lent, and strolled through the 
churches during mass. The clerics com- 



plained, and the syndics made this singu- 
lar decree : "Ordered, that whoever eats 
meat in Lent, or strolls about the churches, 
shall be condemned to build three toises of 
the wall of St. Gervais." The city was 
building this wall as a means of defence 
against the duke. The huguenots indig- 
nantly exclaimed: "Ha! ha! Messieurs 
du clerge, you wish us to eat nothing but 
fish, and you live in habitual intercourse 
with harlots. Hypocrits ! you strain at 
the gnat and swallow the camel !" Com- 
plaints were made against the immorality 
of the clergy, and the equitable council 
ordered, "that the priests should forth- 
with forsake their evil ways, under pen- 
alty of building three toises of the wall of 
St. Gervais, in company with the others." 
This order was not strictly enforced, and 
the people said : "The canons, priests, and 
friars are incorrigible, they are jovial fel- 
lows, fond of drinking, and rear their bas- 
tard children openly. How can the Church 
be scandalized at such a course of life, 
when even the popes set the example?" 

Negative protestantism, however, is not 
true piety, and hence the evangelical chris- 
tians of Zurich and Berne urged the Gene- 
vans they met to receive the true essence 
of the Gospel. Hugues Vandel was cor- 
dially welcomed as an ambassador at these 
Swiss cities ; he answered these appeals : 
" The majority in the city of Geneva would 
like to be evangelical ; but they want to 
be shown the way, and no one would dare 
preach the Gospel in the churches for fear 
of Friburg." A late event brought to his 
mind St. Victor, Bonivard's little inde- 
pendent principality at the gates of the 
city. "Suppose it were to be made over 
to my lords of Berne, ' ' said Vandel ; ' ' they 
would like to have a bailiff there, and a 
preacher who would be our great comforV 

Bonivard, deprived of his benefice at 
the time of Berthelier's death, had recov- 
ered his priory but not his revenue. 
Equipped and accompanied by several 
men-at-arms, he had made several raids 
into the duke's territories to recover his 
rents. In one of these skirmishes, he as- 
saulted a pontifical proctor who opposed 
his claims ; thereupon Clement issued a 
brief against him. The city council for- 
bade Bonivard to indulge in these military 
freaks ; and as he was reduced to poverty, 
they allotted him four crowns and a half 
a month to support himself and servant. 
The proctor claimed the priory for Clem- 
ent ; Bonivard annexed it to the hospital 
of Geneva, and imprisoned several of his 
monks for conspiring to betray it to Savoy. 
Charles sought to induce the prior to re- 
voke this cession, and on his failure deter- 
mined to be rid of this energetic opposer 
of his plans. 

At this time, Bonivard's mother lay 
sick at Seyssel, in Savoy, and the prior 
said to his friends: " Alas ! I should 
like to see my aged mother once more 
before she dies. I have not seen her 
these five years, and she is on the brink 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



903 



of the grave." He sought a safe-conduct 
from the duke, under the plea that he would 
consult with his mother about the priory, 
and the delighted Charles gave him a pass- 
port good only for the month of April. 
His ''ancient dame" received him with 
fond affection ; but she dreaded the duke's 
perfidy ; she remembered Levrier's story, 
and she trembled for her child. 

Meanwhile Bonivard's enemies in Ge- 
neva circulated reports that he was betray- 
ing the Genevans and surrendering St. 
Victor ; Besane,on Hugues was desirous to 
have the priority for his* son, and Bonivard 
(hostile alike to the catholics and to the 
huguenots) hesitated what to do. April 
expired ; his safe-conduct was prolonged 
during May, and he bid his mother fare- 
well for the last time. The Count of 
Chalons, president of the council of Savoy, 
pledged his honor for his safety from ar- 
rest during May and June, and Bonivard 
now offered at Lausanne to resign the 
priory of St. Victor to the Bishop of 
Montfaucon for a pension of four hundred 
crowns. The consent of Geneva and Sa- 
voy were alone requisite, and he sought 
the aid of Rene de Chalans, on the 28th 
of May, at Moudon. He was received 
cordially ; the Sire de Bellegarde, Levrier's 
murderer, shared his bed with him, and 
next morning despatched his sergeant, as 
a servant, with Bonivard to Lausanne. 
An ambuscade was also planned upon the 
road, and the confiding prior "was made 
prisoner in the name of Monseigneur," 
despite his free-conduct. "They took me, 
bound and pinioned, to Chillon, ' ' he say s" 
in his Chronicles, "and there I remained 
six long years." His friends sought his 
release, but without success. His spirit 
was broken in the gloomy dungeons of 
Chillon. 

Bonivard's arrest was not an isolated 
act, but the first skirmish of a general en- 
gagement. The duke and the bishop were 
reconciled, and their only thought was 
how they could reduce Geneva by force of 
arms. A singular resolution for a pastor I 
Fortunately for him the Genevans gave 
him a pretext calculated in some measure 
to justify his warlike cure of souls. 

Mandolla, a bastard priest of evil 
fame, was proCurator-fiscal of Geneva, a 
thorough-going partisan of the duke and 
bishop. The citizens were indignant at 
his intrigues, and appealed to the upright 
vicar-general, who was abbot of Bonmont, 
for his arrest. Mandolla was alarmed, 
and fled to the castle of Penney. The 
council ordered his arrest, and on the 24th 
of June he was led back to prison as a 
criminal. His friends at once wrote to 
the bishop at Arbois, and in three days 
" a severe and threatening letter " arrived 
from the prelate demanding his release. 
"My lord," answered the magistrates, 
<l Mandolla you well know to be a traitor 
and a robber." Accordingly they indicted 
the fiscal, and the enraged bishop sought 
58 



allies to punish these huguenots. He 
appealed to the knights of the Spoon for 
aid. Meanwhile he arrested two Genevan 
cattle dealers, and ordered all Genevans 
in his territory to be seized with their 
goods. 

On the 20th of August, 1530, Pierre de 
la Baume at Arbois, granted these com- 
missions to the Knights of the Spoon to 
make war upon his subjects. " We, Pierre 
de la Baume, bishop and prince of Geneva, 
having regard to the insolence, rebellion, 
treason, and conspiracies that some of our 
subjects of Geneva are daily committing 
against us and our authority . . . impris- 
oning our subjects and our officers with- 
out orders, assuming our rights of prin- 
cipality, and threatening to do worse ; 
. . . being resolved to maintain our Church 
in her authority and to uphold our holy 
faith, have commissioned and required 
our friends and relatives to aid us in pun- 
ishing the rebels, and, if need be, to pro- 
ceed by force of arms. ' ' 

The gentlemen thanked the prelate, 
and were glad to be in a crusade against 
the evangelicals, who were "everywhere 
preaching what they call the Word of 
God." Some envoys from Friburg to 
Chambery, although good catholics, se- 
cured the release of some evangelists im- 
prisoned in a castle on their road. When 
they had audience with the duke, he bit- 
terly complained of their conduct! "I 
will not put up with such disorders. I 
cannot prevent my nobles from taking ven- 
geance." . But the Genevans were equally 
unwilling to submit ; accordingly Robert 
Van del and John Lullin were sent to 
Berne and Friburg to urge a reinforce- 
ment. 

In the autumn of 1530, the duke and 
the bishop met in consultation about Ge- 
neva at Gex. "Lutheranism is making 
considerable progress in Geneva," said 
the bishop to the duke ; " attack the city ; 
for my part I will employ in this work the 
revenues of my see and of my abbeys, and 
even all my patrimony. " The duke might 
have had reasons for delaying the war, for 
the catholic princes at Augsburg desired 
to wait until spring for a general attack 
upon protestantism ; but his passions pre- 
vailed over the directions of Charles V. 
The knights of the Spoon, led by the able 
and bigoted Baron of La Sarray, were 
already in the field, assaulting defenceless 
Genevans, and intercepting provisions in- 
tended for the city. On the 20th of Sep- 
tember, the men-at-arms of these knights, 
the Burgundians of the bishop, and the 
ducal troops under the Duke of Nemours, 
made arrangements to surprise Geneva. 

Intelligence of this alarming news was 
brought to the city, and on Sunday, the 
25th of September, the six captains thus 
addressed their troops: "We have been 
informed that our enemies will attack us 
very shortly. We pray you therefore to 
forgive one another, and be ready to die 
in the defence of your rights." The citi- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



zens as one man replied : " We are willing 
to do so." Yet Geneva was still a catholic 
city; mass was said in her churches, 
and in not one of them was the Gospel 
preached. 

On Friday, the 30th, the enemy's army 
debouched on all sides of Geneva, and the 
six hundred soldiers of the city got their 
arms ready. At this moment envoys ar- 
rived from Friburg; seeing the great 
danger of an assault, they despatched 
heralds to summon immediate help from 
their canton. Several of these were 
turned back by the soldiers, but one made 
his way through. Skirmishes now oc- 
curred, resulting in several deaths. The 
Savoyards held the suburbs, and on Sun- 
day night purposed to make the assault : 
"death and plunder" was their pass- 
word. Ambassadors from Berne now en- 
tered the city, and in turn sent off a herald 
to demand support at once. The night 
closed in, at one o'clock the troops drew 
close up to the ditch. It was easy for 
them to break in the gates and to scale the 
walls; but, strange to say, "the nearer 
they approached the more their hearts 
failed them." The officers of Savoy drew 
back, saying, "the duke had commanded 
them to withdraw under pain of death." 
The troops fell into disorder, and in a mo- 
ment there was a general flight. The 
emperor had peremptorily ordered the 
duke to refrain from hostilities, desiring 
to crush the protestants in the next spring, 
as a month's truce had been given them to 
become reconciled to Rome : thus the 
present assault failed. 

The Genevans believed the hand of the 
Almighty had defended them by an un- 
known and invisible power, this memor- 
able night, from the attack of a gallant 
and numerous army. They would have 
pursued the enemy had not the warlike 
diplomatists cautioned them : " You do 
not know how great is the cunning of the 
enemy. Wait until you receive help from 
our masters, which we hope will soon 
arrive." 

In fact, fifteen thousand of those soldiers 
who were the terror of Europe were then 
entering the Pays de Vaud with ten pieces 
of cannon and colors flying, and were 
marching to Geneva. On their arrival 
they did no harm to the peasants, except 
that they "lived upon the good man;" 
but they captured, plundered, and burned 
the castles of the knights of the Spoon. 
At, noon on Monday, the 10th of October, 
the Swiss army, headed by the avoyer 
D'Erlach, inarched into the little city. 
The citizens received a great number in 
their houses, and many were quartered in 
the convents, the Augustine and Francis- 
can monasteries, as well as the houses of 
the churchmen. Some Bernese bivouacked 
in the open air. These latter made the 
altar, wooden images, and large cross in a 
neighboring chapel furnish them with seats 
and firewood. Several catholic Friburgers 
reproved them for sacrilege ; but the 



Bernese coolly replied : "The wood from 
the churches is usually very dry." A 
league from the city was a convent of Cis- 
tercian nuns, staunch partisans of the 
duke, and upon them a Swiss company was 
quartered. The nuns fled hastily, and the 
soldiers set fire to the convent ; but the 
house was little injured. The frightened 
women petitioned the council for permis- 
sion to leave the city ; but the devout 
members answered : "Fear nothing, for 
the city has not the least intention of 
becoming Lutheran." Only twenty-five 
soldiers, all Friburgers, "good catholics 
and hearing mass willingly," were now 
placed in the convent ; though even they 
rebelled at one time, because the good sis- 
ters put them on the spare diet of a few 
peas. All the priests and monks now 
flopked to the convent, and daily chanted 
mass in pontificalibus ; this was a great 
consolation and honor to the nuns. 

The Bernese, in turn, desired to have 
the Word of God preached. Commencing 
with the 11th of October, their almoner 
daily went up into the pulpit of the cathe- 
dral, read a portion of Scripture, and 
preached a sermon. The priests were con- 
soled because "the accursed ministers 
preached in German ;' ' but he also dis- 
tributed among his hearers the Scriptures 
and writings of the Reformers in French. 
A truce was now concluded ; the bishop 
and the Genevans released their prisoners ; 
"but," adds Bonivard, "I was not taken 
out of Chillon." 

Thus had failed the attack of the bishop- 
prince against his city ; and it was much 
to be feared that such an act, instead of 
restoring his power, would only accelerate 
his fall. Pierre de la Baume saw this, and 
resolved to employ other means to regain 
in Geneva the authority he had lost. He 
regretted that the defintive treaty of 
peace was referred to a Swiss diet to be 
held at Pazerne. "If, "said he, " I could 
but have the emperor as arbiter, instead 
of the Swiss." . . Charles V. had never 
been more irritated against the protest- 
ants than when the bishop's petition was 
presented to him, It was the middle of 
November ; the imperial recess had just 
been rejected by the evangelists, because 
the emperor (they said) had not authority 
to command in matters of faith. The 
deputies of Saxony and Hesse had left 
without waiting for the close of the diet. 
On the 19th of November, proclamation 
was to be made in Augsburg of the re-es- 
tablishment of one and the same faith 
throughout the empire. The evening be- 
fore, the emperor dictated the following 
letter for the people of Geneva : 

" Deak Liegemen, 

" We have been informed that there is 
a question between you and our cousin, 
the Duke of Savoy, about matters touch- 
ing the rights of our well-beloved cousin 
and counsellor, the Bishop of Geneva. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



905 



We have desired to write to you about 
that, enjoining you very expressly to send 
to our imperial authority persons well-in- 
formed on all points in dispute between 
the bishop and yourselves. We shall de- 
mand the same of the said lords, the duke 
and the bishop, our cousins, for the settle- 
ment of your differences, which will be 
for the welfare and tranquillity of both 
parties. You will thus learn the desire 
we have that our subjects should live in 
peace, friendship and concord. 

"Dear liegemen, may God watch over 
you ! 

"At Augsburg, 18th of November, 
1530. Chakles." 

This letter from his imperial majesty 
created a great sensation in Geneva. The 
council hesitated as to their answer, and 
at length wrote that as the settlement 
which the emperor desired to undertake 
would be arranged at Payerne before the 
Swiss diet, they could not profit by his 
good intentions, and concluded by com- 
mending to him the city of Geneva, 
"which, from desiring to observe its 
strict duty, would have been almost de- 
stroyed but for the grace of God " 

Thus did the little city boldly decline 
the intervention of the great emperor. 
The duke and bishop were incensed at 
this reply. "Since these rebels reject 
the peaceful mediation of the emperor," 
they said, "we must bring t he matter to 
an end with the sword." It was planned 
that the Duke of Nemours with ten thou- 
sand lansquenets, should quietly advance 
by St. Claude and Gex, and destroy Ge- 
neva two days before the opening of the 
diet at Payerne, while the Duke of Savoy 
and the castles of the Pays de Vaud 
should co-operate. But Charles boasted 
of his intentions, and the movements of 
troops could not be concealed. Geneva 
and Switzerland were aroused, and the 
plot frustrated. 

The diet at Payerne'con ceded the vidamy 
to the duke, maintained the alliance of 
Geneva, Berne and Friburg, and con- 
demned Charles III. to pay these three 
cities 21,000 crowns. The release of Boni- 
vard was also demanded ; but the Count ot 
Chalons said he was " a lawful prisoner." 

It was now sought to attach Geneva to 
the papacy by a marvellous favor. To 
reward the heroism of the Sisters of St. 
Claire, the pope granted a general pardon 
to all who should perform certain devotions 
in the church of that convent. An im- 
mense crowd of devotees from the Savoy 
villages flocked at once into Geneva ; and 
when the citizens closed the city gates 
against them, they forced them open. 
According to a bull of Adrian VI., it was 
sufficient to repeat five Paters and Aves to 
obtain seventy thousand years of pardon. 
This system of indulgences increased the 
dislike of the Genevans to the Romish 
ceremonies, and was a singular procedure 
to strengthen the cause of Catholicism in 



Geneva. The syndics finally lost their 
patience, and had the strangers driven 
from the city. 

Clement VII. was incensed, but he dic- 
tated "of divine inspiration" a new par- 
don, to which the bishop of Geneva affixed 
his placet, and which inflicted the penalty 
of excommunication on any who should 
oppose it. Again the Savoyards flocked 
to the city in crowds ; the Genevans per- 
mitted all to enter upon whom no aims 
were found concealed. The pilgrims were 
as busy with eating and drinking as pray- 
ing, and the tavern-keepers were forced to 
set tables in the open air. "I very much 
fear," spoke a citizen, "that in order to 
sell her indulgences the Church makes 
many promises which God certainly will 
not fulfil. It'is a pious fraud, as Thomas 
iVquinas says." The Sisters of St. Claire 
rejoiced that they were thus favored. But 
the means which the pope had selected for 
re-annexing Geneva to Rome had quite a 
different effect ; they produced a revival 
of religion. 

An invisible hand was at that tima 
stretched over the city, and holding a 
blessing in reserve for it. Farel, on the 
shores of the lake of Neufchatel, wrote to 
Zwingle of the evangelical movement in 
Geneva in October, 1531, a few days before 
the reformer of Zurich fell on the battle- 
field of Cappel : "As for the degree of 
fervor with which the Genevans seek after 
piety — it is known only to the Lord." 

No one interested himself more than 
Farel in the reformation of Geneva. That 
year he was at Avenche, Payerne. Orbe, 
Grandson, and other places ; and every- 
where he ran the risk of losing his life. 
In one place a sacristan threatened him 
with a pistol ; in another, a friar tried to 
kill him with a knife concealed under his 
frock ; but Farel never thought of him- 
self. Of intrepid heart and indomitable 
will, always burning with desire to pro- 
mote the triumph of the Gospel, he yet 
dared not forsake his own field of labor. 
He thought of Pierre Toussaint, the young 
canon of Metz, who had joined Zwingle 
at Zurich on the invitation of CEcolam- 
padius ; and he urged him "to labor 
strenuously, so as to redeem by his zeal 
all the time he has lost." The amiable 
Toussaint at first seemed inclined to ac- 
cept the call ; but Geneva wanted a hero, 
and he had not the courage to be one. 
Farel was vexed, and in his anguish 
prayed to the Lord for relief. The mo- 
ment was soon to arrive when he would go 
himself to Geneva ; but before he appeared 
there, God would send a strong and mod- 
est man, who would prepare the way for 
Farel, Calvin and the Reformation. 

Meanwhile several Genevans sought for 
a negative reform that would do away 
with the mass, images, and priests. The 
friars, priests, and bigots, in alarm got up 
an agitation, and incited the procurator- 
fiscal to call for a severe inquiry upon all 
suspected persons. "Let us destroy 



006 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



heresy!" he repeated. The council, 
greatly perplexed, evaded the matter and 
did nothing. The fervent catholics now 
appealed to the Friburg ambassadors. 
The latter declared: " If Geneva is re- 
formed, there is an end to the alliance." 
The huguenots turned to the Bernese dep- 
uties, but the latter received them coldly. 
The protestant and the catholic cantons 
now each appealed to the council for mili- 
tary aid. The embarrassed council re- 
solved to send a hundred Genevans to 
fight for the Reformation in Zurich, and 
also an auxiliary force to support the 
catholic party of Friburg and Lucerne. 

The news of the war between the cath- 
olics and the reformed having reached 
Turin, the duke thought it a favorable op- 
portunity for attacking Geneva. It was 
reported that five thousand lansquenets 
were approaching on the side of Bur- 
gundy, ten thousand Italians on the side 
of the Alps, and that all the states of his 
highness beyond the mountains were in 
motion to fall upon the city. The Gene- 
vans lost not a moment, but ordered every 
suburb to be levelled, every one to keep a 
good look-out, and solemn prayers and 
processions to be made for three days. 

Thus, while Lucerne and the smaller 
cantons were attacking Zurich, the Duke 
of Savoy and the gentlemen of the Leman 
were preparing to attack Geneva. These 
two cities were in the sixteenth century 
the capitals of protestantism in Switzer- 
land. Geneva, however, was still rilled 
with priests and monks, while the choirs 
of all the churches re-echoed with the 
matins and other chants of the Romish 
ritual. But the election of God was 
brooding over it ; God prepared it, tried 
it, delivered it, because of the great things 
for which he destined it. At this critical 
time, a messenger arrived from Switzer- 
land announcing the defeat at Cappel : 
Zurich had succumbed. The protestant 
party throughout Switzerland was dis- 
heartened, while the Romanists rejoiced. 

The Genevan catholics anticipated their 
triumph. They and the Friburgers in- 
sulted the huguenots, and threw them into 
prison without trial. Thus they strove to 
restore Pierre de la Baume to his episcopal 
throne. The huguenots applied once more 
to the Bernese, but in vain. " The senate 
of Berne," repeated Farel, "would not 
put up with the slightest insult to one of 
their ambassadors, and yet they make 
light of serious insults offered to the Gos- 
pel of Christ." 

The defeat of Zurich redoubled the en- 
ergy of Duke Charles. Desirous of adorn- 
ing his brows with laurels similar to those 
of the victors at Cappel, he gave orders 
for a general attack. The troops of Vaud 
and Savoy surrounded Geneva, and cut off 
the supplies. On the 2d of January, 1582, 
the citizens resolved to keep watch day 
and night under arms, and to wall up the 
gates. 



On the 8th of January, three Bernese 
deputies, De Diesbach, De Watteville, and 
Nagueli, appeared before the council. 
"We are come from Gex, where the duke 
is lying," they said. "He consents to 
treat with you, if you will first renounce 
the alliance with the cantons. Remember, 
he is a mighty prince, and able to do you 
much harm. You have not yet paid for 
the last army we sent you ; we cannot set 
another on foot. We conjure you to come 
to some arrangement with his highness." 
The Genevans flushed with anger and 
indignation. The premier - syndic re- 
plied : " We will listen to no arrangement 
except how to preserve the alliance. The 
more we are threatened, the firmer we 
shall be. We will maintain our rights 
even till death. We trust in God, and in 
Messieurs of the two cities. And if, to 
pay you what we owe, we must pawn our 
property, our wives, and our children, we 
will do so. As for the alliance, we are re- 
solved to live and die for it." The people 
then cried out : " So be it ! We will do 
nothing else— we will die first!" "We 
will carry your answer back to our lords, ' ' 
said the Bernese; "and they will do 
what pleases them. ' ' Meanwhile the duke 
postponed his designs, and hurried off to 
Chambery. 

It was by such trials as these that 
Geneva was now prepared. If Geneva 
shone out in the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries, it was partly because at 
the epoch of the Reformation it had been 
sorely tried, and, if the expression be al- 
lowable, "brightly burnished." — "We 
are as it were annealed in the furnace of 
God," may be said of this city, "and the 
scum of our faith has been thus purged 
away." 

On the 7th of February, 1532, five am- 
bassadors — two from Berne, and three from 
Friburg — with Sebastian de Diesbach at 
their head, appeared at Geneva before the 
Council of Two Hundred ; they were the 
representatives of the Swiss aristocracy. 
They bluntly demanded that Geneva 
should renounce its alliance with the 
Swiss, and put the Duke of Savoy again 
in possession of his supremacy. Two 
hundred voices exclaimed : "We will die 
sooner." The next day Diesbach threat- 
ened the general council, but "all the 
people began to shout." The ambassa- 
dors, amazed and indignant, returned to 
their own country. "Let us make an 
attempt," said some Genevans, "to revive 
in Berne the noble aspirations for reform 
and liberty." Robert Vandel and two 
other deputies were sent to the banks of 
the Aar. He knew the citizens prevailed 
in the great council, and he explained 
how his countrymen would risk every- 
thing rather than separate from the Sw,ss. 
"We will maintain the alliance," they 
replied, "and if necessary, we will march 
to defend your rights." Friburg adopted 
the resolutions of Berne. 

On the 20th of February, Besan^on 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



907 



Hugues appeared before the council and 
resigned all his functions. " I am grow- 
ing old," he said, (he was only forty-live,) 
"I have many children, and I desire to 
devote myself to my own affairs." He 
had spared neither time, trouble, fortune, 
nor health to bring about the alliance 
with the Swiss. He thought he had ful- 
filled his task, and that Geneva needed 
new leaders for the new work. He al- 
ready felt the approaches of the disease 
which ended his life towards the end of the 
year. He was a good catholic, and he died 
of a broken heart. The head of Besancon 
Hugues did not fall under the sword 
of the executioner, like those of Berthe- 
lier and Levrier ; but the pacific hero sank 
under the weight of fatigue and sorrow. 
An invisible sword struck him ; and it 
may be said that the deaths of the three 
great men of Genevan emancipation were 
the deaths of martyrs. 

Just as the noble citizen, who had de- 
fended with such devotedness the indepen- 
dence of his country, had retired from the 
stage of the world, new plots were got up 
against Geneva ; but new strength came 
also to her help. An Emperor was rising 
against the city, and a schoolmaster was 
bringing it the everlasting Word. 

The imperial court was then at Ratis- 
bon, where the Germanic diet was to as- 
semble. The Duke and Duchess of Sa- 
voy, who could not make up their minds 
to resign Geneva, made every exertion to 
obtain" the influence of Charles V. to in- 
duce the bishop, his partisan, to cede his 
temporal principality to the duke's second 
son. The emperor consented, and his 
recommendations to the prelate could 
hardly have been more urgent if the safety 
of the German empire had been at stake. 

The duke was delighted, and began 
such military preparations that the Gene- 
vans, in May, 1532, dreaded another at- 
tack. 

The citizens boldly said that from the 
day when the pope had deprived the citi- 
zens of the choice of their ruler, and had 
nominated creatures or members of the 
house Of Savoy as bishops at Geneva, 
there had been in the city nothing but 
disorders, violence, extortion, imprison- 
ment, confiscations, tortures, and cruel 
punishments. They asked if it was not 
time to return to the primitive form of 
Christianity, to the popular organization 
of the Church ; they repeated that Geneva 
would never secure her independence and 
her liberty, except by trusting to the 
great principles of the Reformation. 
"Zurich," they said, "has resumed the 
rights which Rome had taken away : it is 
time that Geneva followed her example." 

The Reformation was neither a move- 
ment of liberty nor a philosophical de- 
velopment, but a christian, a heavenly 
renewal. It sought after God, and, hav- 
ing found him, restored him to man : that 
was its work. But, at the same time, 



wherever it was established, at least 
under the Calvinistic form, civil liberty 
followed it. 

At the very time when a beautiful prin- 
cess was coveting Geneva, an ambitious 
duke intriguing, and courtiers agitating, 
and when a puissant monarch was grant- 
ing his imperial favors, a humble school- 
master arrived in the city. His name was 
Peter Robert Olivetan, the student of the 
Hebrew and Greek Scriptures that had 
led his cousin, John Calvin, to know the 
Gospel. He was called to Geneva by 
Jean Chautemps, an influential and evan- 
gelical councillor, to instruct his children. 
Olivetan zealously labored to make the 
Gospel known to all whom he met, and 
Chautemps was led to be subsequently a 
bold defender of the Scriptures. Those 
who sought to learn of the truth were 
taught by him in small companies, and at 
times Olivetan preached under the vault 
of heaven. He "magnificently discharged 
the embassy entrusted to him ;" he 
preached salvation by the blood of Jesus 
Christ, and sanctification by the indwell- 
ing of the Holy Spirit. Olivetan was a 
singular reformer, a forerunner of Calvin 
in Geneva. Later, as we shall see, he 
gave to the reformed French Church its 
first Bible, a translation which, revised 
by Calvin, so greatly advanced the king- 
dom of God. Subsequently he crossed 
the Alps, and carried the Gospel into the 
very city of the pontiffs. But there he 
suddenly disappeared — poisoned, as some 
say. There is a veil over his death as 
over his life. 

Olivetan' s teaching had not been fruit- 
less. There occurred ere long an evangel- 
ical manifestation in Geneva, which was 
an important step, and the first public act 
of Reform. Calvin's cousin may have 
been the instrument, though Clement VII. 
was the proximate cause. 

The pope was preparing at that time to 
publish, not a local pardon like that of 
St. Claire, but a universal jubilee. A 
scholar said the custom thus originated : 
"On the eve of the new year 1300, a report 
spread suddenly through Rome (no one 
knew from whence it came) that a plenary 
indulgence would be granted to all who 
should go next morning to St. Peter's. 
A great crowd of Romans and foreigners 
hurried there, and in the midst of the mul- 
titude was an aged man who, stooping 
and leaning on his staff, wished also to 
take part in the festival. He was a hun- 
dred and seven years old, people said. He 
was conducted to the pope, the proud and 
daring Boniface VIII. The old man told 
him how, a century before, an indulgence 
of a hundred years had been granted on 
account of the jubilee ; he remembered it 
well, he said. Boniface, taking advantage 
of the declaration of this man, whose 
mind was weakened .by age, decreed that 
there should be a plenary indulgence 
every hundred years." The great gains 



908 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



which were made out of it, led to the jubi- 
lee being appointed to be held successively 
every fifty years, thirty-three years, and 
twenty-five years. But the jubilee of the 
twenty-fifth year did not always hinder 
that of the thirty-third. 

At Geneva people were already beginning 
to talk much about the coming jubilee. 
Olivetan and his friends were scandalized 
at it. "Christ alone is our peace," he 
said, "and alone gives our conscience the 
assurance that God is appeased and recon- 
ciled with it."— "A fine tariff is the 
pope's !" said the more decided of the hu- 
guenots. "Do yon want an indulgence for 
a false oath ? Pay 29 livres 5 sols. Do 
you want an indulgence for murder ? A 
man's life is cheaper ; a murder will only 
cost you 15 livres 2 sols 6 deniers." 

The Genevan reformers said : "If the 
pope sells indulgence;-;, the Gospel gives a 
free pardon. Since Rome advertises her 
pardon, let us advertise that of the Lord." 
Maison-Neuve and Goulaz arranged their 
plans, and early on the morning of the 9th 
of June, they posted on the walls in differ- 
ent parts of Geneva, this printed placard : — 

HEAVENLY FATHER, 

PKOMISES 

A GENERAL PARDON FOR ALL HIS SINS, 

TO EVERT ONE WHO FEELS SINCERE REPENTANCE, 

AND POSSESSES 

A LIVELY FAITH IN THE DEATH AND PROMISES 



JESUS CHRIST. 

Crowds gathered to read these procla- 
mations ; the catholics became excited, 
and soon passed from words to blows. A 
Friburg canon named Wernli tore down 
the notice displayed on a pillar in front of 
St. Pierre' s ; Goulaz replaced it with 
another. A fight with drawn swords fol- 
lowed between these men and their re- 
spective adherents, which lasted till the 
magistrates had separated the combatants. 

Goulaz certainly did not represent the 
Reform ; he was merely a Genevese patriot, 
and somewhat hasty ; but the Romish 
church could not disown a canon ; he was 
truly its representative, and men asked 
whether the church intended to combat 
the Gospel with sword and fist. The 
Savoyards rejoiced at the dissention. At 
Friburg the people were indignant at the 
placards, and despatched Councillor Lau- 
rent Brandebourg to threaten to annul the 
alliance if the Genevese were Lutherans. 
The council in alarm denied the charge, 
forbade the posting of any papers without 
their permission, and ordered that, "for 
the present, the schoolmaster should dis- 
continue preaching the Gospel." 

The priests were elated at this apparent 
triumph ; they began to visit each family 
and demand the surrender of their New 
Testaments. The friends of the Reforma- 



tion who were in the council began to 
speak out boldly of the rights of the Word 
of God. Olivetan often said the intention 
was not to introduce a new religion, but 
to re-establish an old one — that of the 
apostles. This idea, so simple and so 
true, was easily understood. The council 
now ordered (unanimously, as it would 
appear) the grand vicar, be Gingins of 
Bonmont, " to take measures that in every 
parish and convent the Gospel should be 
preached according to the truth, without any 
mixture of fables or other human inven- 
tions." The evangelicals, in their turn, 
were delighted at this order. They knew 
that the magistrates did not intend abol- 
ishing the Roman worship ; yet it was the 
first official act in Geneva in a direction 
favorable to the Reformation. 

There happened at this time to be a 
great crowd of priests at the palace of the 
bishop of Chambery ; a papal nuncio was 
passing through that city, and the arch- 
bishop, the nuncio and his attendants had 
some conversation about Geneva, loudly 
deploring its apostacy. The nuncio, a 
violent Romanist, would immediately have 
brought the facts to the court of Rome ; 
but the archbishop checked him till he 
had written to the council, asking : " Can 
it be true that such things are taking 
place in a city so long renowned for its 
faith? Put it in our power to tell the 
holy father that you will preserve a per- 
petual confidence in the holy apostolic 
see." The syndics were embarrassed, for 
they wished to favor neither Rome nor 
Wittemberg. They returned this verbal 
message : " Tell Monseigneur that we de- 
sire to live in a christian manner, and in 
accordance with the law of Christ." The 
archbishop, the nuncio, and the pope 
might understand that as they pleased. 
It was soon seen that Rome and Savoy 
had no intention of permitting Geneva to 
live according to that law of Christ vrhich 
the city had invoked. 

But if the papacy was uneasy, evangel- 
ical christians rejoiced. " The Gene- 
vans," said one, "are energetic men; if 
they embrace the Gospel, they will know 
how to propagate it elsewhere." Some 
pious christians of Pazere, under the 
name of their pastor, Anthony Saunier, 
in June, 1532, wrote an encouraging 
letter to the episcopal city, exhorting 
them to stand firm, and saying : " Our 
Lord God is for you, and the whole world 
cannot prevail against him. Be the stand- 
ard-bearers upon earth of the colors of 
our Saviour, so that by your means the 
Holy Gospel may be borne into many 
countries." The council deposited the 
letter among the city archives, where it 
may still be seen. 

Geneva was still far from the pure and 
living Christianity which breathes in this 
letter. But already there were to be found 
in the city souls who prized, above every- 
thing, the great pardon of Jesus Chrixt. 
Everything gave token that the renovation 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



909 



of Geneva was advancing ; but it still had 
numerous obstacles to overcome, and 
great works to achieve. The men of God 
who were to labor most at the transfor- 
mation of this city, Farel especially, have 
hitherto acted upon it from without only. 
But yet two months more, and that g^reat 
hearted evangelist will enter the city of 
the huguenots ; others will follow him ; 
they will be expelled from it by the 
friends of Rome ; but they will return with 
fresh determination, and labor with inde- 
fatigable zeal, until, after long darkness, 
we shall at last see the light of Jesus 
Christ shining in it. 

The ancient city had not at this time to 
contend with a single party : it was at- 
tacked by two antagonistic bands at once, 
by the bishop on the one hand, and by the 
reformers on the other. Which of these 
two armies will conquer it? Geneva, 
strange to say, at first rejects both. 

The fanaticism of the Genevese clergy, 
the respect felt by the magistrates for ex- 
isting institutions, the energy with which 
one portion of the people rejected the Re- 
formation, seemed to show that the move- 
ment by which Geneva was then agitated 
would end simply in the abolition of the 
temporal authority of the bishop. But 
other signs appeared to point to another 
conclusion. In proportion as the love of 
Gods Word increased in men's hearts, 
respect for the Romish religion diminished. 
The evangelical christians said that salva- 
tion was a thing for eternity, while a gov- 
ernment, even if ecclesiastical, was only a 
temporal thing. 

Moreover, a new element appeared. 
Ecclesiastical society had sunk into slum- 
ber and death ; in the sixteenth cen- 
tury the Reformation aroused it, and 



restored it to activity and life. Farel is 
one of the most remarkable types of this 
christian animation ; his unbounded ardor, 
his indefatigable labors were, with God's 
help, to secure the victory. 

It is true that this new force soon turned 
against the Reform. The Romish Church 
woke up also, and put itself in motion, 
particularly after the foundation of the 
order of the Jesuits ; but its activity dif- 
fered widely from that of the reformers. 
The latter descended from on high ; that 
of the Roman clergy came from below. 
At all events, popery soon became as ener- 
getic as protestantism. Geneva was to 
have combats without and combats within. 
Not only secret councils, traitorous con- 
spiracies, fanatical preachings ; but also 
riots in the streets, cannon in the squares, 
assaults with the sword, the arquebuse 
and the dagger ; imprisonment, exile and 
poisoning. 

But to all these efforts of the powers of 
darkness, the men of the Gospel will op- 
pose the resplendent army of light. They 
will proclaim the love of God, they will 
announce the work of Christ, they will 
publish grace. And, thanks to the spirit- 
ual weapons they employ, two or three 
humble instruments of the Word of God 
will scatter the councils of their terrible 
adversary, destroy his fortresses, and hum- 
ble even to the dust the barriers he had 
raised against the knowledge of God. 
The roujih Farel, the gentle Viret, the 
weak Froment, will overcome the powers 
of Rome in Geneva, even before Calvin, 
the great captain, appears. God chooses 
the weak things of the world to confound 
the things which are mighty, and the 
things which are not to bring to nought 
things that are. 



910 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK IV. 



TIMES OF HOSTILITY TO THE REFORM IN FRANCE. 



1533—1535. 



Calvin, the Fugitive, in his Retreat at Angouleme. — The Exile turns Preacher. — Calvin at 
Nerac, with Roussel and Lefevre. — A Dramatic representation at the Court of Navarre.— 
Calvin at Poitiers, at the Basses-Treilles, and in St. Benedict's Cave. — Calvin and his dis- 
ciples begin the Evangelization of France. — The Evangelical Christians of Paris in 1534. — 
Calvin's first relations with the Libertines and with Servetus. — The Placards. — The King's 
Anger — Expiations and Processions. — Eloquence and Tortures of Francis I. — Calvin at 
Strasburg with Erasmus, and at Basle. — Institutes of the Christian Religion. — Calvin 
addresses the King and departs for Italy. 



Religion needs liberty, and the convic- 
tions inspired by her ought to be exempt 
from the control of the Louvre and of the 
Vatican. Man' s conscience belongs to God 
alone, and every human power that en- 
croaches on this kingdom and presumes to 
command within it is guilty of rebellion 
against its lawful sovereign. Religious 
persecution deserves to be reprobated, not 
only in the name of philosophy, but above 
all in the name of God's right. His sove- 
reign Majesty is offended when the sword 
enters into the sanctuary. A persecuting 
government is not only illiberal, it is im- 
pious . Let no man thrust himself between 
God and the soul ! The spot on which they 
meet is holy ground. Away, intruder ! 
Leave the soul with him to whom it be- 
longs. These thoughts naturally recur to 
us a^ we approach an epoch when a perse- 
cuting fanaticism broke out in France, 
when scaffolds were raised in the streets 
of Paris, and when acts of terrible cruelty 
were enthusiastically applauded by a royal 
cortege. 

During three centuries the martyrs said 
to the pagan emperors : " Is it not an irre- 
ligious act to forbid my worshipping the 
God whom I like, and to force me to wor- 
ship the god whom I dislike?" The 
Church for centuries claimed this liberty 
of conscience ; but, strange to say ! this 
principle so admirable for self-defence, be- 
came impious when appealed to for shelter 
from her persecutions. 

We must never forget that two centuries 
of cruel persecution was the welcome the 
world gave to the Reformation. When the 
day of St. Bartholomew saw the streets of 
the capital of the Valois run with blood, 
■ — when ruffians glutted their savage pas- 
sions on the corpse of that best and great- 
est of Frenchmen, Coligny — immense was 
the enthusiasm at Rome, and a fierce shout 
of exultation rang through the pontifical 
city. Wishing to perpetuate the glory of 
the massacre of the huguenots, the pope 
ordered a medal to be struck, representing 
that massacre and bearing the device : 
Hugonotorum sirages. The officers of the 
Roman court still sell this medal to all who 
desire to carry away some remembrance of 
their city. Those times are remote ; milder 



manners prevail, but it is the duty of pro- 
testantism to remind the world how the 
court of Rome strove to crush out resist- 
ance to her authority in the Reformation. 
We must now follow the young doctor in 
his flight from persecution. 

Calvin, (as we have seen,) through the 
channel of his friend Cop the rector, had 
displayed before the Sorbonne and a nu- 
merous audience the great principles of 
the Gospel. University, monks, priests, 
had all been excited, scandalized, and 
exasperated ; parliament had interfered ; 
Calvin and Cop were obliged to flee. 
Calvin had promised himself a tranquil 
career ; but he rejoiced to bear testimony 
to the truth by his exile. He remained in 
hiding several days at the residence of the 
Sire de Haseville, near Mantes, and then 
resumed his journey to the south. He 
halted at the old city and castle of Angou- 
leme, the birth-place of Margaret of Na- 
varre. Here he found a friendly shelter in 
the mansion of the family of Du Tillet, 
whose members were the most learned in 
the kingdom. The father and two of his 
sons were detained in Paris by official 
duty ; but another son, Louis, canon of 
the cathedral, was at home. Louis wel- 
comed with joy his fugitive friend, listened 
to his spiritual conversations with delight, 
and installed him in the midst of one of the 
most valuable private libraries then exist- 
ing in France : it contained over four thou- 
sand volumes, printed or manuscript. 

Calvin, who needed retirement and re- 
pose, felt happy. A learned retreat like 
that now given him, was the dream of his 
whole life. A new epoch, a new phase, 
was beginning for him : before rushing 
into the storms of an agitated career, he 
was to be tempered anew in the fire of the 
Divine Word and of prayer. The Church 
was waking up from the slumber of death, 
throwing back the winding-sheet of 
popery, and rising from the sepulchre. 
One universal cry was heard among all 
the nations of the West. At Worms, a 
monk had demanded the Holy Scriptures 
of God in presence of the imperial 
diet ; a priest had demanded them at 
Zurich ; students had demanded them at 
Cambridge ; at Spire an assembly of 




THE TORTURE CHAMBER. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



911 



princes had declared that they would hear 
nothing but the preaching of that heavenly 
Word ; and its life-bearing doctrines had 
been solemnly confessed at Augsburg in 
the presence of Charles V. Germany, 
Switzerland, England, the Low Countries, 
Italy — all Europe was stirred, and France 
was moved. A young man so modest and 
timid, needed the baptism of the Spirit 
and of fire to battle for the faith. Alone 
and forced to hide himself, he found an 
inward peace and joy which he had never 
known before. Accordingly, he dated his 
letters Doxopolis, the city of glory. An- 
gouleme was to him what Wartburg was 
to Luther. "It is the hand of God that 
has done this," he wrote. "Only let us 
trust in Him, and He will care for us." 

The young canon treated his friend with 
great kindness. Calvin repaid his zeal 
for learning and the Gospel by giving all 
his attention to study, so "that he passed 
whole nights without sleeping, and days 
without eating." A great idea was filling 
his heart. Parliament accused and even 
burnt his brethren for pretended heresies. 
"Must I be silent," he said, "and thus 
give unbelievers an opportunity of con- 
demning a doctrine they do not know? 
Why should not the Reformed have a 
confession to lay before their adversa- 
ries?" The library showed him that 
apologies had formerly been presented to 
the Emperor Adrian by Quadratus and 
Aristides, to Antoninus by Justin Martyr, 
and to Marcus Aurelius by Athenagoras. 
Ought not the friends of the Reformation 
to present a similar defence to Francis I. ? 
If Calvin's mouth is shut, he will take up 
the pen. God was then setting him apart 
for one of the great works of the age. 
The Christian institutes were here medi- 
tated and sketched, but not written. One 
of the enemies of the Reform was thus led 
to exclaim: "That is the factory where 
he began to make the nets that he after- 
wards fixed up to catch the simple, and 
from which a man must be very clever to 
get out. It was there that he wove the 
web of his Institutes, which we may call 
the Koran or the Talmud of heresy." 

The teachings of gross materialism by 
sophistical speakers pained Calvin while 
at Angouleme. He shuddered to hear 
them say : ' ' God has not placed in man a 
soul different from that of the beast. It 
cannot exist without the body, and perishes 
with it, until man rises again whole." To 
be a man and to rank one's-self among 
beasts, seemed to him foolish and impious. 
He refuted the materialists by his writ- 
ings : "When the Lord says that the 
wicked kill the body but cannot kill the 
soul, does he not mean that the soul sur- 
vives after death? Know you not that, 
according to Scripture, the souls of the 
saints stand before the throne of God, and 
that white robes were given unto every 
one of them?" Then resoning to irony, 
he continued: "Sleepy souls, what, 1 1 
pray, do you understand by these white I 



? Do you take them for pillows on 
which the souls recline that are con- 
demned to die?" 

He found repose from these struggles in 
the society of Du Tillet. " We have no 
need," said the young canon, "of those 
secrets which Pythagoras employed to 
produce an indissoluble friendship be- 
tween his disciples. God has planted a 
mysterious seed between our souls, and 
that seed cannot die." 

By degrees, however, Calvin came out 
of his retirement, and sought communion 
with the varied forms of nature. " In the 
presence of the works of God," he said, 
"we are overcome with astonishment, and 
our tongues and senses fail us." A vine- 
yard close to the city was frequently vis- 
ited by him, and it yet bears the name of 
La Calvine. At this time John Du Tillet, 
afterwards bishop of Meaux, arrived at 
Angouleme. Calvin soon won his heart, 
and while teaching the two brothers to 
read the New Testament in Greek, he led 
them to seek Christ. In 1549, John pub- 
lished a very old manuscript ascribed to 
Charlemagne, Against Images, and was 
traduced by the catholics. "A man who 
has been Calvin's pupil," said the famous 
Cardinal du Perron, "cannot well have 
any other opinion." These Greek lessons 
were continued at Claix. There Calvin's 
simple dress, modest look, keen intelli- 
gence and uprightness, enlisted the affec- 
tions of certain friends of the Du Tillets, 
ecclesiastics of good family, men of letters 
and of feeling : they were Anthony de 
Chaillou, Prior of Bouteville, the Abbot 
of Balsac, (near Jarnac,) the famous De 
la Place, the Sieur de Torsac, Charles 
Girault, and others. 

Regular conferences were soon substi- 
tuted for these simple conversations. At 
these Calvin opened the Bible, placed his 
hand upon it, and said : " Let us find the 
truth?" He felt the necessity of giving a 
solid foundation to the faith of his friends, 
and several times commented to them 
upon his notes of the Christian Institutes. 
"No one can equal him," they said, "in 
loftiness of language, conciseness of ar- 
rangement, and majesty of style." His 
explanations, so deep and yet so clear, 
were not without their use. Many of the 
most notable men of the district were won 
over to evangelical convictions : the Prior 
of Bouteville was called for his zealous- 
ness : "The Lutheran's Pope." 

"Compose, some short Christian exhor- 
tations for us," said his friends to him, 
"and we will give them to well-disposed 
parish priests to read to their congrega- 
tions." He did so, and humble clerks 
read these evangelical appeals from their 
pulpits, as well as they could. Certain 
church dignitaries urged him to deliver 
some Latin orations before the clergy, and 
Calvin gladly explained to them the evan- 
gelical doctrines. In this way he inaugu- 
rated his career as a reformer. But all 



912 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



this could not be done without giving rise 
to murmurs. 

While Francis I. was endeavoring to 
stifle the Reformation in the north of 
France, it was spreading about the Py- 
renees in the south. "Towns and vil- 
lages were perverted suddenly by hearing 
a single sermon," says a historian. Ser- 
vices were held in retired spots and in 
caverns ; at times the preachers were not 
able to arrive. " Then," says a catholic, 
" women might be seen trampling on the 
modesty of their sex, taking a Bible, 
reading it, and even assuming the bold- 
ness to interpret it, while waiting for the 
minister." At this epoch the Queen of 
Navarre arrived in the south, glad to be 
away from the frivolities of the court of 
France. Her candor and friendliness en- 
chanted all who came near her ; her ac- 
tivity was 'inexhaustible. She sent out 
colporteurs who made their way into 
houses, and while selling jewelry to the 
young women, presented them also with 
New Testaments, printed in fine charac- 
ters, ruled in red, and bound in vellum 
with gilt edges. "The mere sight of 
these books," says an historian, "excited 
a desire to read them." She also took 
pleasure in relieving the distressed, and 
in founding schools. Lefevre of Etaples 
and Gerard Roussel were near her, and 
her chaplain preached under her auspices ; 
but he vainly aimed at preserving evan- 
gelical life under catholic forms. 

Calvin was not far from Nerac, and he 
longed to stir up these evangelicals to re- 
ject every compromise with superstition. 
About the end of February he left An- 
gouleme and visited Roussel at Nerac. 
" There is no good left in Catholicism," 
he said. "We must re-establish the 
Church in its ancient purity." — " What 
is that you say?" answered the astonished 
Roussel ; " God's house ought to be puri- 
fied, no doubt, but not destroyed." — " Im- 
possible," said the young reformer; "the 
edifice is so bad that it cannot be repaired. 
We must pull it down entirely, and build 
another in its place." — Roussel exclaimed 
with alarm: "We must cleanse the 
Church, but not by setting it on fire. If 
we take upon ourselves to pull it down, 
we shall be crushed under the ruins." 

Calvin retired in sorrow, and sought 
out Lefcvre's house. "He is a little bit 
of a man, old as Herod, but lively as gun- 
powder, ' ' was told him. Lefevre had pro- 
fessed the great doctrine of justification 
by faith even before Luther ; but he 
vainly hoped to see the Church reform 
itself. Calvin strove to remove the old 
man's illusions, and Lefevre exclaimed, 
weeping : " Alas ! I know the truth ; but 
I keep myself apart from those who pro- 
fess it." . . . "Young man," he said, 
" you will be one day a powerful instru- 
ment in the Lord's hand. . . . God will 
make use of you to restore the kingdom 
of heaven in France. Be on your guard 



against the extreme ardor of your mind. 
Take Melancthon as your pattern, and let 
your strength be always tempered with 
charity." The old man pressed the young 
man's hand, and they parted never to see 
each other again. 

It is not probable that Margaret was in 
Nerac at that time, and Calvin is believed 
to have returned to Du Tillet's without 
meeting her. 

Henry and Margaret quitted Nerac for 
Pau, where they intended passing the 
winter, amid the finest gardens then 
known in Europe. The queen liked to 
walk in them, conversing with Cardinal 
de Foix, the bishop of Tarbes, and other 
celebrities, who admired her wit and grace. 
Yet these ecclesiastics often caused her 
much vexation by their constant watch- 
fulness of her actions. 

She began the day by attending morn- 
ing service in the catholic church of 
the parish ; then in the afternoon she 
held a private meeting of evangelicals in 
her chamber, to whom Roussel or Lefevre 
delivered an exhortation. Some of the 
humble believers who attended, soon de- 
sired to partake of the Lord's Supper. 
By the queen's orders, her servants pri- 
vately prepared a secret underground hall 
called the Mint. They carried a table 
there, covered it with a white cloth, and 
placed a basin on it containing "a few 
slices of plain bread," and by its side some 
cups full of wine, "instead of chalices " 
The believers came cautiously and agi- 
tated, and the queen sat among them as a 
simple christian. Roussel appeared with- 
out a sacerdotal costume ; "he took com- 
mon bread," and handed around the cup 
"without making the sign of the cross." 

Notwithstanding its secrecy, this cele- 
bration was talked about in the castle. 
The King of Navarre was quite annoyed 
at it. One day he was told that a minis- 
ter was preaching in her chamber, and he 
abruptly entered the room just after the 
escape of the auditors. Seeing only the 
queen agitated and trembling, he struck her 
in the face, saying : " Madame, you desire 
to know too much." For this affront to 
the royal family of France, the king 
"scolded Henry d'Albret soundly." 

Margaret sought to win her husband 
over by the representation of a biblical 
drama. She took for her subject The 
Birth of the Saviour, and having completed 
her poem, distributed the parts among 
certain noble maidens. The great hall of 
the castle was fitted up as a theatre, and 
when the day came it was crowded. The 
king and queen sat in the front, the latter 
wearing a plain dress trimmed with mar- 
ten's fur, and a Bearnese hood. The Car- 
dinals De Grammont and De Foix, with 
other members of the clergy ; Margaret's 
ten stewards, her esquires and thirty-eight 
maids, her seventeen secretaries, and her 
twenty valets-de-chambre, with many 
strangers, were present. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



913 



The first act opened at Nazareth, in the 
house of a poor carpenter. Mary is soon 
to become a mother, and Joseph is anxious 
about the consequences of a journey from 
Nazareth to Bethlehem. The young Is- 
raelitish woman says to him : 

... Us no danger shall come nigh, 
For he whose power o'ershadowed me, 
Holds in his hand both fruit and tree. 

The scene changes, and we are at Beth- 
lehem. The same man and woman have 
just arrived from Nazareth after a 
fatiguing journey. He seeks shelter from 
door to door : 

"Will you please lodge my wife and me? 
For the poor woman, as you see, 
Is near her time. 

His requests are refused, and he says with 
a deep sigh : 

Onward then, and God will tell 
Where he pleases we should dwell. 

Mary begins to be wearied : 

Woe's me, I feel the hour draw near 
For the long-looked-for fruit t' appear. 

The startled Joseph presses Mary to en- 
ter into a bleak stable near by, and pro- 
poses to start to town for help. 

MART. 

Go, go my friend : I shall not be alone, 
For where bod is, there also is my home. 

The scene changes to heaven. The eyes 
of the Lord are fixed with kindness on 
Mary, whose sleep is gentle, and peaceful. 
He orders the angels to leave heaven and 
announce to mankind the news of a great 
joy. The humblest of them says : 

.... And I, Lord . . . 
I will go see the least of all, 

And tell him how great he has become 
Since the great one has become small. 

Hymns of praise resound through heaven : 
Glory to Thee, Almighty Lord ! 

Mary awakes, and her heart is filled 
with joy. 

Strange ! a virgin .... yet a mother 
Of a son above all other, 

Very God and very man! 
Emanuel ! of the Father dearest Son. . . 
May my hands be joined with thine ? 
May thy lips be touched by mine ? 

The angels salute the virgin and child. 
Joseph soon arrives and does homage ; the 
babe is placed in the manger, and the act 
ends. 

The second act represented the shep- 
herds and shepherdesses- keeping watch 
over their flocks near Bethlehem. 

SHEPHERDESS. 

- Tell me, shepherd, what He promised 
To the patriarchs who waited 
Patiently for ages 1 . . . 



Shepherd. 
He has promised the Messiah, 
His true Son, through whom alone 
Life to us has been restored, 
And salvation. 

Shepherdess. 
Would to God the hour was nigh ! 

Shepherd. 
Come, Lord, and no longer tarry ! 

Suddenly a bright light shines, and an 
angel announces : 

The Saviour Jesus Christ is born. . 
Wrapped in swaddling bands, the Son 
Has a manger for a throne. 

A multitude of angels sing the hymn — 
Glory be to God most high. 

The watchers then bear ' ' presents to 
their scanty fare." 

Shepherd. 
. . . Thou art the promised seed 
To Adam after his misdeed. 
Abraham and David on this relied, 
And both alike were justified. 

Second Shepherd. 
The eye beholds a weak and powerless child ; 
But faith which comes of knowledge bids us 

bow 
In honor and in adoration at his feet, 
As the true God. 

Shepherd. 
Serving thee we'll live and die, 
For without thee life is naught. 

The third act showed Satan startled by 
the hymn of the shepherdesses : 
Hail ! to the Virgin-born, 

llail ! to the Lord and Son, 
Who in this happy morn, 

The veil of earth puts on. 
Loud praise to God be given 
Who makes us heirs of heaven. 

Appearing as a great lord, he asks 
them : 
Whence come you? 

Shepherd. 
From seeing Christ, the Saviour of mankind, 
By whom in God we are regenerate. 
Will you not go and see him, mighty lord? 
I'll show the way. 

Satan. 
God from His throne on high 
For tbis world does not care. 
I am its king. . . . Yes, I. 

Shepherd. 
To the Sen we leave the glory 
Of being God. Enough for us 
To be whatso'er he pleases, 
And to know that He's the great I AM. 

Satan. 
Can you understand the Scriptures ? 

Second Shepherd. 
With all humbleness we read them. 

Third Shepherd. 
In our hearts the Christ doth dwell 
Who has conquered death and hell. 



914 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



Then the mysterious voice of God pro- 
claims the victory of the new-born child : 

Satan's tyrant reign is o'er ; 

By the spotless Lamb 'tis ended, 
Who to suffer on the cross 

For us sinners has consented. . . . 
At my right the Lamb shall sit. . . . 
Angels sing the Lamb exalted 

High o'er all, and Satan quelled. 

The play closed with the angels' song 
of triumph : 

Glory be to God on high, 
Who our greatest enemy, 

Satan, hath o'erthrown. 
Honors to the Lamb express 
By whom all the blessedness 

Of the Father is made known. 

Many were pleased with the admirable 
play. A catholic historian says of the 
grateful king: "From the comedy he 
went to the preaching, which took place 
in the queen's chamber." The ecclesi- 
astics were offended, especially at the in- 
terludes which ridiculed the failings of the 
monks ; but these parts were not written 
by Margaret. Cardinals De Grammont 
and De Foix withdrew from the court, 
while the stricter christians asked if it 
were lawful to introduce angels and even 
God himself on the stage. 

It is time to follow the reformer. 



Calvin meditated leaving the south ; he 
was not at ease in Angouleme. The 
agitation amongst the clericals and the 
traditional elements which many of his 
hearers desired to retain, were alike dis- 
pleasing to him. Altars, images, holidays 
dedicated to Mary and the saints, confess- 
ors and confession — none of these things 
appeared to him scriptural. He was in 
the habit of saying: "Above all things 
we must confess our Lord fully, without 
shrinking from anything soever." 

Where should he go? His thoughts led 
him first to Poitiers, whence he proposed 
to visit Orleans, Paris, and then Germany 
and Switzerland, to study and gain knowl- 
edge by intercourse with reformers. — 
" Where you go, I will go," said the young 
canon ; "my heart is filled with the faith 
that animates you." The two friends de- 
parted : Calvin under the name of Charles 
d'Espeville, and Du Tillet under that of 
Hautmont. 

They arrived in the plains of Poitiers, 
where Abelard had labored long before, 
about the end of March, 1534, and stopped 
with Messire Fouquet, prior of Trois 
Moutiers, a learned ecclesiastic. The 
university was flourishing, and the public 
disputations attracted Calvin's attention. 
Beneath much quibbling and idle trash, 
the young doctor could see flashes of light 
here and there. He sought out the evan- 
gelical combatants, spoke to them openly 
of Christ and of eternity, and aimed at the 
conquest of their souls. He required in 
every one the formation of a new man and 



cared about nothing else. Thus Calvin be- 
gan in Poitiers a work of regeneration, and 
numerous hearers soon crowded around 
him. Some were offended at his words ; 
others opposed the heretic with dilemmas 
and cunning catches ; others turned their 
backs on him, " as if he were an ordinary 
mountebank." 

Yet generous men gathered eagerly 
around the young and powerful doctor. 
These were Albert Babinot, jurist, poet, 
and law-reader ; Anthony Veron, pro- 
cureur to the lower court ; Anthony de la 
Dugie, doctor-regent ; Jean Boisseau de 
la Borderie, advocate ; Jean Vernou of 
Poitiers, the Sieur de St. Vertumien, and 
Charles le Sage, doctor-regent, a man of 
great esteem. One of these distinguished 
men especially won Calvin's heart : it was 
Pierre de la Place, a native of Angouleme, 
a friend of Du Tillet, afterwards president 
of the Court of Aids, and one of the 
St. Bartholomew martyrs. But Le Sage, 
another of these eminent men, kept him- 
self rather aloof ; he was a believer in the 
miracle of transubstantiation. 

The chief magistrates of Poitiers soon 
sought Calvin's acquaintance, and he ac- 
cepted an invitation to dine from Lieut. - 
general Pierre Regnier de la Planche. 
"This innovator," said the catholics, 
"desires to court the magistrates, in or- 
der that they may give him importance 
by their condescension. ' ' He was received 
with respect, and after the meal the host 
blamed the opinions of Luther and Zwin- 
gle upon the mass. Calvin temperately 
explained the chief points. " Luther saw 
the truth," he said, "but he is like those 
who are walking through a long and wind- 
ing road ; they perceive afar the dim glim- 
mer of a lamp, by means of which they 
can grope their way along the path they 
must follow. Zwingle approached the 
light, but like those who rush too hastily 
to good he went beyond it." Then wish- 
ing them to understand what there was 
in the Lord's Supper, he stated more in 
detail the idea of the presence of Christ, 
a real one no doubt, but to be received by 
faith and not by the mouth : thus taking 
a middle position between Zwingle and 
Luther. 

These discourses gained his hearers to 
protestantism. Regnier and his son Louis 
subsequently took part in the struggles 
against the Guises. Henceforth the gar- 
den of the Basses-Treilles was a favorite 
resort for Calvin and his friends. One 
day they consulted about what France 
needed most. The answer was easy : the 
Gospel. But France, alas ! rejected it. 
"This," says the catholic historian, 
"was the first Calvanistic council held in 
France ;" and it bore fruit. De la Place 
was impressed ; ' ' the seed fallen into his 
heart began to grow, and it put forth fruit 
in the season God had ordained." 

The agitation which Calvin excited in 
Poitiers, the admiration of some, the un- 
easiness of others, grew stronger every 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



915 



day. It was resolved to meet in an adja- 
cent wilderness, containing a number of 
deep and isolated caverns, by the tranquil 
waters of the Claim The cave selected 
has since borne the name of Calvin's 
grotto. The reformer took his stand on 
the highest ground, and his disciples 
gathered round to have him preach Christ 
to them. "Better be deprived of every- 
thing and possess Christ," he said one 
day ; "he is our only blessedness." These 
pilgrimages to St. Benedict's caves were 
soon observed, and for fear of disturb- 
ances the places of meeting were fre- 
quently changed. When his hearers sepa- 
rated, their teacher gave books to every- 
one, "and even prayers written with his 
own hands." 

Calvin's opposition to the mass gave 
greater offence to the catholics every day ; 
for he did not spare this Romish ceremony. 
" I call it a monkey-trick," he said, " be- 
cause they mock the supper of the Lord, 
just as a monkey imitates clumsily what- 
ever he sees others do. I call it a bur- 
lesque, because the nonsense and gestures 
they introduce are better adapted to a 
stage-play than to so holy a mystery." 
Le Sage, abruptly interrupting him, ex- 
claimed : "Our Lord, very God and very 
man, is really and substantially under the 
appearance of the bread and the wine. . . 
In all ages, wherever men have known 
Christ, the sacrifice of the mass has been 
offered up." Calvin was silent a moment, 
then placing his hand on the open Bible, 
he exclaimed earnestly: "This is my 
mass !" Uncovering his head and lifting 
his eyes to heaven, he said with emotion : 
" O Lord, if in the day of judgment Thou 
desirest to punish me because I have de- 
serted the mass, I will say to Thee : O 
God, Thou hast not commanded me to 
celebrate it. Behold Thy Law. ... Be- 
hold Thy Holy Scripture Thou 

didst give it to us to be our guide, and I 
can find no other sacrifice in it than that 
which was accomplished on the altar of the 
cross." His hearers were touched with 
the reformer's faith at once so simple and 
so strong. 

From that time many manifested a de- 
sire to receive the supper according to the 
Lord's institution. On a set day, they 
met in one of the caves of St. Benedict. 
The minister read the Word of God, and 
called upon the Lord to pour out His 
Spirit on the little flock. He broke the 
bread and handed round the cup ; and 
then invited the worshippers to communi- 
cate mutually such reflections and expe- 
riences as might be useful to the faith. 
These simple exhortations after the Sup- 
per were continued for some time in the 
reformed Church. 

It was necessary to begin the conver- 
sion of France on a larger scale. Might 
not that country, whose agitations have 
often disturbed Europe, and which never 
trembles but all around it is shaken — be- 



come, if it received the Gospel, a centre 
of light and a powerful means of strength- 
ening the nations in justice and peace ? 
That would no doubt have happened, had 
it become protestant. Calvin, by labor- 
ing thirty years for Geneva and France, 
labored for the whole christian world. He 
made the first experiment at Poitiers, and 
began that glorious evangelizing campaign 
which he was to direct until the close of 
his life. 

The castles, abbeys, and villages of the 
neighborhood were visited by the young 
and zealous doctor. Ponthus, a liberal and 
learned abbot of a Benedictine convent a 
few leagues south of Poitiers, invited Calvin 
to preach in his church. The latter gladly 
declared that whosoever had a firm and 
lively faith in the grace of Christ was 
saved. "What a perverse doctrine," 
said some; "why does the abbot allow 
this Heard to preach it in his church ?' ' 
Ponthus tried to remain a christian abbot 
like Roussel, and to preach the gospel 
from his pulpit ; but his hearers taunted 
him with "preaching the rudiments of 
heresy." The honest abbot was ill at 
ease ; but he speedily dismissed his monks, 
and gave up his forced celibacy for a wife. 
He was the first abbot in France who 
showed himself a Lutheran, and his three 
brothers followed his example. 

Calvin now longed to evangelize France. 
One day at his meeting, he said : "Is 
there any one here willing to go and give 
light to those whom the pope has blind- 
ed?" Jean Yernou, Philip Veron and 
Albert Babinot stood forward. "You, 
Babinot, will go into Guyenne and Lan- 
guedoc," he said ; " Philip Veron, you will 
go into Saintonge and Angoumois ; and 
you, Jean Vernou, will stay at Poitiers 
and the neighborhood." They prayed to- 
gether, a collection was made for the ex- 
penses of the mission, and the evangelists 
departed. 

Babinot, firm, upright, zealous, and very 
gentle, "went through the country, pray- 
ing secretly here and there in humble con- 
venticles ; many were brought to the light 
by him." Veron spent twenty years in 
walking on foot through Poitou, Anjou, 
Angoumois, Saintonge, and even Guyenne. 
"I desire," said he, "to gather up the 
stray sheep of the Lord;" hence he was 
called the Gatherer. He had with him 
some of Calvin's manuscripts, which he 
used to read to his hearers to strengthen 
them. These evangelists especially ad- 
dressed the young ; for Calvin said : " Let 
your first attention be always to the pro- 
fessors and schoolmasters." The catho- 
lics complained: " The young heads em- 
brace these new doctrines with such 
courage, that many, who have only down 
on their chins, expose themselves to vol- 
untary death, and thus both lose soul and 
body." John Vernou held linn at Poitiers, 
and aroused the students. The Reforma- 
tion is fond of learning ; it l<>>>ks upon 
science as the friend of religion. And 



916 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



accordingly the Reformation calls upon 
them to be united. The moral element 
should prevail in both ; if it is weakened, 
religion easily produces fanatics, and 
science unbelievers. Calvin thought thus, 
and his disciple Yernou scattered in the 
unnversity the seeds of christian doctriue. 
The wrath of the clergy and many lay- 
men was aroused. They dealt a death- 
blow through the king ; but protestantism 
was not slain. Vernou was subsequently 
burnt alive at Chambery ; Babinot and 
Veron preached in the west of France till 
their death. 

The prior of Trois-Moutiers grew 
uneasy at Calvin's doings, and urged him 
to continue his journey. In the month of 
April, 1534, accompanied by the faithful 
Du Tillet, he bade his friends in Poitiers 
farewell. On the 10th of July, he would 
be twenty-five years old. His age and his 
friends now summoned him to enter holy 
orders. There was no ecclesiastical dig- 
nity to which a mind so eminently admin- 
istrative might not aspire ; but he rejected 
these temptations. "If I make myself 
the pope's vassal," he said, "how can I 
conscientiously fight against the papists ? 
The Gospel is more than all the riches, 
honor, and ease of this world. I am ready 
to give up everything that withdraws me 
from it." Calvin passed through OrLeans 
and Paris to Noyon. On Monday, May 4th, 
1534, in the presence of the grand vicar of 
Monseigneur the bishop and count of 
Noyon, of his chancellor, and of the 
notary of the chapter, Calvin resigned the 
chapel of Gesine in favor of Master 
Anthony de la Marliere, and his cure in 
favor of another ecclesiastic of Noyon. 
It would even appear that he sold his pat- 
rimonial property at the same time. 
Having broken the last ties that bound 
him to the Roman Church, Calvin began 
to speak with greater freedom to those 
around him of the Gospel. His brother 
Anthony and sister Mary were the first to 
answer ; his other brother, Charles, came 
afterwards. About the end of May he 
returned to Paris, where fresh struggles 
awaited him. 

In Paris, the times seemed favorable to 
the Gospel. The King of England, 
although catholic at heart, had resolved to 
emancipate himself from the dominion of 
Rome ; and men asked whether Francis I. 
would not imitate "his good brother." 
At that time he was uniting with the 
protestant princes of Germany ; he was 
restoring one of them to his states, and 
laying before the French clergy articles 
of faith drawn up by the author of the 
Confession of Augsburg. There was in all 
classes a leaning towards a Reformation. 
William du Bellay, the king's minister, 
wrote to Bucer the reformer : ' ' Every 
thing bids us be hopeful : the king's taste 
for a better learning (that is, for the Holy 
Scriptures) increases day by day." Bucer 
wrote: "The pope's reign is falling very 



low in France, and many people long for 
Jesus Christ." 

Such were the circumstances under 
which Calvin came to reside in Paris at 
the house of his friend La Forge, at the 
sign of the Pelican, in the Rue St. Martin. 
The pious tradesman and his wife warned 
him to beware of teaching in public, if he 
would not risk his life. Pointet, the evan- 
gelical surgeon who reprimanded the 
monks for their immoralities, he was told 
had been condemned to be burnt after 
being strangled. That steadfast christian 
refused to recant, or to bend his head 
before an image. His punishment was 
increased. His tongue was cut out, and 
he was burnt alive "as cruelly as they 
could devise." Calvin resolved to substi- 
tute "private admonitions" for preaching 
at the assemblies, and he began by visiting 
the humble christians. 

In a shoemaker's shop was a poor 
hunchback, crippled in all his limbs, ex- 
cept the tongue and the arms ; his father 
was Robert Milon, and his name Barthol- 
omew. The latter was once the hand- 
somest and cleverest man of the parish ; 
but he spent his life in dissipation and 
quarrels, till a fall broke several of his 
ribs, and led to the paralysis of his entire 
body. Sitting near the window he used 
to scoff at the evangelicals he saw. One 
spoke affectionately to him : ' ' Poor man, 
why do you mock at the passers-by? Do 
you not see that God has bent your body in 
this way in order to straighten your soul?" 
These simple words struck to his heart, 
and led to his conversion. The wolf 
became a lamb, and he never wearied in 
telling of the riches he had found in the 
book of God to every one who approached 
him. He devoted his time and activity 
entirely to God. The children of the 
neighborhood were taught by him how to 
write a few words of the Bible ; by "etch- 
ing with aquafortis on knives, daggers and 
sword-blades," he earned enough to sup- 
port several needy christians ; every morn- 
ing and evening he sang " with singular 
grace" psalms and spiritual songs to the 
praise of the Lord. ' ' In short, his room 
was a true school of piety, day and night, 
re-echoing with the glory of the Lord." 

John du Bourg, an independent trades- 
man who had a large draper's shop at the 
Rue St. Denis, spread the tidings of the 
Gospel around him with unwearying activ- 
ity ; " neither money nor kindred could 
ever turn him aside from the truth." A 
receiver of Nantes, Peter Valeton, " a man 
of sense and credit," often visited Du 
Bourg. He would buy up all the writings 
of the reformers he could procure. These 
he kept locked in a large trunk, and would 
often read them in secrecy and trembling. 
John le Comte, a Picard tutor, often at- 
tended their meetings. We shall meet 
him again in Switzerland. A celebrated 
Italian, Giulio Camillo of Forti, a philoso- 
pher, poet, and astrologer, a taciturn and 
dreamy man, frequently was present ; but 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



917 



Calvin rightly said of him : "If spiritual 
joy reign not in our heart, the kingdom 
of God is not in us." Many others visited 
the friends of the Gospel in Paris, and we 
shall have to name them among the exiles 
and martyrs. 

Even the most necessitous persons were 
active in good works. A poor woman 
named Catelle had turned school-mistress 
oat of love for children. "It would be 
too cruel a thing," she said, "to exclude 
those of tender age from God's grace !" 
But of all these evangelical christians of 
Paris no one had more zeal than De la 
Forge. "He never spared his goods for 
the poor," says the chronicler. He had 
the Bible printed at his own expense, and 
along with the alms which he distributed 
he would always add a kind word, and 
often a Gospel or some other pious book. 



De la Forge willingly received all pious 
strangers visiting Paris. One day Calvin 
met there several singular persons. Of 
these, one named Coppin, from Lille, a 
man of no education, spoke boldly like an 
oracle. "Verily," said Calvin, "a fool 
never has any doubts." Quintin, from 
Hainault, had more cunning, and gave 
himself the air of a prophet. "The latter 
seems to me a big rogue," spoke Calvin. 
They were attended by a few fanatical 
disciples ; they always lodged with some 
good-natured pei son who would keep them 
in their idleness by supplying them with 
victuals and drink. They spoke continu- 
ally of the Holy Ghost, and tried to make 
the credulous believe they were his apos- 
tles. Calvin lost all patience : " You are 
like those country priests, ' ' he said, ' ' who, 
having but one image in their church, 
make it serve for five or six saints. He is 
either St. James, or St. Francis, or St. 
Basil, and the priest receives as many 
offerings as there are saints." 

The reformer found several capital errors 
and immoral doctrines combined with this 
system. " God is everything," said Quin- 
tin, "and everything is God." — "The 
soul," said others, "is material and mor- 
tal." One day a man lay murdered in the 
streets of Paris, and Quintin blasphem- 
ously said about the murderer : "Yes, it's 
thee, it's me, it's God ; for what thee or 
me does, it is God who does it, and what 
God does, we do " A shoemaker of the 
same opinions blamed De la Forge for 
condemning a servant who had robbed 
him : " It is blaspheming God to call this 
action base ; . . , seeing that God does 
everything, we ought to reckon nothing 
bad." Yet this philosopher raved like a 
madman when his servant speedily treated 
him likewise. 

Calvin's conscience was terrified, and 
he fought these pretended spiritualists 
with the Word of God. " You call God 
impure," he said to Quintin, " a thief and 
a robber, and you add that there is no 
harm in it. Who, I pray, has condemned 



impurity, theft, murder, if God has not ?" 
Quintin answered with a smile : " We are 
not subject to the letter which killeth, but 
to the Spirit which giveth life . . . The 
Bible contains allegories, myths which 
the Holy Spirit explains to us." "You 
make your Scripture a nose of wax," said 
Calvin, "and play with it, as if it were a 
ball." About 4,000 were led astray in 
France by these pantheists. Even the ex- 
cellent Bucer was deceived by their pre- 
tensions to spirituality, and the elect Mar- 
garet was dazzled ten years later. Calvin 
found their doctrines impious and revolu- 
tionary, abolishing all difference between 
good and evil. He encountered a probably 
still more dangerous doctrine. 

Michael Servetus of Arragon, of the 
same age as Calvin, put himself forward 
as a teacher of truth and a thorough re- 
former. The great mysteries of faith were 
to give way to a certain pantheism, envel- 
oped in mystical and Sabellian forms. It 
was not Roman-catliolicism alone which 
he desired to reform, but the evangelical 
reformation also, substituting for its scrip- 
tural and practical character a philosophic 
and rationalistic tendency. He at first as- 
sociated with the reformers of Switzerland 
and Germany. GScolampadius would not 
count him a christian unless he acknowl- 
edged the Son as partaking through all 
eternity of the Godhead of the Father. 
Melancthon said: "His imagination is 
confused, his ideas are obscure. He pos- 
sesses many marks of a fanatical spirit. 
He raves on the subject of Justification 
and the Trinity." Servetus travelled to 
Paris, and there attacked the doctrines of 
an ' ' imaginary trinity. " — " Jesus is man, ' ' 
he said ; ' ' the Godhead was communicated 
to Him by grace, but he is not God by 
nature. The Father alone is God in that 
sense." 

Calvin could not and would not have 
any other God than Him who gives us life, 
who has ransomed us, and who sanctifies 
us — the Father, God above us ; the Son, 
God for us ; the Holy Ghost, God in us. 
This threefold relation with God, which 
Scripture revealed, forced him to recog- 
nize a difference in God ; but unity being 
essential to the Deity, he was bound to 
maintain it at any cost, and he thus felt 
himself constrained to embrace the idea 
of a divine Trinity. Servetus invited Cal- 
vin to a conference, and he accepted the 
challenge. Alas ! why did he not show 
the same friendly spirit to the last? "I 
will do all in my power to cure Servetus," 
he said. "If I show myself in public, I 
know that I expose my life ; but I will 
spare no pains to bring him to such senti- 
ments, that all pious men may be able to take 
him affectionately by the hand.' 1 '' ,1 ustice re- 
quires that we should take account oi' t hese 
feelings of Calvin with regard to Servetus. 
The discussion was thereupon prepared 
, for ; but for some unknown reason, Ser- 
J vetus did not attend upon Calvin at the 
I place appointed. The opportunity of an- 



918 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



swering the challenge occurred twenty- 
years later at Geneva. 

Calvin's first theological work was now 
published. He first called it the Immor- 
tality of the Soul, but substituted the awk- 
ward title of Psychopannychia, " the night 
or sleep of the soul." Herein he does not 
combat the errors of Rome. He stands 
forth as the defender of the soul, the ad- 
vocate of christian spiritualism. The 
force of conviction, the weight of proof, 
the power with which he used the Scrip- 
tures, the simplicity and clearness of style, 
struck every reader. Its only defect was 
energetic disdain and bitter invective. 

Calvin was at peace in La Forge's house. 
He loved to see the master distributing the 
Gospel, relieving the poor, and listening to 
the interpretation of God's Word ; he took 
pleasure in his christian conversation. But 
the happiness of this blessed household was 
not to be of long duration. Lieutenant- 
criminal Morin was ere long to enter it, 
throw the wife into prison, lead the husband 
to the scaffold, and change the happiness 
of a peaceful christian family into sorrow, 
groans, and tears. A great persecution 
was about to break forth, and Calvin would 
have early fallen in it had not God with- 
drawn him from Paris. 

Calvin felt himself so oppressed with 
visits and interviews, that he said : "I 
shall leave France and go to Germany, in 
order to find in some obscure corner the 
quiet refused to me elsewhere." DuTillet 
accompanied him ; they set off with two 
horses and two servants. While the trav- 
ellers strolled about Delme near Nancy, one 
of their attendants stole away with a horse 
and with a valise containing all their 
money. The two friends were greatly 
embarrassed ; but by the aid of ten 
crowns, given by the other servant, they 
managed to reach Strasburg. 

True, Calvin quitted France ; but a di- 
vine hand fixed him as near as possible to 
that land of his affections and his sorrows. 
And he will indeed be her reformer. 

Calvin had hardly left Paris when the 
clouds gathered over the little church of 
the metropolis. "There was no year," 
says a chronicler of the sixteenth century, 
speaking of 1534, "when such great mar- 
vels happened in divers countries ; but of 
all these marvels none is more worthy to be 
remembered than that which caused it to 
be named the year of the placards.'''' 

The christians of Paris met together 
frequently in one another' s houses. ' ' The 
Lord," said they, "commands His disci- 
ples to go forth and scatter the doctrine 
of salvation into all corners of the world. ' ' 
There were two distinct parties among 
the evangelicals ; the temporizer* and the 
scripturists. The former looked to Mar- 
garet and to the kings ; they waited. The 
latter were alarmed at the idea of recog- 
nizing the bishops and the pope ; they 
were determined to resist stoutly every- 
thing that might bring back the idols to 



the temple of God. To reconcile these 
differences, they sent a simple, pious, in- 
telligent christian, by name Feret, to 
obtain the opinion of Farel and the other 
refugees. Little thought they that this 
journey would lead to an explosion that 
would shake the capital, terrify France, 
and perhaps destroy the cause of the 
Reformation. 

Feret found the evangelical doctrines 
preached boldly everywhere in Switzer- 
land. Geneva was tottering, and in many 
other places they were even "destroying 
the altars and breaking down the images." 
Feret was struck with the contrast. Farel 
and his friends rejected all those medleys 
of the Gospel and popery that Francis I , 
Margaret of Navarre, Du Bellay, and even 
Melancthon desired. "These two (the 
Gospel and the pope) cannot exist to- 
gether," they said, "any more than fire 
and water." The mass especially, that 
main point of the Romish doctrine, must, 
in their opinion, be abolished. The writ- 
ing and posting of placards were pro- 
posed as active means of evangelization. 
Farel wrote the evangelical protest, in 
"his trenchant style and thundering elo- 
quence." The document was printed in 
placards to be posted on the walls in Paris, 
and in little tracts to be dropped in the 
streets. The sheets were entrusted to 
Feret, and with them he arrived safely in 
Paris. 

Courault said : " Let us beware of post- 
ing up these placards ; we shall only in- 
flame the rage of our adversaries thereby, 
and increase the dispersion of believers." 
The less prudent answered : " Let us be 
cautious of so squaring our prudence, that 
it does not make us act like cowards. If 
we look timidly from one side to the other 
to see how far we can go without exposing 
our lives, we shall forsake Jesus Christ." 
The warmest friends of the Reformation 
portioned out the kingdom between them, 
in order to post the placards in every city, 
and the 24th of October was appointed for 
this daring enterprise. On the appointed 
night, it was secretly placed on the streets, 
market-places, and cross ways, some even 
being fixed on the walls of the Louvre. 
It began with a solemn invocation. 

TRUTHFUL ARTICLES 

CONCERNING THE HORRIBLE, GREAT AND 

UNBEARABLE ABUSES 

OF THE POPISH MASS, 

INVENTED DIRECTLY AGAINST THE 

HOLT SUPPER OF OUR LORD, 

THE ONLY MEDIATOR 

AND 

ONLY SAVIOUR, JESUS CHRIST. 

"I invoke heaven and earth in witness 
of the truth against that proud and pomp- 
ous popish mass, for the world (if God 
does not apply a remedy) is and will be by 
it totally desolated, ruined, lost, and un- 
I done ; seeing that in it our Lord is out- 



HISTORY OF THU REFORMATION. 



919 



rageously blasphemed, and the people 
blinded and led astray. "Which ought not 

to be borne any longer 

"Yes, by the great and admirable sac- 
rifice of Jesus Christ all outward and visi- 
ble sacrifice is abolished. Christ, says the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, (which I entreat 
everybody to read diligently, ) was offered 
once for all. — By one offering he hath per- 
fected forever them that are sanctified. 
Christ offered once and not often. . . . 
If the sacrifice is perfect, why should it be 
repeated? .... Come forward then, ye 
priests, and answer if you can ! . . . By 
this unhappy mass, the whole country has 
been plunged into a coWon idolatry. . . . 
"Presumptuous enemies of the Word 
of God, shameless heretics, they are not 
satisfied with pretending to enclose the 
body of Jesus Christ in their wafer ; but 
see into what absurdities their superstition 
leads them. They are not ashamed to say 
that the body of Jesus Christ may be 
eaten by rats, spiders, and vermin. . . . 
Yes, there it is printed in red letters in 
their missals, in the twenty-second Item, 
beginning thus : If the body of the Lord 
be eaten by mice and spiders, be reduced 
to nothing, or be very much gnawed, or 
if the maggot is found whole inside .... 
let it be burned and placed in the re- 
liquary ! 

"O earth! why openest thou not to 
swallow up these horrible blasphemers'? 
O hateful men ! Is that gnawed body 
really the body of Jesus Christ, the Son 
of God ? . . . Wretches ! were there no 
other evil in all your infernal theology 
than the irreverence with which you speak 
of the precious body of Jesus, are you not 
blasphemers and heretics? . . . yea, the 
greatest and most enormous the world 
has ever seen. 

"What means all these games you play 
round your God of dough, toying with him 
like a cat with a mouse ? You break him 
into three pieces .... and then you put 
on a piteous look as if you were very sor- 
rowful ; you beat your breasts . . . you 
call him the Lamb of God, and pray to 
him for peace. St. John showed Jesus 
Christ ever present, ever living, living all 
in one— an adorable truth! but you show 
your wafer divided into pieces, and then 
you eat it, calling for something to drink. 
. . . What would any man say who had 
never witnessed such monkey tricks ? . . . . 
Did St. Paul or St. John ever eat Christ 
in that manner ? and would they acknowl- 
edge such mountebanks as the servants of 
God? 

"Finally, the practice of your mass is 
very contrary to the practice of the Holy 
Supper of Jesus Christ ! . . . . 

" Certainly there is no marvel in that, 
for there is nothing common between 
Christ and Belial. The Holy Supper of 
Jesus Christ reminds us of the great love 
with which He loved us, so that he washed 
us in .His blood. But the fruit of the mass 
is very different. By it the preaching of 
59 



the Gospel is prevented. The time is oc- 
cupied with bell-ringing, howling, chant- 
ing, empty ceremonies, candles, incense, 
disguises, and all manner of conjuration. 
And the poor world, looked upon as a lamb 
or as sheep, is miserably deceived, cajoled, 
led astray — what do I say ? bitten, gnawed, 
and devoured as if by ravening wolves. . . . 

false witnesses, traitors, robbers of the 
honor of God, and more hateful than the 
devils themselves. In short, the truth 
chases them, the truth alarms them, and 
by truth shall their reign shortly be de- 
stroyed forever." 

So read this bold and impetuous placard 
of the Reformation. 

The terrible placard posted up during 
the night in Paris and over a great part of 
France, "in every corner," says Sturm, 
produced an immense sensation. The 
people were agitated, the women and the 
weak alarmed, and the magistrates filled 
with indignation. But the adversaries of 
popery did not relax their blows. At 
almost the same time there appeared 
another mocking treatise "against the 
pope's traffickers and taverners." This 
increased the hatred of the priests and 
friars. They excited the people with false 
reports that a frightful plot had been laid 
against the State and the Church. The 
Sorbonne were furious, but the thunder- 
bolt fell from another quarter. 

Francis L, who was then at Blois, had 
not forgotten the insinuation of the papal 
nuncio : " The religion of a people cannot 
be changed without their next demanding 
the change of a prince." He soon had a 
pretext for attacking. An evangelical 
chorister in the chapel dared to post the 
protestant manifesto on the door of the 
king's chamber, an imprudent and disre- 
spectful action. From thence it was taken 
early next morning, by Montmorency and 
the Cardinal de Tournon, and read to the 
king. "He burst into a transport of pas- 
sion." — "Let all be seized without dis- 
tinction who are suspected of Lutheresy. 

1 will exterminate them all." The chor- 
ister was at once sent in chains to Paris 
to be tried. " Write and order the parlia- 
ment to execute strict justice," said the 
king; "and tell the lieutenant-criminal 
that, to encourage him, I increase his sal- 
ary by six hundred livres 'a year for life. 
Let inquisition be made forthwith through 
all the realm for the people who are such 
enemies of God." 

A reward of one hundred crowns was at 
once offered for the betrayal of each party 
concerned. The evangelicals remained 
hidden and silent in their houses, while 
some implicated fled from their homes by 
night. 

The lieutenant-criminal, a great oppo- 
nent of the religious movement, and a 
man of very dissolute life, of rare audac- 
ity in catching criminals, and remarkable 
subtlety in entrapping them by their 
answers, had Morin arrested, and hoped 



920 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



through him to seize all the rest. " Sheath- 
maker," he said, "you are one of the her- 
etics ; and what is worse, you are their 
convener, I know full well. It is you, do 
not deny it, who inform them of the places j 
where their secret meetings are to be held. 
I have a wish to assemble them ; yon will 
lead me to their houses. ' ' The poor man 
tremblingly refused to commit such trea- 
son. But he was threatened with the 
stake, and he became a betrayer instead of 
a martyr. The treacherous sheath-maker 
went before the lieutenant, pale and trem- 
bling ; sergeants followed him at a little 
distance, and this cruel company glided 
silently through the streets. The sheath- 
maker stopped and pointed to a door : 
Morin entered. The startled family pro- 
tested their innocence in vain. The lieu- 
tenant ordered the poor creatures to be 
manacled, and then continued his pitiless 
course. " He spared no house, great or 
small," says the chronicler, "not even the 
colleges of the university of Paris. Morin 
made all the city quake." 

Nicholas Valeton, the receiver, saw 
Morin approaching his house ; he ran to 
meet the party, so as to give his wife time 
to secrete his books, and was at once ar- 
rested. The lieutenant-criminal searched 
the house and found nothing suspicious 
but an empty trunk. He soon returned 
and said: "Madame, your husband has 
confessed that he kept his books and secret 
papers in this trunk. Besides, we are 
agreed ; I desire to behave mercifully to- 
wards him ; if you give a certain sum of 
money and tell me where the books are, I 
swear to you before God that your hus- 
band shall suffer no prejudice." The 
wife, who was " young, thoughtless," and 
unsuspicious, revealed everything, and 
the lieutenant-criminal seized the heretical 
papers. The paralytic Bartholomew Milan, 
who could not have posted the placards, 
was next visited. "Come, get up," the 
officer said harshly. Bartholomew an- 
swered with a smile : "Alas ! sir, it wants 
a greater master than you to make me 
rise." — "Take this fellow away," said the 
brute to his creatures. Du Bourg was 
next arrested in his draper's store, despite 
the entreaties of his wife. "He is one of 
those who posted up the papers at the cor- 
ners of the streets," said the lieutenant. 
Many others, without distinction of rank 
or sex, were thrown into prison : among 
these were Roussel, Courault and Ber- 
thaud. 

Francis I. now arrived in Paris. Cardi- 
nals, Sorbonne, Parliament, vied with 
each other to detach him from the evan- 
gelicals. No one was more alarmed and 
agitated than Margaret. " My lord," she 
said to the king, "we are not sacramenta- 
rians. The infamous placards have been 
invented by men who wish to make the 
responsibility of their abominable manoeu- 
vre fall upon us." Montmorency and 
Duprat provoked the king even against 
Margaret. Heartbroken at his harshness, 



she left Paris hastily. The impetuous 
Beda was the means of her recall, for he 
openly accused the king himself. "If it 
is not the king who had these bills posted 
up," he preached, " at least he is respon- 
sible for them." Beda was at once 
accused of high treason, and this furious 
forerunner of the League was confined in 
the abbey of St. Michael till his death. 

The king was now somewhat softened, 
and Margaret urged him to adopt the Mass 
of Seven Points, drawn up by Lefevre. 
"The priest will continue to celebrate 
mass," said Margaret to her brother, 
"only it will always be a public commu- 
nion; he will not uplift the host ; it will 
not be adored ; priests and people will 
communicate under both kinds ; there 
will be no commemorations of the Virgin 
or of the Saints ; the communion will be 
celebrated with ordinary bread ; the priest, 
after breaking and eating, will distribute 
the remainder among the people. Further, 
priests will have liberty to marry." 

Francis I. saw great difficulties in the 
way ; but he consented to have Roussel, 
Courault and Berthaud explain the points 
to him. Their zeal irritated him, and he 
sent them back hurriedly to prison. Men 
more zealous than they had already left 
their dungeon for the scaffold. 

An expiation was required for the puri- 
fication of France — solemn ceremonies, 
sacrifices, and the stake. Nothing must 
be wanting to the expiatory work. 

Du Bourg, Milon, Poille, and their 
friends were lying in prison, waiting for 
the day when they were to appear before 
their judges. The poor paralytic had re- 
mained as calm as in his father's shop ; 
he was even calmer. Formerly, when 
friends or kindred well accustomed to lift 
him had taken him in their arms, he had 
crid out with the pain he felt in every 
limb. But now in prison he bore it all 
without pain, and " the roughest handling 
seemed tender." Receiving unknown 
strength from God, he was tranquil and 
joyful under tribulation. That holy pa- 
tience spread peace in the hearts of his 
companions in misfortune. "It is impos- 
sible to tell the consolation he afforded 
them," says a chronicler. 

The day of trial was the 10th of Novem- 
ber, a fortnight after the placards. Seven 
prisoners were convicted promptly, and 
sentenced to be burnt alive ; the poor 
paralytic was included, for having some 
placards in his father's shop. Three days 
after, the child-like paralytic was carried 
in a tumbrel to the Greve. "Lower the 
names," said the officer; "the sentence 
says he is to be burnt at a slow fire."' Yet 
the poor sufferer uttered nothing but 
words of peace. The evangelicals ex- 
claimed : " Oh ! how great is the con- 
stancy of this witness to the Son of God, 
both in his life and in his death." 

The next day it was the turn of the 
wealthy tradesman, Du Bourg. When he 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



arrived in front of Notre Dame, he was 
made to alight ; a taper was put into his 
hand and a cord around his neck, and he 
was then taken in front of the fountain of 
the Innocents, in the Rue St. Denis, quite 
near his house— he might have been seen 
from the windows— after which his hand 
was cut off. That had fixed up the ter- 
rible protest against Rome. He was then 
burnt alive at the Halles. 

On the 18th it was the turn of Poille, 
the old disciple of Briconnet. At the 
stake before the church of St. Catherine, 
he joyfully exclaimed: "My Lord Jesus 
Christ reigns in heaven, and I am ready 
to fight for him on earth unto the last drop 
of blood. ' ' This confession of the truth at 
the moment of punishment, exasperated 
the executioners. "Wait a bit," they 
said, " we will stop your prating." They 
sprang upon him, opened his mouth, 
caught hold of his tongue and bored a 
hole- through it ; they then with refined 
cruelty, made a slit in his cheek, through 
which they drew the tongue, and fastened 
it with an iron pin. Some cries were 
heard from the crowd at this horrible spec- 
tacle. Poille was then burnt alive. 

Other punishments followed rapidly ; a 
printer and a bookseller were burnt. 
Sometimes it was deemed sufficient "to 
flog the accused naked," to confiscate 
their property, and to banish them, The 
terror was universal. Many evangelicals 
disappeared suddenly ; some lay hid in 
remote villages where they had friends ; 
some went to Basle, others to Strasburg. 
The trades connected with typography 
(printers, booksellers and binders) formed 
the most numerous contingent in these 
bands of fugitives. Several other fugitives 
were monks ; and one black sheep, the 
famous doctor of divinity, Peter Caroli, 
"went to Switzerland," says Beza, "car- 
rying with him the same spirit of ambi- 
tion, of contradiction, and of lewdness ; a 
man whom the spirit of God had not sent, 
but whom Satan had brought to hinder 
the Lord's work." Professors also sor- 
rowfully went out from their colleges. 
Master John Renault, principal of a col- 
lege at Tourney ; Master Mederic Sevin ; 
Master Mathurin Cordier, Calvin's mentor 
and friend, had quitted Paris in haste, 
without taking leave of their colleagues. 
All these noble christians endured igno- 
miny and hardships in their flight, rather 
than forsake Christ. 

Margaret wept much in secret. By her 
entreaties the king was induced to remove 
her three ministers from prison to a con- 
vent. Roussel declared he had no desire 
to break with the Church, and retired to 
his abbey at Clairac. The feeble Ber- 
thaud, wdiom the punishment had fright- 
ened, resumed his monastic dress without 
any reserve, and died in the cloister ; but 
the aged and intrepid Corault remained 
firm. Shortly after he escaped, and al- 
though almost blind, found his way to 



Basle. This pitiful pardon was the only 
and last expression of Francis' pity. 

This indulgence served but to hasten 
the terrible persecutions about to begin 
in Paris. "Sire," urged the chiefs of the 
ultramontane party, "give a public proof 
of your attachment to the faith." Ac- 
cordingly, by a royal law and constitution, 
it was ordered that they should pray to 
the Almighty for the destruction of heresy, 
and to that end there should be a solemn 
procession and an expiatory sacrifice. 
Francis intended to crown it with acts of 
barbarity. 

The 21st of January, 1535, arrived. 
Early in the morning a large crowd of citi- 
zens and people from the surrounding 
country filled the streets ; even the roofs 
of the houses were covered with specta- 
tors. Before the door of each house was 
a lighted torch, "to do reverence to the 
holy sacraments and the holy relics." 
The procession began at six in the morn- 
ing. First came all the crosses and ban- 
ners of the several parishes ; then followed 
the citizens, two and two, each with a 
torch ; the two mendicant orders, with 
the priests and canons of the city. Never 
had so many relics been brought out be- 
fore, and to see these the people crushed 
each other repeatedly. Many bodies of 
saints, whole or in part, were paraded be- 
fore the people. ' ' The marvel is not so 
great," said Calvin subsequently. "We 
have not only one body of each of these 
saints, but we have several. There is one 
body of St. Matthew at Rome, a second at 
Padua, and a third at Treves. There is 
one of St. Lazarus at Marseilles, another 
at Autun, and a third at Avallon." 

Soon the canons of the Holy Chapel 
came in sight, wearing their copes; no 
church in Christendom possessed such 
treasures. " Here is the Virgin's milk ! " 
"Indeed," said Calvin, "there is not a 
petty town or wretched convent where 
they do not show us this milk. If the 
Virgin had been nursing all her life, she 
would hardly have been able to supply 
such an abundance !" 

" There is our Lord's purple robe," said 
the people ; "and the linen cloth he tied 
round him at the Last Supper, and his 
swaddling clothes!" — "They would do 
better," said Calvin, "to seek for Christ 
in his word, his sacraments, and spiritual 
graces, than in his frock, little shirt, and 
napkin. ' ' 

"There is the crown of thorns!" was 
soon the cry. " It is no rarity, ' ' said Cal- 
vin. "There are two of these crowns at 
Rome, one at Vincennes, one at Bourges, 
one at Besancon, one at Albi, one at Tou- 
louse, one at Macon, one at Ch'ry, one at 
St. Flour, one at St. Maximin, one at 
Noyon, one at St. Salvador in Spain, one 
at St. Jago in Gallicia, and many others 
in other places besides. To make all 
these crowns and gather all these thorns, 
they must have cut down a whole hedge." 



922 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



"Here comes the true cross!" — "It is 
not the only one," said the reformer, 
"there is no petty town or paltry church 
where they do not show you pieces ; and 
if all were collected together, there would 
be a load for a great barge, and three hun- 
dred men could not carry it." 

After the relics came a great number of 
high ecclesiastics magnificently attired. 
Then under a canopy borne by four royal 
princes, came the richly adorned host car- 
ried by the Bishop of Paris. Francis I. 
appeared next, without parade, bare- 
headed and on foot, holding a lighted 
taper in his hand. He knelt down at each 
reposoir and humbled himself —not for his 
adulteries, his lies, or his false oaths, but 
for the audacity of those who did not like 
the mass. He was followed by the queen, 
the foreign ambassadors, all the court, the 
parliament and all officials, walking two 
and two, each man bearing a lighted 
torch. At length they arrived at the 
church of Notre Dame, where the mass 
was sung with great pomp. 

On the twenty-first of January, 1535, a 
king of France was about to devote to 
death with all due ceremony the humble 
disciples of the Gospel. Two hundred and 
fifty-eight years later, there was another 
twenty-first of January. The simplest, the 
meekest, the most generous of the Bour- 
bons, died on the scaffold on the iicenty- 
first of January, 1793. 

All was not over : they had had the 
comedy, (as it appeared to some,) they 
were now to have the oratorical address, 
and then the tragedy. 

All the high officials by order assembled 
after dinner in the bishop's great hall, to 
hear a speech from the throne. Francis I. 
appeared with a sad and even gloomy 
countenance. He said: "I 'do not come 
to talk to you of myself ; we have to treat 
this day of an offence done to the King of 
kings. . . What honor, what reverence, 
what obedience do we not owe to that 
great King ! . . What obligations does 
not this kingdom, more than any other, 
owe to Him, seeing that for thirteen or 
fourteen hundred years, He has main- 
tained it in peace and tranquillity with its 
friends, and in victory against its ene- 
mies ! . . She has enjoyed the privilege 
of being the only power that has never 
nurtured monsters, and which above all 
others, bears the name and title of Most 
Christian. . . So much the more ought 
we to feel grief and regret in our hearts, 
that there should be at this time in France 
men so wicked and wretched as to desire 
to soil that noble name, — men who have 
disseminated damnable opinions, who 
have not only assaulted the things which 
our great King desires to be honored, and 
acted so evilly that they do not leave to 
others the power of doing worse, but have 
ail at once attacked Him in the holy sacra- 
ment of the altar. People of low condi- 
tion, and less learning, wicked blasphe- 



j mers, have used, with regard to that 

sacrament, terms rejected and abhorred 

j by every other nation. . . . Wherefore 

; we have commanded that severe punish- 

i ment be inflicted on the delinquents, in 

order that they may be an example to 

j others, and prevent them from falling into 

the like damnable opinions. Oh ! the 

j crime, the blasphemy, the day of sorrow 

and disgrace ! Why did it ever dawn 

upon us ?' ' 

"There were few of all the company," 
says the chronicle, ' ' from whose eyes the 
king did not draw tears." After a few 
minutes' silence, interrupted by the excla- 
mations and sighs of the assembly, the 
king resumed : "It is at least a consola- 
tion that you share my sorrow. What a 
disgrace it will be if we do not extirpate 
these wicked creatures !" . . . "I warn 
you, that I will have the said errors ex- 
pelled and driven from my kingdom, and 
will excuse no one." Then he exclaimed, 
says our historian, with extreme anger : 
"As true, Messieurs, as I am your king, 
if I knew one of my own limbs spotted or 
infected with this detestable rottenness, I 
would give it you to cut off. . . . And 
further, if I saw one of my children de- 
filed by it, I would not spare him. ... I 
would deliver him up myself, and would 
sacrifice him to God." 

The king stopped and wept ; the spec- 
tators burst into tears. Then the bishop 
of Paris and the provost of the merchants 
knelt, thanked the king for his zeal, and 
swore to make war against heresy. The 
spectators in this moving spectacle, ex- 
claimed : "We will live and die for the 
catholic religion." 

Other emotions, those of anguish and 
terror, were next to be aroused. After 
displaying his eloquence, the king was 
about to display his cruelty. "Francis, 
always in extremes," says a very catholic 
historian, "did not disdain to pollute his 
eyes with a spectacle full of barbarity and 
horror." 

On the road between St. Genevieve and 
the Louvre, two scaffolds had been pre- 
pared, one at the Marksman's Cross in the 
Rue St. Honore and the other at the Halles. 
Some of the most excellent men that France 
possessed were about to be burnt, after suf- 
fering atrocious tortures. The king with 
his family, the nobles, and the rest of the 
procession, having resumed his march, 
made his first halt at the Marksman's 
Cross. Here the cruel lieutenant-criminal 
brought forward the excellent Yaleton, 
Master Nicholas, clerk, and another evan- 
gelical, to be burnt "to appease the wrath 
of God." The excited populace would 
even then have torn them to pieces had 
not the guards interfered. 

Nicholas Valeton, who was to be burnt 
with his books, stood in front of the pile, 
cruelly made of wood taken from his own 
house. A strappado was erected to furnish 
the people a more diverting spectacle : it 
was a kind of gallows, formed of two poles, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



923 



one fixed firmly in the ground, the other ! 
fastened to it crosswise, one end of which 
was raised at will by means of a cord fas- j 
tenecl to the other. The receiver looked | 
calmly at this instrument of punishment, 
to which they were about to fasten him 
to make him soar into the air. The priests 
labored to make Yaleton recant. . Life was 
sweet for his wife's sake, but he faithfully 
replied : "I only believe in what the pro- 
phets and the apostles formerly preached, 
and what all the company of saints be- 
lieved. My faith has a confidence in God, 
which will resist all the powers of hell." 
He was now bound by his hands to the 
end of the strappado and raised in the air, 
his arms alone sustaining the weight of his 
body. The pile underneath was lighted ; 
again and again was he let fall into the 
midst of the flames, and cruelly hoisted, 
till the knot was burned and his body fell 
into the fire to crumble to ashes. This in- 
human punishment was next applied by 
order of the most christian king to the two 
other martyrs. 

Francis I. and his courtiers repaired to 
the Halles, to enjoy a second entertain- 
ment bf a similar kind. Here a rich fruit 
merchant and two other evangelicals were 
also tortured to death on the frightful 
strappado. All witnessed unmoved the 
convulsions of the sufferers, and could 
endure the stench of their burning flesh. 
"The king," as a Jesuit says, "wished to 
draw down the blessing of heaven, by giv- 
ing this signal example of piety and zeal. ' ' 
Francis and his courtiers returned satisfied 
to the Louvre. Thus ended the prelude to 
the massacres of St. Bartholomew, and, 
with a change of victims, the massacres 
of September, 1792. 

On the 25th of January, ' ' seventy-three 
Lutherans' were cited to appear ;' ' their 
goods were confiscated, and themselves 
condemned. One of them wrote to the 
king : 

They call me Lutheran — a name 

I have no right to bear. 

Luther for me did not come down from heaven : 

For me no Luther hung upon the cross 

For all my sins ; nor was I in his name 

Baptized, but in the name of Him alone 

To whom the eternal Father grants whate'er 

we ask — 
The only name in heaven by which the world, 
This wicked world, salvation can attain. 

Four days later the king issued an edict 
"for the extirpation of the Lutheran 
sect." Lastly, the "father of letters" 
issued an ordinance declaring the abolition 
of 'printing all over France, under pain of 
the gallows. This, however, was not en- 
forced. On the loth of February, Calvin's 
friend, the rich and pious trader La Forge, 
sixty years of age, was burnt alive. Two 
journeymen, for having a Lutheran book, 
had their tongues cut out, and they were 
burnt "alive and contumacious.". Many, 
on frivolous charges, were burnt in Paris 
and other cities. A poor girl in Vendee, 
Mary Becaudelle, was condemned to the 



stake for telling a blaspheming grey-friar : 
"If you insult the Gospel, the wrath of 
God will be against you." At Arras in 
Artois, several men watched at night in 
the chapel of the Holy Candle, and ex- 
posed the trickery of the priests concern- 
ing a candle said to have been sent from 
heaven, and which, although burning, was 
never consumed. ' ' As the reward of .their 
discovery, these three christians received 
the crown of martyrdom together. ' ' Meze- 
ray says : "Bat for ten that were put to 
death, a hundred others sprang up from, 
their ashes." 

Terror spread through the ranks of the 
friends of the Reformation. Sturm, 
broken-hearted at the loss of his friends, 
abandoned his labors in literature and 
philosophy. He poured out his sorrow in 
a letter to Melancthon : ' ' We were in the 
best, the finest position, thanks to wise 
men ; and now behold us, through the 
advice of unskilful men, fallen into the 
greatest calamity and supreme misery. 
Already eighteen disciples of the Gospel 
have been burnt, and the same danger 
threatens a still greater number. Every 
day the danger spreads wider and wider. 
There is not a good man who does not fear 
the calumnies of informers, aud is not con- 
sumed with grief at the sight of these horri- 
ble doings. Our adversaries reign, and with 
all the more authority, that they appear 
to be fighting in a just cause, and to quell 
sedition. The persecutors are instigated 
by violent hatred, and not by justice. If 
the king could but know what kind of 
spirit animates these bloodthirsty men, he 
would no doubt take better advice. And 
yet we do not despair. God reigns : he will 
scatter all these tempests ; he will show us 
the port where we can take refuge ; he will 
give good men an asylum where they will 
dare speak their thoughts freely." 

This letter produced an impression in 
Wittemberg. A few days after, Luther 
writing to his friend Link, complained of 
the evil times in which they lived, and 
especially of the kings. ' ' With the excep- 
tion of our prince, (the Elector of Saxo- 
ny,") he said, "there is not one whom I 
do not suspect. You may understand by 
this language how little love and zeal for 
the Word of God there is in this world. 
God help us ! He permits the devil to be 
strong, and how weak he makes us ! God 
puts us to the proof. To trust in a man, 
were he even a prince, is not conformable 
with piety ; but to fear a man is shameful 
and even impious in a christian. May 
Christ, our life, our salvation, and our 
glory, be with you and all yours." Lu- 
ther, it is well known, had the least hope 
in Francis I. 

Evangelical learning had not henceforth 
the same favor in France. The excom- 
munication launched against Henry V11L, 
the schism which followed, the hope of 
seeing Paul HI. embroiled with Charles 
V., and the indignity of the placards, 
made the king incline once more towards 



924 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Rome. On the 15th of February, he wrote 
to the protestant princes of Germany : 
"The enemy of truth has stirred up cer- 
tain people who are not fools but madmen, 
and who have incurred the guilt of sedi- 
tion and other antichristian actions. I 
am determined to crush these new doc- 
trines; and to check this disease, which 
leads to frightful revolts, from spreading 
further. No one has been spared, what- 
ever his country or his rank." 

Such were the king' s intentions. Protes- 
tantism, and with it liberty, perished in 
France ; but God was mighty to raise them 
up again. 

While evangelical light seemed on the 
point of extinction in France, one of her 
sons was going to kindle a torch on the 
banks of the Rhine, and afterwards on 
those of the Rhone, which would spread 
its bright rays far and wide. Calvin had 
arrived at Strasburg. He who was to be 
the true doctor of the Reformation, its 
great captain, was then in search of 
knowledge and of arms in order to teach 
and to fight. He wished to labor at the 
renewal of the Church ; for this he must 
interpret Holy Scripture, and explain the 
body of Christian doctrine. There was a 
void space in Christendom, and God called 
him to fill it. He was to create the new, 
the living theology of modern times. A 
child of light, he was seeking the light. 

The free city of Strasburg possessed an 
intelligent middle class, wise magistrates, 
elementary schools, a Latin college, and 
pious instructors. Capito eloquently ex- 
pounded the books of the Old Testament ; 
Bucer explained those of the New with 
much wisdom ; Hedio taught history and 
theology ; Caselius, Hebrew ; and Herlin, 
the art of speaking. Professor John 
Sturm, then at Paris, and the friend of Me- 
lancthon, was about to be put at the head 
of the educational work in his native city. 

Matthew Zell, the hospitable master of 
the church of St. Lawrence, cordially 
entertained Calvin and Du Tillet in their 
distress. He was a pious man, of a prac- 
tical and conciliatory spirit. To this day 
his name is mentioned with affection in 
Alsace. As early as 1521, he preached the 
Gospel zealously at Strasburg. Prose- 
cuted by his bishop in 1523, he defended 
himself with spirit, and escaped with losing 
the post Of confessor to that prelate. 

Calvin and Du Tillet soon noticed his 
partner, Catherine Schulz, daughter, of a 
carpenter in the city, a clever, intelligent, 
active, firm woman, who had managed to 
obtain the ascendant over every one, and 
a little too much so ; over her husband. 
The young reformer saw in her one of the 
types of the christian woman, who cum- 
bereth herself, who receiveth the prophets 
honorably, but who, while doing good, 
sometimes values herself more highly than 
she does others. Fourscore refugees had 
been lodged in her parsonage for weeks. 
Caring neither for dress nor worldly recre- 



ations, the pastor's wife visited the houses 
of the poor, nursed the sick, wrapped the 
dead in their grave-clothes, comforted the 
prisoners, and organized collections in 
favor of the refugees. She was never weary 
in well-doing. In the midst of her zeal, 
however, she took too much credit person- 
ally ; and Bucer wrote of her : " Catherine, 
like all of us, is too fond of herself." 

Calvin was never tired of seeing and 
hearing the eminent men living in Stras- 
burg. All these doctors, in turn, joyfully 
saw France bringing her tribute at last to 
the work of christian instruction. Calvin 
was troubled with the belief that the 
Strasburg reformers observed too strict a 
middle path, and sometimes sacrificed 
truth to prudence ; and he saw the waver- 
ing Du Tillet had a great inclination for 
this middle way. "I find learning and 
piety in Bucer and Capito," he said one 
clay ; "but they force me to desire in them 
firmness and constancy. We must be 
liberal, no doubt, but not so as to spend 
the wealth of another. And what precau- 
tions ought we not to take, when it is a 
quef-tion of spending God's truth?" Cal- 
vin devoted himself lovingly to the French 
refugees at Strasburg. To console, suc- 
cor, and advise his exiled fellow-country- 
men, was the work of his whole life. He 
longed for solitude and quiet study, and 
he soon departed for Basle. 

Calvin desired to see Erasmus, who, from 
timidity rather than principle, inclined to 
the side of the papacy. He was, however, 
a great scholar ; had he not published the 
New Testament in Greek. Bucer desired 
to accompany Calvin to Friburg, where 
Erasmus then was, and introduce these 
two men who, one in the department of 
letters, the other in that of faith, were the 
greatest personages of the day. The pre- 
caution was almost necessary : the old 
doctor was raiting, wishing to die in peace 
with Rome. Paul III. had hardly been 
proclaimed pope, when he who had kindled 
the fire offered his good services to him, in 
order to maintain the faith and restore 
peace to the Church. His letter quite 
charmed the crafty pontiff. "I know," 
Paul answered, "how useful your excel- 
lent learning, combined with your admir- 
able eloquence, may be to me in rescuing 
many minds from these new errors. ' ' The 
pope even had some idea of sending Eras- 
mus a cardinal's hat. 

Calvin had not chosen his time well, yet 
Erasmus received him, though not without 
some little embarrassment. The young 
reformer, impatient to hear the oracle of 
the age, began to ask him numerous ques- 
tions on difficult points. Erasmus, fearing 
to commit himself, was reserved, and gave 
only vague answers. His interlocutor was 
not discouraged. He explained his own 
convictions with considerable energy. 
Erasmus perceived that the young scholar 
would go further than himself, or even 
than Luther, and would wage a merciless 
war against all human traditions. He be- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



925 



came alarmed, put an end to the conver- 
sation, and whispered in Bucer's ear : "I 
see a great pestilence rising in the Church 
against the Church." Calvin withdrew; 
he and Du Tillet soon departed to Basle. 

That city had a university, distinguished 
theologians, and celebrated printers. Cal- 
vin sought the house of Catherine Klein in 
a by-street ; she was a pious woman, who 
took delight in serving God and minister- 
ing to the saints. He found the "obscure 
corner" he had so longed for. Distin- 
guished by her virtues and piety, Cathe- 
rine never grew weary of admiring the 
beauty of Calvin's genius, the holiness of 
his life, the integrity of his doctrines, and 
the zeal with which he applied, day and 
night, to study. The illustrious philoso- 
pher, Peter Ramus, afterwards a victim of 
St. Bartholomew's day, stood thirty years 
later in his chamber and said of him : 
"The light of France, the light of the 
Christian Church all over the world." 

Here Calvin withdrew himself from 
earthly noises to hear only the voice of 
God and the music of heaven. He wished 
to fix his looks on high, and to have the 
thoughts which descended to him from 
heaven become the soul of his whole life. 
He had already learned much ; but it was 
not sufficient for him to learn, he must 
create : that was the vocation he had re- 
ceived from his Master, and to that end he 
must concentrate all the strength of his 
intelligence and of his heart. Destined to 
become one of God's mightiest instruments 
for his age and all ages to-come, Calvin 
felt that he needed silence, concentration, 
and communion with God. "Ah!" said 
he without thinking of himself, " God 
wishing to publish his law by Moses, led 
him to Sinai and took him into His heav- 
enly closet." 

Calvin rejoiced to find his old friend 
Nicholas Cop a refugee in Basle. He was 
also captivated with the learned Simon 
Grynaeus, Melancthon's school-boy, who 
deservedly succeeded Erasmus at Basle ; 
and under him he studied Hebrew litera- 
ture more thoroughly. The discords which 
broke out in France and Switzerland filled 
him with sorrow. He labored zealously at 
revising a translation of the New Testa- 
ment in French, and it was published on 
March 27th, 1534. The edition was soon 
suppressed, and Calvin afterwards assisted 
in preparing a more perfect edition. 
Another work, which was to be the great 
work of his life, soon occupied the young 
reformer. 

Calvin had not been long in Basle when 
tidings arrived of the controversial pla- 
cards in Paris, and the dreadful persecu- 
tions that followed. At the end of No- 
vember, he heard with great grief of the 
successive deaths of Berthelot, Du Bourg, 
Paille, and several others whom he had 
counted as friends. A few weeks later he 
welcomed to Basle the venerable christian 
Courault, who, half-blind, had felt his way 



along to the city ; and other refugees 
speedily arrived. Calvin said : " The news 
having spread to foreign nations, these 
burnings were counted very wicked by a 
large number of Germans, and they felt 
great bitterness against the authors of 
such bitterness." — The bitterness was still 
greater at Basle. Oswald Myconius, the 
friend of Zwingle, had quitted Zurich 
after the battle of Cappel ; he was now 
the eloquent pastor of St. Alban's church 
at Basle, and replaced (Ecolampadius as 
president of the church. He w T as struck 
with indignation and grief at the massa- 
cres ; he sympathized closely with Calvin, 
and said of popery : " Why sew new 
patches on so torn a garment ? We should 
never meet the dragon but to kill him." 
Du Tillet, on the contrary, was troubled, 
agitated, and made fearful by the prospect 
of persecution and reproach. His inti- 
macy with the reformer was changed, and 
three years after he caused Calvin more 
sorrow than the deaths of these martyrs 
had. Yet the agents of Francis I. worked 
indefatigably to mislead public opinion. 
They spoke, wrote, and distributed every- 
where "certain little books full of lies," in 
which it was said the king had behaved 
harshly to none but rebels, who desired to 
disturb the State under the cloak of re- 
ligion. Germany began to cool down ; even 
at Basle many good people said : "We can- 
not defend the cause of a handful of sedi- 
tious people who desire to overthrow 
everything, even political order." 

Shut up with his books in the room he 
occupied at Catherine Klein's, Calvin 
thought night and day of these atrocious 
punishments and calumnies ; of the per- 
secuting spirit of the papacy. "If I do 
not oppose it righteously and to the best 
of my ability," he said, " I shall fairly be 
called cowardly and disloyal on account 
of my silence." 

A heavenly word rang through his 
soul : Open thy mouth for the dumb in the 
cause of all such as are appointed to destruc- 
tion. He therefore formed one of those 
resolutions which, in a character such as 
his, are unalterable. "I will obey Him 
who speaks tome from on high," he said. 
" I will reply to the wicked tales that are 
circulated against my brethren ; and as 
similar cruelties may be practiced against 
many other believers, I will endeavor to 
touch foreign nations w T ith some compas- 
sion in their favor. Such was the reason, ' ' 
he adds, "which moved me to publish the 
Instittctes of the Christian Beligio n. ' ' Ne ve r 
had a noble" book so noble an origin. 
Justin Martyr, Athenagoras, and Tertul- 
lian had written their Apologies by the 
light of the stakes of the second century ; 
Calvin wrote his by the light of those of 
the sixteenth. The publication of the 
Christian Institutes was the pitiful cry of 
a compassionate soul at the sight of those 
who were going to the stake. 

Calvin had long meditated the subject 
which then absorbed him — the system of 



923 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



christian faith ; and his book was to be 
the finest body of divinity ever possessed 
by the Church of Christ. It was not a 
trifling matter to make christian science 
pass from death to Jife, from darkness to 
light. Calvin was the man called to this 
work. He forsook the way of the school- 
men to a more refined intellectualism, and 
at the voice of conscience he eagerly tra- 
versed fifteen centuries. He went to the 
gospel springs, and there collecting in a 
golden cup the pure and living waters of 
divine revelation, presented them to the 
nations to quench their thirst. The Re- 
formation was not simply a change in the 
doctrine, or in the manners, or in the gov- 
ernment of the Church : it was a creation. 
The Institutes of the Christian Religion is 
Calvin's great achievement ; it is Calvin 
himself, and we must therefore describe it. 

"The whole sum of wisdom," said the 
great doctor of modern times, at the be- 
ginning of his work, "is that by knowing 
God, each of us knows himself also ; and 
these two facts are bound to each other by 
so many ties, that it is not easy to discern 
which goes before and produces the other." 

In fact, Calvin, when addressing man, 
shows him first of all God himself— won- 



der of wonders 



God has 



stamped in you a knowledge of himself, 
and he continually refreshes this memory 
in you, as if he poured it out drop by drop. 
We have a consciousness of divinity graven 
so deeply in our minds, that we cannot 
erase it. The rebellion even of the wicked 
bears testimony of this, for while combat- 
ing madly to throw off the fear of God, 
that fear remains inevitably clinging to 
them, as if it were in the marrow of their 
bones. Alas ! we shall hardly find one in 
in a hundred that cherishes this divine seed 
his heart. . . . What is to be done?" 

" God has opened his sacred mouth, to 
make known that he is the God whom we 
should adore. . . . If we wish to see clearly, 
let us take Holy Scripture : without it we 
should have but a confused and partial 
knowledge of God in our minds ; but that 
drives away all obscurity in us, and shows 
us clearly God's heart." 

He shows another guide to be requisite. 
"It is necessary that the same Spirit 
which has spoken by the mouth of the 
prophets should enter our own hearts, 
that he should touch them to the quick, 
and convince them that the prophets have 
faithfully declared what had been enjoined 
them from on high." The testimony of 
the Holy Ghost — that is the proof of 
proofs. 

Calvin then reveals to man, the self- 
worshipper, who puts himself in the place 
of God, the sin that is in him : "Come 
down now ; come down and consider thy- 
self. Learn to know this sin, derived 
from Adam and dwelling in us, like a 
glowing furnace, perpetually throwing out 
flames and sparks, and the fire of which 
not only burns the senses, but pollutes all 
that is most noble in our souls." There 



is no means by which man can escape of 
himself from this wretchedness of his 
nature. "If thou pretendest to rise by 
thy own strength, thou standest on the 
end of a reed .... that snaps immediately. 
. . . . While our condemnation holds us 
surprised, trembling, and startled before 
the judgment seat of God, the penalty to 
which we were subject has been laid on 
the innocent. All that can be imputed to 
us in the sight of God is transferred upon 
Jesus Christ. The divine founder of the 
Kingdom has suffered in the place of the 
children of the Kingdom. . . . Our peace 
can be found only in the terrors and agony 
of Christ our Redeemer." 

But how does this work accomplished 
out of man, act in man? . . . "Man has 
no sooner embraced the atonement with a 
faith full of confidence, than he experi- 
ences an unalterable peace in his con- 
science. He possesses a spirit of adoption 
which makes him call God my Father ! and 
which procures him a sweet and joyful 
communion with the heavenly Father. 
Immediately the least drop of faith is put 
into our souls we begin to contemplate the 
face of God, kind and favorable to us. 
True, we see it from afar, but it is with 
an undoubting eye, and we know that 
there is no deception." 

Is man saved by charity, or without it ? 
. . . •. "There is no other faith which 
justifies save that which is united with 
charity ; but it is not from charity that it 
derives the poster to justify. Faith only 
justifies because it puts us in communi- 
cation with the righteousness of Christ. 
Whosoever confounds the two righteous- 
nesses (that of man and that of Godj hinders 
poor souls from reposing ' on the sole and 
pure mercy of God, plaits a crown of 
thorns for Jesus Christ, and turns his 
sacrifice into ridicule." 

Here Calvin puts forward the grand 
idea which characterizes the Reformation 
effected by his teaching ; namely, that it is 
only the new man which we should value. 
After insisting as much as any doctor on 
the work that Christ does without us, he 
insists more than any on the work Christ 
must do within us. "I e^alt to the 
highest degree the conjunction that we 
have with our Chief, — the dwelling he 
makes in our hearts by faith, — the sacred 
union by which we enjoy him. It is 
necessary that we should perceive in our 
lives a melody and harmony between the 
righteousness of God and the obedience 
of our souls." — He encourages humble, 
timid christians of weak faith. " If we 
have the least spark of God' s light, we are 
sufficiently illuminated and may have a 
firm assurance. . . The light of faith is 
never so extinct that there does not re- 
main some glimmer. The root of faith is 
never so torn from the heart, that it does 
not remain fastened there, although it 
seems to lean to this side or that. Faith 
is an armed man within us to resist the 
attacks of the evil one. ... If we put faith 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



927 



in the front, she receives the blows and 
wards them off. She may indeed be 
shaken, as a stalworth soldier may be 
compelled by a violent blow to step back- 
wards. Her shield may receive damage 
so as to lose its shape, but not be pene- 
trated ; and even in this extremity the 
shield deadens the blow, and the weapon 
does not pierce to the heart. . . . When 
St. John promises the victory to our faith, 
he does not mean simply that it will be 
victorious in one battle, or in ten, but in 
all. Be full of courage then. To fluctuate, 
to vary, to be tossed to and fro ; to doubt, 
to vacillate, to be kept in suspense, and 
finally to despair. . . that is not having 
confidence. We must have a solid sup- 
port on which we can rest. God has said 
it — that is enough. Being under the safe- 
guard of Christ, we are in no danger of 
perishing." 

Grace in all its fulness — grace from the 
first movement of regeneration until the 
final accomplishment of salvation, was the 
keynote of all Calvin's theology; and it 
was also the powerful artillery with which 
he batters the Roman fortress. Like St. 
"Paul in the first century, like St. Augustin 
in the fifth, Calvin is the Doctor of grace in 
the sixteenth ..." The will of man can- 
not of itself incline to good. Such a 
movement, which is the beginning of our 
conversion to God, Scripture entirely 
attributes to the Holy Ghost. . . . Christ 
wishing to deliver us from all fear in the 
midst of so many deadly assaults, has 
promised that those who have been given 
him by his Father to keep, shall not per- 
ish." 

Calvin next hastens to show the fruits 
of faith : " We have given the first rank to 
doctrine ; but to be useful to us, it must 
penetrate into the soul, pass into the manners 
and regulate the actions of our life. . . . 
Since the Holy Ghost consecrates us to be 
temples of God, we must take pains that 
the glory of God fills the temple. . . . We 
know those babblers who are content with 
having the Gospel on their lips, whilst it 
ought to sink to the bottom of the soul, 
and we detest their babbling." 

In the Church of the Middle Ages, Calvin 
had found the separation of religion and 
morality : a government, official doctrines, 
ceremonies, but all stripped of moral life. 
At that time religion was a tree stretching 
its branches wide into the air, but there 
was no sap flowing through them. To re- 
store a lively faith in religion, and through 
faith a holy morality, was the reformer's 
aim. . . . "God first impresses on our 
hearts the love of righteousness, to which, we 
are not inclined by nature ; and then he 
gives us a certain rule, which does not per- 
mit us to go astray." Accordingly, a mo- 
rality unknown for ages became, not only 
in Geneva, but wherever Calvin's doctrine 
penetrated, the distinctive feature of the 
Reformation. 

In Calvin's estimation, the Church is the 
whole assembly of the children of God ; 



but he also gives the name to the visible 
assembly of those who, in different parts 
of the world, profess to worship the Lord : 
" A great multitude, in which the children 
of God are, alas, but a handful of unknown 
people, like a few grains on the threshing 
floor under a great heap of straw. Our 
rudeness, our idleness, and the vanity of 
our minds require external helps, (he ad- 
ded, ) and for that reason God has instituted 
pastors and teachers. ' ' 

The Christian Institutes in its earliest 
form was a simple defence, explaining 
briefly law, faith, prayer, the sacraments, 
christian liberty, and the nature of the 
Church and State. But the French refu- 
gees at Geneva, and even distant protes- 
tants, continually solicited Calvin to set 
forth the whole Christian doctrine in his 
book ; and accordingly it received numer- 
ous additions. 

The Christian Institutes are a proof that 
christian love' prevailed in Calvin's mind ; 
indeed, he wrote for the justification of 
believers, his brethren. However, by defend- 
ing the reformed, he explained and justi- 
fied the Reformation itself. What are its 
principles ? The formative principle of 
faith and of the Church is, with him as 
with Luther, the sovereign Word of God ; 
but he asserts it with more decision than 
his predecessor. Calvin is anti-traditional : 
he will have nothing to do with host, or 
font, or festivals and other ceremonies pre- 
served by Luther. He did not reform the 
Church ; he created it anew. Zwingle was 
also scriptural ; yet the Zurich doctor was 
specially exegetic, while the Geneva doc- 
tor was specially dogmatic. Luther and 
Calvin alike hold gratuitous salvation ; but 
the former lays down as a fundamental 
article the justification by faith of the regen- 
erate man, while Calvin proclaimed first of 
all salvation by the sovereignty of divine 
grace. 

That was a solemn time for Calvin when 
he finished his Institutes in his room at 
Catherine Klein' s. And the Institutes were 
admired by the noblest spirits of the age. 

The object of the Christian Institutes 
was to make known to Christendom, and 
particularly to the protestants of Ger- 
many, the doctrines professed in France 
by the men whom the king was putting to 
death. But was that all Calvin had to 
do? The lamentable spectacle of the 
burning piles in France was night and day 
before his eyes. And knowing that the 
same fate was hanging over the heads of 
all who desired no other mediator but 
Christ, he determined to write to the king, 
dedicating his book to him. ... A bold 
step for an almost unknown young man. 

"Sire," he said, "you are yourself a 
witness by what false calumnies our doc- 
trine is everywhere defamed. Have you 
not been told that it tends to nothing else 
but to ruin all kingdoms and governments, 
to disturb the peace,' to abolish all law, to 
confiscate lordships and possessions, and, 



928 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



in a word, to throw everything into con- 
fusion? And nevertheless you hear only 
the least part of these outrages. Horrible 
stories are circulated against us, for which, 
if they were true, we should richly deserve 
to be hanged a thousand times over. 

"Our defence does not consist in disa- 
vowing our doctrine, but in maintaining it 
to be true. Truth deprives her adversaries 
of the right to open their mouths against 
her. And for this reason, sire, I pray you 
to obtain full information of a cause which 
hitherto has been treated with impetuous 
fury rather than with judicial gravity. 
. . . The poor Church is driven out by 
banishment, consumed by cruel deaths, 
and so terrified by threats and terrors that 
she dares not utter a word. And yet the 
enemies of the truth are not satisfied. . . . 
They treat God's most sure truth as impu- 
dence and ignorance. Those whom our 
Lord has so esteemed as to impart to them 
the secrets of his heavenly wisdom, they 
call simple folks ! who permit themselves 
to be easily deceived — so ashamed are they 
of the Gospel. ... It is your business, 
sire, not to avert either your ears or your 
heart from so just a defence. A great 
matter is at stake. We have to learn how 
God's glory shall be maintained on earth, 
how his truth shall retain its honor, and 
how Christ's kingdom shall remain in its 
integrity. ... A reign which has not 
God's glory for its aim, is not a reign but 
a mere brigandage. 

"Sire, do not turn away in disdain of 
our meanness. Yerily, we confess that 
we are poor despicable folks, — miserable 
sinners before God, reviled and rejected 
before men. . . . Nay, if you like it we 
are the scum of the earth or anything 
more worthless still, that can be named. 
Yes, we have nothing left in which we can 
glory before God, except his only mercy 
. . . and nothing before men, except our 
weakness !" 

But the apologist immediately lifted up 
his head with holy pride: " Neverthless, 
our doctrine must remain exalted, invinc- 
ible, and far above all the power and glory 
of the world. For it is not ours, but that 
of the living God and his Christ, whom 
God has made King to rule from sea to 
sea, and from the rivers unto the end of 
the earth, . . . and whose magnificence 
the prophets have foretold, saying that he 
shall overthrow kingdoms as strong as iron 
and brass, and shining like silver and gold. 
. . . What is more conformable with the 
christian faith, than to acknowledge our- 
selves stripped of all virtue to be clothed 
with God ? empty of all good to be filled 
with Him ? the slaves of sin to be freed 
by Him ? blind, to have our sight restored 
by Him? lame, that He may make us 
walk ? weak, to be supported by Him ? in 
a word, to put off from us all manner of 
glory, that He alone may be glorified ? 
. . . Ah ! we do not read of men being 
blamed for drinking too deeply at the 
fountain of living waters; on the con- 



trary, the prophet bitterly reproves those 
who have hewed out broken cisterns that 
can hold no water. ' ' 

Calvin even attempted— and a hopeless 
attempt it was— to touch the king's heart : 
"Consider, sire, all parts of oar cause. 
We are persecuted, some of us are kept in 
prison, others are scourged, others forced 
to do penance, others banished, others es- 
cape by flight. . . . We are in tribulation, 
insulted, treated cruelly, looked upon as 
outlaws, and accursed. . . . And for 
what? . . . Because we place our hope in 
the living God, and believe that life ever- 
lasting is to know the only true God and 
Jesus Christ whom he hath senV 

"Why," he asked, "do our enemies 
fight so stoutly and so sternly for the mass, 
purgatory, pilgrimages, and such rub- 
bish? . . . Because the belly is their God, 
and the kitchen their religion. Because, 
although some treat themselves delicately 
and others starve upon crust, they all eat 
out of the same pot which, without these 
branches to warm them the mass, purga- 
tory, etc.) would not only grow cold, but 
freeze entirely. ... I hear them — they 
call our doctrine new. Verily, I have no 
doubt it is new, so far as they are con- 
cerned, seeing that even Christ and his 
Gospel are quite new to them. But he 
who knows that this preaching of St. 
Paul's is old, namely that Christ died for 
our sins and was raised again for our justi- 
fication, finds nothing new among us. 
True, it has long been hidden and un- 
known, but the crime must be laid to the 
wickedness of man ; and now that by 
God's goodness it is restored to us, it 
ought at least to be received into its 
ancient authority." 

Francis I. affected a certain respect for 
ancient christian literature and the 
Fathers. Calvin said: "They ought 
not to tyrannize over us." He was an 
eager student of their writings, and he 
made them bear testimony to the king 
against the doctrines of Rome. 

"It was a Father, Epiphanius, who said 
that it was a horrible abomination to see 
an image of Christ or of any saint in a 
christian temple. 

"It was a Father, Pope Gelasius, who 
said that the substance of the bread and 
wine dwells in the sacrament of the Holy 
Supper ; as the human nature dwells in 
our Lord Jesus Christ, united to his divine 
essence. 

" It was a Father, Augustine, who called 
it a rash theory to assert any doctrine 
without the clear testimony of scripture. 

" It was a Father, Paphnutius, who 
maintained "that the ministers of the 
Church ought not to be forbidden to marry, 
and that chastity consisted in having a 
lawful wife. 

"It was a Father, Augustine, who con- 
tended that the Church ought not to be 
preferred to Christ, because whilst eccle- 
siastical judges, being men, may be mis- 
taken, Christ always judges righteously. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



929 



. . . All ! if I wished to reckon up all the 
points in which the Roman doctors reject 
the yoke of the Fathers, whose obedient 
children they call themselves, months and 
years would pass away in reading the long 
roll. ... And then- they reprove us for 
going beyond the ancient boundaries. . . . 
If you are willing, sire, to give up a part 
of your leisure and to read my writings . . . 
you will see clearly that what our adver- 
saries call a Church is a cruel gehenna, a 
slaughter-house of souls, a torch, a ruin, 
. . . Oh! what perversity to accuse the 
"Word of God of the seditions stirred up 
against it by fools and madmen. . . . Let 
not God's Gospel be blasphemed by the 
evil doings of the wicked. . . . 

"May the Lord, the King of kings, es- 
tablish your throne in righteousness and 
your seat in equity. ' ' 

Such was the noble and touching defence 
which a young man of twenty-six addressed 
to the King of France. He heard from 
afar the mournful cries of the victims ; 
and his soul being stirred with compassion 
and indignation, he appeared as a suppli- 
ant before the voluptuous prince who was 
putting them to death. After finishing an 
address of such rare eloquence, Calvin 



wrote the date — Basle, 1st August, 1535, 
and then hastened to get the manuscript 
printed. The French edition bears this 
date, and a Latin translation was promptly 
printed August 23d. Did Francis ever re- 
ceive the letter ? Did he listen to this ad- 
mirable apology ? The fact is not known ; 
but it is certain that his heart was not 
softened. 

Calvin now thought of leaving Basle to 
escape the publicity which must follow the 
issue of these writings. "It is not my object 
to display myself and to acquire fame," he 
said. On the 23d of August he set out 
with Du Tillet. He longed to cross the 
Alps and see Italy. He desired to visit the 
land of heroes, martyrs, and scholars of 
Renee, of Ferrara, and ... of the popes. 
Italia salutanda / We might say, after an 
historian, that like Mithridates, he desires 
to conquer Rome in Rome. His route is 
not known ; but it is supposed he took the 
road along the shores of the Lake of Ge- 
neva. 

Let us leave him for awhile, and turn 
towards those countries whither he will 
come again, once more crossing the Alps 
on his escape from the prisons of Italy. 



930 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK V. 



STRUGGLES OF THE REFORMATION. 



1531—1533. 



Efforts in the Pays De Vaud — Plot of the Women against Reform ; Farel's Preaching — A 
new Reformer and an Image-breaker — The Battles of Grandson — The Waldenses appear — 
Plans of the Emperor, the Duke of Savoy, and the Bishop against Geneva — The Reformers 
and the Reformation Enter Geneva — The Reformers are Expelled from Geneva — A Journey 
to the Valleys of Piedmont, and Struggles near Nenchatel — The Schoolmaster and Claudine 
Levet — Formation of the Church : Friends and Opponents — The Sermon at the Molard — 
Holy Scripture and the Lord's Supper at Geneva — Formation of a Catholic Conspiracy — 
First Armed Attack of the Catholics upon the Reformation— Truce between the Two 
Parties— Second Attack, in which the Leader Perishes — The Canon's Death made a Weapon 
against the Reform— Catastrophe. 



Struggles, political or religious, are the 
normal state of society and the life of his- 
tory. This thought would be saddening 
indeed, did not experience and Scripture 
teach us that opposition is often a means 
of development. 

Care must be taken that we do not go 
too far in the way of accommodation. The 
Reformation must make no concessions to 
popery. It was by the potent virtue of the 
Gospel that the little city of Geneva, which 
had been only an Alpine burgh, was so 
marvellously metamorphosed and became 
in Europe the capital of a great opinion. 
A single circumstance, however, tended to 
compromise its future. The reform tri- 
umphed, but not without losing strength, 
for the sword struck foul in the struggle. 
The death of Servetus at the fatal stake 
did more injury to the truth than to false- 
hood. From that hour the doctrine lost 
its power. Fortunately, after the lapse of 
two centuries, the struggles, entirely spir- 
itual struggles, began again, and religion 
was saved by them. 

We shall not begin with the struggles 
of the Reformation in Geneva, but with 
those which were fought in a country 
beautifully situated between the lakes and 
the mountains, the Pays de Vaud. The 
country was not large, its cities were not 
populous, and the names of the men who 
straggled there do not occupy an impor- 
tant place in the annals of nations. Let 
us not forget, however, that the humblest 
sphere of history is sometimes the great- 
est. Have they not often a deeper moral 
significance and a wider practical influ- 
ence? A contemporary historian, after 
tracing the papal intrigues of the sixteenth 
century, records : Europe was saved by Ge- 
neva. Calvin was the great doctor of the 
sixteenth century, and Farel, the great 
evangelist : the latter is one of the most 
remarkable figures in the Reformation. A 
catholic in his youth, fanatic in abstinence 
and maceration, Farel had embraced sal- 
vation through grace with all the living 
ardor of his soul. His desire to enlighten 
his contemporaries was intense, his heart 
intrepid, his zeal indefatigable, and his 



ambition for God's glory without bounds. 
His doctrine was sound, his proofs strong, 
his expressions eloquent and significant. 
Farel had the riches of nature, of art, and 
of grace. His sermon was not a disserta- 
tion but an action. His life was a series 
of battles and victories. Every time he 
went forth it was conquering and to con- 
quer. The cities where he preached were 
not large capitals ; but Derbe, Lystra, and 
Berea, where St. Paul preached, were little 
towns like Orbe, Neuchatel, and Geneva. 

Farel, desirous of winning Geneva to the 
Gospel, first set about enlightening the 
neighboring people. His labors in the 
Vaudois towns and villages admirably^pre- 
pared the way for his successes among the 
huguenots. Midway in his labors he was 
forced to take to his bed at Morat, because 
of wounds received at Neuchatel from a riot- 
ous crowd. Condemned to repose, "shiver- 
ing with cold, spitting blood," and scarcely 
able to speak, he was communing with his 
God when he saw Christopher Fabri, a 
young convert from Dauphiny, enter his 
room. Modestly approaching the bed, 
Fabri said : "I have forsaken everything, 
family, prospects, and country to fight at 
your side, Master William. Here I am ; 
do with me what seems good to you." 
Farel welcomed Fabri as a son in the 
faith, and soon asked the converted Dau- 
phinese to preach the Gospel at Neuchiitel. 
Fabri obeyed, but said: "O master, my 
sorrow is greater to-day than when I left 
father and mother, so sweet have been my 
conversations with you." 

The ancient town of Orbe, lying at the 
foot of the lower slopes of the Jura, often 
attracted Farel's thoughts in these solitary 
hours. A dealer in indulgences was there, 
noisily selling his pardons for every offence. 
Farel could not keep his bed at this news, 
but proceeded to Orbe. The next market 
day this little man with a red beard and 
piercing eyes said to the quack : "Have 
you indulgences for a person who has 
killed his father and mother? Without 
awaiting his answer, Farel boldly urged 
the multitude to ask pardon of the Saviour 
instead of buying indulgences from the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



931 



monk. A tradesman, Christopher Hol- 
lard, and Mark Romain, a schoolmaster, 
were here converted. 

The town was in commotion, and the 
sisters of St. Clair entreated their confes- 
sor to preach against heresy. The munici- 
pal magistrates were good catholics ; but 
the bailiff, who had superior authority, 
lived at Eschallens, and was by turns a 
Friburger or a Bernese. The confident 
friar, Michael Juliani, said: "I shall cre- 
ate these Lutherans anew in the faith as 
they were before." A large crowd assem- 
bled to hear his sermon. Losing all mod- 
eration, he began to extol in the most 
pompous terms Rome, the priesthood, celi- 
bacy, and to attack the reformers with 
violence and abuse. "What," said he, 
"are those })riests, monks, and nuns who 
renounce their vows in order to marry? 
Unclean, impure, infamous, abominable 
apostates before men and before God!" 
" You lie !" called out twice in a sonorous 
voice Christopher Hollard, who fancied 
that his brother, late dean of Friburg, was 
thus reflected upon. A great uproar en- 
sued, in which the women were especially 
prominent. The grand banneret, Sire de 
Pierrefleur, records: "All with one ac- 
cord fell upon the said Christopher, tore 
out his beard and beat him ; they scratched 
his face with their nails and otherwise, so 
that if they had been let alone he would 
never have gone out of the said church, 
which would have been a great benefit 
for poor catholics." The castellan, An- 
thony Agasse, rescued Hollard from the 
furies, and threw him "into a dungeon to 
avoid a greater scandal." 

The Reformation brought great benefits 
to women, by substituting for a religion 
of external practices an inner, holy, and 
useful life. However, the women, attached 
to their priests and ceremonies, and who 
are easily aroused, were often bitterly op- 
posed to the reform. Hollard' s mother 
was not of this number. She was deeply 
grieved to see her son a prisoner, and ex- 
posed to the vengeance of the exasperated 
Roman catholics. In company with the 
schoolmaster she set off for Eschallens, to 
inform the Bernese bailiff of the monk's 
insulting address and its consequences. 
The lord bailiff felt that the friar's insults 
were the cause of all the disorder ; that he 
had attacked the Gospel and the Reforma- 
tion, recognized by my lords of Berne, and 
that he was the person to be blamed. 

The bailiff of Diesbach arrived in Ge- 
neva that afternoon, and sent his officers 
to fetch Friar Juliani. The monk was in 
hiding, but was brought before the bailiff. 
The latter, rising up, caught him by the 
hand and said : "I arrest you in the name 
of my lords," and then taking him to the 
prison, " drew Hollard out of his hole and 
put the said friar in his place," Such 
were the energetic proceedings of Berne. 
Mark Romain, pleased at having rescued 
his friend, was going quietly home when 



the exasperated townspeople pursued him. 
He sought an asylum in the church, where 
the women were then invoking the queen 
of heaven: "Hail, queen of mercy, we 
send up our groans to thee ! O thou who 
art our advocate, save us I" At once these 
worshipers rushed upon the schoolmas- 
ter, ' ' caught him by the hair, threw him 
on the ground, and beat him," till a friend 
rescued him. "I am certain," said the 
banneret, "that had it not been for the 
assistance he received from this Lutheran, 
he would never have gone out of the place 
until he was dead. ' ' 

A mob collected around the castle in 
which Friar Michael was confined, and as 
the bailiff passed by they asked : "Why 
have you arrested Friar Michael? Why 
have you delivered Christopher?" "By 
order of my lords of Berne, ' ' calmly an- 
swered the bailiff. "If you can set him at 
liberty you may take him . . . but I ad- 
vise you not." At the great square the 
women of the city all fell on their knees 
"with many tears," and stretching out 
their hands towards him, exclaimed : 
1 ' Mercy for the good father ! set him at 
liberty !" The Bernese was softened, but 
he could not yield. 

The leading catholics were horrified that 
a priest was put in prison in Orbe, for a 
strictly Romish sermon. They resolved to 
appeal from the heretical Bernese bailiff 
to the Friburgers, who were good catho- 
lics. Two commissioners laid these griev- 
ances before that city, and a mixed dep- 
utation of Bernese and Friburgers were 
instructed to arrange the difference. Farel 
joined the Bernese at Avenches, and 
went with them to Orbe to be in the 
battle. Seven churches and twenty-six 
altars then testified to the ancient splen- 
dor and Romish fervor of the city. 

After mass on Palm Sunday, the 2d of 
April, 1531, " without asking leave of any 
one, Farel went into the pulpit to preach. ' ' 
— "Men, women, and children, hissed, 
howled, and stamped with all sorts of 
exclamations to disconcert him. Hog, 
they cried ; lubber, heretic, devil and 
other insults : it was a glorious noise. . . 
Seeing that he would not desist, they grew 
riotous, surrounded the pulpit, pulled him 
out of it, and would even have proceeded 
to blows ;" but the bailiff rescued the re- 
former from their attacks. Farel was not 
daunted, but began at six on Monday morn- 
ing to preach in the great square. The 
people kept away, and he had not a single 
hearer. That same day the women formed 
a plot against him ; at their head was a 
noble Friburg dame at Orbe, Elizabeth, 
wife of Hugonin, lord of Arnex, an honest 
and devout woman, but violent and fanati- 
cal. As Farel came out from the council of 
deputies that afternoon, these women fell 
upon him unawares and beat him ; but his 
companion, Pierre de Glairesse, rescued 
him, saying very politely : " Your pardon, 
ladies ; at present he is under my charge." 
— While Elizabeth was trying to kill the 



932 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



reformer, lier husband, William of Arnex, 
as bigoted as herself, was pleading the 
cause of the monk in his trial before the 
lords of Berne. The frightened friar de- 
nied the charges of blasphemy, and was 
set at liberty ; he soon fled to Burgundy. 
The deputies returned home and Farel re- 
mained. 

Shortly after Easter there came a man- 
date from Berne ordering that whenever 
Farel desired to preach, he should be given 
a hearing, support, and favor. As soon as 
the mandate had been read, the people, 
without waiting for the opinion of the 
Council, exclaimed: "Let him go about 
his business ; we do not want him or his 
preaching. ' ' The lords of Berne answered 
that Farel was to be free to speak, but 
that no inhabitant was constrained to hear 
him. The evangelist gave notice that he 
would preach on the Saturday after Qua- 
simodo, at one o'clock, when he would 
expose Juliani's errors. The catholics in- 
structed their children to attend ; and the 
little brats, pretending to be asleep, lay 
over the floor snoring and laughing. 
When the sermon commenced, they made 
a horrible uproar, and quitted the church. 
Nobody was left but the minister, quite 
amazed. " And this was the first sermon 
preached in the town of Orbe, ' ' says the 
grand banneret maliciously. 

The next day, Sunday, there was a 
grand procession of the parish to St. 
George's, outside the town. Profiting by 
this exodus, Farel ascended the pulpit, 
and loudly declared the truth to a con- 
gregation of ten evangelicals ; among these 
were Viret, Hollard, Secretan and Romain. 
The priests and people returned to the 
church and made threatening motions ; 
thereupon Farel, with more than his usual 
moderation, came down from the pulpit 
and went out. The clergy exulted : they 
ascribed Farel' s retreat to weakness and 
fear, and said openly in the city: "The 
minister cannot refute the articles of faith 
established by Juliani." — "Indeed," an- 
swered the Bernese bailiff, "you have 
heard the monk, and you now complain 
that you have not heard the minister. . . . 
Very good ! you shall hear him. It is 
the will of the lords of Berne that every 
father of a family be required to attend 
his sermon under pain of their dis- 
pleasure." 

They dared not disobey, and the church 
was thronged. Farel was rejoiced at see- 
ing such a congregation ; never had he 
been clearer, more energetic, more elo- 
quent. He attacked the pardons, pen- 
ances, confessions, immoralities, and im- 
age-worshipping of the Romish Church. 
' ' The key of the kingdom of heaven is 
the Word of God— the Holy Gospel. — 
The penance which God demands is a 
change of heart, life, and conversation." 
— The pope's pardons take away money, 
but they do not take away sin. — Con- 
fession — how many souls have been cast 
into hell by it ! how many virgins cor- 



rupted ! how many orphans ruined ! how 
many countries wasted ! — Farces full of 
scoffing, filth, ribaldry. . . are suffered 
openly. . . But the New Testament, 
which contains the doctrine and passion 
of Christ, is forbidden. — Arise, O Lord, 
and let the trumpet of thy holy Gospel 
be heard unto the ends of the earth." 

The priests soon thundered against such 
discourses, and the congregations speedily 
grew very slim. The surrounding dis- 
tricts compensated Farel for the contempt 
of Orbe. The people eagerly desired to hear 
him, and he received message after mes- 
sage. He wrote to Zwingle : "Oh! how 
great is the harvest ! No one can describe 
the ardor the people feel for the Gospel, 
and the tears I shed when I see the small 
number of reapers." Several of the 
evangelicals of Orbe asked to be sent out 
to preach, but Farel, thinking them not 
ripe enough, refused. There were some 
w T ho took offence at this, but it did not 
move Farel. " It is better to offend them, ' ' 
he said, "than to offend God." 

In 1511, William Viret, a burgess of 
Orbe, "cloth-dresser and tailor," had a 
son born to him whom he named Peter. 
The boy took no delight in this trade ; he 
sought the society of the best informed 
burgesses, but the first object of his wishes 
was God. He resolved to devote himself 
to the service of the altar, and his father 
sent him to school at Orbe until his twelfth 
year. In 1523, about the same time as 
John Calvin of Noyon, he travelled to 
Paris and entered the college of La Marche. 
Here "he made good progress in learn- 
ing," and Farel taught him the grace of 
the Gospel. " While still at college," 
Viret said, ' ' God took me out of the laby- 
rinth of error before I had sunk deeper 
into the Babylon of Antichrist." He now 
refused to receive the tonsure, and was 
' ' immediately set down as belonging to the 
Lutheran religion." At once he quitted 
France, and "returned to' his father's 
house." The contest in Orbe between the 
Gospel and popery at first intimidated 
him ; but he said of the Church of Rome : 
" It is the stronghold of superstition, the 
fortress of Satan." Yet his soul was dis- 
tracted with anguish and darkness ; he 
struggled and prayed till he fully regained 
the light of truth, and said: "Rome as- 
serts that antiquity is truth ; but what is 
there older in the world than lies, rebel- 
lion, murder, extortion, impurity, idola- 
try, and all kinds of wickedness and abom- 
ination ? . . . . To follow the doctrine of 
Cain and of Sodom is verily to follow an 
old doctrine. . . . But virtue, truth, holi- 
ness, innocence, and thou, God, which 
art the Father of them all, art older still." 
The priests now urged upon him the tes- 
timonies of the saints and the old doctors ; 
but he clung to the word of God : "No, 
1 will not believe because of Tertullian, or 
Cyprian, or Origen, or Chrysostom, or 
Peter Lombard, or Thomas Aquinas, not 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



933 



even because of Erasmus or Luther. . . . 
If I did so, I should be the disciple of 
men. ... I will believe only Jesus Christ 
my Shepherd." Viret felt the tenderest 
affection for the captives in the citadel of 
idolatry. The pious son began to pray 
earnestly for his parents, to speak gently 
to them of the Saviour, and soon the faith 
he professed took hold of their hearts. 

The most intimate union now sprang up 
between Farel and Viret in Orbe. One 
completed the other. If Farel was ardent, 
intrepid, and almost rash, Viret "had a 
wondrously meek temper." Farel per- 
suaded his modest friend to preach not 
only in the country but in Orbe itself. On 
the 6th of May, 1531, a large congregation 
gathered to hear the first sermon of their 
townsman. He was of small stature and 
pale complexion, his face thin and long, 
his eyes lively, and the whole expression 
meek and winning ; he was only twenty 
years old, but appeared to be younger 
still. He preached : his sermon was ac- 
companied by so much unction and learn- 
ing, his language was so persuasive, his 
eloquence so searching and penetrating 
that even the most worldly men were at- 
tracted by his discourse and hung, as it 
were, upon his lips. From that day Viret 
took his place in that noble army of her- 
alds of the Word which the Lord was rais- 
ing among the nations. The ardent Farel 
was the St. Peter of the Swiss Reform, the 
mighty Calvin the St. Paul, and the gentle 
Viret the St. John. Several conversions 
now followed. Madame Elizabeth, the fa- 
natical wife of the lord of Arnex, and her 
husband, gladdened and astonished many 
by coming out boldly on the Lord's side. 
George Grivay, an ecclesiastic, surnamed 
Galley, on the 10th of May, 1531, irritated 
the catholics by preaching the evangelical 
doctrine in the clearest manner. 

On Whitsunday, (28th of May,) at six in 
the morning, the Lord's Supper was quietly 
celebrated by eight disciples. They were 
Hugonin of Arnex and his wife, C. Hol- 
larcl and his aged mother, Corcley and his 
wife, William Viret, Peter's father, and 
George Grivat, afterwards pastor at Aven- 
ches ; many of the evangelicals did not 
think themselves sufficiently advanced in 
the faith to take part in this act, and 
doubtless Peter Viret was absent. They 
had hardly finished, when the exasperated 
priests entered the church hastily and 
sang the mass as loud as they cbuld. 

If the evangelization had continued in a 
peaceful course of christian edification, the 
whole city might have been gained over to 
the Gospel. But some of the ardent re- 
formers, especially Christopher Hollard, 
thought more of pulling down than build- 
ing up. He took with him twelve com- 
panions, and " pulled down all the altars " 
in the seven churches of the city ; twenty- 
six heaps of rubbish bore witness of their 
triumph. The catholics set up tables in 
place of the altars, upon which they cele- 
brated mass "rather meanly." Intoler- 



ance is a vice of human nature which even 
piety does not always cure. The two 
fiery Lutherans complained against all 
priests as being murderers ( of souls. ) The 
reformed governor ordered the Roman ec- 
clesiastics to be arrested, and some of 
them were seized. Yet some bold priests 
chanted mass in spite of the prohibition, 
and the catholics protected them with arms. 
The grand banneret, Pierrefieur, now sum- 
moned a general council, which voted "to 
live and die in the holy faith." Friburg 
then released the priests, and eighteen re- 
formers were cast into prison. Not till 
eighteen years later did the Reformation 
triumph over Catholicism in Orbe. 

Farel' s zeal was not cooled by the check 
he had received at Orbe. He saw before 
him other places that must be evangelized. 
He sought zealously for servants of God, 
who possessed a spirit of strength, charity, 
and prudence. Toussaint, Lecomte, Sym- 
phoranus, Andronicus, and others, were 
invited by him into Switzerland. "We 
have need of laborers inured to labor," he 
said. " I cannot promise them mountains 
of gold ; but I know that the Father will 
never abandon His own, and He will 
give them an abundant harvest." Farel 
dreaded the pettiness of narrow minds, 
who by their minutiae encumber the king- 
dom of Christ. Thus he wrote to An- 
dronicus : " Dear brother, do you possess 
Christ so as to teach Him purely, apart 
from the empty controversies of bread 
and water, taxes and tithes, which in the 
eyes of many constitute Christianity? . . . 
Do you seek Christ's glory only ? Do you 
purpose simply to plant in their hearts the 
faith that worketh by charity? If you 
are ready to bear the cross, then, dear 
brother, come instantly." The idle and 
cowardly Farel got rid of by promising to 
all of them fatigue, insult, and persecu- 
tion : it was with such promises the re- 
former levied his soldiers. In the pres- 
ence of the gigantic Alps, this humble 
man rose like them ; his appeals grew 
louder and louder, until the help needed 
.came to labor with him in the country 
that stretches from Basle to Berne as far 
as Geneva. 

Delighted at receiving such helpers, the 
reformer hastened to fresh combats. We 
can only find a parallel to Farel in the 
convert of Damascus. Ere long with De 
Glautinis he came to Grandson, on the 
extreme shore of the lake of Neuehatel. 
The reformers coolly asked the use of the 
large church' of the Gray Friars convent, 
in the name of the Lords of Berne ; but 
they were answered with the taunts : 
" Heretic !"—" Son of a Jew !" The Ben- 
edictine convent was next called upon. 
Here the ministers were assaulted with 
knives and pistols, but escaped unharmed. 

Farel departed for Morat, beseeching 
De Glautinus to take every opportunity 
to proclaim the gospel in Grandson, The 
latter labored privately as best he could, 



934 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



in the face of priestly interruptions. The 
Bernese lords soon ordered the conventual 
churches to be thrown open to the re- 
formers, whereupon Farel returned with 
Viret. From the 12th of May, the three 
evangelists began to preach Sundays and 
week-days. The evangelists preached 
grace, the superior friar prescribed works. 
The monks called the magistrates to de- 
fend the faith ; then the ministers were 
outlawed, arrested, and shut up in prison. 
Parties were formed among the people, 
and the catholics stalked proudly through 
the city with fir-cones in their caps. The 
neighboring town of Yverdun sent a clerical 
procession to encourage the catholics. Fa- 
rel and his friends were soon set at liberty ; 
friar Claude de Boneto was speedily pun- 
ished for loading the reformers with 
abuse. On St. John's day (23d June) 
Farel stood up in the church of the Fran- 
ciscans to refute the statements preached 
by a monk from Lausanne. The Friburg 
bailiff struck Farel ; an attack resulted in 
which the two ministers were severely 
beaten and bruised. 

The evangelicals appealed to the Sieur de 
Watteville, the avoyer of Berne, then on 
his estate three leagues from the city. 
That magistrate, desiring the citizens to 
have the right of free inquiry, ordered the 
monk and Farel to preach by turns. Two 
monks then posted themselves, in the 
church corridor, with axes hidden under 
their frocks, to keep the reformers away 
from the great crucifix ; but they were 
disarmed and put to flight by the serving- 
man of the avoyer, for rudely treating the 
Sieur de Watteville. Thirty women soon 
appeared, having their aprons filled with 
garden mould and with ashes, with which 
to blind and silence the preacher ; but 
the sight of the armed servant sent them 
flying to their homes. The two monks 
were imprisoned for a fortnight ; they 
began to search into the Lutheran doc- 
trines, and saw they were resisting the all- 
merciful Gospel of Jesus Christ. Two 
years later ' ' they received the Lutheran 
law, were made preachers, one at Fontaine, 
the other at Chavornay, married, and had 
a large family of children." Many of 
those Avho "kicked against the pricks" ob- 
tained mercy and became heralds of the 
faith. 

A last tumult was to cause the prin- 
ciples of religious liberty to be proclaimed 
in Switzerland. During the Christmas 
holidays at Orbe, the catholics proposed 
to have midnight masses, but refused the 
keys of the church to the reformers for 
service at seven o'clock on Christmas eve. 
Thereupon the church doors were opened, 
and a large congregation gathered; to them 
the minister explained the great mystery 
of faith, the coming of the Saviour, and 
asked them if they would not receive him 
into their hearts. At nine the bell rang, 
the catholics thronged the church, and the 
reformed quietly retired ; but the catholics 
were excited to make an attack upon those 



in the streets, and to fire stones at the 
windows of their houses. Yiret departed 
for Berne with ten of the reformed, in 
order to make his complaint. 

A few days later, on the 9th of January, 
1532, two hundred and thirty ministers 
assembled at Berne in council, among 
them the wise Capito, to secure liberty for 
themselves and their adversaries. " We 
desire," ^aid the Bernese, "that every one 
should have free choice to go to the pleach- 
ing or to mass." — 'And we also," said the 
Friburgers. "We desire that all should 
live in peace together, and that neither 
priests nor preachers should call their ad- 
versaries heretics or murderers. "And 
we also," said the Friburgers. "Never- 
theless, we do not wish to hinder the 
priests and preachers from conferring ami- 
cably and fraternally concerning the faith. " 
" Quite right," said the Friburgers. These 
articles, and others like them — the first 
monument of religious liberty in Switzer- 
land — were published on the 3uth January, 
1532. The order, however, did not for 
long prevent violent collisions. 

We must now leave this quarter with 
Farel, and return later. The evangelical 
seed was to be well sown in the Pays de 
Yaud, and was to produce, in our days 
especially the finest of fruit. 

On Friday, 12th July, Farel came from 
Morat to Grandson, where a quiet confer- 
ence was to be held, and ordained four 
preachers. But the conference was to be 
occupied with more important business. 

Several years before, the reports of the 
victories of the Reformation had penetra- 
ted to the remote valleys of the Alps of 
Piedmont and Dauphiny, where the Wal- 
denses for many centuries had resisted the 
pope and recognized no other authority 
than Holy Scripture. They were joyful, 
for they had thought themselves alone, and 
in one day there had been born to them in 
Europe thousands of brethren who listened 
humbly to the Word of God, and made the 
pope tremble on his throne. In 1530 the 
synod resolved to send a deputation to the 
evangelicals of Switzerland to show them 
that the Waldensian doctrines were simi- 
lar to those of the reformers, and to ask 
the hand of fellowship. George Morel and 
Peter Masson were accordingly sent to 
Basle. 

These simple-minded, worthy barbes 
greeted the steadfast (Ecolampadius in his 
home. The latter felt respect and sym- 
pathy for these brave and rustic men. 
The Waldenses took from their bosoms 
the documents of their faith, and presented 
them to the pious doctor. ' ' Turning away 
from antichrist," said these papers, "we 
turn towards Christ. He is our life, our 
peace, our righteousness, our shepherd, 
our advocate, our victim, our high priest, 
who died for the salvation of believers. 
But alas ! as smoke goeth before the fire, 
the temptation of antichrist precedeth the 
glory. .In the time of the apostles anti- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



christ was but a child ; he has now grown j 
into a perfect man. He robs Christ of the | 
merit of salvation, and ascribes it to his j 
own works. He strips the Holy Ghost of 
the power of regeneration, and attributes 
it to his ceremonies. Jle leads the people 
to mass, a sad tissue of Jewish, pagan, and 
christian rites, and deprives them of the 
spiritual and sacramental manducation. 
He hates, persecutes, accuses, robs, and 
kills the members of Jesus Christ. He 
boasts of his length of life, of his monks, 
his virgins, his miracles, his fasts, and his 
vigils, and uses them as a cloak to hide 
his wickedness. Nevertheless, the rebel 
is growing old and decreasing, and the 
Lord is killing the felon by the breath of 
his mouth." (Ecolampadius admired the 
simplicity of their creed. He would not 
have liked a doctrine without life, or a,n 
apparent life without doctrine, but he 
found both in the Waldensian barbes. "I 
thank God," he told them, "that he has 
called you to so great light. ' ' 

Ere long the doctors and faithful ones 
of Basle desired to see these men of an- 
cient times. Seated round the domestic 
hearth, the Waldenses narrated the suffer- 
ings of their fathers, and described their 
flocks scattered over the two slopes of the 
Alps. "Some people," they said, "as- 
cribe our origin to a wealthy citizen of 
Lyons, Peter de Vaux or Waldo, who, 
being at a banquet with his friends, saw 
one of them suddenly fall dead. Moved 
and troubled in his conscience he prayed 
to Jesus, sold his goods, and began to 
preach, and sent others to preach the Gos- 
pel everywhere. But we descend from 
more ancient times : from the time when 
Constantine introducing the world into the 
Church, our fathers set themselves apart, 
or even from the time of the apostles. ' ' 

On several points the reformers of Basle 
found certain points of doctrine of these 
humble, sincere christians not conforma- 
able with evangelical truth. "All our 
ministers," said the barbes, "live in celi- 
bacy, and work at some honest trade." 
They confessed that through weakness and 
fear they had their children baptized by 
Romish priests, and that they even com- 
municated with them, and sometimes at- 
tendedmass "Nothing, " they con- 
tinued, " troubles us weak people so much 
as what we have heard of Luther's teach- 
ing relative to free will and predestina- 
tion. . . . Our ignorance is the cause of 
our doubts ; pray instruct us . " The chari- 
table G3colampadius felt they had pre- 
served the essential -truths of the faith 
from the primitive times. "Christ," he 
said, "is in you as he is in us, and we 
love you as brethren." . . . "We must 
enlighten these christians, but above all 
things we must love them." 

The two barbes conferred at Strasburg 
with Bucer and Capito, after which they 
set out to return to their valleys. These 
pious men were thrown into prison at 
Dijon. Morel escaped with the evangeli- 
60 



cal letters and instructions ; but Masson 
was executed and died in the peace of a 
believer. Thus the joy of the Waldenses 
was tempered with sadness. They de- 
termined to take another step towards a 
stricter reform. "Let us convoke a synod 
of all our churches," said they, "and in- 
vite the reformers to it." 

One July day in 1532 the evangelicals in 
conference at Grandson were saluted by 
the two barbes, George and Martin Gonin. 
They welcomed the messengers and lis- 
tened attentively to the story of the per- 
secutions endured by their fathers. The 
barbes invited the ministers to attend the 
synod and explain their views. "After 
that we must come to an understanding 
about the means of propagating over the 
world the doctrine of the Gospel which is 
common to both of us." No message 
could be more agreeable to Farel. He re- 
solved to brave the dangers of the journey, 
and the pious Saunier wished to share his 
perils. Nor were the chances of seizure 
in the intervening district of Savoy light 
ones. Bonivard had been captured, and 
subsequently to this time Martin Gonin 
was arrested at Grenoble, put into a sack, 
and drowned in the Isere. 

Towards the end of August, Farel and 
Saunier travelled on horseback, by unfre- 
quented roads across the Alps, to meet the 
synod at Angrogne. They found the Wal- 
denses here and there in the meadows, 
and at the foot of the roads, and were 
greeted with joy. "That one with the 
red beard and riding the white horse is 
Farel," said one of their escort; "the 
other, on the dark horse, is Saunier." 
Other foreign christians met in this re- 
mote valley of the Alps, coming from 
Italy, Burgundy, Lorraine, Bohemia : the 
lords of Rive Noble, Mirandola and Solaro 
quitted their castles to attend this Alpine 
council. Clergy, senate, and people as- 
sembled at the hamlet of Chauforans, and 
sat on rude benches in the open air. Two 
parties met there face to face. Daniel of 
Valence and John of Molines, led those 
who favored a system of accommodation 
and compliance with the Roman church ; 
Farel and Saunier urged upon the evan- 
gelicals the definitive rejection of all semi- 
catholic doctrines and usages. The issue 
of the combat seemed doubtful. 

On the 12th September the synod was 
opened "in the name of God." Farel 
boldly urged the rejection of all mechani- 
cal ceremonies. ' ' God is a spirit, ' ' he said, 
"and divine worship should be performed 
in spirit and in truth." The two barbes 
strove in vain to oppose these views ; the 
meeting testified their assent to them. 
Did not their confession reject "all feasts, 
vigils of saints, water called holy, the act 
of abstaining from flesh, and other like 
things invented by men*?" The worship 
in spirit was proclaimed. 

Farel now sought a more difficult vic- 
tory, the denial of the natural power of 
man. "God," said he, "has elected be- 



936 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



fore the foundation of the world all those 
who have been or who will be saved. It 
is impossible for those who have been or- 
dained to salvation not to be saved. Who- 
soever upholds freewill, absolutely denies 
the grace of God." The synod hesitated, 
but finally recognized this article as " con- 
formable with Holy Scripture. " ' ' There is 
no good work but that which God has 
commanded," said Farel ; "and none bad 
but what he has forbidden. ' ' The assem- 
bly assented to all the evangelical doc- 
trines, saying: "That is the doctrine of 
our fathers." 

Molines and Daniel urged the Walden- 
ses to persevere in certain dissimulations, 
to shield themselves from the enemies of 
the faith. Farel urged the necessity of a 
frank confession of the faith. "We will 
perform our worship, " agreed the assem- 
bly, " openly and publicly to give glory to 
God. ' ' Urged on by the eloquent Farel, 
the Waldenses went further, and agreed 
to break entirely with the catholic church. 
They drew up and signed a brief confes- 
sion in seventeen articles, and then said : 
"We adhere with one accord to the pres- 
ent declaration, and we pray^ God that, of 
his great charity, nothing may divide us 
henceforward, and that, even when separ- 
ated from one another, we may always re- 
main united in the same spirit." The 
agreement was not universal ; the two 
leaders withheld their signatures and with- 
drew from the assembly. 

The evangelists examined with interest 
the old manuscripts of the Waldenses : the 
Noble Lesson, the Ancient Catechism, the 
Antichrist, the Purgatory, and several man- 
uscript copies of the Old and New Testa- 
ment. Farel urged them to have the Bible 
translated from the Hebrew and Greek 
tongues into French, that all the people 
might have the Scriptures ; and the Wal- 
denses joyfully agreed to further the work. 
Farel and Saunier now set off towards Ge- 
neva. " I will go to them now," he said ; 
" I will speak to them even if there is no- 
body that will hear me." 

This idea, which never quitted him, was 
the beginning of the Reformation of Ge- 
neva. 

Just when the Gospel was about to enter 
Geneva with Farel and Saunier, the bishop- 
prince was making new exertions to re- 
cover his power. Great powers had de- 
termined to oppress this little city ; but 
humble servants of God were about to 
enter it one after another, and planting 
there the standard of Christ, secure the 
victory to independence and the Gospel. 

The Duke of Savoy, desiring to inflict 
a fatal blow on Geneva, had invoked the 
co-operation of the most powerful mon- 
arch s of Europe, and despatched to 
Charles V., then at the diet of Augsburg, 
the usual minister of his tyranny, the man 
whom he had employed to put Levrier to 
death, and to capture Bonivard. As soon 
as Bellegarde reached Augsburg (11th Sep- 



tember, 1530) he called on the Sire de 
Montfalconet, who " had great credit with 
the emperor, so that nothing was kept 
secret from him." The ambassador was 
compelled to wait several days to see the 
emperor, much to his vexation. On the 
third morning he entered Charles' cham- 
ber, and was told by Montfalconet that 
the emperor "had forsaken the counsels 
of men to have recourse to the Lord only." 
He had confessed, and retired into the 
oratory to receive the sacrament, ordering 
that divine services should be made in 
every place where there were any devout 
people. 

Charles Y. now came out of his oratory, 
greeted the ambassador, and appointed an 
interview for the next morning. M. de 
Bellegarde returned punctually, and the 
emperor said : "I am very glad that the 
duke sent you to me ; but, considering my 
great occupations, be so good as to draw 
up a memoir of what you think most ex- 
pedient for the despatch of the business 
that brings you here, and then deliver it 
to my Lord Grand velle." Bellegarde was 
provoked at this further delay, but he had 
several other conversations with the em- 
peror. In one of these Charles V. said : 
" I do not mean that the duke shall be 
either dismissed or ejected; but the diet 
(of Augsburg) is all in confusion and 
broken up. 1 have no great hopes. . . . 
It is a long while since I have found the 
princes of Germany thus dilly-dallying, 
putting me off from day to day, so that I 
am quite out of hope, and my head is con- 
fused." The emperor's plan was first to 
crush the protestants of Germany, and 
then the huguenots of Geneva. In his 
opinion these were as dangerous for the 
Latin races as the former for the Germans. 

At last, on the 6th of October, Belle- 
garde received the imperial answer through 
Grandvelle, chancellor of the empire : 
"With respect to Geneva, his majesty 
thinks that to avoid falling into the dan- 
ger which the duke has at all times feared 
and avoided, no part or parcel of his states 
must become Swiss. . . . That would 
cause loss and damage to the duke, and 
little credit to the emperor, considering 
that Geneva is a fief of the empire. Here 
is the expedient the emperor has hit upon. 
He orders both the duke and Geneva to 
lay before him within two months their 
titles, rights, and privileges, and his maj- 
esty will then decide. As for the prelates, 
the bishop, and the canons, the emperor 
recommends both them and the duke to 
bring their quarrels to an end. By so 
doing the duke will get rid of a great load 
of trouble, and will have the prelates 
better under his direction and obedience." 

The Sieur de Bellegarde speedily re- 
turned to Turin, determined to urge his 
master more than ever to destroy inde- 
pendence and the Reformation in Geneva 
at one blow. He falsely urged that the 
Genevans used to pay the dukes toll and 
subsidy, and render service in time of war. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



He proposed that a castle or fortress should 
be built by Savoy in Geneva, and that the 
citizens should pay a tax every year for 
the support of the garrison. If they did 
not yield they should be subdued while 
their privileges and possessions should be 
confiscated. This is what Geneva had to 
expect from Savoy ; what had it to hope 
from the bishop ? 

"While the duke wished to reign by force, 
Pierre de la Baume desired to use strata- 
gem. He wrote a series of letters to Be- 
sancon Hugues, in the last year of that 
good man's life, soliciting his help. On 
the 11th of April, 1532, he wrote from 
Arbois that he trusted in Hugues' fidelity ; 
and ten days later Machard, the bishop's 
secretary, made him a verbal proposition 
which Hugues rejected. The bishop was 
annoyed at this failure ; he became angry 
and pleased by turns, as the times varied. 
About July he wrote: "It seems to me 
that they would do well to obey their 
lord, and not act the prince. ... It can- 
not last." 

But it did last. Geneva, whatever 
Pierre de la Baume might say or do, was 
separating from the bishop and the pope. 
It was reported in the city that the bishop 
was willing to make some concessions, and 
the huguenots took advantage of the ru- 
mor to assert their independence. The 
bishop heard of this, and wrote 28th 
November, his last letter to Besancon 
Hugues, saying: "The recompense I 
made you was to the end that you might 
keep my possessions in peace, but they 
are more than ever in war It is entirely 
your fault if my jurisdiction is not still 
kept up. I write to you in order that you 
may perform your duty. . . As for me I 
am accustomed to do something vigorously. 
. . I shall consider what it must be." — 
Besanc,on Hugues must have died between 
the 28th November, 1532, and the 18th 
February, 1533. 

Thus the bishop, continually engrossed 
with Geneva, thought of nothing but re- 
covering his former power. But the in- 
dependence of that city had enemies more 
formidable still. Charles V. had ordered 
the Genevans to drive the Reformation 
from their walls, and "to preserve with 
unshaken constancy the faith, rites, and 
ceremonies that you have received from 
your fathers." Geneva had not obeyed 
the orders of the puissant emperor. Now 
the treaty of Nuremberg was signed, and 
Charles V. was free to assist his brother- 
in-law against the huguenots of Geneva. 
Before any great length of time the Ge- 
nevans were really to see a formidable 
force marching against them, commis- 
sioned to carry out the plans of the em- 
peror and the duke. But God's provi- 
dence had always kept the city, and at 
this very moment the Gospel of the Son 
of God was about to enter its walls. He 
whom the Son maketh free, shall be free 
indeed. 



On one fine autumn day, (2d October, ) 
Farel and Saunier " having finished their 
journey through Piedmont," reached that 
beautiful neighborhood where the Alps and 
the Jura, drawing near each other, form 
a rich valley, in the midst of which 
calmly sleep the pure waters of an azure 
lake. They soon distinguished the three 
old towers of the cathedral of Geneva 
rising high above the houses. They 
pressed their horses, whose speed was re- 
laxed through fatigue, and entered the 
city of the huguenots. At the inn called 
Tour Perce, near the left bank of the 
Rhone, they took up their quarters. 

Robert Olivetan, who was still tutor to 
Jean Chautemps' children, was delighted 
at the coining of these brethren. Know- 
ing how learned Olivetan was in Greek 
and Hebrew, Farel at once urged him to 
make the translation of the Bible into 
French which the Waldensian synod had 
decided upon. Olivetan exclaimed, in 
alarm : "1 cannot accept such a commis- 
sion, considering the great difficulty of 
the work and my own weakness." Farel 
soon dropped the subject, in order to talk 
with Olivetan about the evangelization of 
Geneva. The tutor looked upon the evan- 
gelist of Orbe as one sent from heaven in 
answer to his prayers. He accompanied 
him to some of the chief huguenots to de- 
liver letters of introduction, although ex- 
plaining that the majority were content to 
throw off the Romish superstitions, and 
were simply true patriots. 

No name was better known than Farel's 
in the districts bathed by the lakes of Ge- 
neva, Morat, Bienne and Neuchatel. All 
on whom he called were glad at seeing 
him, and Farel invited them to his inn. 
"Let us go and hear him," said the hugue- 
nots ; " it is the man they call the scourge 
of the little priests. ' ' But the nuns, bigots, 
and friars were filled with anger at the 
arrival of the " shabby little preacher." 

On the morning of the 3d of October, 
the most notable of the huguenots en- 
tered the Tour Perce, and were intro- 
duced into a private room where they 
found Farel and Saunier. Syndics Ami 
Porral, Claude Savoy, and Robert Vandel, 
with his brother Pierre, Jean Chautemps, 
Jean Goulaz, the energetic Ami Perrin, 
and other leading reformers were here 
gathered. The two evangelists were full 
of esteem for these men struggling with 
such courage for independence and liberty 
against such powerful enemies ; but they 
saw there was a great void in their re- 
ligious systems. The Genevans i'elt this 
themselves, and told Farel they desired 
nothing better than to be instructed. 
Farel placed the Bible on a little table, 
and began to speak from the Word of 
God. An audience so select, an oppor- 
tunity so important for announcing the 
Gospel, had perhaps never been offered 
to the reformer. The huguenots listened 
to him attentively while he urged them to 
know Jesus Christ by Holy Scripture only, 



938 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to abandon errors and abuses dangerous 
to their spiritual welfare. They thanked 
him for substituting Holy Scriptures in 
the place of the teaching of the pope. 
This was the principle of an immense 
transformation. The Reformation had 
taken its first step in Geneva when the 
placards of the ' ' general pardon ' ' of God 
had been stuck up ; it now took the 
second step. "There was a great sensa- 
tion in the city," says Froment. The as- 
tonishment was still greater in the po- 
litical and ecclesiastical bodies. All of 
them foresaw that this act would have in- 
numerable and fatal consequences. 

There was soon a second meeting, and 
the citizens anxious to hear the Gospel 
filled every corner of the room. As Farel 
had first spoken particularly of Scripture, 
he now addressed the huguenots on the 
subject of living grace. He showed them 
that it was not the pardon of the Church, 
but the pardon of God that saves. "By 
this means a goodly number of the Ge- 
nevans received a knowledge ef the Gos- 
pel." 

This second meeting added consider- 
ably to the alarm in the catholic camp 
The priests told their female parishioners 
that if they did not turn out these un- 
believers everything was lost. The Ge- 
nevan ladies therefore entreated their hus- 
bands and brothers to expel the heretic 
preachers. Several citizens urged Farel 
and Saunier to leave the city at once, if 
they did not wish to be turned out forci- 
bly. "If we cannot maintain what we 
say," calmly answered the reformers, "we 
offer ourselves to death." 

The magistrates, noticing the commotion 
occasioned in Geneva, summoned Farel 
and Saunier to appear before the bench. 
The council had not made up their minds 
either for or against the Reformation. 
The majority composed of men of mod- 
erate views, had no desire to offend the 
canons and priests, but feared still more 
to offend Berne. "William Hugues, the 
premier-syndic and Besancon's brother, 
was rather favorable to the reformers. As 
they entered, a bigoted magistrate rudely 
said : " It is you then that do nothing but 
disturb the world ; it is your tongue that 
is stirring up tumult everywhere, and 
trumpeting rebellion. You are a busy- 
body who have come here only to create 
discord. "We order you to depart from the 
city instantly." Farel calmly answered : 
"I am not a deluder. I am not a trum- 
pet of sedition ; I simply proclaim the 
truth. I am ready to prove out of God's 
word that my doctrine is true, and not 
only to sacrifice my ease, but to shed the 
last drop of my blood for it." Farel' s 
judges appeared to be softened by his 
moderation. He continued : "Most hon- 
ored lords, are you not allies and co-bur- 
gesses of Berne ? Know then, that my 
lords of Berne, who have at heart to ad- 
vance the Gospel, have given me letters 



wherein they bear witness to my innocence 
and doctrine, and beg you to hear me 
preach peacefully, assuring you that by so 
doing you will confer a pleasure on them " 
Farel produced these credentials, and said : 
" If you condemn me unheard, you insult 
God, and also, as you see, my lords of 
Berne." This latter plea was most ef- 
fectual, and they dismissed the reformers 
with the request not to disturb the pub- 
lic tranquility by new doctrines. 

Meanwhile an episcopal council was 
being held. The sincere and liberal De 
Bonmont represented that these persons 
should only be convicted and sentenced 
after a full knowledge of the facts had 
been had. Dom Stephen and others op- 
posed his moderate views. "Having de- 
liberated to kill Farel and his companion, " 
says a manuscript, "they found the best 
means of getting them to come would be 
by giving them to understand that they 
desired to debate with them." Accord- 
ingly they summoned Farel, Saunier and 
Olivetan, "to retract publicly, or to ex- 
plain before the episcopal council what 
they had preached in the inn." — "No 
harm shall be done you," said the pre- 
mier-syndic and the vidame, who accom- 
panied the episcopal secretary; "we 
pledge you our word to it." These chief 
magistrates were determined to protect 
their lives. Farel, Saunier and Olivetan 
sat off calmly, doubtless not expecting 
what awaited them, but ready nevertheless 
to give up their lives. 

While the upper house of the clergy was 
sitting at the vicar-general's, the lower 
house were assembled in the streets. The 
armed curates and chaplains had gathered 
together their followers, and jeered at the 
reformers passing by, crying out : ' ' Look 
at the dogs, look at the dogs." The 
syndics preceded the three evangelicals, 
and obtained the promise that no harm 
should be done the ministers if they freely 
explained their doctrines. 

The abbot vicar of Bonmont presided ; 
on his right and left sat the canons, the 
bishop's officers, and the head priests, all 
in their sacerdotal robes. The official, 
Messire de* Veigy, inquired: "William 
Farel, tell me who has sent you ; for what 
reason you come here, and in virtue of 
what authority you speak ?' ' Farel replied 
with simplicity: "I am sent by God, and 
I am come to announce his word." The 
official disdainfully retorted: "You do 
not wear the dress that is usual for those. 
who are accustomed to announce the Word 
of God to us. . . . You are dressed like a 
soldier or a brigand. . . . How is it you 
are so bold as to preach ? Is it not forbid- 
den by a decree of holy church for laymen 
to preach in public under pain of excom- 
munication? That is contained in the 
decretals of our holy mother church. . . . 
You are, therefore, a deceiver and a bad 
man." The clergy, pale with anger, clat- 
tered with their feet as they sat ; they all 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



939 



spoke at once, pouring insult and abuse 
upon the reformer. Farel remained com- 
posed till silence was restored. Then, 
manfully lifting up his head, he answered 
their taunts with a noble simplicity : " My 
lords, I am not, a devil. I was baptized 
in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, and if I journey to and fro, it is 
that I may preach Jesus Christ — Jesus 
Christ crucified, dead for our sins, and 
risen again for our justification, so that 
whosoever believeth in Him shall have 
everlasting life. As an ambassador of 
Jesus Christ I am compelled to teach Him 
to all who are willing to hear me. I have, 
however, no other right to speak than 
that which the commandment of God 
gives to me His servant. My only aim is 
so to discharge my duty that all the world 
may receive salvation, and it is for this 
cause and for no other that I am come into 
this city. Having been brought before 
you to give an account of my faith, I am 
ready to do so, not only at this moment, 
but as many times as you please to hear 
me peaceably. What I have preached and 
still preach is the pure truth, and not a 
heresy, and I will maintain it even unto 
death. As for what you say about my 
disturbing the land and this city in par- 
ticular, I will answer as Elijah did to 
Ahab, I have not troubled Israel, but thou 
and thy father's house. Yes, it is you and 
yours who trouble the world by your tra- 
ditions, your human inventions, and your 
dissolute lives. ' ' 

The priests fixed their burning eyes on 
Farel ; they gnashed their teeth. One of 
them called out : "He hath spoken blas- 
phemy ; what further need have we of 
witnesses? He is guilty of death." All 
rose and exclaimed : "To the Rhone, to 
the Rhone ! Kill him, kill him ! It is bet- 
ter for this rascally Lutheran to die than 
permit him to trouble all the people." 
Farel was struck at the resemblance of these 
words to those of the high-priest against 
Christ. " Speak the words of God and 
not of Caiaphas," he exclaimed. The 
exasperated priests all started up together 
and shouted out: "Kill him, kill the 
Lutheran hound !" Dom Bergeri, the 
proctor, excitedly exclaimed : " Tapa, 
tapaP' ("Strike, strike!") The sen- 
tence was carried into execution. They 
abused Farel, Saunier, and Olivetan ; beat 
them, spat in their faces, and uttered all 
sorts of cries, while the reformers ' ' pre- 
served their patience and moderation." 
"You are wicked men," said syndic 
Hugues ; "we brought you these men on 
your promise that no harm should be done 
them, and you want to beat and kill them 
before our faces. ... I will go and set 
the great bell ringing to convoke the gen- 
eral council. The assembled people shall 
decide." The priests grew alarmed lest 
the citizens should decree their expulsion 
from Geneva, and suffered the meek mis- 
sionaries to withdraw into a gallery while 
they deliberated. 



Francis Olarcl, a violent fanatic, stood 
guard in the gallery. The sight of the 
troublesome heretic inflamed him. He 
levelled his arquebuss at Farel, pulled the 
trigger, the priming flashed . . . but the 
gun did not go off. Farel turning to him, 
said coldly : "I am not to be shaken by a 
popgun ; your toy does not alarm me." — 
' ' Verily, ' ' said his friends, ' ' God of me'rcy 
turned aside the blow, in order to preserve 
Farel for struggles still more formidable." 
Meanwhile the council was still deliber- 
ating, and many wished Farel to be put to 
death ; but they were afraid to offend 
Berne. The reformers were recalled, and 
the grand vicar said : " William Farel, 
leave my presence and this house, and 
within six hours get you gone from the 
city with your two companions, under 
pain of the stake. And know that if the 
sentence is not more severe, you must 
ascribe it to our kindness and to our re- 
spect of my lords of Berne."—" You con- 
demn us unheard," said Farel. "I de- 
mand a certificate to show at Berne that I 
have done my duty." — "You shall not 
have one, ' ' the abbot hastily replied ; 
"leave the room all of you, without a 
word more." 

The priests and people collected in front 
of the house were angrily crying out against 
the reformers. Seeing that the ministers 
hesitated to go out, " and feared the mob 
would put them to death, ' ' several priests 
brutally thrust them forth, saying: " xls 
you will not go out willingly and in God's 
name, go out in the name of all the devils, 
whose ministers and servants you are." 
They had now to experience still more 
culpable excesses of religious fanaticism. 
The priests, chaplains, sacristans, and the 
furious populace assembled in the street, 
hooted, hissed, groaned, and howled ; 
some threatingly flourished their weapons. 
At this solemn time, up came the syndics, 
and all the watch with their halberds. 
"We are come to execute justice," said 
the magistrates. Upon this they placed 
"the caitiff" and his companions in the 
midst of the guard and marched off to- 
ward the inn. The agitated priests, four- 
score in number, gathered together in ad- 
vance on the road. They had heard that 
Farel and his friends were to be expelled 
from the city; "but the worthy men 
could not be satisfied with this," says 
Sister Jeanne, of St. Claire convent. As 
the preachers came in front, a priest 
rushed forward, sword in hand, upon 
Farel, " ro run him through ;" but one of 
the syndics caught the assassin by the 
arm. " Many were chagrined," adds the 
good nun, innocently, " because the blow 
failed." The halberdiers closed up their 
ranks, the crowd hooted, and at length 
the reformers were safe in the Tour 
Perce. 

They must go— of that there could bo 
no doubt. What grieved them was the 
thought of the generous men who had 
listened to them ; these Farel was deter- 



940 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



mined to comfort in a happier season. 
The next day (4th October) a few friends 
rose early, got ready a boat near the Mo- 
lard, and brought forth Farel and Saunier. 
Already a noisy crowd was awaiting their 
appearance, and as they came in sight the 
priests shouted : " The devils are going." 
The huguenots — Claude Bernard, Ami 
Perrin, John Goulaz, and Peter Verne, 
harried the reformers to the boat, the 
oarsmen immediately began to row, and 
the crowd that lined the shore could do 
nothing but hoot. The reformers were 
sent safely on their way to Orbe and 
Grandson, while the huguenots returned 
to the city. 



Farel expelled from Geneva, with a 
heart full of love for those whom he had 
been obliged to quit, meditated on the 
means of evangelizing them, and like a 
skilful general, was preparing even during 
his retreat for a new and more successful 
struggle. After having saluted the Chris- 
tians of Orbe and Grandson, he departed 
for the village of Yvonand ; here dwelt a 
youthful christian, Anthony Froment, 
Iborn in 1510. In October the reformer 
gathered here a little council of evange- 
lists : Olivetan, Adam, Martin, Guido, 
Saunier, Froment, and others. Farel told 
of his mission, and of his stormy recep- 
tion in Geneva. Froment was especially 
impressed ; the reformer, fixing his eyes 
on him, said : " Go and try if you can find 
an entrance into Geneva to preach there, ' ' 
The young man was disturbed and speech- 
less. He had learning and talents ; but 
he lacked experience, perseverance, and 
firmness. " Alas ! father," he said to Farel, 
' ' how can I face the enemies from whom 
you were compelled to flee?" — " Begin," 
replied Farel, " as I began at Aigle, where 
I was a schoolmaster at first and taught 
little children, so that even the priests 
gave me liberty to preach. True they 
soon .repented ; and even now I seem to 
hear the curate exclaiming: 'I would 
sooner have lost my hand than introduced 
this man, for he will ruin all our busi- 
ness.' But it was too late ; the Word of 
God had begun its work, and the mass 
and images fell." Froment could not yet 
make up his mind to attempt the enter- 
prise. Another thought absorbed the 
evangelist. 

Farel no longer solicited, but now " im- 
portuned " Olivetan to translate the Bible. 
The scholar hesitated, and made many ex- 
cuses. "How," said he, "can I express 
Hebrew and Greek eloquence in French, 
which is but a barbarous language com- 
pared with them ?" At length he prom- 
ised, and it was well known that what he 
promised he would perform. ' ' Cross the 
Alps," said Farel to his friend; "go to 
the Waldensian valleys, and come to an 
understanding with the brethren about 
the translation." Then turning towards 
other members of the synod, he added : 



"And you, Adam, Martin, and Guido, go 
with him and teach to them the doctrine 
that will correct all their errors." 

This mission, which was to result in 
the publication of the Bible in French, 
was not without importance and danger. 
They had to cross the territory of Savoy ; 
and to escape seizure the four friends deter- 
mined to travel by night. They proceeded 
through Vevey and Aigle, at each place 
speaking of Christ. Near Box, Martin 
was attacked with severe cramps. They 
turned back a league to the house of the min- 
ister Claude, in Ollon, but his pitiless wife 
refused shelter to the sick man. The poor 
missionaries trudged on to the foot of the 
mountain beyond Martigny. Martin was 
half dead, Olivetan suffered from inflamma- 
tion of the bowels, Guido was exhausted 
with fatigue, and Adam was here seized 
with the cholera. Without success they 
sought refuge in the poorest of cottages ; 
but at last a wretched house was opened 
to them at the sight of their slim purse. 
Next day the weak missionaries resumed 
their journey, and gradually the mountain 
air gave them strength. They rested at 
an inn between Martigny and the convent 
of St. Bernard. Here they spoke to an 
Augustine monk about the Scriptures, 
and were gladdened to have him say : "I 
will quit Antichrist." Adam gave him a 
letter to Farel, and said : "Go to him, 
and he will tell you what you have to do." 
The evangelist and the monk separated. 
Even down to our days, conversions occur 
among the brethren of this monastery. 
At last the four friends were joyfully wel- 
comed by the Waldenses. These poor 
Christians gave to Olivetan, towards the 
printing of the Bible in French, five hun- 
dred gold crowns — an immense sum for 
them. Thxis came the French protestant 
translation of the Holy Scriptures. 

The young and gentle Fabri while 
preaching at Neuchatel was solicited to 
evangelize the village of Bole, in the par- 
ish of Boudry. He followed the honest 
burgers, and became immediately engaged 
in a severe campaign. The village was 
for the reformer, and the town for the 
priest. The government decided one of 
the chapels should be for the use of both 
parties. Fabri entered the pulpit on the 
first Sunday in November, 1532 ; but all 
the bells rang out to drown his voice, and 
he soon left the church. The catholics at 
once fell upon and maltreated the un- 
armed congregation. Clubs and swords 
only served to increase their repugnance- 
to that theocratical tyranny which men 
had substituted for the mild Gospel of 
Jesus Christ. The next day some of the 
reformed, against the advice of Fabri, ap- 
pealed for aid to Neuchatel. The council 
decreed that henceforth the chapel of Pon- 
tareuse should belong entirely to the re- 
formed. No attention was paid to. this 
order by the catholics. 

On Christmas day they sang two masses, 
and began high mass "with loud and long 






HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



941 



singing" on the arrival of the reformers. 
At its conclusion the evangelicals, as was 
customary, took a chalice to celebrate the 
Lord's Supper. The priest cried out : 
" Sacrilege ! Sacrilege !" From every side 
the catholics fell upon, the poor evangeli- 
cals, calling them "rascally dogs." Arque- 
buses, bludgeons, knives, and clubs were 
. used ; but the reformers parried the blows 
as well as they could with their hands 
only, and at last escaped to their homes 
without serious wounds. Then the priest 
laid aside the stake which he had wielded, 
put on his sacerdotal robe, and denounced 
the heretics in his church of Boudry : 
"They carry a book in their hands and 
boast of having the Holy Ghost. But if 
they had the Holy Ghost, would they want 
a book ? The apostles who were filled with 
the Holy Ghost understood without book 
all languages and all mysteries. My breth- 
ren, will you believe a stranger before a 
man of the country whom you know ? Do 
not associate with those devils ; they will 
lead you into hell ; but come to confession 
as all your forefathers have done ; open 
yourselves to me upon the seven deadly 
sins, the five natural senses, and the ten 
commandments. Do not be afraid ; your 
consciences will be cleansed of all evil. 
Put me to death in case I do not prove all 
I have told you." — Fabri soon asked for a 
public disputation on these points, but the 
priest bluntly refused. 

Such were the struggles of the reform- 
ers in the transformation of the Church. 
Ere long the whole principality of Neu- 
chatel was won to the Reformation. In 
1532 the Gospel penetrated into the moun- 
tain regions among the shepherds and 
hunters of Locle and Chaux de Foncls ; 
thence it made its way to Brenets (1534.) 
These earnest mountaineers were about to 
throw their wooden images into the Doubs, 
when the devout inhabitants of a neigh- 
boring village offered them two fine oxen 
in exchange ; the bargain was made, and 
"each thought they had made a fine ex- 
change." With the exception of one vil- 
lage the Reformation triumphed through- 
out Neuchatel ; and after God, it was 
Farel's. work. 

Farel, seeing his labors in these differ- 
ent localities crowned with a success that 
promised to be lasting, turned his eyes 
with all the more ardor to Geneva. "A 
purification is not enough," said Farel ; 
" a transformation is wanted." But who 
was to bring it about ? He had been ban- 
ished from Geneva, a-nd for a time could 
not return there. 
\ Froment, young, poor, simple-minded, 
but intelligent, had refused to undertake 
so difficult a task. Farel tried him once 
more : "Fear nothing; you will find men 
in Geneva quite ready to receive you, and 
your very obscurity will protect you. God 
will be your guide, and will guard your 
holy enterprise." Froment yielded, and 
on the 1st of November, 1532, he departed, 



"going to Geneva," he tells us, "with 
prayers and blessings." The Genevans 
were much occupied at that time with 
signs in the heaven ; a strange blaze shone 
in the firmament from a comet. Some 
wondered whether the marvellous sheen 
did not foretell that a divine light would 
also illuminate the country. They waited, 
and Froment appeared. 

The young Daupbinese was at first much 
embarrassed, for the citizens were very 
short with the stranger. His mean ap- 
pearance disconcerted even the best dis- 
posed, and the huguenots bowed out the 
poor little man. "Alas," he said, "I can- 
not tell what to do, except it be to return ; 
for I find no door to preach the Gospel." 
Worried and dejected, Froment paid his 
landlord and quitted the city ; but a force 
greater than that of man compelled him 
to retrace his steps. He prayed to God 
in his room at the inn, and recalled the 
promise : 1 will lead iliee in the way in which 
thou shouldst walk. He called to mind 
what Fare! had done at Aigle. A flash of 
light illumined his soul. They will have 
nothing to do with him in Geneva, be- 
cause his appearance is mean. Be it so ; he 
will undertake with humility the work that 
God gives him ; and since he is rejected 
as an evangelist, he will turn schoolmaster. 

An humble citizen named Le Patu as- 
sisted him to select a large hall for his 
school-room. It was now necessary to 
find scholars. Froment wrote and posted 
up in the public places several copies of 
this prospectus : "A man has just arrived 
in this city who engages to teach reading 
and writing in French, in one month, to 
all who will come to him, young and old, 
men and women, even such as have never 
been to school ; and if they cannot read 
and write within the said month, he asks 
nothing for his trouble. He will be found 
at Boytet's large room, near the Molard, 
at the sign of the Croix d'Or. Many dis- 
eases are also cured gratis." 

The school opened, and the teacher did 
not want for young scholars. Froment, 
who had talent, taught with simplicity 
and clearness. Before dismissing his 
scholars, he would read and interestingly 
explain a few verses from the New Testa- 
ment ; after this he would distribute harm- 
less remedies for the sick. The school 
and medicine are great missionary auxilia- 
ries. The children ran home and told their 
parents how pleasantly they were taught. 
In a short time the city was full of the 
schoolmaster who spoke French so well. 
The worthy huguenots soon began to take 
their places behind their children to hear 
his teachings, and they heard a homily in- 
stead of a philippic. They were much as- 
tonished, for they had never heard such 
doctrine. Some began to understand 
Christianity did not consist in mocking 
the priest and the mass, but in knowing 
and loving the Saviour. In a short time, 
the success of this simple instruction sur- 
passed the hopes of the teacher. Men, 



943 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



women, and children hastened to the hall, 
striving which should be there first. The 
disputes between huguenots and mame- 
lukes, the claims of the duke and the 
bishop, were forgotten ; nothing was 
thought of but the evangelist. Many of 
the hearers " returning home praised and 
glorified God." Certain liberal priests were 
told the Frenchman's words. " Truly," 
answered they, "these doctrines are good, 
and we should do well to receive them." 
The more bigoted monks and priests 
jeered at Froment's doctrine and person, 
saying, " Will you go and hear that 
devil ? What can that little fool know who 
is hardly twenty-two?" 

Many souls were won, and it was the 
women of distinction who belived first, 
Paula, the wife of John Levet, "had be- 
come very zealous for the word," and af- 
ter much entreaty brought her honest but 
superstitious sister-in-law, Claudine, wife 
of the worthy Aime Levet, to hear Fro- 
ment ; yet she was bedecked with ro- 
saries and amulets to guard against his 
enchantments. The simple words of the 
Gospel entered into the woman's under- 
standing, as if borne by the Spirit of God. 
After service, Claudine asked for the New 
Testament. With this sacred book before 
her in her room, "she remained apart for 
three days and nights without eating or 
drinking, but with prayers, fasting, and 
supplication." Conscience, not under- 
standing, was the path that led her to 
Christ, and she found him merciful to save. 
In her thankfulness, she had Froment 
brought to her house. When he entered, 
"her tears," said the evangelist, "fell on 
the floor;" she had no other language. 
At length she spoke: "Ah! can lever 
thank God sufficient for having enlightened 
me?" Froment had come to strengthen 
this lady, and he was himself strengthened 
by her spiritual conversation. "From 
this tiny shoot an excellent Church was 
to spring." 

While the Gospel was thus manifesting 
its power in Geneva, the bishop persisted 
in his inflexible hostility. The Genevan 
magistrates still felt great regard for his 
authority, and in December, 1532, sent a 
deputation to obtain his consent to a neces- 
sary tax. The bishop at first felt flattered ; 
but on the third day he angrily replied : 
" I will grant you nothing, not a single 
crown, and I will compel my lords of Ge- 
neva to ask my pardon on their bended 
knees." On the 26th of December, the 
deputation reported this answer to the 
council, who were amazed at it. While 
the bishop thus injured the cause of po- 
pery, the reformation was endeavoring in 
every way to enlighten the minds of men 
and win their hearts. 

Froment received from the reformers of 
Switzerland Testaments and tracts, which 
his friends and he distributed to the eager 
citizens. Every day more persons were 
won over to the evangelical church. 



Guerin, a modest, intelligent cap-maker, 
gave himself up with all his heart to ad- 
vance God's cause, and became Froment's 
helper. A daughter of Claude Bernard 
not eight years old, confounded the igno- 
rant priests by simple and clear passages 
of Scripture, which condemned the popular 
superstitions. Unable to answer her, 
they spread a report that she was possessed 
of the devil. 

A moral reformation accompanied the 
revival of faith. The conscience of 
Claudine Levet reproached her for her 
costly attire. Having sold her beautiful 
robes and ornaments, she gave the money 
to the poor ; from that time she wore a 
plain and becoming dress. All her life she 
loved to receive refugees in her house. 
She spoke frankly and meekly of the pre- 
cious truth she had received, and "scat- 
tered it wherever she happened to be in the 
city." The Genevese ladies were particu- 
larly excited by her conversion, and for a 
while deserted her ; yet they soon were 
attracted to her, and she led several to 
Christ. Among these were Pernette Bal- 
thasarde, wife of a councillor ; the wife of 
Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve ; the wife 
of Claude Pastor, and Jeanne Marie de 
Fernex. " Put aside your great display," 
she said to them ; "attire yourself simply 
and "without superfluity, and give your 
minds to great charites. Faith ho'.ds the 
first place, but after that come good 
works." From that time these women 
were abundant in good works. It seemed 
admitted that no one could be a christian 
unless he had some poor persecuted foreigner 
in his house. 

Aime Levet, who was at first strongly 
opposed to Froment and the Gospel, was 
won by the holiness and charity of his 
wife to the Lord. From that time little 
assemblies were held at her house. When 
no evangelist was present, they begged 
this pious christian woman to explain the 
Bible, which she did with simplicity and 
grace. The reformers remembered the 
precept of St. Paul : Let your woinen keep 
silence in the churches ; but Calvin added, 
' ' This must be understood of the ordi- 
nary charge, for a case may happen when 
it will be necessary for a woman to sj>eak 
in public." 

The church was forming. At first there 
were a few souls awakened separately ; 
now with the element of individuality was 
combined the element of communion, 
which is not less necessary. They who 
had begun to believe, assembled to ad- 
vance together in faith. The ecclesiasti- 
cal organization has not the first place in 
Christianity ; pre-eminence belongs to 
faith and christian sanctification. It would 
be foolish to deny man the right of being 
at first a child : but it would be no less so 
to refuse him the right and duty of be- 
coming a man. 

Just at this time the evangelicals re- 
ceived an unexpected help. A Franciscan, 
coming from abroad, Christopher Bocquet 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO!. 



943 



by name, preached the Advent sermons 
in the Rive church. He abstained from 
superstitions and abuse, as well as from 
certain distinctive doctrines of the Re- 
formation, which he did not quite under- 
stand. Keeping to ,a certain common 
ground of Christianity, he delivered 
"moderate" sermons. Dressed in his 
brown fock, and with the cord around his 
waist, he proclaimed to all a Saviour who 
had come in love, and called upon every 
heart to rejoice at his sight. The evangeli- 
cals were edified, and his hearers increased 
every day ; but at his ending his sermon, 
the huguenots hurried away to Froment's 
meeting-place, where the trumpet gave no 
uncertain sound. Thus the people were 
more and more enlightened. ' ' Let us es- 
pecially study the sacred writings," they 
said, "in order that we may distinguish 
in religion what comes from God from 
that which men have added to it." 

If the Reformation met with faithful 
adherents in Geneva, it also encountered 
resolute adversaries. The priests were 
astonished and bewildered, and the laity, 
headed by Thomas Moine, reproached 
them for their cowardice. The vicar of 
La Madelaine, touched by these com- 
plaints, preached against the heretical 
schoolmaster and the foreign preacher. 
He praised the catholic apostolic church, 
eulogized its head, who was (he said ) the 
representative of God, defended its wor- 
ship and institutions, and warned his 
hearers against the ignorance and false- 
hood of Froment. Chautemps and seve- 
ral christian friends heard this sermon, 
and after some deliberation, they waited 
upon the vicar. The Bible was their 
court of appeal. The priests, who dared 
not deny its divinity, but yet had never 
studied it, were much embarrassed to find 
the proof of their dogmas in it. "Fro- 
ment," they said, "is a good and learned 
man ; you say that he has lied ; prove it 
by Scripture." The vicar consented, but 
insisted on the discussion being held at 
his parsonage. The last day of the year 
was appointed, and meanwhile the per- 
plexed priest searched the Vulgate Bible 
in vain for passages opposed to the re- 
formed doctrines. 

In the afternoon of the 31st December, 
Chautemps, Bernard, Perrin, and Salo- 
mon went to the parsonage of the Made- 
laine, wearing their swords, as was cus- 
tomary. These, however, they cast upon 
the bed. Some priests were present, and 
the vicar appealed for authority to the 
" Postillce perpetuce in Biblia of the illustri- 
ous Nicholas Lyra," saying: "Lyra is 
the most approved interpreter." The hu- 
guenots laughed at him, and added, " You 
have not been able to find in the Bible one 
word with which to answer Froment." 
The quarrel grew hot, and instead of dis- 
cussing they abused each other. A band 
of priests suddenly entered, headed by 
De la -Roche, who carried a drawn sword. 
The huguenots seized their swords, forced 



their way into the streets, and stood ready 
to defend themselves. One of the priests 
ran to the belfry and began to ring the 
tocsin. It was about noon — a time favor- 
able for a riot. Huguenots and catholics 
hastened from every quarter to the Made- 
laine, and soon took sides. The tumult 
was general ; but the syndics, Ramel and 
Savoie, restrained the combatants from 
further violence. 

The council re-assembled in the evening, 
and requested that Froment should cease 
from preaching; but this the reformed 
would not permit, and they were sustained 
by lawful ordinances. The council then ob- 
tained the promise of the Abbot of Bon- 
mont, the peaceful vicar-episcopal, to 
retain at Geneva the Franciscan Cordelier, 
and to provide true preachers of the Word 
of God in every parish. The tumult was 
appeased, but agitation reigned in men's 
minds. Both parties waited anxiously for 
the morrow. 

For nearly twenty years liberty had 
been clearing the ground on which the 
Gospel was to raise its temple. For nearly 
eight years a few pious voices had spoken 
of the doctrine of salvation in private 
conversations and meetings ; but the 
Reformation had not yet been preached 
in the face of the people. The hour that 
was to make it a public and notorious 
thing was about to strike. Geneva was 
about to hear the voice of a protestant. 

The last night of the year 1532 had 
passed away, and first of 1533 was begin- 
ning. In every house family congratula- 
tions were had. ; then many went to the 
Gray Friar's monastery to hear Bocquet 
preach. He had hardly finished his ser- 
mon when numbers of his hearers hurried 
eagerly away to the Croix d'Or to hear 
Froment. The hall, stairs, passage, and 
even the street adjoining were soon so 
thronged that the reformer was unable to 
make his way through the mass. One 
man shouted out : "To the Molard," and 
the crowd at once moved there with ac- 
clamation. The Molard was situated in 
the most populous part of the city, near 
the lake and the Rhone. One of the fish 
stalls here was secured by the huguenots, 
and Froment was invited to get on it. 

As soon as his head appeared above the 
crowd, the multitude shouted: "Preach 
to us; preach the Word of God to us." 
Froment answered with emotion: "It is 
also the word that shall endure forever. 
. . . Pray to God with me ;" and he knelt 
upon the ground, while a solemn stillness 
prevailed. He said : "Eternal God, father i 
of all mercies . . . thou knowest now 
what is the need of this people better than 
they or I do. This need is principally to 
hear thy Word. . . . Our Father, look 
down upon this poor blind people, led by 
the blind, so that they both fall into the 
ditch, and can only be lifted out by thy 
mercy. . . . Lift them out by thy Holy 
Spirit, open their eyes, their ears, their 



944 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



understandings, their hearts, in order that 
confessing their sins, they may receive 
what thou shalt put into the mouth of thy 
servant, who is unworthy to be the bearer 
of so great a message. . . . Show, then, 
that thy power is greater than Satan's, 
and that thy strength is not like man's 
strength." Froment concluded with the 
Lord's prayer. 

The hearts of the people Were touched. 
All eyes were fixed on Froment as he 
opened the Gospel, and read these words 
from the seventh chapter of Matthew : 
"Beware of false 'prophets, which come to 
you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they 
are ravening wolves : by their fruits ye shall 
know them. ' ' Froment began : ' ' Our Lord 
and Saviour Jesus Christ, very God and 
very Man, conceived of the Holy -Ghost 
and born of the Virgin Mary, knowing 
the things that were to happen, foresaw 
that false prophets would come, not with 
hideous faces, but with the most pleasing 
exterior in the world, under the color of 
holiness, and in sheep's clothing, so that 
the children of God might be deceived. 
For this cause he exhorted his disciples to 
be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. 
. . . Let us not begin fighting, killing, 
and burning as tyrants do. The child of 
God has no other sword of defence than 
the Word of God ; but that is a two-edged 
sword, piercing even to the marrow." 

Everybody understood this allusion to 
the riot of the evening before. But while 
these words were being spoken, the chief 
usher of the syndics and his sergeants, 
sent at the solicitation of the vicar-episco- 
pal, arrived, and said to the speaker : "In 
the name of my lords I command you to 
cease preaching." Froment answered 
boldly : " We ought to obey God rather 
than man. God commands me to preach 
his Word ; you forbid it : I am not there- 
fore bound to obey you." 

He continued : "Do not be disturbed, 
my friends, but listen to what our Lord 
says— that we must beware of false pro- 
phets. . . . With this plague we and our 
fathers have been infected for nearly a 
thousand years. Not that it came upon 
us suddenly, and in villainous and de- 
formed appearance ; no, it came gradually, 
under the color of holiness and in sheep's 
clothing, these ravening wolves having 
even some good intentions. The son of 
perdition, who sitting in the temple of 
God is worshipped as God — him you wor- 
ship and keep his commandments. Oh ! 
what a fine master you serve, and what 
prophets you have ! Do you know them ? 
Not to keep you in suspense I declare 
openly that I am speaking of the pope, 
and that the false prophets of whom I bid 
you beware are the priests, monks, and all 
the rest of his train. 

" Let us examine this statement ; let us 
find out who are these false prophets — we, 
or your priests? ... In the first place, 
the judge shall be — God. The judge shall 
be his true Son Jesus Christ, attended by 



His good and lawful witnesses the pro- 
phets and apostles ; and here," said he, 
showing the New Testament to the people, 
"here are the sealed letters, signed with 
the precious blood of our Lord, and the 
cloud of martyrs who were put to death 
in order to bear this testimony. What 
read we there ? First, the Lord condemns 
the Pharisees as bind leaders. Moreover, 
the Lord in St. Matthew bears this testi- 
mony : There shall arise false prophets in 
the latter days who will say unto you. Lo, 
here is Christ or there ! Do they not tell 
you that Christ is there ... in the inner 
part of the holy house, hidden in the far- 
thest place, in a vessel? Do not believe 
them. Jesus Christ not only says that 
they come in sheep's clothing, but that 
they walk in long robes, devour widows' 
houses, and for a show make long prayers. 
They break their bones (to get at the mar- 
row) says a prophet, and eat the flesh of 
my people as flesh within the caldron. The 
Holy Scriptures call them wells without 
water, anti-christs, despisers of the Lord, 
and say that they give heed to doctrines of 
di-vils, forbidding to marry, and command- 
ing to abstain from meats which God hath 
created to be received with thankfulness of 
them which believe." 

Meanwhile the magistrates were exas- 
perated at hearing from the chief usher 
that the sermon was still going on. The 
syndics ordered the preacher to be appre- 
hended ; consequently the officers, soldiers, 
and priests marched excitedly to the Mo- 
lard. Claude Bernard saw the approach 
of the armed men, and shouted to Fro- 
ment to save his life by flight. The 
evangelist could not leave his post, but 
he yielded to the next appeal of Bernard : 
"Pray, for God's honor, let us avoid the 
spilling of blood." His friends hurried 
him away to Jean Chautemp's house, and 
put him in a secret hiding-place. The 
soldiers dispersed the assembly, but could 
not find the preacher. Many of the hear- 
ers found that they had received a glorious 
New Year's gift. Thus was spent the 
first day of the year 1533, at Geneva. 

At night-fall several Catholics began an 
uproar about Chautemp's house, and Fro- 
ment was cautiously led to the dwelling of 
the energetic Perrin. The priests and 
their adherents followed him there : " A.mi 
Perrin, " they shouted, " we will pull down 
your house and burn you in it if you do 
not send the Lutheran away." Perrin 
made use of stratagem : going out to the 
riotous catholics, he said : " We have lib- 
erty to keep an honest servant in our 
houses without impediment from any- 
body." He then said to Froment : " You 
are my servant, I engage you as such, and 
you shall work for me." 

The circumstances were serious ; the 
new doctrine had been preached publicly. 
At the Molard, liberty and the gospel had 
shaken hands. The catholics, the politi- 
cians, and the huguenots abused each other, 
and lively discussions took place between 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



945 



them. The parties became more distinct 
every day. 

On the 2d of January, the premier 
syndic proposed to the council of Two 
Hundred to forbid all preaching in private 
or public "without the permission of the 
syndics or the vicar episcopal :" but nei- 
ther party were content. The council 
thought to restore harmony by resolving 
that Bocquet the gray friar should preach 
until Lent. " All men, citizens and inhabi- 
tants, should forgive one another," urged 
the premier syndic. "Yes, yes," ex- 
claimed the Genevans ; " we desire to love 
those who are of a contrary opinion." 

Meantime Froment remained in Perriu's 
house and wove ribbons; "otherwise he 
could not have staid there, "as he informs 
us. Once on a holiday, while crossing the 
Rhone bridge to go to Aime Levet's, Fro- 
ment met a procession carrying crosses 
and relics. He did not bow to the images, 
and the priests shouted : ' ' Fall on him ! . . . 
fall on the dog ! ... to the Rhone with him !' ' 
The women would have thrown him into 
the river, had not several huguenots rescued 
him and hurriedly thrust him into Levet's 
house by the bridge. Levet was an apoth- 
ecary, and his store was roughly treated ; 
but Froment escaped at night to Perrin's. 
The violence of his enemies rendered the 
evangelist's longer stay in Geneva useless. 
Claude offered to accompany him, and that 
night they departed from the city for the 
village of Yvonand. 

The ministry of Froment at Geneva in 
1532-3 was the heroic period of his life, 
after which he was eclipsed by teachers 
who were superior to him. Ere long the 
Word of God was carried to Geneva in 
greater fulness by Farel and Calvin. 

Froment' s departure did but increase the 
love of the gospel in serious minds. These 
Genevans felt, as if by inspiration, that 
at the beginning of the sixteenth century 
society was passing through a crisis, and 
that a new phase was opening for man- 
kind. The partisans of the Reformation 
now raised their heads. Bocquet be- 
gan to preach the christian truth more 
openly, and the exasperated priests solici- 
ted that he should be silenced. On Febru- 
ary 23d, six catholic councillors from Fri- 
burg brought a threatening letter, saying : 
" If you wish to become Lutheran, Fri- 
burg renounces your alliance." The syn- 
dic's decided, "for the love of peace," 
that Bocquet should leave Geneva. 

The friends of the Gospel did not lose 
heart. They read in their homes Lefe- 
vre's New Testament, and formed meet- 
ings at which the Word of God was ex- 
plained. The number of believers in- 
creased every day, and Baudichon de la 
Maison-Neuve became a most zealous prot- 
estant. His house was the catacombs in 
which the new Christians held their hum- 
ble meetings. Sometimes they had an 
address from some evangelical foreigner 
passing through Geneva. These christians 



formed a fund among themselves for the 
relief of the poor. They learnt at once 
to believe, to iove, and to give. Yet some 
could not refrain from answering taunts. 
"Lutherans, huguenots, heretics, "shouted 
one party ; "Pharisees, mamelukes, pa- 
pists," replied the other. 

In the midst of these disturbances, the 
pious Olivetan was laboring day and night 
at the translation of the Bible. Nothing 
disturbed him so much as the sight of the 
Church of his day. " I love thee," he ex- 
claimed ; " I have seen thee in the service 
of thy hard masters, in such piteous case 
that men would sooner take thee for a 
poor slave than the daughter of the uni- 
versal Ruler and the beloved of his only 
Son." His very humility induced him to 
increase in diligence. He compared "all 
the translations, ancient and modern, 
from the Greek down to the Italian and 
German." He decided to express the 
plain meaning of certain Greek terms. 
Therefore he translated the Greek word 
apostle by the French word envoy e, (sent;) 
instead of 'bishop he wrote surveillant, (over- 
seer ; ) and ancien (elder) instead of priest. 
Then he added mischievously : "And if 
any one is surprised at not finding certain 
words in my translation which the com- 
mon people have continually on their 
lips, imagining they are in Scripture, such 
as pope, cardinal, archbishop, archdeacon, 
abbot, prior, monk, he must know that I 
did not find them there, and for that reason 
I have not changed them." 

On the 13th of March, the printer De 
Vingle asked permission to print the Bible 
in French. The council were much divi- 
ded, for they were afraid of Olivetan' s 
translation. They granted permission to 
reprint Lefevre's Bible, without adding or 
retrenching a word. 

The evangelicals had long ceased to 
take part in the communion of the Romish 
Church, and desired earnestly to see the 
Lord's Supper established among them in 
its apostolic purity. The Word of God 
creates the Christian, the Lord's Supper 
strengthens him. But, said they, who 
will give it us. They had no ministers. 
Guerin was full of boidness, and had "an 
ardent love for his brethren ;" they turned 
their eyes on him. A little walled gar- 
den near the city gates, belonging to Ste- 
phen d'Adda, was selected as the spot, 
and an early morning hour was named. 
As the sun rose many gathered there, and 
took seats on rude benches beside a plain 
table. The pious Guerin, after a prayer, 
distributed the bread and wine, and all 
together praised the Lord. The commu- 
nicants quitted the garden full of gratitude 
towards God. 

It was not long, however, before their 
peace was troubled, Their enemies threat- 
ened nothing less than excommunication 
and imprisonment. Disputes were fre- 
quent. The priests said the reformed, 
by busying themselves so much about 
Christ, deprived themselves of the Church, 



948 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



while Olivetan and Guerin maintained that 
the catholics, by speaking so much of the 
Church, deprived themselves of Christ. 
Guerin soon had to seek safety in flight, 
and he took refuge at Yvonand with his 
friend Froment. 

ThusFarel, Froment, and Guerin were 
compelled, one after another, to quit Ge- 
neva ; but the catholics labored in vain. 
" The people began to dispute with the 
priests, and to discuss with them pub- 
licly." Two winds were blowing from op- 
posite quarters at Geneva— from the north 
and from the south. They could not fail to 
come in violent collision, and to engender 
a frightful tempest. 

Evangelical zeal was the occasion of the 
persecution. Its enemies were angered ; 
they could not understand the spiritual 
life then fermenting among their people. 
If a meeting was suppressed in one house 
it was held in another. ' ' They could not 
find any remedy against this." 

An eloquent Dominican monk, an in- 
quisitor of the faith, had just arrived in 
Geneva. " Deliver us from this heresy," 
said the heads of the Dominicans to him. 
Flattered by this appeal, the monk preached 
a sermon in which he decried the Bible, 
abused the heretics, and exalted the pope. 
The huguenots were indignant at his ca- 
lumnies. Olivetan rose upon a bench, 
when he had ceased speaking, and said : 
" I desire to show you honestly from Scrip- 
ture where you have erred in your dis- 
course." What! a layman presume to 
teach the Church. . . . The priests abused 
Olivetan, and the council sentenced him 
to banishment without hearing or appeal. 
Every one regretted him : "He was a man 
of such learning, godly life and conversa- 
tion." Geneva thus cast off the evangel- 
ists one after another. 

The clerical party, headed by canon 
Wernli, equerry De Pesmes and the bold 
Thomas Moine, began to doubt whether 
these banishments were enough to stifle 
the Reformation. The reformed saw the 
danger that threatened them. Baudichon 
de la Maison-Neuve and his friend Claude 
Salomon departed to Berne to seek assist- 
ance, saying : "We believe we are follow- 
ing God's will." In return, a letter from 
Berne came to the council of Geneva on 
the 25th of March, which said : " We are 
surprised that in your city the faith in 
Jesus Christ and those who seek it are so 
molested. . . . You will not suffer the 
Word of God to be freely proclaimed, and 
banish those who preach it." The coun- 
cil were perplexed, and knew not what 
answer to make. 

The catholics were agitated at Berne's 
demand of full liberty for the Gospel, and 
when the council met next day a delega- 
tion of two hundred attended. Thomas 
Moine on their behalf demanded those who 
went to Berne should be summoned, and 
the party were not content to have the 
matter referred to the general council. 



"Justice ! justice !" shouted they menac- 
ingly. " Let us keep our promise to Mes- 
sieurs of Fr:burg that Geneva would pre- 
serve the faith of its fathers." The dis- 
contented catholics returned to their homes 
with haughty look and resolute air. A 
plot was now formed against the Gospel, 
headed by two of the syndics, several coun- 
cillors, and some priests. "If the faith of 
our fathers is to stand, by our own hands 
it m ust be supported, ' ' they said. " Hold 
yourselves in readiness to march against 
the Lutherans." — Lutheranism might put 
in bolder relief the immanence of God, 
while the Reform (of Calvin) inclined to- 
wards his transcendaiice; but they were 
and they are agreed in all that is essential : 
and it was these living doctrines that a 
powerful party was endeavoring to expel 
from Geneva. 

On Thursday night the canons, priests, 
and "chief partisans of the papal relig- 
ion," as Wernli, De Pesmes, Moine, and 
their friends, met in the vicar episcopal' s 
great hall to carefully arrange the plot 
that was to free them from the Reform. 
"Let us execute justice for ourselves," 
they said. "Let us fly to arms, ring the 
tocsin, draw the sword, and call upon the 
faithful to march against those dogs, and 
make a striking example of the two trai- 
tors who went to Berne. Let us kill all 
who are called Lutherans, without sparing 
one, which will be doing God a good ser- 
vice. We are assured of the bishop's par- 
don : his lordship has already sent us the 
pardons in blank. At the sound of the 
great bell, let every one go armed to the 
Molard, and let the city gates be shut, so 
that nobody may escape." The assembly 
applauded. All the arrangements were 
made for a massacre to celebrate the ap- 
proaching festival of Easter. As for the 
council of sixty which met next day, as 
was expected, it declared for neither 
party. 

At the cathedral as appointed (Friday, 
2Sfch March, 1533,) three hundred armed 
canons and priests with many lay follow- 
ers gathered. They were led by the valiant 
canon, Peter Wernli, armed from head to 
foot. "We will cut off the heads of those 
who went to Berne, and of all their 
friends," he said. "The Lutherans 
threaten us," said the excited citizens; 
" they want to rob the churches and con- 
vents." — The huguenots knew of the 
wicked plot, and to the number of sixty 
they assembled to defend the life of Baudi- 
chon de la Maison-Neuve at the price of 
their blood. 

Information of this gathering at Maison- 
Neuve's house was carried to the conspira- 
tors, and it was the signal of battle. 
"Forward," they cried; "let us go and 
attack them." At this time the four ma- 
gistrates preceded by their usher entered 
the cathedral, with the syndical staff in 
their hand. At the sight of them the 
crowd grew calm, and said: "We are 
going to fight the Lutherans, who are as- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



947 



sembled in the Rue de Allemands. They 
are always keeping us in fear, and we 
must put an end to it. We can no longer 
eudure such a pest in the city. . . They 
are worse than the Turks." 

J. Goulaz and P. Vandel, two of the re- 
formed, now approached the cathedral 
and recklessly entered it. Vandel mildly 
said to the syndics : " Pray put an end to 
this disturbance lest worse should come 
of it." Portier, the episcopal secretary, 
angrily exclaimed : " How is it that you 
are here, traitor?" Vandel was thrown 
down and trampled upon, while Portier 
cowardly stabbed him in the back near 
the left shoulder, intending to kill him. 
The crowd of priests began to lament 
loudly, not because a man had been 
stabbed, but because blood had defiled the 
temple. Goulaz ran off to the evangeli- 
cals, and told them all. Some proceeded 
to the cathedral, and with the syndics' 
permission carried Vandel to Baudichon's 
house. A few huguenots acted as nurses, 
arid as they looked on their pale and blood- 
stained friend, they asked one another 
what would happen next. 

" We are in the majority and well armed 
now," said the catholics : "we must sally 
out boldly and fight the rascals." The 
syndics ordered them to keep the peace, 
but it was useless. "Now is the time," 
cried the priests ; "let us run to the great 
bell and give the signal. ' ' ' The tocsin was 
rung, and those in the church prepared to 
march Nicholas du Crest, Pierre de Mal- 
buisson, and Claude Baud, the three 
catholic syndics, finding they could not 
stop the riot, put themselves at the head 
of it to check it. Baud distributed laurel 
boughs among those assembled, and each 
placed a sprig in his cap that the catho- 
lic combatants might be distinguished. 
Hymns and prayers were devoutly sung. 
The churchmen formed into companies 
and elected their captains, then defiled in 
front of the high altar, and marched out 
of the cathedral towards the Molard. The 
peasants of the vicinity, forewarned by 
the agents of the canons, entered the city 
in arms. "Down with the Lutherans," 
cried the catholics. "Down with the 
dogs that want to destroy our holy mother 
Church." No fervent catholic hesitated ; 
they drew their swords, and seized their 
arquebuses. Baud drew up his corps at 
the Molard " in order for fighting ;" there 
were about 2500 men, not reckoning the 
old men, women and children, who 
shouted, wept, and added to the tumult. 
"Shut the gates of the city, " said the syn- 
dics, "so that no one can take to flight." 

This first band waited for their other 
corps 3 et to come. One, under the bish- 
op's equerry, Percival de Pesmes, was to 
bring the banner from the hotel-de-ville ; 
another was commanded by Canon de 
Veigy; and the last, led by Captain 
Beliessert, was to cross the Rhone bridge. 
The catholics and mamelukcs were im- 



patient to attack at once, but the syndic 
delayed. "We want artillery," he said, 
"to besiege Baudichon's house." The 
cannon was drawn from the arsenal to the 
square, and loaded. The band with the 
city banner now arrived. Electrified at 
the sight, the people raised a loud shout. 
The monks were abroad actively inciting 
the people ; but the nuns of St. Claire were 
marching in procession around their- clois- 
ter, invoking in devout litanies the pro- 
tection of the whole celestial choir. They 
were superstitious and even fanatical ; they 
dreaded the heretics, if victorious, would 
compel each of them to a forced marriage. 
Throughout the whole city the agitation 
was then at its height ; the shouts of the 
priests were frightful. The tempest was 
not confined to the streets. Micah, daugh- 
ter of Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, wept 
bitterly to see her husband arm against 
her father, while he cruelly replied : "If 
we come to blows. . . I will kill him, or he 
shall kill me." In the houses were heard 
the groans and cries of mothers, wives, 
and daughters ; the streets echoed with 
the curses of the men. 

An unexpected reinforcement added to 
the numbers of the catholic troops. The 
women brought their children from twelve 
to fifteen years old, to the number of 
seven hundred, to the Place d'Armes. 
They armed them with hatchets and 
swords ; they told them to fill their hats 
with stones, while they gathered the same 
missi es into their aprons. "If it should 
happen," said one of them, "that our 
husbands .fight against the unbelievers, 
let us also make war and kill their heretic 
wives, in order that the breed may he ex- 
tirpated." Frenzied and guilty women! 
One hundred and sixty armed priests were 
in the square ; and they unwilling to be 
behindhand, exclaimed : " We will be the 
first to defend our spouse the church." 
The armed citizens shouted for a march 
upon Baudichon's house, that they might 
set it on fire, and murder the huguenots 
as they escaped from the flames by the 
doors and windows. Baud temporized and 
delayed. " To be more sure, and in order 
that none may escape from our hands, let 
us wait for the corps from St. Gervais." 

During this time the evangelicals in 
Baudichon's house felt solemn and awed ; 
but they had a christian calmness in the 
presence of death. The strong encouraged 
the weak, addressing them in words of 
piety and hope. Their numbers gradually 
increased by the coming of friends deter- 
mined to conquer or die with them. Even 
the children were excited to acts of de- 
votedness beyond their years. "See," 
said the evangelicals looking upon young 
Vandel, " see how the bishop and his 
officers treat the best citizens." The 
shouts of the catholics, increasing in vio- 
lence, came to their ears. De la Maison- 
Neuve was the firmest, and cheered the 
dejected. The Christians fell on their 
knees and implored the assistance of God. 



948 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Then the friends of the Reform vowed : 
'' We swear to die in God's cause, and 
to keep faith and loyalty with one 
another." 

While the evangelicals were praying, 
the band from St. Gervais began to cross 
the bridge. Jean-Philippe, captain-gen- 
eral, whose duty it was to repress all dis- 
order, was here stationed with those who 
belonged to neither party. He ordered 
the corps to return, whereupon Bellessert 
the butcher struck him to the ground 
with his halberd. Philippe' s troop sharply 
attacked the St. Gervaisians, wounded 
Bellessert, and forced his followers to re- 
treat to their homes. Aime Levet's house 
was at that end of the bridge. His wife was 
imprudently standing in the street, watch- 
ing the struggle, when the catholic women 
rushed upon her, exclaiming: "Let us 
begin the war by throwing this dog into 
the Rhone." Claudine took refuge in her 
house, and this the furies could not force. 
They seized the apothecary's drugs, and 
" threw them all contemptuously into the 
street." At last the catholics retired. 

While this struggle was going on, the 
third band expected at the Molard, that 
headed by Canon Veigy, had assembled in 
the upper part of the city. Their duty 
was to surround and set fire to Baudi- 
chon's house, so that the heretics should 
be . stifled, burnt, driven out, and butch- 
ered. The canon's band heard of the de- 
feat of the troops from St. Gervais, and at 
once hastened to the Molard. The priest- 
party were " greatly astonished and vexed 
because they had not set fire 4;o the house, 
as had been agreed upon." 

The reformers had now heard of this 
scheme for burning them out, and they 
determined to repel force with force. Al- 
though inferior in numbers, they sallied 
forth, calm and silent. They drew up in 
line of battle, five deep, 250 paces from 
the enemy. " We will wait for our adver- 
saries," they said ; "but if they attack us 
we will sooner die than retreat a single 
step " All their force was stout, resolute, 
disciplined men, who feared not to fight 
one against ten. The huguenots procured 
some cannon, probably by the interven- 
tion of the captain-general, and placed 
these only ninety paces from the catholics. 
All were prepared for the onset, and a 
massacre seemed inevitable. 

At this moment the sound of the trum- 
pet was heard, ordering the place to be 
cleared of spectators where the battle was 
to be'fought. A deathlike silence followed. 
On each side were noble souls, lovers of 
peace, who would have liked to restrain 
the fratricidal arms. "No one," says a 
contemporary, "dared venture to speak 
to the ecclesiastics to propose peace ; the 
great pride of the priests intimidated them, 
and they feared to be called Lutherans." 
The two armies were about to come into 
violent collision. Then the women lost 
their ardor for the combat, and could not 
restrain their anguish. They burst into 1 



tears, and gave utterance to long and sor- 
rowful moaning. The emotion became al- 
most universal. 

"It was God's will," said Froment, "to 
avoid bloodshed, and he ordained it ac- 
cordingly." 

At this time were staying in Geneva 
seven Friburg merchants who had c >me 
to attend the fair. These worthy Switzers 
now came forward to mediate, and said to 
the reformed: "Look at the great multi- 
tude of people that is against you. This 
matter must be settled before worse be- 
falls you." The evangelicals answered: 
" We only ask to be left at peace and to 
live according to God, obeying the magis- 
trates as the Gospel commands. We are 
acting in self defence, for they have con- 
spired to kill us." 

The Friburgers, encouraged by these 
words, returned to the Molard and ad- 
dressed the priests: "It is neither good 
nor honorable, and above all it is not in 
accordance with your office, thus to excite 
the people to kill one another. It is your 
duty to be in your houses or at church 
praying to God, rather than be thus in 
arms. When the people are at variance, 
you should reconcile them instead of ex- 
citing them to shed blood." So enraged 
were the clergy that they would listen to 
nothing: "they showed themselves more 
heated than ever in their desire that all 
should be killed." 

These worthy merchants now appealed 
to the magistrates to do their duty, and 
order the two parties to withdraw to their 
homes. But the clergy excited the people 
all the more to attack the Lutherans. 
Then the worthy Friburgers began to har- 
angue the people : ' ' You have sons, rela- 
tions, and friends on the huguenot side ; 
do you want to kill them, or be killed by 
them ? We advise you to let the priests 
fight it out by themselves." These sensi- 
ble words dissipated the charm of sacer- 
dotal fanaticism. "Let the affair be ar- 
ranged, ' ' was the cry from all quarters ; 
"arbitrate, arbitrate." The magistrates 
regained their courage, and advanced with 
several captains to treat with the hugue- 
nots ; but the latter expected an attack, 
and aimed a cannon at the group. ' ' Peace 
is made," shouted out the catholics. Arms 
were let fall, and the two parties conferred 
together. Confidence was not yet restored, 
and it was agreed to give three hostages 
on each side. Then the herald proclaimed : 
"Every man shall lay down his arms and 
return quietly home, without quarrel or 
dispute, under pain of being hanged ; and 
no one shall sing song or ballad, provok- 
ing to quarrel, under pain of being whip- 
ped and banished." — "This peace vexes 
the christians sorely," writes the catholic 
sister Jeannie ; "we ought now to des- 
patch them from the world in order to be no 
more frightened or vexed on their ac- 
count." 

On the following day (29th March) the 



niSTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



949 



Council of Sixty assembled "to settle the 
strife of the day before." Reconciliation 
was all the fashion. They resolved to 
frame a compromise which would unite 
Rome and the Gospel. On the 80th March 
the premier-syndic liberated the hostages, 
and proposed to the Two Hundred the fa- 
mous project of reconciliation. The coun- 
cil accepted it ; copies were sent to the 
captain of each company and to the Abbot 
of Bonmont. 

This strange decree ordered by the civil 
authority and proclaimed by the soldiers, 
pleased the huguenots in these items : 
" That every citizen, of what state or con- 
dition soever he may be, live henceforward 
in peace, without attempting any novelty 
until it be generally ordered to live other- 
wise. That no one speak against the holy 
sacraments, and that in this respect every 
one be left at liberty according to his con- 
science. That no one preach without the 
license of the superior, the syndics, and 
the -council ; and that the preacher say 
nothing that is not proved by Holy Scrip- 
ture." — The catholics acquiesced, seeing 
the episcopal authority and the fast days 
were left them. Next day there was a 
general procession to return thanks to God 
for the peace. 

In Passion Week the evangelicals desired 
to meet in a spirit of christian fraternity 
around the Lord's table. On Holy Thurs- 
day (10th April) fourscore men and sev- 
eral women met in the garden of Pre 1' 
Eveque. One of them washed the feet of 
the others, and the holy sacrament was 
celebrated. All the city spoke of these 
services, and sarcasms were not spared. 
"These Jews," they said, "have bitten 
one another into a slice of bread and 
cheese in token of peace and union. . . . 
And thereupon the catholics laughed," 
sister Jeanne informs us. Yet this laugh- 
ter soon changed to fear. A few silly gos- 
sips reported that the heretics were about 
to make an attack. On Good Friday morn- 
ing the priests and worshippers went 
armed to the cathedral of St. Pierre's, 
while a troop of bravoes kept guard in 
front. The learned Dominican from Aux- 
erre who had officiated, returned hastily 
into his own country. "No one dared 
preach after his departure, which greatly 
surprised devout catholics. ' ' 

The premier-syndic, Nicholas du Crest, 
and Councillor Roy now started for Berne, 
to pray the senate not to support the Re- 
form, while the evangelicals desired it 
should be allowed to develop itself freely. 
The journey of the syndic disquieted Mai- 
son-Neuve, and with the faithful Salomon 
he departed to thwart their designs.-- 
<k What are you doing here?" inquired the 
startled premier-syndic at Berne of the 
reformers. "We are told that you have 
instructions to speak against us," an- 
swered Maison-Neuve ; "we are here to 
defend ourselves." The next day the two 
huguenots went forward unceremoniously 
with the two magistrates into the council 



room, and sat down quietly at their left^ 
Was there then a second power in Ge- 
neva, which also sent its ambassadors ? 

Maison-Neuve rose first, and said with 
holy boldness: "Most learned lords, we 
and a great number of our fellow-citizens 
desire the pure Word of God to be preached 
in Geneva. The voice of the Gospel, so 
little heard in times of yore, is now re- 
sounding throughout Christendom, and we 
do not wish to give up hearing it. Neither 
banishment nor threats can reduce us to 
carelessness and inactivity. My lords, do 
you know to what extremity we are re- 
duced ? Our magistrates are making war 
upon us, and trying to drive from Geneva 
that Gospel which you have established 
in Berne . . . Everything is trodden un- 
der foot by priests determined to leave us 
for our inheritance nothing but slavery and 
superstition, tears, sighs, and groans. . . . 
Grant to us and our brethren one of your 
preachers. Obtain for him a public place 
where he may freely declare the Word of 
God . . . Perhaps you will also see that 
this just request does not prevent our re- 
turning home and living there in peace." 

The Genevan magistrates were embar- 
rassed. Having come as accusers, they 
found themselves accused. " We have no 
orders on the subject, and therefore have 
nothing to say," replied the confused 
syndic. "Well, then," said the lords of 
Berne, "we will send a deputation to Ge- 
neva shortly, to see what is going on there 
with regard to religion." The council rose. 

It seemed as if a favorable wind was 
about to blow on the evangelical ship. 
But a storm was preparing, which might 
perhaps dash it to pieces. 

In Geneva the Reformation numbered 
in its ranks the friends not only of evan- 
gelical truth, but of political liberty. 
There was both good and evil in this. If 
reasoning by syllogism is bad in religious 
subjects, reasoning by the pike is worse 
still. Discussion also frequently gave 
place to ridicule in those times. One day, 
some huguenots called out while the priests 
in procession were chanting the prayers 
for the conversion of the heretics : "Give 
some thistles to those noisy braying don- 
keys. ' ' 

Many of the priests were stronger in 
arm than in mind, and preferred a fight 
with swords to one with words. Pierre 
Wernli, that devout canon and valiant 
knight, wished to fight and prove, halberd 
in hand, that supreme respect was clue 
to the papacy.- It was now the beginning 
of May, the date of the fair at Lyons, and 
some of the principal huguenots hesitated 
whether to attend as usual. The more 
daring posted up bills with the words : 
" Let us go to the fair before the war and 
deliverance of Geneva." In secret meetings 
of the catholics, it was thought proper 
that the pomps of religious worship should 
form a prelude to combats for the faith. 

Sunday, the 4th of May, was the least 



9C0 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of the Holy "Winding-sheet. Then was ex- 
hibited the linen cloth in which (it was 
said) the body of Jesus Christ was bur- 
ied, and on which the print of his face had 
remained. The fanatical but sincere 
Wernli put on his finest sacerdotal robes ; 
he presided over the showy ceremonies 
with enthusiasm and pride. "Wernli was 
not satisfied with a mass ; he believed a 
fight was necessary. Soon after he laid 
aside his robes, his cross, and stole, he 
donned his armor : this was part of his 
piety. The first battle having proved a 
failure, the catholics prepared for a second. 
Ideas became acts ; doctrines gave birth to 
events. On the afternoon of the festival, 
Wernli and many other ecclesiastics met 
in council at the vicar-episcopals.' . 

Meanwhile, a few citizens of both par- 
ties were promenading near the Rhone, 
and the setting sun poured its rays in 
floods of flame upon the lake. By de- 
grees they debated on religion with 
warmth ; then they began to dispute and 
abuse each other ; finally hands were 
raised and blows were struck. The pleas- 
antness of the hour had attracted many 
abroad ; the noise drew still more. Hugue- 
nots and mamelukes, catholics and re- 
formed, hurried to the Molard , at once 
they began to form in two confronting 
bands. Monks and priests strove to in- 
flame the minds of the catholics against 
the heretics. One Pi net, sent by the 
ecclesiastics in council to " apply the 
match," began to work upon the people. 
He challenged the huguenots with an oath : 
"Your creed is a rascally one, you Lu- 
therans ! If there is a man among you 
willing to maintain the contrary, let him 
come here and light." Several times was 
the challenge repeated, till the impetuous 
huguenot, Ami Perrin, rushed upon the 
priest's agent and nearly killed him. The 
combatants were separated, and peace 
seemed to be restored. Tranquility reigned, 
and most of the citizens left for their 
homes. The match of discord had gone 
out. 

A young, ardent, but narrow-minded 
catholic, Marin de Yersoney, helped to re- 
kindle it. He hastened to De Bonmont's 
house, knocked violently at the gate, and 
shouted aloud: "Help! help! they are 
killing all good christians !" Pierre "Wernli 
immediately sprang to his feet : he had 
already on his breast-plate and cuirass, 
his sword belted to his side, and his heavy 
halberd near at hand. Thus armed, he 
impetuously rushed forth ; other violent 
priests ran to St. Pierre's, and ordered the 
ringers to sound the tocsin loudly and hur- 
riedly. Over all the city that early night 
swelled the majestic voice of the ancient 
bell Clemence, "calling the people and 
convoking the clergy." The darkness in- 
creased the agitation caused by the dismal 
tolling. Huguenots feared they were to 
be murdered in their houses ; catholics 
thronged to the Molard, saying: "The 
heretics are assembling in the principal 



square to plunder the churches." In the 
priests' eyes, it was a decisive moment. 
On the issue of the struggle hung the life 
or death of Catholicism in Geneva. 

"Wernli had made up his mind to give 
his life, if necessary, for the cause of 
Rome. He was both the hero and the vic- 
tim of this important day. Yainly did 
the people shout to him that "peace was 
made ; "... he would hear nothing. " He 
was the most obstinate and the mad- 
dest of the priests." He exclaimed: 
"Ho! all good christians to my aid." 
"The canons and other churchmen were 
the first under the flag," says sister 
Jeanne. Soon fifteen hundred men, "many 
of them priests," were assembled at the 
square. At the cathedral armed priests 
assaulted three reformers passing that 
way. One of them was "unfortunate 
enough to receive twenty-eight wounds at 
their hands, and fell to the ground." As 
for the other two, "the dogs took to 
flight." 

At the Molard everything was pale and 
gray ; men appeared like shadows, and it 
was hard to distinguish friends from foes. 
The canon, armed from head to foot, flour- 
ished his halberd, and shouted: "Dear 
God ! where are those Lutherans who 
speak ill of our law? . . . God's blood ! 
where are they? . . . Courage, good 
christians! do not spare those rascals." 
The warlike Wernli had hardly given the 
signal when the combat began. Shadows 
fought with shadows ; they rushed upon 
each other, and dealt frequent blows 
in the darkness. Sword met sword, and 
fire flashed. The violent Perrin and the 
zealous Claude Bernard headed the hu- 
guenots ; John and Canon Yiole were at 
the head of the catholics. All four fell 
wounded on the spot; others were wounded 
and trampled under foot. 

"Where are these Lutherans who speak 
ill of our law ?" cried out Wernli. " They 
are here," answered some huguenots in 
the Rue de la Croix d'Or. Halberd in 
hand the canon rushed towards them, 
striking his enemies with the head and 
butt of his weapon. By killing Luthe- 
rans he hoped to kill Lutheranism itself. 
The huguenots parried his blows with 
their naked swords ; at length one seized 
the halberd and broke it in two. Wernli 
drew his sword and rushed upon his ad- 
versaries. The huguenots fell upon the 
champion of the papacy, but he was com- 
pletely armored. At last Pierre l'Hoste, 
a poor carman, moved around him and 
plunged his sword into the canon's body. 
' ' Thus was the blasphemer killed, and he 
lay in the square without moving hand or 
foot, ' ' says Froment. His dead body had 
fallen on the steps of the house of coun- 
cillor Chautemps, a zealous evangelist. 
The syndic of the guard now arrived and 
put an end to the contest, receiving a se- 
vere blow on the head from a priest. At 
once the reformed withdrew to their 
homes. "All night the christians were 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



951 



underarms," says Sister Jeanne, "seek- 
ing those wicked dogs ; but it was of no 
good, for they were all hidden." Towards 
morning the clergy went to bed. 

Wernli's death was to be fruitful in se- 
rious consequences. The priests were 
about to sacrifice the liberties of Geneva 
and the evangelical reformation on his 
tomb. His body had lain all night in the 
street unobserved, and it was found at 
sunrise next morning. The cuirass was 
indented, his garments were bloody, and 
his features still wore a fierce look. All 
the city was troubled when they found 
the corpse. "0 blessed martyr sacrificed 
to God !" exclaimed the devout. This 
canonization disgusted the huguenots : 
" What ," they said, " a priest fights with 
the halberd and sheds the blood of Chris- 
tians — he turns soldier, and you make 
him a saint? Rather recognize in his 
death the judgment of God." A woman 
of mean appearance fell shrieking on the 
body, and pressed it in her arms : she was 
known as the canon's housekeeper. 

Wernli was not only a canon, but a 
Friburger, and belonged to a powerful 
family. The mamelukes were enraged, and 
their leaders thought of the advantage 
they might derive from the catastrophe. 
About nine o'clock the body was carried 
into Chautemp's house, washed of the 
blood stains, and arrayed in the priest's 
canonical robes, while the devout folks 
knelt around it. In the afternoon an im- 
mense procession escorted the corpse to 
the cathedral, and it was buried at the 
foot of the great crucifix. The council 
imprisoned a few of the most violent of 
both parties. Five days later, a herald 
from Friburg and many of Wernli's rel- 
atives appeared in deep mourning ; they 
demanded the body, and called for sig- 
nal reparation. The remains were ex- 
humed, and, wonder unheard of ! the 
canon stood upright, and the blood flowed 
freshly from his wound. They placed the 
body in a coffin and took it to Friburg. 
"If we do not crush these accursed Lu- 
therans now," said the priests, "they 
will never cease to trouble the churches, 
to plunder, beat, and kill . . . Let us 
sell everything, even our wallets, to pro- 
cure spears and swords." 

A deputation of mamelukes now started 
from Friburg for Arbois, to entreat Pierre 
de la Baume to return to his episcopal 
city. Since the death of Besancon 
Hugues, the bishop had taken no steps to 
recover his power. - He was at heart 
neither wicked nor cruel, only weak and 
selfish ; but he had two inordinate pas- 
sions — the table and money. At one time 
he inclined to the Duke, at another to Ge- 
neva, according as his interests swayed 
him. The Friburgers disturbed his stu- 
pid tranquility and feasting. ' ' Return to 
your city, my lord," they said, "to re- 
cover your lost authority, and protect your 
threatened rents. ' ' But La Baume made 
61 



timid excuses : "Many of these heretics 
have uttered great threats against me ; they 
will kill me like poor Wernli." A mightier 
voice than that of Friburg now distressed 
the bishop. Pope Clement VII. dreaded 
the spread of the Reform, and wrote to 
La Baume : " I command you to proceed 
to Geneva immediately you receive this 
bull, under pain of excommunication. 
You, by your absence, are the cause of 
all the misfortunes with which it is afflic- 
ted." 

The prelate formed a heroic decision and 
determined to obey the pope ; but first he 
overlooked his princely and prelatical au- 
thority and asked for a safe-conduct. 
"The bishop does not need a safe-con- 
duct," answered the council of Geneva; 
"only let him come. If anybody threatens 
him, we will punish him so severely, that 
Monseigneur shall have cause to be satis- 
fied." La Baume wavered from day to 
day. Some Genevan deputies humbly 
urged him to return, and he amiably an- 
swered he would in a month. The ban- 
ished mameluke chiefs urged him to seize 
this opportunity for arresting and execu- 
ting the leading huguenots; they added: 
" After that nothing will be able to dis- 
turb the holy union of Geneva with Savoy 
and the pope." But Pierre de la Baume 
shrank with alarm from such a herculean 
task. 

Meantime the Friburg ambassadors in 
Geneva demanded aloud what he wished to 
do in secret. On the 23d May, they said to 
the council : " We accuse all who were in 
the Molard at the time of Wernli's death, 
including the syndic of the guard and the 
commander of the cavalry." It was a 
monstrous demand. Divided and intimi- 
dated, the council answered they "would 
arrest all whom Messieurs of Friburg ac- 
cused." Thus the plot was in a fair way : 
liberty and reform had, however, a mo- 
ment's respite. 

Two ambassadors from Berne, Coun- 
cillor Sebastian de Diesbach and Banneret 
John de Weingarten, arrived at Geneva, 
and had conferences with the men of both 
parties. " We have seen and heard every- 
thing, " said Diesbach; "the only means 
of enjoying peace is to permit every one to 
follow the movements of his conscience, so 
that no one be constrained. Let the mass 
and feast days and images remain for 
those who like them ; but let the preach- 
ing of the Gospel be granted to those who 
desire it . . . Let every one abide in his 
own free will and choice . . . Let the 
booksellers be permitted to sell publicly 
the Holy Scriptures and other books of 
piety." Thus religious as well as politi- 
cal liberty asserted their just and holy 
claims at Geneva more than three centu- 
ries ago. Switzerland and the Reform 
are the first in the field. The syndics re- 
plied to the Messieurs of Berne : "Stay 
with us to help us!" The 27th of May, 
1533, deserves a mark of honor in the an- 
nals of religious liberty. 



952 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Every day the report grew stronger that 
the bishop had at last made up his mind 
to return to Geneva in obedience to the 
pope. Priests, mamelukes, and ducal par- 
tisans made great preparations to receive 
him ; they believed that the hour of their 
triumph was at hand. The huguenots 
were indignant to hear that the mame- 
lukes who deserted the city seven years 
ago, were to escort the bishop back, and 
the Council of Two Hundred ordered that 
these mamelukes should not be allowed to 
enter the city. 

On Tuesday, 1st of July, the prince- 
bishop, attended by his chancellors, the 
magistrates, the banished mamelukes, 
and a body-guard of catholic arquebusiers 
from Geneva, drew near the city. The 
syndics and a brilliant escort met them 
a half league distant. Bells rang out, 
artillery roared, and the friends of the 
clergy shouted repeated vivats. But the 
hearts of the proud huguenots and the 
pious evangelicals were nearly broken. 
The intimidated syndics dared not forbid 
the entiance of these mamelukes into the 
city. At night conferences were held at 
the palace, among the canons and the 
other partisans of despotic rule. 

The bishop was resolved to have re- 
course to force, banishment, and death, 
if necessary ; but he designed to begin 
with milder measures. At his order, a 
grand procession of ecclesiastics was made 
on Thursday, 3d July ; after which a 
general council of the people met. As 
soon as the assembly was formed the pre- 
late appeared, attended by his nobles and 
partisans. He was determined to claim 
full sovereign power in Geneva, and to 
take it by force if it were disputed. The 
bailiff of Dole delivered a flattering and 
flowery oration. After him the prince- 
bishop asked the syndics and the people 
whether they recognized him for their 
prince and lord The question was cun- 
ningly put, and as well answered by the 
magistrates. ''Certainly, my lord," they 
replied ; "we regard you as our prince, 
and are ready to obey you ; but in adopting 
for guide our liberties, customs and fran- 
chises, written and unwritten, which we beg 
■you to respect, as you promised to do a long 
while ago.'''' The embarrassed bishop- 
prince could only say : ' ' Have the fear of 
God before your eyes, and keep the com- 
mandments of holy Church."—" The 
general council broke up without dispute 
or tumult, for which God be praised." 

Most of the Genevans were not ready 
to bend their necks to receive the yoke 
the bishop presented. The citizens re- 
solved to oppose him with the antique 
title-deeds of their ancestors, in which 
were inscribed the duties, rights, and 
liberties of the people. They brought 
forth from its vaulted chamber a roll 
drawn up by Bishop Adhemar in 1387, 
containing (to use its own words) "the 
liberties, franchises, and immunities which 
the citizens of Geneva have enjoyed so 



long that the memory of man runneth not 
to the contrary." The syndics bore their 
old papers to Pierre de la Baurne, who 
did not trouble himself to decipher such 
disagreeable documents. 

The bishop now renounced all idea of 
reigning with mildness, and determined 
to govern by force. He would be rid of the 
leading reformers and huguenots of Ge- 
neva by the sword ; then he could easily 
stifle the protestantism of some, and the 
independence of others. He counted his 
forces and felt sure of victory. The 
mamelukes urged him on. "My lord," 
they said, "must exercise his power 
against certain citizens and burgesses, 
and by this means extirpate and eradicate 
the Lutheran sect and heresy." The pro- 
scribed were selected indifferently from 
among the evangelicals and huguenots. 
One of the first pointed out was Chau- 
temps ; Aime Levet came next , Pierre 
Vandel, whose father had been impris- 
oned twenty years before, Ami Perrin, 
Jean Pecolat, Claude de Geneve, Domaine 
D'Arlod, and others, were named. Phili- 
bert de Compey, a huguenot nobleman, 
now had all his lands and lordships con- 
fiscated by the count of Genevois. 

To seize the proscribed was no easy 
matter. If each was to be captured in 
his own house, some would escape and 
others be rescued. La Baume resolved to 
invite them to his palace, and thus remove 
them from his saloons to his dungeons. 
The next day, July 5th, the invitations 
were tendered. Some trusted in his 
honor, and went clad in their finest suits. 
Others, more clear-sighted and prudeiK, 
took to flight. Chautemps and Levee 
thus escaped the danger ; Maison-Neuve 
set out for Berne, full of indignation 
against the bishop's tyranny. Meantime 
Perrin, D'Arlod, Vandel, and their friends 
had scarcely entered my lotd's antecham- 
bers, when they were seized, heavily fet- 
tered, and led away to the episcopal 
prison. The impetuous Perrin and the 
courageous Vandel had their feet set in 
the stocks and their hands manacled. 

When the news was told the prince- 
prelate, it was the pleasantest tidings he 
had ever received. His joy was lessened 
by the escape of the leaders, and he took 
his revenge by seizing the delicate and 
refined Jaquema Chautemps, wife of the 
brave huguenot, and imprisoning her in a 
narrow eell, like a conspirator. The Ref- 
ormation has furnished many similar ex- 
amples of conjugal devotion. Now the 
bishop and his confidants deliberated 
what should be done with their prisoners. 
"They durst not kill them in the city for 
fear of the people. ' ' It was decided to re- 
move them by night to the strong castle 
of Gaillard, at the foot of the Saleve, 
"and there do as they pleased with 
them." 

The news that Baudichon de la Maison- 
Neuve had gone to Berne to demand help, 
put La Baume in great alarm and*in a 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



953 



great passion also. What a check ! what 
danger ! If the fugitive brings back the 
Bernese, they will undertake the defence 
of heresy. . . it will triumph. He ordered 
a swift pursuit of the fugitives, and sent 
an extraordinary message to the council. 
" My lord," said the episcopal messenger, 
•" has decided to send his officers beyond 
the frontiers to take certain criminals. 
Our very reverend prince therefore re- 
quires the council to lend him some of the 
city officers to accompany his own and 
pursue Hie fugitives in the territory of 
Savoy." This was too much to ask the 
disgusted syndics, and they returned this 
evasive answer: "Pray pardon us if we 
cannot do it ; we should be afraid that 
the duke, whose territories our officers 
would have to enter, should be angry 
with us for violating the treaties." This 
refusal threw the bishop into another 
passion, but later news enlivened his 
spirits. Aime Levet had been seized in 
his flight, scourged without any form of 
trial, and thrown into a deep dungeon in 
the castle of Gaillard. From that mo- 
ment, the husband's captivity assured the 
safety of the wife. 

On the same day (6th of July) news 
came to the Genevans from Gaillard that i 
Wernli's relations from Friburg, accom- ' 
panied by a great number of men-at-arms, 
had entered the fortress, vowing they 
would wash their feet in the blood of the 
evangelicals. The council did not know 
what to do ; the city was filled with ap- 
prehension and anguish. From many an 
afflicted house the cries of sorrow rose to 
heaven. 

Meanwhile the avoyers of Friburg in- 
sisted that the Genevans arrested on the 
23d May and 4th June should be 
brought to trial immediately. The mam- 
elukes cried still louder for the trial of 
the eleven imprisoned on the 5th of July. 
They trusted to take advantage of the 
excitement to effect a revolution. The 
council directed the procurator-fiscal to 
have the accused brought before him, as 
the Genevan constitution required ; but 
the fiscal answered that the bishop had 
cited the case before himself. Again and 
again did the alarmed magistrates make 
their humble but resolute protest to 
Pierre de la Baume ; but the passionate, 
headstrong churchman only replied: "I 
have cited the case before me." "They 
built the tower of Babel," says a contem- 
porary of these blind fanatics, ' ' presuming, 
like the giants, to fight against God." 

The syndics, being* determined to resist 
the bishop and his usurpations, convened 
the council of Sixty on the 8th of July, 
to deliberate on the future, so full of 
threatenings to their liberties. In self- 
defence they had recourse to one of those 
measures which are almost unique in his- 
tory, and exhale a perfume of antiquity. 
They called upon certain Nestors of lib- 
erty, who uplifted their hoary heads among 
three generations of their children. "Crim- 



inal causes," spake these wise men, "be- 
long to the civil magistrate ; the practice 
has never varied in that respect, and the 
bishop's claim to hear them himself is a 
novelty without precedent." It was re- 
solved to send a deputation to the prince, 
composed of the four syndics and six of 
these aged citizens, who felt happy to 
bear, before they died, a last testimony to 
the liberties of their country. 

Slowly the deputation made its way 
through the streets to the palace. The 
people watched them tenderly, and blessed 
them as they passed. Within his hall 
the prelate sat in pomp to receive them ; 
around him were ranged not only his 
councillors, officers, and the ambassadors 
of Berne and Friburg, but also the rela- 
tives of the slain canon. He had cun- 
ningly paired the suppliants of Friburg 
against the elders of Geneva. The syn- 
dics vainly pleaded the liberties of their 
ancient constitution. Then one of the 
grave elders, speaking for all, raised his 
trembling hands, " and declared that such 
had always been the law of Geneva, and 
that never in the course of their long lives 
had they had the pain to see the prince 
trample it under foot." The feeble voices 
and calm looks of these venerable men. ad- 
ded a strange, and one might almost say a 
heavenly, force to their testimony. But 
if liberty had never been more touching, 
despotism had never been more obstinate. 
Pierre de la Baume kept repeating: "I 
cannot; I have cited the case before me." 
The Friburg ambassadors urged the dep- 
utation to yield, but all refused. In sor- 
row the syndics quitted the bishop's pal- 
ace, and the six elders followed them. 

The deputation gave a faithful account 
of their mission to the council of Sixty, 
and the unfaithful Bernese invited the 
council to try if they could not "consent' 
to this citation, which the prelate posi- 
tively would not recall" Tliis minute 
was unanimously made in answer : "Or- 
dered to reply to My Lords of Berne, 
that we will not consent to this citation, 
as it is entirely contrary to our franchi- 
ses, and resolved to ask them to be pleased 
to aid us with their advice." My Lords 
of Berne did not like to see their advice 
rejected, but as they withdrew they said 
that such men deserved to be free. 

This new refusal exasperated the mam- 
elukes, who desired to use Wernli's death 
as an instrument to destroy Genevese lib- 
erties ; and they demanded the convocation 
of the Two Hundred. The great council 
met the next day, and the suppliants 
from Friburg called upon them for justice 
and vengeance upon the guilty parties. 
"Permit my lord bishop to cite the case 
before him," urged Wernli's brother. "If 
you refuse, you may rest assured that we 
may seek other means of avenging the 
death of our friend, and we shall drown 
our sorrow and anger not in the waters 
of justice but in blood." The Friburgers 
spoke as if it were a murder : they forgot 



954 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



that the canon had gone fully armed to 
the scene of tumult and attacked the hu- 
guenots, who had only used their arms in 
legitimate self-defence. The avoyer of 
Friburg seconded these eloquent menaces. 
The Two Hundred saw that a war with 
Friburg and Savoy would follow their 
action ; but they bravely refused to permit 
"a violation of the franchises, for which 
we and our fathers have often risked our 
bodies and our goods." They consented 
to the bishop's naming two persons to be 
present at the examination, but on condi- 
tion that they had no deliberative voice. 
The Friburgers and mamelukes could not 
make up their minds to accept this prop- 
osition. 

Neither party would agree to the de- 
mands of the other ; the Friburg deputies 
threatened to return with an army. 

While these things were going on, the 
huguenots and evangelicals, seized by the 
bishop's order, were still in prison 
bound hand and foot. In every house in 
Geneva and at the town hall people were 
constantly talking of them. "The pris- 
oners, ' ' they said, ' ' are kept in close con- 
finement." Yet the mamelukes were 
vexed that so many huguenots were still at 
liberty, and they began to make amend for 
official slowness by separate acts of vio- 
lence. Jean Ami Curtet, a man well dis- 
posed to the Gospel and belonging to a 
noble family, was stealthily set upon by 
disguised men in his own harvest field on 
the banks of the Arve, knocked down, 
beaten, and left for dead. Forty of his 
relatives and friends armed with their 
arquebuses recovered the poor man seri- 
ously wounded, and bearing their sad 
burden returned slowly into the city, their 
hearts bursting with anger. One of them 
called the innocent Friburgers : ' ' Rascals 
and traitors !" Men asked each other 
whether the prince-bishop intended to add 
murder to illegal arrests : whether any 
huguenot might be suddenly laid dead by 
a masked enemy in his own field. 

While these perils were accumulating 
on the heads of the friends of the Reforma- 
tion in Geneva itself, perils not less great 
were gathering around the city. Armed 
Friburgers and Savoyards were assem- 
bling in great numbers at the castle of 
Gaillard, at Etrembieres, around the pic- 
turesque hill of Montoux, at the village 
of Collonges, in the Gex district, and par- 



ticularly at the Grand Saconnex, three 
quarters of a league from Geneva. The 
city was beginning to be surrounded by 
its enemies, and the future of Geneva 
was indeed threatening. A fanatical 
party was preparing the shroud in which it 
designed to bury the independence of the 
citizens and the Reformation of the 
church. 

But other things were written in heaven. 
God was preparing both Geneva and Cal- 
vin to deliver battle together, -on the re- 
sult of which was to depend the triumph 
of the Gospel and the liberty of modern 
nations. And to prepare for these glori- 
ous events, the steps of the great leformer 
were soon to be directed, undesignedly on 
his part, towards that small but energetic 
city, unique of its kind in Europe, and of 
which the man of God was not then 
thinking. 

_ Calvin possessed an inflexible resolu- 
tion. God had said to this man as he had 
said of old to one of his prophets : As an 
adamant harder than flint have I made thy 
forehead; fear them not, neither be dismayed 
at their looks, though they be a rebellious 
house. This people had shown in terrible 
struggles, watered with the blood of their 
best citizens, an indomitable resistance to 
absolute power. The union of those two 
natures, predestined (if I may say so) for 
each other, could not fail to produce re- 
markable effects in the world. The re- 
former was about to concentrate in this 
little corner of earth a moral force which 
would contribute to save the Reformation in 
Europe, and to preserve in a few more fa- 
vored spots those precious liberties to 
which ail nations have equal rights. It 
was necessary in the Sixteenth century that 
a great man and a little people should serve 
as a centre to the Reformation. 

While waiting for this new dawn, sor- 
row reigned in Geneva. The reformers 
were expelled, and the sword was sus- 
pended over the heads of all the friends of 
God's Word. Friends of the Gospel and 
of liberty asked with anguish if the day 
of great tribulation was come at last. 
Only a few souls, putting their trust in 
God, preserved some little hope. In the 
midst of agitated hearts and dejected 
faces, there were eyes which, though 
dimmed with tears, were raised towards 
heaven with a glance of hope and faith. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



955 



BOOK VI. 



ENGLAND BEGINS TO CAST OFF THE PAPACY. 
1529—1534 



The Nation and its Parties — Parliament and its Grievances — Reforms — Anne Boleyn's Father 
before the Emperor and the Pope — Discussions concerning the Divorce at Cambridge and 
Oxford — Henry VIII. supported in France and Italy by the Catholics, and blamed in Ger- 
manv by the Protestants — Latimer at Coui't— The King seeks after Tyndale — The King 
of England recognized as Head of the Church— Separation of the King: and Queen — The 
Bishops plunder the Clergy and persecute the Protestants — The Martyrs — The King despoils 
the Pope and the Clergy — Liberty of Inquiry and Preaching in the 16th Century — Henry 
Vm. attacks the partisans of the Pope and of the Reformation— The new Primate of all 
England — Queen Catherine descends from the throne, and Queen Anne Boleyu ascends it — 
A Reformer in Prison — A Reformer chooses rather to Lose his Life than to Save it — Englanl 
Separates gradually from the Papacy— Parliament abolishes the Usurpations of the Pope in 
England. 



England at this time '1529) began to 
separate from the pope and to reform her 
Church. In the history of that country the 
tall of Wolsey divides the old times from 
ihe new. 

The level of the laity was gradually ris- 
ing, and the clerical level was falling, 
through its pride, ignorance, and corrup- 
tion. France desired even when reform- 
ing her doctrine to preserve union with 
the papacy: the Anglo-Saxon race, jealous 
_oi their liberties, desired to form a Church 
at once national and independent; yet 
remaining faithful to the doctrines of 
Catholicism. Henry VIII. is the personi- 
fication of that tendency, which did not 
disappear with him, and of which it would 
not be difficult to discover traces even in 
later days. Other elements calculated to 
produce a better reformation also existed, 
The Holy Scriptures, translated, studied, 
circulated, and preached since the four- 
teenth century by Wickliffe and his disci- 
ples, became in the sixteenth century, by 
the publication of Erasmus's Testament, 
and the translations of Tyndale and Cov- 
erdale, the powerful instrument of a real 
evangelical revival, and created the scrip- 
tural reformation. These evangelists were 
the brethren and precursors of Calvin ; 
but it was not till the reign of Edward VI. 
that the works of "the greatest Christian 
of his age" exerted an indisputable influ- 
ence over the reformation of England. 

A religious reformation may be of two 
kinds : internal or evangelical, external or 
legal. England began with the spiritual 
reformation by students, priests, and lay- 
men, at Oxford andCambiidge, almost at j 
the same time as in Germany. Henry 
VIII. and his parliament were about to 
inaugurate the second. " A king impelled , 
by his passions was its author," say some ; 
but in truth the commons, lords, and king 
each played their part. Two opposing 
elements — the reforming liberalism of the 
people, and the almost absolute power of 
the king— combined in England to accom- ' 
plish the legal reformation, agreeing to 



1 make mutual concessions. In the midst 
of these compromises, the little evangeli- 
cal flock, which had no voice in such mat- 
ters, religiously preserved the treasure en- 

. trusted to it : the Word of God, truth, 
liberty, and Christian virtue. From ail 
these elements sprang the Church of Eng- 
land. A strange church some call it. 
Strange indeed, for there is none which 
corresponds so imperfectly in theory with 
the ideal of the Church, and, perhaps, 
none whose members work out with more 
power and grandeur the ends for which 
Christ has formed his kingdom. 

Scarcely had Henry VIII. refused to go 
to Rome to plead his cause, when he issued 
writs for a new parliament, (25th Septem- 
ber, 1529.) On the eve of separating from 
the pope, he felt the necessity of leaning 
on the people. The whole kingdom was 
astir, and the different parties became 
more distinct. Bishop Du Bellay, at that 
time envoy from the King of France, 
wrote to Montmorency : "I fancy that in 
this parliament the priests will have a ter- 
rible fright." The papal clergy roused 
themselves, and Fisher, Bishop of Roches- 
ter, learned, bold, and slightly fanatical, 
as their leader determined to sacrifice 
everything for the maintenance of Cathol- 
icism in England. The appointment of 

■ the energetic and papistical Sir Thomas 

: More as chancellor, increased the hopes of 

i the Romish party. 

Opposed to this hierarchal party was the 
political party, in whose eyes the king's 
will was the supreme rule. The Dukes of 
Norfolk and Suffolk, Sir William Fitz 
William, and their adherents sought for 
themselves in this way the power enjoyed 
by insatiable clerks. 

Between these two parties came a third, 
with whom the victory was to rest. It 
consisted of many lowly men who believed 
in the Word of God, and had received 
spiritual liberty from it. Organized under 
the name of "The Society of Christian 
Brethren," they had a central committer 
in London with missionaries everywhere, 



056 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



and they exercised a powerful influence 
over the people. Above all things else, 
the thirst for the Word of God, and the 
i .ternal reformation accomplished in 
many, were the chief elements of the 
Reformation in England. 

There was a general feeling that the 
country was on the eve of great changes. 
" Since Wolsey has fallen," said one, " we 
must forthwith regulate the condition of 
the Church and its ministers. We will 
seize their property." Leading members 
of the Commons specified the abuses they 
would demand to have redressed, and they 
prepared petitions for reform to be pre- 
sented to the king. Henry VIII. tolerated 
tli'is agitation because it forwarded his 
purposes. When Jupiter frowned, all 
Olympus trembled. 

On the morning of the 3d of November, 
1529, after hearing the mass of the Holy 
Ghost at Blackfriar's church, the king, 
lords, and commons, met in parliament. 
Sir Thomas More, the new chancellor, ex- 
plained the reason of their summoning. 

Generally speaking, parliament confined 
itself to passing the resolutions of the 
government. The Great Charter until 
now had been little more than a dead let- 
ter ; but the Reformation gave it birth. 
At once the Commons, in clear and strong 
language, petitioned the king to reform 
the abuses of the clerical domination. 
The speaker and other members speedily 
laid these grievances before Henry VIII. 
Then, at the peril of offending the king, 
the speaker boldly took up the defence of 
the pretended heretics. " If heresy be or- 
dinarily laid unto the charge of the per- 
son accused, the said ordinaries put to 
them such subtle interrogatories concern- 
ing the high mysteries of our faith, as are 
able quickly to trap a simple unlearned 
layman. And if any heresy be so con- 
fessed in word, yet never committed in 
thought or deed, they put the said person 
to make his purgation. And if the party 
so accused deny the accusation, witnesses 
of little truth or credence are brought 
forth for the same, and deliver the party 
so accused to secular hands." 

The king listened to the petition with 
his characteristic dignity, and also with a 
certain kindliness. He sent it to the 
bishops, requiring them to answer the 
charges brough t against them. The proud 
ecclesiastics commissioned the prudent yet 
inflexible Warham, Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, to enlighten him. 

" Sire," he said, "your Majesty's Com- 
mons reproach us with uncharitable be- 
havior. . . . On the contrary, we love 
them with hearty affection, and have only 
exercised the spiritual jurisdiction of the 
Church upon persons infected with the 
pestilent poison of heresy. To have peace 
with such had been against the gospel of 
our Saviour Christ, . wherein he saith, I 
come not to send peace, but a sword. Your 
Grace's Commons complain that the clergy 



daily do make laws repugnant to the stat- 
utes of your realm. We take our author- 
ity from the Scriptures of God ; and we 
pray that your Highness will, with the 
assent of your people, temper your Grace's 
laws accordingly. They accuse us of com- 
mitting to prison before conviction such 
as be suspected of heresy. . . . Truth it 
is that certain apostates, friars, monks, 
lewd priests, bankrupt merchants, vaga- 
bonds, and idle fellows of corrupt intent 
have embraced the abominable opinions 
lately sprung up in Germany ; and by 
them some have been seduced in simplicity 
and ignorance. Against these, if judg- 
ment has been exercised according to tho 
laws of the Church, we be without blame. 
They complain that two witnesses be ad- 
mitted, be they never so defamed, to vex 
and trouble your subjects to the peril of 
their lives, shames, costs, and expenses. 
... To this we reply, the judgS must es- 
teem the quality of the witness ; but in 
heresy no exception is necessary to be con- 
sidered, if their tale be likely. This is 
the universal law of Christendom, and 
hath universally done good. They say 
that we give benefices to our nephews and 
kinsfolk, being in young age or infants, 
and that we take the profit of such benefi- 
ces for the time of the minority of our 
said kinsfolk. If it be done to our own 
use and profit, it is not well ; but if it be 
bestowed to the bringing up and use of the 
same parties, or applied to the mainten- 
ance of God's service, we do not see but 
that it may be allowed." 

As for the irregular lives of the priests, 
the prelates remarked that they were con- 
demned by the laws of the Church. . . . 
Lastly, the bishops seized the opportunity 
of taking the offensive : " We entreat of 
your Grace to repress heresy. This we 
beg of you, lowly upon our knees, so en- 
tirely as we can." 

Such was the brief of Roman Catholi- 
cism in England. Its defence would have 
sufficed to condemn it. 

The answer of the bishops was sharply 
criticised, everywhere exciting a lively in- 
dignation. "What!" said they, "the. 
bishops accuse the most pious and active 
Christians of England, — men like Bilney, 
Fryth, Tynclale, and Latimer, — of that 
idleness and irregularity of which their 
monks and priests are continually show- 
ing us examples. We condemn their 
practice, and they take shelter behind their 
theories. ' The fault is not in the church,' 
they say. But it is its ministers that 
we accuse." 

In the indignant parliament one bill 
followed another, irritating the priests, 
but filling the people with joy. They for- 
bade the clergy to take any mortuary 
fee when the effects were small ; they pro- 
hibited them from holding large estates, 
or carrying on the business of merchant, 
tanner, brewer, etc. At the same time 
plurality of benefices (some ignorant 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



957 



priests "holding as many as ten or twelve) 
was forbidden, and residence was enforced. 

The clergy saw at last that they must 
reform. They enacted severe penalties 
for visiting unbecoming entertainments 
and disorderly houses, doubling them for 
adultery, and tripling them for incest. 
Now the laity asked whether these scan- 
dals had become criminal only because the 
Commons condemned them? But the 
bishops who reformed the lower clergy, 
did not intend to resign their own privi- 
leges. The Bishop of Rochester boldly 
resisted these measures in the House of 
Lords, saying : "These bills have no other 
object than the destruction of the Church ; 
and, if the Church goes down, all the 
glory of the kingdom will fall with it. 
Remember what happened to the Bohe- 
mians. Like them our Commons cry 
out, — 'Down with the Church !' Whence 
cometh that cry ? Simply from the lack 
of faith .... My lords, save the country, 
save the Church." 

This speech made the Commons very 
indignant. Thirty leading members bore 
their request to the king : " Be pleased to 
call before you the bishop who has in- 
sulted your Commons." The king gra- 
ciously acquiesced, and the leading pre- 
lates appeared trembling. Fisher falsely 
asserted that, when speaking about "lack 
of faith," he had not thought of the 
Commons of England, but of the Bohe- 
mians only. This unbecoming evasion 
was a defeat of the clerical party from 
which they never recovered ; and the 
king but little esteemed them. The tem- 
poral lords gradually adopted the mea- 
sures of the commons, although for a time 
they strongly opposed those abolishing 
pluralism and non-residence. After this 
triumph, the king adjourned parliament in 
the middle of December. 

The different reforms that had been 
carried through were important, but they 
were not the Reformation. Many abuses 
were corrected, but the doctrines remained 
unaltered. But the Reformation was not 
content with more decorous forms ; it re- 
quired a second creation. Still, parliament 
had taken a great stride towards the revo- 
lution that was to transform the Church. 
A new power had taken its place in the 
world ; the laity had triumphed over the 
clergy. The joy was great throughout 
the kingdom, while the clergy alone, in all 
England, were downcast and exasperated. 

Before such glorious hopes could be re- 
alized, it was necessary to emancipate 
Great Britain from the yoke of Romish 
supremacy. This was the end to which 
all generous minds aspired ; but would 
the king assist them? 

Henry VIII. united strength of body 
with strength of will. Lively, active, 
eager, vehement, impatient and voluptu- 
ous — whatever he was, he was with his 
whole soul. Profoundly selfish, he cared 
for himself alone. If the papal domina- 



tion offended him, evangelical liberty an- 
noyed him. He meant to remain master 
in his own house — the only master, and 
master of all. Even without the divorce, 
Henry would possibly have separated from 
Rome. Rather than endure any contra- 
diction, this singular man put to death 
friends and enemies, bishops and mission- 
aries, ministers of state, and favorites — 
even his wives. But passion alone did not 
urge him to action. He inquired sincerely 
whether his marriage with the widow of 
his brother was lawful. The question of 
the succession to the throne had for a cen- 
tury filled the country with confusion and 
blood. As for the parliament and people, 
it was the reasons of state which made 
them regard the divorce as just and neces- 
sary. Such was the prince whom the Re- 
formation found King of England. 

A congress was at that time sitting at 
Bologna, with great pomp. Charles V. 
attended with a magnificent suite and 
followed by 20, 000 soldiers, and the pope 
met him there. Henry VIII. selected as 
his embassy the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne 
Boleyn's father ; Edward Lee, afterwards 
Archbishop of York ; Stokesley, after- 
wards Bishop of London. To these he 
added Thomas Cranmer, who had written 
a treatise proving that the Word of God is 
above all human jurisdiction, and that it 
forbids marriage with a brother's widow. 
The king desired him to maintain these 
propositions before the Bishop of Rome. 
The embassy were instructed to explain 
to Charles V. the serious motives which 
induced Henry to separate from Cath- 
erine : "If he persists in his opposi- 
tion to the divorce, threaten him, but in 
covert terms. If the threats prove useless, 
tell him plainly that in accord with my 
friends, I will do all that I can to restore 
peace to my troubled conscience." 

Meanwhile Charles V., more exaspera- 
ted than ever against the divorce, ear- 
nestly endeavored to gain the pope. Cle- 
ment VIL, who was a clever yet cun- 
ning, false, and cowardly man, was irrita- 
ted and troubled. What was he to do ? 
Which way could he turn? To irritate 
the emperor was dangerous ; to separate 
England from Rome would be to endure 
a great loss. What need was there for 
the King of England to send him an em- 
bassy? Had not Clement told Henry, 
through the Bishop of Tarbes : "I am 
content the marriage should take place, 
provided it be without my authorization " 
It was of no use ; the pope asked him to do 
without the papacy, and the king would 
only act with it. He was more popish 
than the pope. 

As soon as the English envoys arrived, 
the ambassadors of France called to pay 
their respects. Clement wearing his pon- 
tifical robes, and seated on the throne, sur- 
rounded by his cardinals, gave them an 
early audience. To show his kindly feel- 
ings lie graciously presented his slipper, ac- 
cording to custom, to the kisses of those 



958 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



proud Englishmen. The revolt was about 
to begin. The earl remained motionless, 
but a spaniel that accompanied him at 
once flew at the foot, and caught the pope 
by the great toe. " That dog was a pro- 
testant" said a reverend father. " What- 
ever he was, ' ' said an Englishman, ' ' he 
taught us that a pope's foot was more 
meet to be bitten by dogs, than kissed by 
Christian men." The count regaining his 
seriousness, explained that Henry VIII. 
required him to annul as unlawful his 
union with Catherine of Aragon, insinu- 
ating that otherwise the king might pos- 
sibly declare himself independent of Rome. 

The agitated pope promised not to re- 
move the suit to Rome, provided the king 
would give up the idea of reforming Eng- 
land. He then graciously introduced the 
ambassador to Charles V. The latter coldly 
said to the father of Anne Boleyn : " Sir 
count, you are not to be trusted in this 
matter ; you are a party to it ; let your 
colleagues speak." The emperor stated 
lie would support his aunt in her rights, 
and then abruptly turned his back on the 
ambassador. On this occasion, the crafty 
Charles placed the cause of justice above 
the interests of his ambition. 

Gramont strove to induce Clement to 
join Henry and Francis and abandon 
Charles. The poj>e answered : "I will 
do what you ask ;" but he meant to do 
nothing. The earl presented to him 
Cranmer's book, proving that the pope 
cannot dispense anyone from obeying the 
law of God ; and the pontiff was not at all 
pleased with this impertinent volume. 
Wearied and disgusted, the earl departed 
with most of his colleagues, leaving Cran- 
mer behind awaiting an interview at Rome 
with Clement. 

At the same time that Henry sent am- 
bassadors to Rome to obtain the pope's 
consent, he invited all the universities of 
Christendom to declare that the question 
of divorce was of divine right, and that 
the pope had nothing to say about it. 

First, he selected Wolsey's old servant, 
Stephen Gardiner, an intelligent, wily 
churchman and a good catholic, with Ed- 
ward Fox, the chief almoner, to canvass 
Cambridge. The royal commissioners 
held a private conference with the in- 
fluential doctors at Cambridge who had 
resolved to go with the court ; but the 
champions of Rome canvassed college after 
college as actively. On Sunday afternoon 
the vice chancellor called a meeting of the 
doctors, bachelors of divinity, and masters 
of art ; about two hundred persons as- 
sembled. The deliberations commenced, 
and the question of a rupture with Rome 
soon led to great confusion. At dark the 
meeting was adjourned until next day. 
In order to obtain a majority, Gardiner 
persuaded several of his adversaries to 
absent themselves, and on the third vote 
the king triumphed. The public discus- 
sion, in which the scriptural reasons were 



placed before the political questions, re- 
sulted in a victory to the king's champions. 
On the 9th of March, the vice-chancellor 
delivered the opinion: "It has appeared 
to us as most certain, most in accord with 
Holy Scriptures, and most conformable to 
the opinions of commentators, that it is 
contrary to divine and natural law for a 
man to marry the widow of his brother 
dying childless." Thus the university of 
Cambridge declared the Scriptures to be 
the supreme and only rule of Christians, 
and the contrary decisions of Rome were 
held to be not binding. 

It was necessary to try Oxford next. 
Here the opposition was stronger, and the 
popish party looked forward to a victory. 
Longland, Bishop of Lincoln and chan- 
cellor of the university, was made the 
chief commissioner. To him the king gave 
a letter most despotically demanding a 
decision in his favor, saying : " And in 
case you do not uprightly handle your- 
selves herein, we shall so quickly and 
sharply look to your unnatural misde- 
meanor herein, that it shall not be to 
your quietness and ease hereafter." This 
royal missive caused a great commotion 
in the university. All men of age, learn- 
ing, and ambition declared in favor of the 
divorce. The younger members of the 
senate were enthusiastic for Catherine, 
the Church, and the pope. To gain time, 
the commissioners sanctioned three public 
disputations. Henry was much enraged 
at these delays. He ordered the high al- 
moner Fox to repeat at Oxford the vic- 
tory he had gained at Cambridge. The 
final vote was taken by ballot ; and while 
31 voted in favor of the divorce, 25 op- 
posed it. 

The prelates immediately drew up the 
statute in the name of the university, and 
sent it to the king. After this action the 
bishop celebrated a solemn mass of the 
Holy Ghost, which had not been much 
attended to in the business. Dr. Buck- 
master conveyed the submission of Cam- 
bridge to Henry, and the king detained 
him for five hours in arguing with him 
the question : " Can the pope grant a dis- 
pensation when the law of God hath 
spoken." 

The king did not limit himself to ask- 
ing the opinions of England ; he appeals d 
to the universal teaching of the Church. 
First he applied to the university of Paris, 
but the impetuous Beda obtained an 
opinion adverse to Henry's wishes. There- 
upon the king sent Francis I. a diamond 
fleur-de-lis valued at 10,000 I. sterling, ac- 
knowledgments for 100,000 livres due for 
war expenses, and a gift of 400,000 crowns 
for the ransom of the king's sons. These 
valuable arguments secured the favorable 
verdict of the Sorbonne, despite bitter op- 
position ; also of the universities of Or- 
leans, Angers, Bourges, and Toulouse. 
The university of Bologna in the states of 
the church, overjoyed Henry by declaring 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



959 



his marriage, "horrible, execrable, detest- 
able, abominable for a Christian and even 
for an infidel, forbidden by divine and hu- 
man law under pain of the severest pun- 
ishment. . . . The holy father, who can do 
almost everything," innocently continued 
the university, "has not the right to per- 
mit such a union." The universities of 
Padua and Ferrara gave the same verdict. 

In the midst of this harmony of catho- 
licity, the divorce found opponents among 
the fathers and children of the Re- 
formation. The Swiss and German re- 
formers having been summoned to give 
an opinion on this point, Luther, (Eco- 
lampadius, Zwingle, Bucer, Grynaeus 
and' Calvin all expressed the same opin- 
ion. "Certainly," said Luther, "the 
king has sinned by marrying his brother's 
wife ; that sin belongs to the past ; let re- 
pentance, therefore, blot it out, as it must 
blot out all our past sins. But the mar- 
riage must not be dissolved ; such a great 
sin, which is future, must not be per- 
mitted. There are thousands of marri- 
ages in the world in which sin has a part, 
and yet we may not dissolve them. A 
man shall, cleave unto Ms wife, and they 
shall be one flesh. This law is superior to 
the other, and overrules the lesser one." 

While these matters were going on, 
Cranmer was endeavoring to secure at 
Rome that conference which the pope 
had promised him. Clement sought to 
elude his entreaties by nominating him 
grand almoner for all the states of the 
King of England ; but the pure-minded 
Cranmer did not abate his zeal. The two 
archbishops and many of the English no- 
bility endeavored to secure the pope's 
decision for Henry. Clement was greatly 
puzzled how to harmonize the will of 
Henry VIII. , who desired another wife, 
and that of Charles V., who insisted that 
he ought to keep the old one. At last 
he recurred to the idea of Wolsey, and 
said privately to Da Casale : "This is 
what we have hit upon, we permit his Ma- 
jesty to have two wives." The infallible 
pontiff proposed bigamy to a king ! The 
astonished minister replied; "Holy fa- 
ther, I doubt whether such a mode will 
satisfy his majesty, for he desires above 
all things to have the burden removed 
from his conscience." This guilty propo- 
sal led to nothing ; the king, sure of the 
lords and of the people, advanced rapidly 
in the path of independence. In his 
alarm, Clement replied to the English 
address : " We desire as much as you do 
that the king should have male children ; 
but, alas ! we are not God to give him 
sons." 

Henry seeing that he could not obtain 
what he wished from the pope, drew nearer 
the evangelical party in his kingdom. In 
the ranks of the Reformation he found 
intelligent, pious, bold and eloquent men, 
who possessed the confidence of a portion 
of the people. He was willing to concili- 



ate them ; provided, that if they rejected 
the papal jurisdiction they should recog- 
nize his own. 

The first of the evangelical doctors 
whom Henry tried to gain, was his chap- 
lain, the bold Latimer. This frank min- 
ister resolved to declare openly what God 
had taught him in Scripture. "I had 
rather suffer extreme punishment," he 
said, "than be a traitor unto the truth." 
He determined to make the king under- 
stand that all real reformation must begin 
at home ; and he courageously wrote to 
him, saying : "As you are a mortal man, 
having in you the corrupt nature of Adam, 
so you have no less need of the merits of 
Christ's passion for your salvation than I 
and others of your subjects have .... 
Take this for a sure conclusion, that 
where the Word of God is truly preached 
there is persecution ; and where quietness 
and rest in worldly pleasure, there is not 
the truth .... Wherefore, gracious 
king, remember yourself. Have pity on 
your soul, and think that the day is near 
at hand when you shall give account of 
your office and of the blood that hath 
been shed with your sword." The king 
does not appear to have been offended by 
this bold letter ; for he was at times a gen- 
erous as well as an absolute prince. 

Latimer preached frequently before the 
court and in the city. Speaking before the 
king, he declared that the authority of 
Holy Scripture was above all the powers 
of the earth. "To God give thy soul, 
thy faith ; ... to the king, tribute and 
reverence." Firm in doctrine, Latimer 
was at the same time an eminently prac- 
cal moralist. In his sermon one day, he 
thus publicly rebuked the king to his 
face, for keeping a number of his horses 
in abbeys founded for the support of the 
poor : "A prince ought not to prefer his 
horses above poor men. Abbeys were or- 
dained for the comfort of the poor, and 
not for king's horses to be kept in them." 
The congregation were all amazed at his 
daring, and subsequently the lord cham- 
berlain rebuked him. Latimer answered : 
"My lord, God is the grand-master of the 
king's house, and will take account of 
every one thatbeareth rule therein." 

The priests endeavored to ruin Latimer 
for this censure. At a grand reception, a 
monk falling on his knees before the 
monarch said: " Sire, your new chaplain 
preaches sedition." Henry turned to 
Latimer: "What say you to that, sir?" 
The chaplain knelt and answered the 
king : ' ' Your Grace, I put myself in 
your hands : appoint other doctors 
to preach in my place before your 
Majesty. There are many more worthy 
of the room than I am. If it be your 
Grace's pleasure, I could be content to be 
their servant, and bear their books after 
them. But if your Grace allow me for a 
preacher, I would desire you give me 
leave to discharge my conscience. Per- 
mit me to frame my teaching for my audi- 



960 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ence." Henry liked Latimer, and allowed 
liim to retire unrebuked. His friends said 
with emotion : " We were convinced that 
you would sleep to-night in the Tower." — 
" The king's heart is in the hand of the 
Lord,'''' he answered, calmly. Thus the 
evangelical reformers of England nobly 
maintained their independence in the pres- 
ence of a catholic and despotic king. 

Henry VIII., finding that he wanted 
men like Latimer to resist the pope, 
sought to win over others of the same 
stamp. He found one, whose lofty range 
he understood immediately. Thomas 
Cromwell had laid before him a book, 
then very eagerly read all over England, 
namely, The Practice of Prelates, by Tyn- 
dale. The king read it quite as eagerly 
as his subjects, and was particularly struck 
by one parable in which the oak repre- 
senting royalty was gradually overgrown 
by the ivy — that is the papacy — which 
"overgroweth all, and waxeth great, 
heavy, and thick ; and sucketh the mois- 
ture so sore out of the tree and its 
branches that it choketh and stifleth 
them." Henry thought that this talented 
and zealous reformer might render ex- 
cellent service towards abolishing the 
papacy in England He ordered Stephen 
Vaughan, one of his agents at Antwerp, to 
seek out the reformer wherever he might 
chance to be, and to prevail on him to 
return to England by the grant of a safe 
conduct and many gracious promises. 

Vaughan sought earnestly for this most 
scriptural of reformers ; but three months 
elapsed before he met him, in a lonely 
field outside of Antwerp. Tyndale was 
disgusted at the king's endless negotia- 
tions with the pope, his worldliness, his 
amours, his persecution of evangelical 
Christians, and especially the ignomini- 
ous punishment lately inflicted by Sir 
Thomas More on his brother John* 

"Cheer up," said Vaughan, "your 
exile, poverty, fightings, all are at an end ; 
you can return to England." — "What 
matters it," said Tyndale, "if my exile 
finishes, so long as the Bible is banished? 
Has the king forgotten that God has com- 
manded His Word to be spread through- 
out the world ? If it continues to be for- 
bidden to his subjects, very death were 
more pleasant to me than life." 

Vaughan felt tempted to seize the re- 
former, but allowed him to depart. When 
Henry heard of the singular conference he 
was exasperated against Tyndale, who 
refused his invitation, mistrusted his 
word, and even dared to give him advice. 
He now thought only how he could seize 
him and punish him for his arrogance. 
He instructed Cromwell to write a wrath- 
ful letter to Vaughan, which added that, 
if wholesome reflection should bring Tyn- 
dale to reason, the king was "so inclined 



* History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth 
Century, book xx. 



to mercy, pity, and compassion" that he 
would doubtless see him with pleasure. 
Vaughan again sought out the reformer, 
and the latter replied with emotion : "If 
his Majesty would condescend to permit 
the Holy Scriptures to circulate among the 
people in all their purity, as they do in the 
states of the emperor and in other Chris- 
tian countries, I would bind myself never 
to write again. I would throw myself at 
his feet, offering my body as a sacrifice, 
ready to submit, if necessary, to torture 
and death." Tyndale disappeared again, 
and the name of his hiding place is un- 
known. 

John Fryth, the able minister from 
Cambridge, who was just married in Hol- 
land, was next ordered to be sought out 
by Vaughan. He was found to be boldly 
printing at Amsterdam Tyndale's answer 
to Sir Thomas More. Henry was forced 
to give him up, as he had given up his 
friend. The politic king and the re- 
formers could not come to an understand- 
ing. Henry, profoundly hurt by the bold- 
ness of these evangelical men, swore that, 
as they would not have peace, they should 
have war, . . . war to the knife. 

Henry VIII. desired to introduce great 
changes into the ecclesiastical corporation 
of his kingdom. Of the three estates, 
Clergy, Nobility, and Commons, the first 
was the most powerful. Henry had felt 
the yoke, and wished to free himself from 
the pope and the prelates, without throw- 
ing himself into the arms of Tyndale or 
of Latimer. He determined to break the 
chains which bound the clergy to the Ro- 
mish throne, and fasten them to the 
crown. Henry could think of nothing 
but getting himself recognized as head 
of the Church. 

This important revolution could not be 
accomplished by a simple act of royal 
authority ; it was necessary to prevail 
upon the clergy to emancipate themselves 
from Rome. The sagacious and ambitious 
Cromwell sought to give the king the 
spiritual sceptre, by the aid of an old 
law fallen into oblivion. He represented 
to the king that the statutes made punish- 
able any man who should recognize a dig- 
nity established by the pope in the Eng- 
lish church, and that all the clergy had 
been guilty of recognizing the unlawful 
jurisdiction of the papal legate Wolsey. 

On the 7th of January, 1531, Cromwell 
attended the convocation of Canterbury, 
and informed the prelates that their prop- 
erty and benefices were to be confiscated 
for the good of his majesty, because they 
had submitted to the unconstitutional 
power of the cardinal. The terrified bish- 
ops offered a magnificent sum as a ran- 
som ; but Cromwell replied : "My lords, 
in a petition that some of you presented 
to the pope not long ago, you called the 
king 'your soul and your head.' Come, 
then, expressly recognize the supremacy 
of the kins: over the Church, and his ma- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



981 



jesty, of his great goodness, will grant 
you your pardon." 

The distracted clergy debated the de- 
mand for three days, and endeavored to 
induce the king to withdraw it ; but their 
committee could not ■ so much as obtain 
an audience. Henry had made up his 
mind : the priests must yield. Arch- 
bishop Warham prudently proposed, as 
a compromise, to insert a simple clause 
in the act conferring the required jurisdic- 
tion on the king ; namely, Quantum per 
legem Ghristi licet, "so far as the law of 
Christ permits." The king indignantly 
answered : "So far as the law of Christ 
permits ! Such a reserve would make one 
believe that my authority was disputable. ' ' 
He yielded at last, and the archbishop 
submitted the clause, with the amend- 
ment, to convocation. The primate asked : 
"Do you recognize the king as sole pro- 
tector of the Church and clergy of Eng- 
land ; and so far as is allowed by the law 
of Christ, also as your supreme head?" 
All remained speechless. " Whoever is 
silent seems to consent," said the pri- 
mate. — "Then we are all silent," an- 
swered one of the members. Were these 
words inspired by courage or by cow- 
ardice? Were they an assent or a pro- 
test? We cannot say. 

Convocation next gave its support to 
the opinion of the universities respect- 
ing the divorce, and thus Henry gained 
his first victory. He now permitted the 
clergy to give him 100, 000?. sterling — nearly 
equivalent to fifteen times as much of 
our money. Having obtained what he 
desired, he condescended, in his great 
mercy, to pardon the clergy for their un- 
pardonable offence of having recognized 
Wolsey as papal legate. 

A little later an attempt was wisely 
thought to be necessary to limit the power 
of the king in religious matters. "We 
give not to our princes the ministry of 
God's Word or sacraments," says the 
thirty-seventh Article of Religion. 

The king having obtained so important 
a concession from the clergy, turned to 
his parliament to ask a service of another 
kind— one in his eyes still more urgent. 
The Commons looked at the affair of the 
marriage separation from a political point 
of view, and gave their assent. Chan- 
cellor More instructed them : " Enlighten 
the people, and preserve peace in the na- 
tion, with the sentiments of loyalty due 
to the monarch." 

When these decisions, which condemned 
her marriage, were laid before the queen, 
and she was urged to accept the arbitra- 
tion of four bishops and four lay peers, she 
replied, sadly but firmly : "I pray you 
tell the king I say I am his lawful wife, 
and in that point I will abide until the 
court of Rome determine to the contrary." 

The approaching divorce caused much 
agitation among the people. Prophecies 
of strolling gipsies added greatly to the 



confusion, and that class of people was 
banished from the country. Much ex- 
citement ensued from an alleged attempt 
of the cook of the Bishop of Rochester to 
poison his master's family, and Henry 
summarily sentenced the wretched man 
to be boiled to death. One voice in the na- 
tion was raised against the divorce. It 
was that of the king's favorite Reginald 
Pole, a nephew of the murdered War- 
wick, and who became primate of all 
England under Queen Mary. He was 
willing to sacrifice all the honors Henry 
designed for him, and boldly, but with 
emotion, said to the arbitrary monarch : 
" You must not separate from the queen."- 
— "He put me in such a passion," after- 
wards, said the king, "that I nearly 
struck him." -Pole followed up his en- 
treaties by a memoir to the king, in 
which he said : " There is only one way 
of safety left your Grace, and that is sub- 
mission to the pope." Henry was both 
moved and irritated, but he forgave the 
daring offence. 

Henry now formally separated from the 
queen. On the 14th of July, by a new 
deputation he desired her to make a 
choice out of several residences. Cathe- 
rine calmly replied : " Wheresoever I re- 
tire, nothing can deprive me of the title 
which belongs to me. I shall always be 
his Majesty's wife." That day she re- 
moved from Windsor to the More, and from 
thence to Ampthill. The king never saw 
her again ; but she became the centre of 
the party opposed to the emancipation 
of England. 

Henry now felt the need of dexterous 
bishops to establish his new dignity. Ac- 
cordingly he made Edward Lee Arch- 
bishop of York, and Stephen Gardiner 
Bishop of Winchester. These ambitious, 
servile men determined to league the king 
against the reformers. 

The prelates deliberated how to raise the 
118, COOL they had bound themselves to 
pay the king ; they determined to relieve 
themselves of this burden, and throw it on 
the shoulders of the parochial clergy. 
Stokesley, Bishop of London, called some 
picked ecclesiastics to meet 1st September, 
1531, in the chapter house of St. Paul's, to 
arrange these impositions. The priests 
were enraged at this discrimination, and six 
hundred of the most violent, accompanied 
by many citizens, forced their way into the 
room, storming and shouting. "Let the 
bishops and abbots pay, " cried one priest ; 
"they committed the offence, (pnrmu/iire, ) 
and they have good places." — " We will 
pay nothing," exclaimed the crowd. At 
last the meeting broke up in great confu- 
sion. Sir Thomas More sent ii t'teen priests 
and five laymen to prison. Such was the 
unity that existed between the bishops 
and the priests of England at the very 
time the Reformation was appearing at 
the doors. 

Not content with robbing the poor pas- 



962 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



tors of their little substance, the bishops 
determined to deprive those they called 
heretics of their liberty and life. Henry 
dared not withdraw from the papal juris- 
diction without the assent of the clergy. 
He proposed to overthrow popery, but 
without going so far as evangelicism; he 
desired to remain in Catholicism. In order 
to prove that he was not another Luther, 
Henry VIII. assented to the address of the 
synod of Canterbury, that he should de- 
fend the Church and "crush its enemies." 
He gave the bishops authority to imprison 
and burn the reformers, and the prelates 
immediately began to hunt down the 
friends of the Gospel. First, the primate 
of England had dug up and burned the 
bones of William Tracy, a gentleman "full 
of good works, equally generous to the 
clergy and laity," who had died praying 
God to save his soul through the merits of 
Jesus Christ, but leaving no money to the 
priests for masses. 

The first blows were aimed at the court 
chaplain ; but Henry loved him, and Lati- 
mer was unhurt. Thomas Bilney, whose 
conversion had begun the Reformation in 
England,* and who had consented to do pen- 
ance at St. Paul's Cross, had repented of his 
backsliding, and had gone into the Eastern 
counties to meet his martyrdom Weep- 
ing over his fall, he said: "The doctrine 
which I once abjured is the truth. Let 
my example be a lesson to all who hear 
me." He preached at Ipswich : The i( Lamb 
of God taketh away the sins of the world. 
If the Bishop of Rome dares say that the 
hood of St. Francis saves, he blasphemes 
the blood of the Saviour." Latimer watched 
his friend, and "now rejoiced that God had 
endued him with such strength of faith 
that he was ready to be burnt for Christ's 
sake." Bilney arrived at Greenwich, still 
nearer London, near the middle of July ; 
there he was arrested by Sir Thomas More, 
and shut up in the Tower. In an adjoin- 
ing room was confined the evangelical 
John Petit ; and Phillips, the good under- 
gaoler, allowed the two prisoners to con- 
verse with each other. 

Bilney' s trial took place at Norwich. 
The bitter monks gladly gave evidence 
against him ; but Latimer in his pulpit 
boldly conjured the judges to decide ac- 
cording to justice. Bilney was condemned, 
and handed over to the sheriff for execu- 
tion. Several of his friends visited him in 
his pell in the evening, as he was cheer- 
fully eating some frugal fare. "To-mor- 
row," said one, "the fire will make you 
feel its devouring fierceness ; but God's 
Holy Spirit will cool it for your everlasting 
refreshing." Bilney placed his finger in 
the flame of the lamp, saying : "I am try- 
ing my flesh. To-morrow God's rod shall 

burn my whole body in the fire 

Howsoever this stubble of my body shall 



* History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth 
Century, books xviii, xix, xx. 



be wasted by it, a pain for the time is fol- 
lowed by joy unspeakable." When he 
withdrew his finger, the first joint was con- 
sumed, and lie added : " When thou whlkest 
through the fire thou shalt not be burnt. " 

On Saturday, 19th August, Bilney was 
led to the low valley called the Lollard's 
pit, beyond the Bishop's gate, while the 
spectators covered the surrounding hills. 
Bilney knelt and prayed, kissed the stake, 
and said with emotion the Apostles' Creed. 
He took off his gown and ascended the 
pile, repeating the hundred and forty-third 
psalm. Thrice he said: " Enter not into 
judgment with Thy serv nt, for in Thy 
sight shall no man living be justified " And 
then he added : " I stretch forth my ha><ds 
unto Thee: my soul thirsteth after Thee''' 
Several monks who had accused him, 
whispered to him to justify them ; and he 
said: "Good folks, be not angry against 
these men for my sake ; even should they 
be the authors of my death, it is not they." 1 
The torch was applied, a strong wind 
thrice blew the flames aside, and at last he 
expired, uttering the name of Jesus. 
After his death men praised Bilney, and 
even his persecutors acknowledged his 
virtues. 

The persecution continued. Richard 
Bayfield, a pious evangelist in the dun- 
geons of the Bishop of London, — who had 
been fastened upright to the wall, with 
chains round his neck, waist, and legs, — 
was now tried for bringing to England a 
number of Tyndale's New Testaments. The 
bishop became incensed at his defence, 
and struck him so violently on the chest 
that he fell backward and fainted. He 
revived by degrees, and said, on regaining 
his consciousness : "I thank God that 1 
am delivered from the wicked church of 
Antichrist, and am going to be a member 
of the true Church which reigns triumph- 
ant in heaven." He mounted the pile; 
the flames touching him only on one side, 
consumed his left arm. With his right 
hand Bayfield separated it from his body, 
and the arm fell. Shortly after this he 
ceased to pray, because he had ceased to 
live. 

John Tewkesb.ury, a pious merchant 
whose limbs had been broken on the rack, 
had two words as his theology: Christ 
Alone. He was now put into the stocks, 
bound to the tree of truth, which "twisted 
in his brows with small ropes so that the 
blood started out of his eyes," and was 
scourged and burnt alive at Smithfield, 
20th December, 1531. 

Thus did the real Reformation show by 
the blood of its martyrs that it had 
nothing to do with the policy, the tyranny, 
the intrigues, and the divorce of Henry 
VIII. 

The duel between Henry and Clement 
was about to become more violent. In 
the space of March, April, and May, the 
Romish Church was to be stripped of im- 
portant prerogatives, and learn that the 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



9G3 



hour of its humiliation had come at last. 
Henry was determined above all things 
not to permit his cause to be tried at 
Rome, ■while Catherine appealed to the 
pope by a pathetic letter. Clement, much 
perplexed, called upon the king (25th Jan- 
uary) to take back the queen, and to dis- 
miss Anne Boleyn from the court. Henry 
spiritedly rejected the pontiff's demand, 
and prepared to begin the emancipation 
of England. 

Thomas Cromwell, an intrepid hater of 
superstitions and abuses, and an ardent 
upholder of the royal supremacy, is the 
representative of the political reform 
achieved by that prince. The exactions 
of Rome in England were numerous ; and 
in March, 1532, was legally abolished the 
papal appropriation Of the first year's in- 
come of all ecclesiastical benefices, which 
had cost England two millions and a half 
sterling since the second year of Henry 
VII. The bishops were overjoyed that 
they were saved from this tax. Cromwell 
now had to resist these arrogant prelates, 
who maintained that the spiritual power 
was superior to the authority claimed by 
the crown. Henry VIII. insisted that the 
Church should conform to the State, and 
not the State to the Church. He was in- 
exorable, and the reluctant prelates had 
to yield. Next Cromwell called his mas- 
ter's attention to the contradictory oaths 
which the bishops took at their consecra- 
tion, both to the king and to the pope. 
Such contradictions could not last : the 
king wanted the English to be not with 
Rome, but with England. Very speedily 
the prelates declared that they renounced 
all orders of the pope prejudicial to his 
Majesty's rights. The political party were 
delighted, the papal party confounded. 

To the last the English priests had 
hoped in Sir Thomas More, the bigoted yet 
conscientious disciple of Erasmus. The 
great question of the bishop's oaths 
warned him that he could not serve both 
the king and the pope. On the afternoon 
of the lGth of May he resigned the seals. 
Henry gave the seals to Sir Thomas 
Audley, a man well disposed towards the 
Gospel : this was preparing the emancipa- 
tion of England. Yet the Reformation 
was still exposed to great danger. 

Some writers seriously ascribe the 
Reformation of England to the divorce of 
Henry VIII. i yet the Church would have 
stood still had it not been for the Word of 
God, and the labors of such men as Bilney, 
Latimer, and Tyndale. At this time 
there were men in England in whose hearts 
God had kindled a holy flame, and who 
were to become the most important instru- 
ments of its moral transformation. 

About the end of 1531, a young minis- 
ter, John Nicholson, surnamed Lambert, 
was seized on his return from Antwerp, 
and thrust into a miserable hole near 
Lambeth, where he was almost without 
food. At last this ardent upholder of 



evangelical doctrines and of the freedom 
of inquiry, was brought before the arch- 
bishop, and called upon to reply to forty- 
five different articles. ' ' Images are suffi- 
cient," saidWarham, " to keep Christ and 
His saints in our remembrance." But 
Lambert exclaimed : "What have we to 
do with senseless stones or wood carved by 
the hand of man? That Word which 
came from the breast of Christ Himself 
showeth us perfectly His blessed will. . . . 
A great multitude through all regions and 
realms of Christendom think in likewise 
as I have showed." More having resigned 
his seals and Warham soon dying, this 
herald of liberty and truth saw his chains 
fall off ; but he was one day to die by fire, 
exclaiming : " Nothing but Jesus Christ." 

There was a minister of the Word in 
London who exasperated the friends of 
Rome more than all the rest ; this man 
was Latimer. The dissolute priests and 
courtiers of Henry's court could not en- 
dure his freedom of preaching, his biting 
wit, his extreme frankness. The death of 
Bilney and of the other martyrs had 
wounded him deeply and he lashed the 
persecuting prelates with his sarcasms. 
This ironical language cost Latimer dear ; 
everybody about him condemned him, and 
embittered his life. The court became 
more intolerable to him every day ; he 
turned his back on the episcopal crozier 
which, it was believed, Cromwell designed 
for him, and withdrew to his living of 
West Kingston, in the diocese of Salis- 
bury. In his own parish and in those ad- 
joining, his diligence was so great, his 
preaching so mighty, that his hearers 
must either believe the doctrine he 
preached or rise against it. He was here 
confronted by Hubberdin, the Don Quix- 
ote of Roman-catholicism, an old doctor, 
covered with along gown "all bedirted 
like a slobber," who wandered over the 
kingdom extolling the pope at the expense 
of Jesus Christ. The latter danced, hop- 
ped, leaped about, and amused his hearers 
with fabulous stories. Finally, to shut 
the mouth of the eloquent chaplain, he 
denounced him. A writ from the Bishop 
of London speedily summoned Latimer to 
trial. Although he was then suffering 
from the stone, with pains in the head and 
bowels, he set off for London in the dead 
of winter, despite the entreaties of his 
friends. 

On the 29th of January, 1532, Latimer 
appeared before a court under the pres- 
idency of Primate Warham, in St. Paul's 
Cathedral, and was ordered to sign a 
paper of sixteen articles, on the belief in 
purgatory, the invocation of saints, the 
merit of pilgrimages, and other such top- 
ics. He refused to sign this, and the same 
scene was repeated three times in one 
week. One day he noticed the fireplace 
was concealed by tapestry, and to use his 
own quaint words : tk I heard a pen walking 
in the chimney behind the cloth." — " Ho ! 
ho!" thought he, "they have hidden 



9G4 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



some one behind there to take clown my 
answers " He replied cautiously to cap- 
tious questions, much to the embarrass- 
ment of his judges. The archbishop strove 
to win him over by marks of esteem and 
affection ; but Latimer was deaf to all 
such persuasion. The charge was trans- 
ferred to the Convocation of Canterbury, 
and on the 15th of March, 1532, he was sum- 
moned by the archbishop to sign fifteen 
articles. Although Latimer knew that a 
negative would probably consign him to 
the stake, he still answered three times : 
"I refuse absolutely." — "Heretic! obsti- 
nate heretic !" exclaimed the bishops. 
r i he sentence of excommunication was 
pronounced, and Latimer was taken to the 
Lollard's Tower. 

Great was the agitation, both in city 
and court. The bishops hesitated ; for 
the rule of the papacy was coming to an end 
in England, and Latimer was the king's 
chaplain. One dexterously said : " We 
must obtain something from him, be it 
ever so little, and then report everywhere 
that he has recanted." But Latimer 
would acknowledge no purgatory, no vir- 
tue in the mass, no prayers to the saints, 
no power of the keys, no meritorious 
works ! He would only, with Luther, 
permit the crucifix and images of saints 
to be used for remembrances, and not for 
invocations ; he also agreed that fast days 
should be made realities. After a long 
discussion in Convocation, on the 10th of 
April the Church withdrew the condem- 
nation it had already pronounced. 

The vital principle of the Reforma- 
tion of Henry VIII., was its opposition 
both to Rome and the Gospel. He did 
not hesitate, like many, between these two 
doctrines ; he punished alike, by exile or 
by fire, the disciples of the Vatican and 
those of Holy Scriptures. 

The king had lodged Anne Boleyn in 
the palace at Greenwich in royal state ; 
but he respected her person. The catholic 
party were much irritated at this want of 
delicacy and principle in the king's con- 
duct. The monks of St. Francis who 
officiated in the royal chapel, many of 
whom were of a fanatical character, took 
every opportunity of asserting their at- 
tachment to Catherine and to the pope. 
Several of them declared in their sermons 
that the new marriage was unlawful. 
Anne and the king strove in vain to win 
them over to their side. 

At this time several Christian assemblies 
met in London, in garrets, in warehouses, 
schools and shops, to read the Bible and 
receive spiritual grace from God. Among 
its frequenters was James Bainham, a 
distinguished lawyer : ' ' He was an earnest 
reader of Scripture, and mightily addicted 
to prayer." Sir Thomas More had him 
arrested, whipped, and put to the rack : 
his limbs were dislocated, and he went 
lame out of the torture chamber. The 
Bishop of London endeavored to make 



him sign an abjuration of his faith ; but 
he replied: "No, these articles are not 
heretical and I cannot retract them." 
Five days after he yielded, saying : 'I 
reserve the doctrines." He was fined, 
made to do penance, and then liberated. 
His brethren did not reproach him, but 
his conscience troubled him by day and 
night. One day he arose weeping in St. 
Austin's church, and said to the congre- 
gation : "I have denied the truth . . . 
Oh, my friends, rather die than sin as I 
have done. The fires of hell have con- 
sumed me, and I would not feel them 
again for all the gold and glory of the 
world." Bainham was at once seized, put 
in irons, scourged every day for a fort- 
night, and at last condemned as a relapsed 
heretic. Latimer visited him on the eve 
of execution, and he said: "I am con- 
demned for trusting in Scripture, and re- 
jecting purgatory, masses and meritori- 
ous works." 

On the 30th of April, 1532, Bainham 
was taken to the scaffold. After a prayer, 
he embraced the stake. As the flame ap- 
proached him he said to the town clerk : 
"God forgive thee ! The Lord forgive Sir 
Thomas More . . . Pray for me all good 
people !" When his arms and legs were 
consumed, he exclaimed: "Behold! you 
look for miracles, you may see one here ; 
for in this fire I feel no more pain than if 
I were on a bed of roses." Pave, the clerk, 
who had treated Bainham harshly, suffered 
great remorse and hung himself within a 
year. The death of the martyrs truly 
gave life to many earnest souls. 

Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, a 
skilful politician and a dexterous courtier, 
who had protested in the presence of nota- 
ries against the reformatory proceedings of 
the Commons, and who was called by the 
people "the second pope," was removed 
from his see by death. The king hesita- 
ted as to his successor between Fisher, 
who was devoted to the pope, Gardiner, a 
catholic favorable to the divorce, Cran- 
mer, a moderate evangelical attached to 
the king, and Latimer, a decided Re- 
former. The king did not favor either ex- 
treme. 

Cranmer had returned from Rome to 
England, and had then visited Nurem- 
burg on a mission from the king, in the 
autumn of 1531. He there became very 
intimate with the pious and eloquent 
Osiander, and the German divine soon 
taught him to place the real presence of 
Christ not in the wafer of the sacrament, 
but in the heart of the believer. "It is 
better," said Osiander, "for a minister to 
have his own wife than to have other 
men's wives, like the priests." Cranmer 
had lost his wife at Cambridge, and 
charmed with a niece of Osiander' s wife, 
he asked her hand and married her. His 
mission was to form an alliance with the 
electoral prince of Saxony. "First of 
all," answered the pious John Frederick, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



9G5 



"the two kings (of France and England) 
must be in harmony with us as to the arti- 
cles of faith." The alliance failed, but 
Granvelle talked with Cranmer about se- 
curing the help of Henry for the Emperor 
against Solyman. Just as the difficulty of 
the divorce was thus about to be averted 
by this alliance, Cranmer received orders 
to return to London. The reformer was 
greatly moved at hearing that he was to be 
appointed Primate of all England. He 
was terrified at the exalted position opened 
to him. "My conscience," he said, "re- 
bels against this call. Wretch that I am ! 
I see nothing but troubles and conflicts 
and insurmountable dangers in my path." 
He sought to gain delay, and sent answer 
that important affairs prevented his re- 
turn. Charles had appointed a meeting 
with the pope, and Henry's ambassador 
followed him to neutralize the fatal conse- 
quences of this interview. Several months 
passed away, but Charles Y. prevailed at 
last. Then came that famous interview 
between the kings of France and England 
at Calais and Bologne. Some believed 
that Henry married Anne Boleyn at that 
time ; the point is disputed, and the mar- 
riage was certainly not made public. He 
lost no time, however, in summoning the 
future Primate to England. 

As soon as Cranmer arrived in London, 
Henry told him that he had nominated 
him Archbishop of Canterbury. Cran- 
mer objected, but the king would take no 
refusal ; and it was no slight matter to 
contend with Henry YI1I. Cranmer 
sought to gain time ; but Henry vexed at 
these delays, bade him speak without fear. 
" If I accept this office, " replied that sin- 
cere man, "I must receive it from the 
hands of the pope, and this my conscience 
will not permit me to do . . . Neither the 
pope nor any other foreign prince has au- 
thority in this realm." Such a reason as 
this had great weight with Henry ; and it 
was decided that some deputy should be 
sent to Rome, to do in his stead all that the 
law required. "Let another do it if he 
likes," said Cranmer, "but at the risk of 
his soul." Henry YIII , who was less ad- 
vanced in practice than in theory, all the 
same demanded of Clement YIL the bulls 
necessary for the inauguration of the new 
Archbishop. The pontiff hastily dis- 
patched them to Cranmer, but the latter 
returned them to the king. 

Cranmer meant to break with the order 
of the Middle Ages, and re-establish, so 
far as was in his power, that of the Gos- 
pel. But he would not conceal his inten- 
tions ; all must be done in the light of 
day. On the 30th of March, 1533, he pub- 
licly protested: . . . "I will not bind 
myself by oath to anything contrary to 
the law of God, the rights of the King of 
England, and the laws of the realm ; and I 
will not be bound in ought that concerns 
liberty of speech, the government of the 
Church of England, and the reformation 
of all things that may seem to be neces- 



sary to be reformed therein." Three 
times was this protest read to the congre- 
tion, and the oath of office was only taken 
with this reservation. Cranmer' s triple 
protest was an act of Christian decision ; 
but he ought not to have made oath to the 
pope. 

By the Reformation, England belongs 
not to the papistical system of episcopacy, 
but to the evangelical system. A public 
act which would bring back that Church 
to her holy origin, would be a source of 
great prosperity to her. 

Cranmer was on the archi-episcopal 
throne : if Anne Boleyn were now to 
take her seat on the royal throne by 
the side of Henry, it was the pope's opin- 
ion that everything would be lost. 
"Rather than do what his majesty asks," 
he said to one of the English envoys, " I 
would prefer granting him the necessary 
dispensation to have two wives : that 
would be a smaller scandal." Again, for 
the third time, the king refused a remedy 
that was worse than the disease. The 
pope wished at any price to prevent Rome 
from losing England ; and to try to gain 
over Charles Y. not to oppose the divorce, 
he undertook a journey to Bologne in the 
worst season of the year. He reached it 
sick, and worn out with fatigue. He pro- 
posed a truce of three or four years, in or- 
der to convoke a general council. Henry 
YIII., convinced that the pope was tri- 
fling with him, determined that Anne 
Boleyn should be his wife and queen of 
England also. It was now that, accord- 
ing to a second hypothesis, the marriage 
took place. From that hour, the cordial 
feeling between Henry and Francis gradu- 
ally decreased. Just at the time when 
Anne Boleyn was about to reign in the 
palaces of Whitehall and Windsor, Cath- 
erine de Medicis was entering those of St. 
Germain and Fontainebleau. England 
was advancing towards liberty, and France 
towards the dragonnades. 

A brief of Clement YIL was posted in 
February on the doors of all the churches 
in Flanders, and as near England as pos- 
sible, exhorting Henry to receive Queen 
Catherine in place of Anne, under pain of 
excommunication. Henry sent a copy of 
the document to his agent at Rome ; the 
latter presented it to the pope, who was 
" ashamed and in great perplexity." Es- 
pecially was he grieved at having included 
Queen Anne Boleyn in the censure without 
giving her previous warning, which (the 
cardinals said) was contrary to all the com- 
mandments of God. 

While the pope was hesitating, England 
firmly pursued her emancipation. It was 
decided in parliament that no further ap- 
peals should be made to Rome ; and by a 
large majority it was decided that Pope 
Julius II. had exceeded his authority in 
giving Henry a dispensation, and that the 
marriage was consequently null from the 
very first. On the 11th of April, Cranmer 



966 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



as archbishop wrote a letter to the king in 
which, desiring to fill the office of Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, " according to the 
laws of God and the Holy Church," he 
prayed his majesty's favor for that office. 
Henry was alarmed at the words " accord- 
ing to the laws of God and the Holy 
Church." He intended to be master of 
everything in his own kim dom ; and he 
required Cranmcr to modify his letter by 
omitting those offensive words. In grant- 
ing the license, Henry said : "Ye, there- 
fore, duly recognizing that it becometh 
you not, being our subject, to enterprise 
any part of your said office without our li- 
cense obtained so to do . . . we will not re- 
fuse your humble request." 

Cranmer having received the royal 
license, at once formed, with the bishops 
of Lincoln and Winchester and some law- 
yers, an ecclesiastical court at the priory of 
Dunstable, five miles from Queen Cathe- 
rine's residence. 

Henry and Catherine were summoned to 
appear before it on the 10th of May. The 
king was present by attorney ; but the 
queen replied : "My cause is before the 
pope ; I accept no other judge. " The trial 
went on in her absence, and every night 
the anxious king was informed of its pro- 
ceedings. On the 23d of May, formal an- 
nouncement was made in the church of the 
priory of the final judgment of divorce, 
and the act was immediately sent to the 
king. On the 28th of May, an archi-epis- 
copal court held at Lambeth officially de- 
clared that Henry and Anne had been 
lawfully wedded. 

The king now resolved to seal his union 
by the pomp of a coronation On the 
afternoon of Thursday before Whitsun- 
tide, a magnificent procession of one 
hundred and fifty richly adorned barges 
escorted Anne Boleyn to the tower. Henry 
met her at the gate, kissed her, and led 
her in triumph into that vast fortress — 
from which she was to issue an innocent 
victim three years later, condemned by his 
order to the scaffold. The king and queen 
passed the whole of Friday in the tower. 
On Saturday Anne left it for Westminster. 
The next day the coronation was held in 
the ancient abbey of Westminster, and 
the archbishop placed the crown of St. 
Edward on her head. Anne did not find 
in her marriage with Henry the happiness 
that she dreamed. She took advantage of 
her power to assist those devoted to the 
Gospel, and secured the pardon of John 
Lambert. 

The king communicated his divorce and 
marriage to the various crowned heads of 
Europe, and to the pope. The latter, on 
the 11th of July, annulled the sentence of 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, declared 
the king's marriage with Anne Boleyn un- 
lawful, and threatened to excommunicate 
both unless they separated before the end 
of September. Henry angrily commanded 
his theologians to demonstrate that the 
bull was a nullity, and recalled his ambas- 



sador, the Duke of Norfolk. Yet, with 
much inconsistency, he still prayed the 
pope to declare the nullity of his marriage 
with Catherine. 

One of the leading scholars of England 
was about to seal the testimony of his faith 
with blood. 

John Fryth, a sincere, decided, and yet 
moderate Christian, preached the Gospel 
with great purity and love. This man of 
thirty seemed destined to become one of 
the most influential reformers of England. 
He was gentle and amiable ; controversies 
between Protestants distressed him. A 
true Catholicism which embraced all Chris- 
tians, was Fryth' s distinctive feature as a 
reformer. Having declined the brilliant 
offers of the king, Fryth joined Tyndale 
in translating and publishing the Holy 
Scriptures in English. In August, 1532, 
he returned to London in poverty, and di- 
rected his course to Reading. His strange 
look and garb led to his arrest as a vaga- 
bond ; but the master of the grammar 
school secured the release of this learned 
scholar from this profound wretchedness. 
Fryth returned to London, and joined the 
meeting of worshippers in Bow lane. One 
of his listeners begged him to write for 
him an explanation of the doctrine of the 
Lord's supper ; Fryth yielded with doubt 
to this request. A false brother named 
William Holt made a copy of this writing 
and carried it to Sir Thomas More, who was 
still chancellor. The latter ordered search 
to be made for Fryth by sea and by land. 
The reformer had quitted London, but 
was seized in October, 1532, in Essex, as 
he was about to embark for the continent. 
More was delighted that he had caught the 
chief of these disciples of Satan, who 
were distributing the Scriptures free of 
cost everywhere, and he hoped to put him 
to death by fire. 

More had written against Fryth' s trea- 
tise on the Lord's supper; but he was so 
ashamed of the apology that he tried to 
suppress it. Before he died, Fryth de- 
sired to save, if it were God's will, one of 
his adversaries — Rastell, More's brother- 
in-law. He wrote by stealth the Bulwark; 
for his keepers would not willingly allow 
him to have pen, ink, or paper. Many a 
time a sudden alarm drove his thoughts 
out of his mind, and forced him to hide 
his materials. At length he completed 
the treatise and sent it to Rastell ; from 
that hour this choice spirit was gained 
over to the Gospel of Christ. This con- 
version made a great sensation, and 
Fryth' s visitors daily increased. Always 
indefatigable, he began to write ; first, the 
Looking-glass of Self-knowled;;e, and next a 
Letter to the faithful Foloicers of the Gospel 
of Christ. 

At the marriage of Anne Boleyn, Fryth 
saw his chains fall off: he was allowed to 
have all he asked for, and even permitted 
to leave the tower at night on parole. He 
visited the friends of the Gospel, and 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



967 



eagerly conversed with Petit, that firm 
member of Parliament who had been at 
last liberated from prison. "God him- 
self," said Fryth, "gave me this liberty 
by touching their hearts." Fryth did not 
conceal from Petit the conviction he felt 
that he would be called upon to die for the 
Gospel. His friends in imagination saw 
him at liberty. But it was not to be so. 
Most of the evangelical men in the reign 
of Henry VIII. were called upon to lay 
down their lives for the truth. 

The second period of Fryth' s captivity, 
that which was to terminate in martyr- 
dom, was beginning. Fryth had on his 
side the queen, Cromwell, and Cranmer ; 
but the bishops induced Dr. Curwin, the 
king's chaplain, to denounce him in his 
sermon, for denying the material presence 
of Christ in the host. The blow took 
effect ; the scholastic prejudices of the 
king were revived, and he ordered the 
immediate trial of the reformer. He nomi- 
nated the archbishop of Canterbury, the 
bishops of London and Winchester, the 
lord chancellor, the duke of Suffolk, and 
the earl of Wiltshire, to examine him. 
Henry's order plunged Cranmer into the 
crudest anxiety; but he resolved to do 
everything in his power to save E^ryth. 

Tyndale wrote to his friend: "Dearly 
beloved, fear not men that threat, nor 
trust men that speak fair. Your cause is 
Christ's Gospel, a light that must be fed 
with the blood of faith." In this letter of 
a martyr to a martyr, there was one sen- 
tence honorable to a Christian woman : 
' ' Your wife is well content with the will 
of God, and would not for her sake have 
the glory of God hindered." Fryth's 
friends in the little church of London had 
recourse to prayer. Archbishop Cranmer 
resolved to try and save Fryth ; he loved 
the man, and admired his piety. He stated 
that he wished to have a conference with 
the prisoner and endeavor to convince him ; 
under the pretext of fearing a riot, he set- 
tled that this meeting should be held at 
his palace at Croydon. Cranmer had an- 
other motive. 

The archbishop selected a benevolent 
and evangelical gentleman of his house- 
hold, and giving him one of the porters 
of Lambeth palace as a companion, Cran- 
mer committed Fryth to his care to bring 
him to Croydon. They were to take the 
prisoner a journey of four or five hours on 
foot through fields and woods, without 
any constable or soldiers. A strange walk 
and a strange escort. . Lord Fitzwilliams, 
governor of the tower, who was then 
severely ill, reluctantly surrendered the 
heretic to his escort. The gentleman being 
charged to begin by trying to induce Fryth 
to make some compromise, kindly told 
him that he had earnest friends. " If you 
will be somewhat advised by their counsel, 
they will never permit you to be harmed : 
but if you stand stiff to your opinion, it 
is not possible to save your life ; for as 



you have good friends, so have you mortal 
enemies." — "If I am fairly tried," said 
Fryth, "I shall have nothing to fear." — ■ 
" Marry !" quoth the gentleman : " If you 
be fairly tried, you would be safe ; but that 
is what I very much doubt. Our Master, 
Christ was not fairly tried, nor would He 
be, as I think, if He were now present 
again in the world. ' ' Fryth answered : 
" All things considered, my death will be 
better unto me and all mine than life in 
continual bondage." 

The travellers now stopped for refresh- 
ments at Lambeth, and then started on 
foot for Croydon, twelve miles from Lon- 
don. The country was then thinly in- 
habited ; the woods that covered it on the 
east and the chalky hills might serve as a 
hiding place for the fugitive. The prison- 
er's escort both agreed to permit Fryth 
to escape to the woods on the left, whence 
he might easily get into Kent ; and after 
he had secured several hours start, to 
raise an outcry and scour the woods on the 
right hand. The gentleman described his 
plan, and Fryth amiably said: "This, 
then, is the result of your long consulta- 
tion together. You have wasted your 
time. If you were both to leave me here 
and go to Croydon, declaring to the bishops 
you had lost me, I should follow after as 
fast as I could, and bring them news that 
I had found and brought Fryth again. . . 
If I should now run away, I should run 
from my God. If I should fly, I should 
fly from the testimony I am bound to bear 
to His Holy Word, and I should deserve a 
thousand hells." Those who desired to 
save Fryth had not counted upon so much 
integrity. Such were, however, the mar- 
tyrs of Protestantism. 

The next morning the reformer appeared 
before his examiners. They undertook to 
convince him of the truth of transub- 
stantiation ; but he eloquently defended 
the doctrine of the spiritual eating. Cran- 
mer desired to save him, and had four 
private conferences with him ; but he was 
compelled to transfer him to the Bishop of 
London. He was at once condemned. On 
the 4th of July, Fryth and Andrew Hewet, 
a young mechanic of twenty-four who 
shared his evangelical opinions, were taken 
to Smithfield. They were fastened to the 
post back to back, and the torch was ap- 
plied. A sweet light shone on Fryth's 
face, and he was heard beseeching the 
Lord to pardon his enemies. Hewet died 
first, and Fryth thanked God that the 
sufferings of his young. brother were over. 
Committing his soul into the Lord's hands, 
he expired. "Truly," exclaimed many, 
"great are the victories Christ gains in 
his saints." 

When Fryth mounted the scaffold, Anne 
Boleyn had been seated a month upon the 
throne of England. Charles V. was exas- 
perated ; he immediately pressed the pope 
to intervene, and on the 12th of May 
Clement cited the king to appear at Rome. 



968 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Henry made answer : " Having the justice 
of our cause for us, with the entire con- 
sent of our nobility, commons and subjects, 
we do not care what the pope may do." 
Accordingly, he appealed from the pope to 
a general council. The pope was now 
more embarrassed than ever ; he excom- 
municated the king, but suspended the 
effects of his sentence until the end of 
September. "I hope," said Henry con- 
temptuously, "that before then the pope 
will understand his folly." 

The King of England, who had already 
against him the Netherlands, the Empire, 
Rome and Spain, now saw France attach- 
ing itself to the papacy. He was isolated 
in Europe. Agitated and indignant, he 
resolved to turn to the friends of that very 
Luther whom he had so disdainfully 
treated. Stephen Vaughan was sent as an 
ambassador to Saxony ; but the Elector of 
Saxony turned his back on the powerful 
King of England. He was unworthy, he 
said, to have at his court ambassadors 
from his royal majesty ; and besides, the 
emperor, who was his only master, might 
be displeased. A strange lot was that of 
the King of England ! The pope excom- 
municating him, and the heretics desiring 
to have nothing to do with him. 

Yet at this moment the king's joy was 
at its height, in the hope of possessing 
that heir for whom he had longed so many 
years. He ordered an official letter to be 
prepared announcing the birth of a prince. 
On the 7th of September, Anne gave birth 
to a daughter. Henry bore his disappoint- 
ment cheerfully. He ordered the Queen's 
secretary to add an s to the word prince, 
and despatched the circular without fur- 
ther change. The christening was cele- 
brated with great pomp ; the child was 
named Elizabeth, and as the Princess of 
Wales she was declared his successor. 
Francis I., hoping, to keep England united 
to Rome, prevailed upon Henry to send 
two English agents (Gardiner and Bryan) 
to attend his conference with Clement at 
Marseilles. You will keep your eyes open, ' ' 
said Henry VIII. to them ; "and lend an 
attentive ear ; but you will keep your 
mouth shut." 

Francis I. was much displeased at these 
instructions, and intimated that he would 
be pleased to see "better instruments." 
Henry did send another, but he chose one 
sharper still. Edward Bonner, arch-dea- 
con of Leicester, was a clever, but ambi- 
tious, coarse and rude man ; he was firmly 
resolved to give Henry a proof of his zeal. 
Gardiner was humiliated at Bonner's arri- 
val ; but the neglect of Clement to appoint 
an English prelate cardinal, overcame his 
opposition to the new messenger. Bonner 
bore the appeal of the king from the sen- 
tence of the pope ; and fearing that he 
would be resisted in its delivery, the Eng- 
lishman forced his way into the pontifical 
palace, and entered a hall through which 
the pope must pass on his way to the con- 
sistory. His holiness soon noticed the 



intruder, and Bonner, acting without 
much ceremony, greatly surprised him by 
the presentation of the appeal. The pope 
desired him to return in the afternoon, 
and an audience was then granted him in 
the pope's closet, at which several attend- 
ants were present. Clement exclaimed : 
"I am greatly surprised that his majesty 
should behave as he does towards me." 
The intrepid Bonner replied : "His ma- 
jesty is not less surprised that your holi- 
ness, who has received so many services 
from him, repays him with ingratitude." 
Clement started but restrained himself, 
and ordered the appeal to be read. He 
soon interrupted it by exclaiming : "To 
speak of a general council ! Oh, good 
Lord ! " The pope was convulsed with 
anger, and Bonner took pleasure in offend- 
ing him. He boldly repeated the protest, 
and delivered the king's "provocation" 
to the pope. ' ' Ha ! ' ' vehemently said 
Clement; "his majesty affects much re- 
spect for the Church, but does not show 
the least tome." 

At this moment the King of France was 
announced, and treated his holiness with 
distinguished consideration. The envoys 
withdrew ; then began a conversation 
w r hich possibly decided the separation be- 
tween England and France. Clement 
promised Francis the Duchy of Milan in 
return for obedience to the decrees of the 
papacy. The King assented and they 
laughed merrily together. 

On the 10 th of November, Clement re- 
turned answer to Bonner : "A constitution 
of Pope Pius, my predecessor, condemns 
all appeals to a general council. I there- 
fore reject his Majesty's appeal as unlaw- 
ful." Bonner, hurt at the little respect 
paid to his sovereign, bluntly informed the 
pope that the Archbishop of Canterbury — 
that Cranmer — desired also to appeal to a 
council. This was going too far : Clem- 
ent restrained himself no longer, rose, and 
approaching Henry's envoy, said to him : 
"If you do not leave the room instantly, I 
will have you thrown into a caldron of 
molten lead." — "Truly," remarked Bon- 
ner, "if the pope is a shepherd, he is, as 
the king my master says, a violent and 
cruel shepherd." And not caring to take 
a leaden bath, he departed for Lyons. 

At Marseilles England and France sepa- 
rated, the first withdrew from the pope, 
the latter drew nearer to him. 

While the papacy was intriguing with 
France and the empire, England was en- 
ergetically working at the utter abolition 
of the Roman authority. " One loud cry 
must be raised in England against the pa- 
pacy," said Cromwell to the council. 
Henry also sent ambassadors to Poland. 
Hungary, Saxony, Bavaria, Pomerania, 
Prussia, Hesse, and other German states, to 
declare that he was " utterly determined 
to reduce the pope's power to the just and 
lawful bounds of his mediocrity." Ho 
further sent word to Francis I. : " We 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



969 



shall shortly be able to give unto the pope 
such a buffet as he never had before." 
All this was serious news to the poor pon- 
tiff, and Clement sent answer that he 
would agree to call a general council. 
"It is no longer necessary," Henry an- 
swered coldly. In his opinion, the Church 
of England was sufficient of herself, and 
could do without the Church of Rome. 

The King of France growing alarmed, 
immediately resumed his part of mediator. 
Du JBellay eloquently defended Henry's 
cause at Rome, and said: "Make your 
choice. All that the king desires is peace 
with Rome ; all that the commonalty de- 
mands is war. With whom will you go — 
with your enemies, or with your friends ?" 
The court of Rome determined to despatch 
to London the papers necessary to recon- 
cile Henry ; but the opposition of the Im- 
perialists prevented this action. 

In England, the parliament which met 
in January, 1534, gave a death-blow to 
the supremacy of the pope. They enacted 
that, the authority of the Bishop of Rome 
being opposed to Holy Scripture and the 
laws of the realm, the words and acts that 
were contrary to the decisions of the pon- 
tiff could not be regarded as heresies. 
Thomas Philips, who had been in prison 
three years under a charge of heresy, was 
set at liberty. The Commons restored to 
England the rights of which Rome had 
despoiled her in reference to appeals and 
the election of bishops. Parliament for- 
bade everybody, even the king himself, to 
apply to Rome for any dispensation or 
delegation whatsoever, and formally rati- 
fied the marriage between Henry and 
Anne. At the same time, they deprived 
two Italians of the sees of Salisbury and 
Worcester. " We do not separate from 
the Christian Church," declared the Com- 
mons ; "but merely from the usurped au- 
thority of the Pope of Rome ; and we pre- 
serve the catholic faith, as it is set forth 



in the Holy Scriptures. 19 All these'' re- 
forms were effected with great unanimity. 

The term of grace fixed by Clement 
VII. having elapsed, he summoned the 
consistory on Monday, March 23d. Du 
Bellay pleaded for further delay, but 
without success. Nineteen out of twenty- 
two cardinals voted against Henry VIII. ; 
the remaining three only asked for further 
inquiry. Clement could not conceal his 
surprise and annoyance at the decision ; 
but he gave way. The unhappy pope 
read, with the voice of a criminal rather 
than of a judge, this sentence : " Having 
invoked the name of Christ, and sitting 
on the throne of justice, we decree 
that the marriage between Catherine of 
Aragon and Henry, King of England, was 
and is valid and canonical ; that the said 
King Henry is bound to cohabit with the 
said queen ; to pay her royal honors ; and 
that he must be constrained to discharge 
these duties." Then he turned to the en- 
voys of Charles V. and said : " I have done 
my duty ; it is now for the emperor to do 
his, and to carry the sentence into execu- 
tion. " — ' 'The emperor will not hold back, ' ' 
answered the ambassadors. But the thing 
was not so easily done as said. 

Thus the great affair was ended ; the 
King of England was condemned. Clem- 
ent was greatly troubled, and, said : 
"What must be done ! England is lost 
to us. Oh, how can I avert the king's 
anger?" The thought that under his 
pontificate Rome lost England made him 
shudder, and sorrow soon brought him to 
the tomb. And throughout England, 
even despite Henry VIII. , a pure doc- 
trine, similar to that of the apostolic 
times, was establishing in that island a 
true Christianity — a vast evangelical pro- 
paganda which should plant the standard 
of God's Word even at the ends of the 
world. 



970 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK VII. 

MOVEMENTS OF THE REFORMATION AT GENEVA, IN FRANCE, GERMANY, AND 

ITALY. 



1533—1536. 

The Bishop Escapes from Geneva Never to Return — Two Reformers and a Dominican in. 
Geneva — Farel, Maison-Neuve, and Furbity in Geneva— The Tournament— The Plot — A 
Final Effort of Roman-Catholicism — Farel preaches in the Grand Auditory of the Convent 
at Rive — A Bold Protestant at Lyons — Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve Before the Inquisi- 
torial Court of Lyons— The Two Worships in Geneva— Boldness of Two Husruenots in 
Prison and Before the Court of Lyons — Sentence of Death — Ni^ht of Thirty-first of July 
at Geneva — A Heroic Resolution and a Happy Deliverance — The Suburbs of Geneva are 
Demolished, and the Adversaries Make Ready — The Kins: of France Invites Melancthon 
to Restore Unity and Truth — Will the Attempt to Establish Unity and Truth Succeed?— 
The Gospel in the North of Italy — The Gospel in the Centre of Italy — The Gospel at 
Naples and at Rome. 



We have seen the Reformation advanc- 
ing in the bosom of a great nation ; we 
shall now see it making progress in 
one of the smallest. We have not forgot- 
ten Wittemberg ; we shall not forget Ge- 
neva. Calvin and his school did more 
than the Tudors, the Stuarts, and their di- 
vines, to check the reaction of the papacy 
and secure the triumph of true Christi- 
anity. 

On the 1st of July, 1533, the Bishop of 
Geneva had returned to his city with the 
aid of the priests, the catholics, the Fri- 
burgers, and the mamelukes, with the in- 
tention of "burying that sect," as he 
called the Reformation. But by his op- 
pressions, instead of crushing reform and 
liberty, he lost his rights as a prince, his 
privileges as a bishop, taxes, revenue, 
priests, monks, mitres, images, altars, and 
all the religion of the Roman pontiffs. If 
the bishop was uneasy, the people were 
uneasy likewise. An evangelical, named 
Curtet, had just been murdered. Many hu- 
guenots thought it strange that while their 
adversaries struck down a man — a real 
image of God — they must respect images, 
made of wood, canvas, or stone. On the 
12th of July, 1533, several "Lutherans" 
carried away an image of the Virgin, 
broke it to pieces and burnt it. The bishop 
was alarmed, . and resolved to put the 
imprisoned huguenots beyond the reach 
of rescue. Hearing a report of his inten- 
tion, the people turned out in force and 
guarded the approaches to the lake. 
Pierre Verne cut the mooring ropes of the 
boats, as well as the cords to which the 
oars were lashed, so that they were made 
unserviceable. 

The huguenots needed a leader ; they 
were to find him in Baudichon de la Mai- 
son-Neuve. His Lutheranism was of old 
date. As early as 1523, he said: "God 
did not ordain Lent. It is mere folly to 
confess to priests ; for they cannot ab- 
solve you. It is an abuse to go to mass. 
All the religious orders, mendicants and 
others, are nonsense .... When I die, 
I will have no preaching at my funeral, 



and no bells tolled; I will be buried 
wherever I choose." On this 12th day of 
July, he bade fifty of his resolute friends 
take each an iron tipped staff and place five 
matches at the end. When night had 
come, he led his band through the bishop's 
palace into the prince's apartment, with 
the lighted staffs in their left hands and 
their swords in their right. Baudichon 
called upon the terrified bishop to sur- 
render his prisoners to their lawful judges. 
Pierre de la Baume, imagining his last 
hour had come, gave the required order. 
The prisoners were released, and peace 
was restored. 

The bishop passed a very agitated night ; 
and when the daylight of the Sunday 
had come, he said to his servants: "I 
shall leave the city." Canons and syndics 
urged him to stay, but he begged to have 
six-score of arquebusiers to protect his de- 
parture next morning. In their perplex- 
ity, the syndics assembled the council, to 
urge the prelate to remain ; but La Baume 
resolved to be away at the peep of day. 
Two spectres dismayed the bishop — the 
Gospel and liberty ! he saw no means of 
escaping them but flight. He even refused 
to appoint a vicar, a judge of appeal, to 
act during his absence. He only thought 
how to escape from the turbulent city. At 
daylight he quitted his palace through an 
underground vault, and fled from the city 
through a secret postern. " He retired to 
the Tower of May," says the chronicle, 
" and never returned again." 

Maison-iSTeuve had succeeded beyond 
his expectations. Papists were sorrowful, 
but all evangelicals rejoiced. The pope 
blamed the bishop for co\vardly abandon- 
ing his church. On the 14th of July, 1533, 
fell in Geneva that hybrid power which 
claims to hold two swords in its hand. 
Other bishop-princes have since fallen, 
and that of Rome totters on his throne. 

The bishop had fallen from his throne, 
and with him had expired a despotism 
which had usurped the liberties of the 
people. The lawful magistrates now re- 




MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



971 



sumed the reins of government, and in- 
quired into the cases of the late arrests of 
citizens. Their innocence was proved, 
and they were released ; but Pierre l'Hoste 
was condemned as the assassin of Wernli, 
and beheaded. On the 4th of September, 
Aime Levet was freed. 

Anthony Froment and Alexander Canus, 
called also Dumoulin,. two earnest evangel- 
lists, were now invited to Geneva, and they 
fervently preached the Word in private 
houses, on each side of the Rhone. The 
bishop forbade these services by episco- 
pal letters ; but the council answered : 
"Preach the Gospel, and say nothing which 
cannot be proved by Holy Scripture." The 
reformed saw in these words a decree which 
made evangelical Christianity a lawful re- 
ligion in Geneva, and they flocked to the 
meetings at the house of Maison-Neuve 
with great joy. On the 30th of Novem- 
ber, the Great Council received episcopal 
letters-patent, in which the bishop said : 
" We command that no one in our city of 
Geneva preach, expound, or cause to be 
preached or expounded, secretly or pub- 
licly, or in any manner whatsoever, the 
holy page, the holy Gospel, unless he have 
received our express permission, under 
pain of perpetual excommunication and a 
fine of one hundred livres." All evangel- 
icals were indignant at this prohibition, 
•and the better catholics hung their heads. 
Even the indifferent now began to read 
the Scriptures, and evangelical books were 
distributed in abundance. 

The catholic leaders now sought a 
champion. They called to Geneva a Dom- 
inican ' doctor of the Sorbonne, " a great 
theologian, and a sworn enemy of the Re- 
formation." His sermons in the cathe- 
dral were continued declamations, full of 
pompous praises extolling the papacy, and 
of invectives against the preachers. ( ' All 
who read the Scriptures in the vulgar 
tongue," he said one day, "are glut- 
tons, drunkards, debauchees, blasphemers, 
thieves, and murderers. . . . A priest who 
consecrates the elements of the Sacra- 
ment, is above the Holy Virgin ; for she 
only gave life to Jesus Christ once, whereas 
the priest creates him every day, as 
often as he likes." He challenged the 
"wretched Lutherans" to answer him, 
whereupon Froment rose and said : " Sirs, 
I offer my life — yea, I am ready to go to 
the stake if I do not show, by Holy Scrip- 
ture, that what Dr. Furbity has just said is 
false, and the language of Anti-Christ." 
He then adduced scriptural authorities, 
which the Dominican dared not refute. 

The canons and their friends, finding 
their oracle was dumb, drew their swords 
against Froment, and exclaimed : "Kill 
him — kill the Lutheran. Ah ! the wretch ! 
he has dared to take our good father to 
task. ' ' Some called out to burn the evan- 
gelist, others to drown him ; but the 
Christians rallied about him, and Baudi- 
Ghon . de la Maison-Neuve cried out : "I 
will kill the first man that touches him. 



Let the law prevail; and if any one has 
done wrong, let him be punished." The 
huguenots carried off Froment to Baudi- 
chon's house, and hid him in the hayloft. 
Claude Baud soon arrived with his officers, 
and searched the house all over ; but they 
found nobody. 

Alexander, seeing Froment led safely 
away from the cathedral, halted on the 
steps, and exclaimed : " He very pro- 
perly took him to task. Doctor Furbity 
has preached against the holy books ; he 
is a false prophet." The syndics carried 
Alexander off to the town-hall, and the 
two " Mahometists" were banished for 
life from the city under pain of death. At 
La Monnaye, Alexander addressed the 
crowd for two hours, and many were won 
to the Gospel. Froment joined him at 
nightfall, and in company with Maison- 
Neuve, the friends set out for Berne. 

De la Maison-Neuve was determined to 
uphold the liberty of Gospel-preach- 
ing. He stirred up the Bernese by detail- 
ing the insults of the Dominican, and re-' 
turned to Geneva with William Farel as 
his companion. The catholics were highly 
indignant at the arrival of "that wretch, 
that devil," and attacked these two evan- 
gelicals with swords ; they were rescued 
by some huguenots. Not without reason 
were the catholics alarmed. Farel, a 
noble and simple evangelist, was really to 
be the reformer of that city. With energy 
he combined prudence — with zeal, impar- 
tiality. 

Noble in heart as in race, Baudichon de 
la Maison-Neuve played a part not less im- 
portant in the Genevan Reformation. His 
republican energy made him the fittest 
man to cope with Rome, the Duke, and 
the Inquisition. He was proud, immova- 
ble, rich and generous ; he was engaged in 
trade and had an extensive business. A 
pioneer, like the heroic Berthelier, he had 
no doubts of the triumph of the Reforma- 
tion. On the 22d December, he gave to 
the council the letters from Rome, which 
demanded the arrest of the Dominican 
preacher for his insults, and the granting 
of a church to Farel. The deliberations 
of the council were interrupted by the 
commotion made by the gathering of nine 
hundred armed priests and laymen at the 
bishop's palace, to attack Farel in Baudi- 
chon' s house. At the order of council, 
the half-drunken rioters laid down their 
arms. 

Farel resumed his preachings in the 
houses. The -huguenots attended, armed 
with swords, arquebuses, and halberds, 
while Baudichon watched over the assem- 
bly and set the people in order. The Two 
Hundred scarcely knew what to do. They 
gave the Dominican liberty to go where he 
pleased, but attended by six guards, who 
followed him even to the foot of the pul- 
pit. On Christmas day he had an im- 
mense audience, and a pompous service : 
Farel, plainly dressed, preached in a largo 



o; 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



room. On the first day of the year 1534, 
the clergy proclaimed in all the city pul- 
pits : "In the name of Monseigneiir of 
Geneva and of his vicar, it is ordered that 
no one shall preach the Word of God, 
either in public or in private, and that all 
the books of Holy Scripture, whether in 
French or in German, shall be burnt." — 
"Forbid the preaching of the Gospel," 
said some, " burn the holy books ! What 
a horrible notion ! Those who are charged 
to preach the Word of God, are the very 
men to condemn it to the flames." Cath- 
olics and evangelicals took up arms — the 
former to destroy the Bible, the others to 
defend it. For four days they bivouacked 
in the squares, by the side of great fires, 
and had food brought to them under strong 
escorts. It was a strange sight. The re- 
formers desiring to appear pacific, pre- 
vailed upon Alexander to withdraw, and 
that evangelist soon after found a martyr's 
death in France. Froment, and an em- 
bassy from Berne headed by Sebastian of 
Diesbach, now entered Geneva, and both 
parties were persuaded to retire to their 
houses. 

The faithful and indefatigable Farel, 
Froment, and Viret— the latter weak and 
faint from a wound inflicted by a priest of 
Payerne — were now going to work to- 
gether in Geneva, and beat down the thick 
walls that for so long had sheltered the 
oracles and exactions of the papacy. " We 
shall protect your liberties," said the Ber- 
nese ; "and you shall announce the Gos- 
pel. ' ' The bishop had just interdicted the 
Bible, and the three most powerful preach- 
ers in the French tongue were now pub- 
licly teaching its divine lessons. "And 
the papists dared do nothing against 
them." But the Bernese demanded fur- 
ther, under threat of revoking the letters 
of alliance : "Let the monk defend what 
he has taught." It was agreed "that the 
monk should be obliged to answer the 
ministers before all the people." 

On the 9th of January, the laity were 
about to resume their rights : a priest had 
to appear before the Genevese laymen and 
the Bernese magistrates. The Council of 
Two Hundred assembled ; Farel, Viret, 
and Froment sat at the right of the pre- 
mier-syndic ; the Dominican friar sat at 
the left, on a raised bench. A great crowd 
was present. Truth and tradition, the 
middle ages and modern times, were on 
trial. But the Dominican refused to an- 
swer before laymen without the consent 
of his prelate. The episcopal officials 
were solicited to grant this permission, 
but evaded the request. The Bernese am- 
bassadors demanded reparation for the 
insults of the Dominican, and a church 
for the preachers of the Gospel. The re- 
luctant councillors were forced to reply : 
"We will do our best to satisfy you." 

On the 27th January, the Two Hundred 
sitting as a court of justice, Furbity was 
brought before them. He acknowledged 



the charges that he had said : "Those 
who eat meat on Friday and Saturday are 
worse than Jews, Turks, and mad dogs. . . 
That the modern heretics who will not 
obey the pope or the cardinals, bishops 
and curates, are on that account the 
devil's flock and worse than mad dogs, 
and ought to be hanged on the gallows." 
He protested that he had not meant to 
abuse the lords of Berne ; but the latter 
demanded his punishment. Protestant- 
ism had been abused, its fundamental 
principles trampled under foot. The 
Bernese proved the charges by fourteen 
witnesses, and the monk reluctantly con- 
sented to hold a discussion with the re- 
formers. 

On the 29th January, the struggle began 
at the Hotel de Yille. The champion of 
Rome made use of every weapon, and had 
a particular art of glozing over his errors : 
Farel nobly said : " Let not one strive to 
get the better of the other. We can have 
no nobler triumph than to see the truth 
prevail." Furbitz began by asserting 
the authority of the pope. Farel declared 
that all doctrine must be founded on Holy 
Scripture alone, and quoted from Deuter- 



onomy 



Ye shall not add unto the Word 



tchich I command you, neither shall you di- 
minish aught from it.'''' The discussion 
was continued through the nexc day. 
Farel maintained the right and duty of 
all Christian people to study the Scrip- 
tures. Furbity asserted that the Scrip- 
tures should be read by the clergy alone. 
He supported the episcopacy upon the 
case of Judas Iscariot, saying : "It is 
written of Judas, His bishopric let another 
take. As Judas had a bishopric, he must 
of necessity have been a bishop." Farel 
ironically replied: "That bishop whose 
name you use, is very like certain prelates 
who, instead of preaching the Word of 
God, carry the bag, and instead of glorify- 
ing Jesus Christ, sell him by selling his 
members, whose souls they hand over to 
the devil, receiving money from him in 
exchange." The monk in reply could only 
dare Farel to speak thus in Paris, or else- 
where in France. 

Maison-Neuve earned the hatred of the 
catholics by his assiduous attentions to 
the evangelical champion during these 
verbal tournaments, and they afterwards 
sought to injure him. The further dis- 
cussion was postponed till Tuesday, and 
the evangelicals preached to the people 
during the leisure time. Monks and priests 
denounced the reformers, and strove to 
inflame the populace against them by fabu- 
lous stories. In the inn where they lodged, 
the landlord and his mistress hated and 
scowled at the evangelicals This wicked 
servant told the gossips that she had seen 
these men feeding devils, which looked 
like black cats ; and there was a great stir 
in the neighborhood. The priests reiter- 
ated these slanders, and the catholic mob 
sang rude rhymes against the evangelicals. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



973 



The Bishop of Geneva watched these 
events from his silent priory. He still 
hoped to re-establish the authority of the 
prince and the pope in the city. Having 
come to an understanding with the Duke 
of Savoy, he signed ,at Arbois, on 12th 
January, 1534, the instruments which set 
up in Geneva a Lieutenant of the prince in 
the temporal matters with full powers of 
punishing criminals. This instrument with 
blank warrants, sealed with the ducal 
arms, was sent to Portier, the episcopal 
secretary. The plot was skilfully devised ; 
but ' ' God was there, and the republic of 
Berne." 

On Tuesday, 3d February, the most ex- 
citable of the episcopal party met at the 
palace after dinner, and they issued into 
the streets fanatically "proposing to strike 
and kill." In the court of St. Pierre, 
Pennet, the jailer, met the huguenot no- 
tary, Nicholas Porral, and cut him down 
with his sword. D'Adda and some other 
huguenots carried the wounded Porral to 
the hotel-de-ville, and laid him, all pale 
and bleeding, before the syndics and the 
council. They were followed by many 
people furiously crying out : l ' Justice ! 
justice !" Claude Pennet, brother to the 
jailer, had slain with his dagger Nicholas 
Berger, a huguenot tradesman, as he stood 
unarmed in his own doorway. "It is the 
fifth riot the priests have got up to save 
the mass," said the citizens. The council 
was astounded, and the ambassadors of 
Berne conjured them to quell the disturb- 
ance. 

Meanwhile five hundred armed hugue- 
nots drew up in front of the hotel-de-ville, 
headed by Maison-Neuve and Levet. They 
tendered their services to preserve order, 
saying: "We pray that the murderers 
and those who counselled the riot may be 
punished." Ail were agreed to this, and 
search was made for the guilty parties. 
The syndics made a strict examination of 
the bishop's palace, but none of the cul- 
prits were found. A guard was left. After 
nightfall, a priest was heard calling through 
the keyhole to the portress, asking for cer- 
tain keys for Mr. Secretary Portier and 
Claude Pennet. " What will you do with 
them ?" inquired a young man, disguising 
his voice. ' ' I shall take them to St. Pierre's 
church, where they are hidden," an- 
swered the priest. 

The syndics with officers carrying flam- 
beaux at once set out for the place of con- 
cealment, and shut its doors. It was no 
slight task to seek the assassins in the vast 
cathedral, all filled with chapels, altars, 
and other places where men could hide. 
A thorough search for three hours was 
made in every corner, without success ; 
then it was resolved to examine the three 
towers. They cautiously ascended the 
narrow stairs of the south tower, one 
hundred and fifty feet high. At. the top 
were discovered the crafty Portier and the 
violent Pennet, crouching down, "armed 
with swords, iron pikes, axes and dag- ' 



gers, and covered with coats of mail ;" 
they were seized and shut up in prison. 

Meanwhile the guard of huguenots at 
the palace had slyly questioned the ser- 
vants, and learned of private letters of 
importance concealed in the secretary's 
buffet. These they at once seized and 
carried to the syndics. The magistrates 
examined them, and were astounded to 
find a revelation of the plot which the 
bishop had contrived for the subjugation 
of Geneva. ' ' It is a downright conspiracy, 
a crime of high treason, ' ' they said. 

Claude Pennet was at once tried for the 
murder of Nicholas Berger, convicted and 
sentenced to death. ' ' I am condemned to 
the scaffold for the love of Jesus Christ, ' ' 
he said to his Dominican confessor ; "and 
I entreat your holy prayers." He died in 
this fanatical belief, and devout catholics 
made pilgrimages to the gibbet where his 
body was hung. His brother, who had 
been secreted in the convent of St. Claire, 
escaped in disguise to Savoy. The State 
criminal Portier was next brought to jus- 
tice, and was beheaded for his treason. 
Pierre de la Baume had desired to employ 
his power in oppressions, and God shat- 
tered that power. At the next election 
only huguenots were chosen syndics. 

Unequivocal tokens soon made known 
the change that had taken place. The 
new syndics summoned Furbity before the 
council. Fourteen witnesses proved the 
errors of his preaching : that God will 
punish those who read the Scriptures in 
the vulgar tongue, and that Christ had 
given the papacy to St. Peter. The Do- 
minican was ordered to quit Geneva, and 
never return under pain of death. He 
was led to St. Pierre on Sunday, 15th Feb- 
ruary, to retract as he had promised ; but 
he rambled in his remarks, violated his 
promise, was dragged out of the pulpit by 
some violent men, and led back to prison. 
In answer to the request of the Bernese 
ambassadors, the syndics next gave per- 
mission for the Gospel to be publicly 
preached in one of the churches. 

The Genevan clergy, as a last effort, 
called to the city Father Courtelier, the 
eloquent superior of the Franciscans of 
Chambery. The Franciscans were more 
popular than the Dominicans : they were 
poor, aimed at humility, and beguiled the 
people by their enthusiasm, flagellations, 
insinuating manners, and miraculous vis- 
ions. This monk promised the syndics to 
preach the pure Gospel, and submitted 
nine articles' for approval; from these 
were stricken out the Invocation of tlie Vir- 
gin Mary ; Purgatory ; Prayer for the 
Dead ; Invocation of the Saints. He was 
allowed to make the sign of the cross in 
the pulpit, to repeat the salutation of the 
angel to Mary from St. Luke, and to cele- 
brate mass. He endeavored to preach at 
one time according to the pope and to the 
Gospel, and his sermon was a muddle of 
ideas without issue. lie displeased every- 



974 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



body, and disgusted the Genevans with 
fulsome flatteries. Farel was provoked, 
and said aloud: "You cannot teach the 
truth, for you do not know it." This 
final effort of Roman-catholicism in Ge- 
neva did not succeed. 

On the 22d of February, Farel re-estab- 
lished baptism in conformity with the Gos- 
pel institution, as a sign of regeneration. 
Yiret preached at Baudichon's house ; then 
the baptism took place. Yiret added i 
' ' It was with pure, fair water that John 
baptized Jesus Christ ; to baptize with oil, 
salt, and spittle, as the hypocrites do, is 
wrong." 

Farel now asked the council, through 
the Bernese ambassadors, for a church to 
preach in. The syndics were embar- 
rassed, and answered: "If you take of 
your own accord some edifice in which 
you can preach your doctrines . . . you 
are strong ... we cannot resist you . . . 
we dare not." Accompanied by Maison- 
Neuve, and councillor Balthasar, Farel 
visited the Franciscan convent, and com- 
plained to Courtelier that the Gospel 
truth could not be preached. The Fran- 
ciscan took refuge behind the infallibility 
of the pope. But Farel bluntly referred 
him to the Revelation of St. John : " Your 
holy father is the beast whom the ignorant 
worship. John the Evangelist tells us of 
a beast with seven heads, which devour- 
eth them which dwell upon the earth, and 
makes war upon the saints ; and he adds : 
the seven heads are seven hills, on which it 
sits. Seven hills, do you hear? Every- 
body knows that Rome is built on seven 
hills. Therefore the holy see is not apos- 
tolical but diabolical. ' ' No proof excited 
more anger among the Romanists, or in- 
spired the evangelicals with more firm- 
ness. 

The interview with the father-superior 
had been useless ; the churches remained 
closed. Every day numbers of hearers 
had to stand in the streets, unable to find 
room at the private services. After wor- 
ship on the second Sunday in Lent (1st of 
March, 1534) twenty-nine huguenots re- 
mained for consultation, and resolved to 
have a place for public devotions. They 
proceeded to the convent at Rive : the 
daring Baudichon informed the aston- 
ished monks that Farel would preach 
there, and that the bells would be rung. 
He selected the grand auditory, or cloister, 
which was constructed in the shape of a 
gallery, with a central court ; it was more 
spacious than the church, and would hold 
four or five thousand persons. The peals 
of the bell soon Drought together a great 
audience, comprising men of every party. 
Farel appeared, "dressed like a layman, 
with a Spanish cloak and brimmed hat." 
His burning words charmed and enrap- 
tured the assembly ; the souls of many 
were inflamed by the ardor of the divine 
Spirit. Jacques Bernard, an intelligent 
Franciscan, was here taught of the Gos- 



pel, and soon maintained courageously 
the truths he had once attacked. 

Next day the catholics complained of 
this action to the Two Hundred, while 
the ambassadors of Berne urged that the 
preaching should go on. Farel continued 
to preach every day to large congrega- 
tions. The evangelicals no longer doubted 
of the victory. The ambassadors left 
on the 7th of March, commending the 
preachers to the evangelicals. Hence- 
forward they lived at the house of Claude 
Bernard. Now the power of the episco- 
pal faction was broken. Gradually the 
cordelier's voice, praising the purchase of 
indulgences and the practice of penances, 
was made weaker and weaker by the pow- 
erful voice of Farel: "All our sins are 
pardoned freely. How dare the monks, 
then, set up their satisfactions, which the 
Word of God has shattered to pieces?" 

Roman-catholicism was falling : Friburg 
hurried to its support. "Alas!" replied 
the syndics to these ambassadors, "we do 
not set Farel to preach, it is the people." 
Messieurs of Friburg, sternly shaking off 
their embraces, departed, leaving their 
letters of alliance on the table. The 
alarmed syndics strove to appease the 
catholics and Friburgers by a grand pro- 
cession of relics on Easter, and impris- 
oned Aime Levet three days for not ob- 
serving the festival. But the evangelical 
meetings increased in number after Eas- 
ter. Farel energetically urged on the 
Reform, while he mourned in silence the 
imprisonment of his brothers, Daniel, 
Walter, and Claude, in France. De la 
Maison-Neuve was about to start for 
Lyons, and Farel gave him a letter to be 
delivered to the brethren in Paris, solicit- 
ing their intercession in behalf of his 
brothers. The reformers were men as 
well as Christians, and had to endure 
many sorrows. 

Farel little suspected that this friend, 
loved by him as a brother, would ere long 
be in a dungeon. De la Maison-Neuve 
had visited the fairs of Lyons for twenty 
years, to trade in silk fabrics, jewelry, and 
furs. His evangelical frankness had of- 
fended many, and the priests waited their 
revenge. 

In 1530, he sold to a money-changer of 
Lyons a silver-box containing some relics 
of saints, which he had taken in payment 
of a debt. The buyer reverently kissed 
them ; but Baudichon told him : " It is 
very likely they are the bones of some 
ordinary body, which the priests give 
the people to kiss to deceive them." 
Next year he offended some bigoted mer- 
chants from Auvergne, then at Lyons, by 
his evangelical expressions ; they said : 
' ' If you were in our country, you would 
be burned." In 1532, at fair time, he 
defended the eating of meat on fast days, 
declaring that he did not acknowledge the 
pope's power to forbid what God permits. 
"Every man is Peter, provided he is firm 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



975 



in the faith of Jesus Christ." — At Epi- 
phany, 1533, he offended several priests 
at Lyons, by lamenting- the death of the 
cordelier Stephen Renier at Yienne : 
"You did wrong to put him to death," 
he said ; "he was a truly good man, of 
sound learning, and one likely to produce 
great fruits." Lyons was a free city 
during the fair, and Baudichon took ad- 
vantage of it to make the pure Gospel 
known. — At Epiphany, 1534, he said at 
the inn : " It is nonsense to pray to the 
saints, to hear mass, and confess to the 
priests !" and quoted Scripture as proof. 
The merchants of Auvergne threatened to 
lodge elsewhere if he should be there 
next season. 

His friends urged him not to attend the 
Easter fair of 1534, but he was not to be 
frightened away. Certain catholics of 
Geneva wrote to Lyons of his coming, 
conjuring the papists to get him put to 
death. Maison-Neuve, with an evangelical 
companion, Janin, arrived at Lyons 26th 
April, unsuspicious of danger. Two days 
later they were arrested, and were speedily 
placed in the archbishop's prison. The 
great huguenot saw that he had fallen 
into a trap, and prepared. to meet his 
enemies. All the ecclesiastical dignita- 
ries of Lyons rejoiced that they were to 
have the glory of trying and putting to 
death the layman who was Farel's right 
arm. On the 29th April the members of 
the inquisitional court assembled Bau- 
dichon de la Maison-Neuve, then aged 
forty-six years, was summoned before 
them, and the trial began. 

The tribunal of priests wished to mark 
distinctly, at the very outset, that the 
Romish doctrine of the Sacrament was in 
question ; and their first interrogation was : 
"What do you think of the sacrament of 
the altar ?" — " I believe that the real body 
of Christ is in the blessed host ;" but Bau- 
dichon would not criminate himself by a 
mpre precise declaration. The examina- 
tion of witnesses commenced next day ; 
the prisoner was allowed to produce no 
evidence in defence. 

Philip Martin stated that Baudichon 
was in Geneva, armed and wearing a cui- 
rass, when Wernli was murdered. The 
prisoner calmly charged Martin with the 
crime of perjury, as he had been then in 
Lyons. A youth named Pierre Pen nets 
charged him with engaging in a riot, 
which ended in the death of four persons. 
This was false, as there had been no 
deaths, and only some woundings in a riot 
got up by the priests. 

All this time Geneva was greatly agita- 
ted at the news of the arrest of Maison- 
Neuve. His brother Thomas started for 
Lyons, and made every effort to save him. 
Many merchants complained of this viola- 
tion of their privileges, which had pre- 
vented the accused from settling his debts. 
The lords of Berne sent a warm remon- 
strance against the arrest. Now the 



(judges determined to entice Maison-Neuve 
craftily into some heretical declaration, 
to have a plausible pretext against him. 
On the 5th of May, they asked him : 
' ' What are your opinions, in regard to 
faith ?" The prisoner only replied, "lam 
not bound to answer you." The next day 
Thomas presented two substantial mer- 
chants of the city as bail for his brother ; 
at the same time the demand of the 
Swiss was read and supported by the lieu- 
tenant-general of the king. After exami- 
nation, the court decreed they would hold 
Baudichon until the king's pleasure was 
known ; but he was to be allowed free in- 
tercourse with those who had dealings 
with him. 

The judges now sought to end this dif- 
ficult case by obtaining a recantation 
from Baudichon. On the 21st of May, 
two skilful inquisitors, Nicholas Morini 
and Jean Rapinati endeavored to argue 
with him the material presence of Christ in 
the Sacrament ; but he refused to enter into 
any discussion, or to answer any of their 
insidious questions. The judges strove 
to lead him to acknowledge as his friend 
Alexander, who was then imprisoned as a 
heretic. He only answered : " If he has 
eaten and drunk at my house, I hope it did 
him good." Thus did the judges hunt 
down an innocent man. In thus attempting 
to exercise authority over the conscience, 
they presumed to move God from his 
throne and sit in his place. "The do- 
minion of man ends where that of God 
begins." 

While an evangelical was threatened with 
death at Lyons, Roman-catholicism was 
crumbling away beneath its own weight 
of notorious abuses in Geneva. The syn- 
dics imprisoned two monks for profligacy, 
saying : "It is hard to find one monastery 
out of ten that is not a den of wantonness, 
rather than the home of chastity." The 
grand title of the Reformation is to have 
restored to Christendom religion in its en- 
tirety, the truth with the life, doctrine 
with morality. Evangelical Christianity 
was rising through the zeal of the 
reformers. Farel, Viret, and Froment 
preached every day, either publicly or in 
private houses. On the Sunday after Eas- 
ter, Farel gave his blessing to the first 
evangelical marriage. 

The monks now circulated a story that 
the Blessed Virgin had appeared to the 
curate of St. Leger, and ordered a grand 
procession of all the surrounding districts. 
The clergy mustered their forces, and on 
the 15th of May a long procession, of Sa- 
voyards arrived before the city. For fear 
of a disturbance, the councils would not 
allow them to enter within the walls ; but 
they sent them bread to eat. Stalwart 
pilgrims from Thonon now boldly passed 
the gates of the city, and hailed before 
the church of St. Claire. The huguenots 
drove them back at the point of the 
sword. These pomps and processions in- 



976 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



spired the reformed with a still deeper 
disgust for Roman-catholicism. This au- 
dacity of the catholics emboldened the 
huguenots to destroy the images of nine 
saints, ranged over the Franciscan convent 
gate : for this offence the iconoclasts were 
punished. 

On tile feast of Pentecost, Farel 
preached with fervor ; then he prepared to 
celebrate the Lord's supper publicly, ac- 
cording to the Gospel form. At this mo- 
ment Louis Bernard, a priest of noble 
bearing, came forward, flung off his sa- 
cerdotal vestments, and said : " I throw off 
the old man, and declare myself a pris- 
oner to the Gospel of the Lord. Brethren, 
I will live and die with you for Jesus 
Christ's sake." All the evangelicals re- 
joiced at this conversion. Pierre Gaudet, 
a knight of Rhodes, now came to Geneva 
in search of liberty of faith ; he was re- 
ceived like a friend by the huguenots, and 
became the first martyr of the Gospel. 
The people of the lower classes danced, 
according to custom, in the public square 
on the evening of Whitsunday. One of 
the women caught hold of George Mar- 
chand, a huguenot, to make him dance 
with her ; he gave her a slap in the face, 
and there was a fierce disturbance. From 
that time, the customary idle processions 
of merry-andrews were not repeated. The 
Whitsuntide procession of 1534, with its 
coarse jests, was the funeral procession of 
popery in Geneva. 

The citizens had now to keep always a 
force under arms to guard against the 
threatened assaults from Savoy, Gex, 
Vaud, and the Chablais. Farel, Yiret and 
Froment often conversed with the soldiers 
of the republic, during their night watches, 
upon religious points. An evangelist has 
recorded: "At these assemblies and 
watches more people have been won to the 
Gospel than by public preaching." 

Janin was as much at ease in the prison 
of Lyons as in the streets of Geneva, and 
tried to convert all whom he met to the 
Gospel. One day he explained to his 
companions the passage from St. John's 
epistle : The blood of Jesus Christ, Ms Son, 
cleanseth us from all sin — showing that 
this doctrine of the Bible and that of 
Rome, according to which we are cleansed 
by meritorious works, can never be made 
to harmonize. He protested against 
prayers to the saints, or prayers for the 
dead. The festival of the Rogations on 
the 11th of May, and the procession to 
the church adjoining the prison, were 
accompanied with much disorder. And 
Baudichon is said to have exclaimed : 
"Those people must be fools and mad- 
men, or do they imagine that God is 
deaf." On the 28th of May, new charges 
were made against the prisoner for the 
language thus alleged to have been used 
on the Rogation days ; but Maison-Neuve 
answered: "I would sooner be torn in 
pieces than have uttered the words con- 



tained in that deposition." Baudichon 
was much enraged at exaggerated accusa- 
tions, and spoke violently to some of the 
witnesses. 

The canons sent M. De Simieux to Ge- 
neva, to try and hunt up some capital 
charge against Baudichon ; and the catho- 
lics received him gladly, saying: "Bau- 
dichon is the person most employed in 
seducing the city of Geneva to the Lu- 
theran heresies." Meanwhile, the syn- 
dics were soliciting two French ambassa- 
dors to rectify the lawless proceedings at 
Lyons. 

Baudichon was much irritated at the 
false evidence given. One clay he left the 
court-room of his own will, and at another 
time contradicted a witness. On the 1st 
of July, he appealed from his unjust 
judges to the King of France, and obsti- 
nately persisted in his decision. 

Baudichon was now threatened with the 
torture ; but there is no record that his 
treatment was more than harsh and cruel. 
On the 13th July, he complained strongly 
of these indignities ; but he peremptorily 
refused to be constrained to answer con- 
cerning his faith. At the request of his 
judges, the Franciscan father Courtelier 
was sent by the Bishop of Geneva, to give 
evidence against the prisoner. 

The two great adversaries met face to 
face, and each accused the other of hereti- 
cal acts in Geneva. By letter, Pierre de 
la Baume charged that Maison-ISTeuve was 
a relapsed heretic, and requested to have 
him transferred to his jurisdiction for the 
execution of justice. Each prosecutor 
wished to have the honor of burning the 
Genevan. He was a layman, and yet he 
presumed to reform the Church. The 
prisoner declared that he preferred re- 
maining in the kingdom of France, and 
the Court made preparations for his sacri- 
fice. Meanwhile, the magistrates of Ge- 
neva were actively striving to secure the 
release of this excellent citizen. The in- 
quiry was over, and on the 28th of July 
the final sentence was pronounced. 

"Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, " said 
the Court, "you have been fully con- 
victed of having affirmed at Geneva and 
elsewhere many heretical propositions of 
the Lutheran or CEcolampadian faction ; 
of having been the chief promoter and 
defender of that sect ; of having protected 
the impure Farel and other persons, 
propagators of that perverse doctrine ; of 
having refused to answer in our presence 
concerning your faith : We therefore de- 
clare you to be heretical, and the chief 
fautor and defender of heresy and here 
tics ; consequently we deliver you over 
as such to the secular arm." 

De la Maison-Neuve appealed from this 
decision, and was led back to prison. 
The priests triumphed, and the evangeli- 
cals awaited a great sorrow. Such were 
the fanatical persecutions of the Sixteenth 
century ; and these principles will be- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



977 



held as long as the Church grasps the 
sword which should be held by the State. 

By imprisoning Maison-Neuve, the 
priests had endeavored to check the pro- 
gress of the Gospel ; but this action had 
the contrary effect. The courage of the 
accused, and the injustice of the accusers, 
increased the determination of the Ge- 
nevans. The festival of Corpus Christi 
was celebrated by the catholics with great 
pomp ; but the evangelical Christians re- 
volted from the divine honors thus paid 
to consecrated wafers. Vainly did the 
splendid cortege defile through the streets : 
the evangelicals paid no attention to their 
celebration. At this time, Louis Bernard 
took to himself a wife, much to the dis- 
may of the catholics ; and they denounced 
this marriage of a priest. A discussion 
took place between vicar Jean and Viret 
upon this question of marriage, in which 
the poor vicar was totally discomfited, 
and was ordered by the syndics to preach 
the Gospel only. A further debate began 
on the question of baptism. The priest 
was again commanded to preach "in 
accordance w 7 ith the truth " The syndics 
added : " You are forbidden nothing ex- 
cept lying." This marks a new phase of 
the Refoimation in Geneva. 

The council now dreaded another at- 
tack from the lords of Savoy and of 
Yaud, instigated by the bishop. They 
solicited assistance from Berne, and took 
the necessary measures for putting the 
city in a state of defence. The citizens 
enthusiastically prepared for defence. 
Some even chose this moment of danger 
to confess their faith. A Dominican 
monk publicly prayed God to have pity 
on him, after which he preached an hereti- 
cal sermon. The catholics had matured 
their plans ; the Savoyard troops had as- 
sembled at a little distance from the city, 
and three hundred foreigners had been 
stealthily concealed in catholic houses. 
In the middle of the night, a red flag was 
to be hoisted at the Molard ; the priests 
were to gather at the firing of a heavy 
culverine ; and lighted torches were to be 
shown upon the roofs of catholic resi- 
dences, as signals of readiness. It was 
intended that the Lutherans should all be 
put to death, and their property confis- 
cated. By treachery, several of the city 
cannon had been spiked ; others had been 
filled with hay, and the keys of the city 
had been counterfeited. 

On the 30th of July, a native of Dau- 
phiny warned the councils of the approach- 
ing armies. Some suspected citizens were 
at once arrested, and by close questioning 
the horrible plot was gradually unravelled. 
All huguenot citizens were assembled 
under arms. The catholics heard of this 
alarm, and none of them dared to give the 
expected signals. Without the city, the 
number of the soldiers was very great. 
While they awaited the signal, an extra- 
ordinary light ascended the spire of St. 



Pierre, and glared upon the soldiers from 
its top. A panic spread among the troops, 
and the officers exclaimed : "We are dis- 
covered ; we are betrayed ; we shall not 
enter Geneva to-night." The Savoyards 
at once began to retreat, and when the 
sun rose not an enemy was to be seen 
about the city. Several of the traitors 
w r ere - arrested ; but the leading conspira- 
tors escaped from the city in disguise. 
Every blow aimed by Catholicism against 
the Refoimation injured itself. ' ' Through- 
out that week a strong guard was kept up, 
and the gates of the city were closed." 
Meanwhile, offers of assistance came from 
the neighboring protestant cantons. Now 
the flight became general among the 
fanatics, and the refugees took to plunder- 
ing the surrounding districts. The flight 
of the episcopalian laity destroyed the 
power of the clergy, and made the Re- 
formers masters of the situation. All 
citizens were required to do military ser- 
vice, and one coward was banished from 
the city for skulking. At this time the 
nuns of St. Claire were in perpetual 
alarm, fearing the huguenots would now 
take their revenge. One night the whole 
body were aroused by a noise in the 
church ; but their alarm was occasioned 
by the accidental locking of a sister in the 
chapel. 

A fresh attempt was now made to re- 
lieve Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve and 
his friend. Rodolph of Diesbach was 
present at the court of Francis I., to urge 
the restoration of an estate to the widow 
of John of Diesbach which had been ap- 
propriated by the king. He also set about 
soliciting the liberation of the Genevan 
evangelicals. The friends as well as the 
enemies of the Reformation were in the 
keenest suspense for months. 

Geneva was greatly agitated during the 
long delay, as well as by the urgent need 
for defence. To save the city, a terrible 
necessity required that a great portion of 
it should be destroyed. At that time, it 
was composed of two parts : the city 
proper and the four suburbs. The town 
beyond the walls was more extensive than 
the one within, and contained over six 
thousand inhabitants. On the 23d of 
July, it was ordered that some of the 
gates should be built up, and all of 
the houses, barns, and walls of the 
suburbs, beginning with the nearest, 
should be destroyed, so that the enemy 
might not find shelter in them. It must 
be done ; for acts of violence were increas- 
ing every day. A poor evangelical from 
Avignon travelled to Geneva to hoar the 
Gospel preached ; but he was seized by a 
troop of horsemen in the valley of the 
Leman, and most brutally treated. The 
work of demolition went rapidly on, and 
it was ordered that every man should 
begin to pull down his house by the 15th 
of September. The churches of St. Victor, 
St. Leger, and of the Knights of Rhodes, 



978 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



were to be destroyed. The catholic chiefs 
protested strongly against these vigorous 
preparations for defence, and when their re- 
quests were refused, craved permission for 
eight hundred co-burghers to leave the city. 

On this very day, 26th September, a 
report circulated through the city that 
Maison-Neuve and his companion had 
been set at liberty. Moved by Diesbach's 
earnest solicitations, Francis I. had granted 
the release of the prisoners. They trav- 
elled from Lyons to Geneva with the lords 
of Berne, and were once more within the 
walls of their ancient home. God gave 
the Genevans more than they hoped for. 
The chief magistrates of the republic of- 
ficially received the release of the two 
Genevans from the ambassadors, thanked 
the lords of Berne, and gave a formal 
guarantee in writing to produce them 
whenever required. 

Four days after this restoration, Francis 
I. wrote to the lords of Geneva, request- 
ing the immediate release of "GuyFur- 
bity, of the order of Preaching Friars ;" 
yet the petty republic did not yield to the 
demand of the puissant King of France. 
The little republics of Switzerland and 
Geneva have given signal examples of 
courageously and conscientiously follow- 
ing the principles of justice in politics. 

Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve and 
Janin re-entered Geneva the day after 
that on which the final order to demolish 
the suburbs was given. The return of 
these two energetic citizens gave a fresh 
impetus to the resolution to sacrifice one- 
half of the city in order to save the 
other. The monastery of St. Victor was 
destroyed, after it had been well pillaged 
by the profligate monks and their mis- 
tresses ; yet the council considerately 
assigned them a residence in the city. 
The magistrates showed kindness to the 
wretched and homeless in providing them 
shelter. Many catholics quitted Geneva 
for the enemy's camp. At the same time 
that the houses were demolished, ram- 
parts were built out of the ruins. The 
citizens had lost much through the late 
predatory warfares ; nevertheless, he that 
possessed two rooms gave up one to the 
refugees, and he who had a loaf of bread 
shared it with his brother. All destitute 
persons were lodged either in the state 
buildings, or in private houses. 

The bishop now sought to starve out 
the city. He gave orders to intercept all 
provisions from entering the walls. As 
if starvation was not enough, the unnat- 
ural' pastor surrounded Geneva with a 
circle of desperadoes, and no one could 
pass beyond the ramparts, except at the 
risk of his life. Even devout catholics 
were robbed by the Seigneur of Avanchi ; 
but for the maltreatment of some nuns, 
this brutal chieftain was afterwards put to 
death by order of a catholic tribunal. As 
his next step, the bishop transferred the 
episcopal see of Geneva to the town of 



Gex, and ordered all the episcopal officers 
and civil judges to proceed there. These 
officials escaped stealthily on the night of 
the 24th of September; but the council 
forbade the removal of the seals. Now 
Pierre de la Baume launched his thunder- 
bolts of excommunication against Geneva, 
and against all who should visit it. On 
the 7th of October, 1534, the syndics and 
council appealed to Rome ; but, to their 
delight, no answer was ever returned. 

The duke tried to convince the people 
of his goodness by the aid of some Ber- 
nese ambassadors ; but the Genevans an- 
swered : "Tell the duke we will set lire 
to the four corners of the city before we 
dismiss the preachers who announce the 
Word of God." The duke now prepared 
to make war upon the city ; Berne sided 
with Savoy, and Charles V. supported his 
demands. The Genevese felt their cour- 
age increased, and more ardently prepared 
for defence. To their sorrow, the Swiss 
diet at Luzerne resolved that the duke 
and the bishop should be reinstated in 
the possession of all their lordships and 
privileges. There was nothing left them 
but God, and God is mighty. Every pre- 
caution was carried out with order, calm- 
ness, and courage. The approaches to 
the place were made free, so that the 
artillery could play without obstruction, 
and the ramparts were built. Geneva 
was then passing through the arduous 
ordeal of transformation. 

While the work of the Reformation 
appeared exposed to great dangers in a 
small city of the Alps, it had, in the eyes 
of the optimists, chances of success in 
two of the greatest countries of Europe, — 
France and Italy. The two finest ge- 
niuses of the reform, Melancthon and 
Calvin, had been summoned to those two 
countries respectively. The first half of 
the Sixteenth century was the epoch of a 
great transformation to the people of 
Europe. The teaching of man vanished 
away ; the teaching of God began again. 

At this time there were three categories 
of those who wished to restore unity in 
the Christian Church of the West. Men 
of wit and learning, children of the Re- 
naissance, wanted an easy religion, to be 
obtained by melting Popery and Protest- 
antism together. Erasmus was their 
apostle. Others desired to maintain Eu- 
rope in the old papal wardship. At their 
head in France was their king, who 
sought to unite protestants and catholics, 
that he might recover Italy and humble 
Charles V. Finally, in Germany a few 
evangelical Christians consented to the 
primacy of a bishop, in the hope of ob- 
taining the transformation of the doctrines 
and manners of the universal Church. 
Melancthon was the most eminent man of 
this school. 

' Yet many inflexible papists and many 
determined protestants were opposed to 
any concessions. The persecutions in 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



979 



France, after the posting of the placards, ] 
caused much sorrow to those who sought j 
to restore unity, and disgusted the pro- I 
testants of Germany ; but the protesta- 
tions of Francis I. produced somewhat of 
a reaction. The conciliatory opinions of 
Melancthon, Hedio, and Bucer excessively 
irritated the German evangelicals. The 
Swiss theologians protested against their 
concessions, and Calvin denounced all 
attempts at a union with popery. At the 
same time, the Sorbonne cried out loudly 
against all assimilation with Lutheran 
doctrines. But a revulsion of sentiment 
now occurred. 

Clement VII. having died of chagrin, 
Alexander Farnese succeeded him under 
the title of Paul III., at the age of sixty- 
seven. This man, who had two illegiti- 
mate children, and had much need of 
reformation for himself and his family, 
was engrossed wholly with the plan of 
reforming the Church that he might re- 
store its unity. His first secretary, Am- 
brosio, an influential man, was in the pay 
of Francis I. While the Romish Church 
was being toned down at Rome, popery 
became stricter in France. The fanatical 
party was gathering around the dauphin,' 
the future Henry II., a gloomy youth of 
eighteen. He was wholly governed by his 
wife, Catherine de Medicis, and his mis- 
tress, Diana of Poitiers, who were on the 
best of terms with each other ; and this 
party endeavored to thwart the king's 
X>lans. But in the midst of these in- 
trigues, the moderate party held firm. Tn 
1585, headed by the talented Du Bellays, 
they resolved to take a more decided step, 
and to invite Melancthon to France. His 
despotism made Francis I. incline to the 
side of the pope ; but bis love of letters 
and his disgust at the monks, attracted him 
the other way. "Well!" said the king, 
"since he differs so much from our rebels, 
let him come : I shall be enchanted to hear 
him." De la Fosse was ordered to pro- 
ceed to Germany, to urge Melancthon in 
person. There are hours of grace in the 
history of the human race, and one of 
those hours seemed to have arrived. 

The friends of the Gospel set earnestly 
at work to persuade Melancthon, the 
Elector, and the protestants of Germany, 
to accept the invitation. Sturm wrote 
earnestly to Bucer and to Melancthon, 
saying : "0 Melancthon ! to see your 
face will be our salvation. Come into the 
midst of our violent tempests and show 
us the haven. A refusal from you would 
keep our brethren suspended above the 
flames." Bucer wrote to Melancthon : 
"I am ready; prepare for your depart- 
ure." What would Melancthon do ? that 
was the great question. Melancthon felt 
that his adhesion to the. regenerating 
movement then accomplishing might de- 
cide its success, just as his hostility might 
destroy it. 

Urged by his counsellors, Francis I. 
resolved to give the German Doctor a 



proof of his good will by letter ; and 
instead of addressing the sovereign whose 
subject Melancthon was, the proud King 
of France wrote to the plain Doctor of 
Wittemberg, 23d June, 1535 : 

"Francis, by the grace of God King of 
the French, to our dear Philip Melanc- 
thon, greeting : 

"I have long since been informed by 
William du Bellay, my chamberlain and 
councillor, of the zeal with which you are 
endeavoring to appease the dissensions to 
which the Christian doctrine has given 
rise. I now learn from the letter which 
you have written to him, and from Yore 
de la Fosse, that you are much inclined 
to come to us, to confer with some of our 
most distinguished doctors on the means 
of restoring in the Church that divine 
harmony which is the first of all my de- 
sires. Come, then, either in an official 
character, or in your own name ; you will 
be very acceptable to me, and you will 
learn, in either case, the interest I feel in 
the glory of your Germany and the peace 
of the universe." 

These declarations from the King of 
France forwarded the enterprise ; but as 
several executions of Christians occurred 
about this time, the sincerity of the letter 
is questionable. Those engaged in the 
task of aiding unity saw but one means : 
to admit on one side the evangelical doc- 
trine, and on the other the episcopal form 
with a bishop, primus inter pares. Cardi- 
nal Du Bellay departed for Rome at the 
same time as De la Fosse for Wittemberg, 
to induce the Roman Church to come to 
an understanding with the protestants. 
This journey was of great importance. 
The new pope was raising to the cardina- 
late several evangelical prelates, and the 
hope of a reform grew greater day by day 
in Italy. Each of the Du Bellays wrote 
earnestly to Melancthon, exhorting him to 
accept the noble mission. It was a solemn^ 
opportunity. Sturm did likewise ; Claude 
Baduel was entrusted by the Queen of 
Navarre with a mission to the Reformer ; 
and Francis I., 16th July, 1535, issued an 
amnesty to all who "lived as good catho- 
lic Christians." The only thing Francis 
I. cared about was the preservation of the 
pope's temporal power. He requested the 
Sorbonne to nominate ten or twelve of its 
theologians to confer with the Reformer ; 
but the assembly, while offering to give 
any instruction needed, declared the pro- 
posal "quite useless and supremely dan- 
gerous." The fanatical party, headed by 
Montmorency and the Cardinal Do Tour- 
non, exerted all their influence to prevent 
Melancthon from coming to France, and 
the king released the faculty from the 
proposed conference. Six years later such 
a conference was held at Ratisbon, and 
nearly succeeded. But a breath from 
Rome extinguished the evangelical torch. 

Was the union desired by so nmny emi- 
nent men to be for good or for evil ? On 



980 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



this question, different opinions may be, 
and have been, entertained. Human life 
is both a monologue and a dialogue ; indi- 
viduality and community are the two 
poles of life. The mischief lies in giving 
an unjust pre-eminence to either of the 
two elements. If these earnest men de- 
sired a real Christian union, their work 
was good ; if, on the contrary, they aimed 
at restoring unity with a hierarchical ob- 
ject, with a despotic spirit, their work 
was bad. 

France continued to ask for Melanc- 
thon ; would Germany reply to her advan- 
ces ? The religious peace had stipulated 
that all Germans should show to one an- 
other a sincere and Christian friendship ; 
and the tendency of the evangelicals to- 
wards unity had been intensified by the 
necessity of guarding against the sectarian 
spirit. John Bockhold, a tailor of Ley- 
den, had proclaimed himself King of Zion 
in that city, established a community of 

, goods, and attempted to restore polygamy ; 
but Philip of Hesse had put an end to 
these brutal excesses in June, 1535. 
These events prepared Germany to accept 
the proposals of France. 

Melancthon received the royal invitation 
from De la Fosse at Wittemberg, 4th of 
August, 1535. He felt the reasons were 
powerful for either acceptance or rejection, 
and he hesitated what to do. De la Fosse 
earnestly appealed to him : " Hearken to 
the friends of the Gospel who dwell at 
Paris ; . . . but if their voices cannot reach 
you, listen at least to one mighty voice, the 
voice of God himself, the voice of Jesus 
Christ." His wife and best friends en- 
treated him not to leave them, and feared 
he would never return. Melancthon was a 
man of God, and prayerfully weighed the 
arguments on both sides. The earnest ap- 
peals of De la Fosse not to withhold from 
the afflicted Church the hand that could 
save her, touched his heart, and he replied : 
" Well, then, I will go. My friends in 

* France have entertained great expecta- 
tions, and apply to me to fulfil them. I 
will not disappoint their hopes." Melanc- 
thon was resolved to maintain the essen- 
tial truths of Christianity, and hoped to 
see them accepted by the catholic world. 
He was a sincere, open, meek Christian, 
and was ready to sacrifice himself. His 
present error was in believing the pope 
could be received without receiving his 
doctrines. 

But would his prince allow him to go ? 
The .noble minded professor resolved to do 
all in his power to overcome objections ; 
he travelled to the court at Torgan, and paid 
his respects to the elector on Sunday, 15th 
of August. John Frederick received him 
coldly": he was offended that the King of 
France had not sent the invitation through 
himself, and had graver motives to regard 
the project with displeasure. Melancthon 
presented a written petition on the sub- 
ject, and said : "I know the weight of the 
task imposed upon me ... it overwhelms 



me . . . but I will do my duty all the 
same ; and with that intent I conjure your 
Grace to grant me two or three months' 
leave of absence." The elector coldly an- 
swered he would reply through his coun- 
cil.— On the next day Chancellor Bruck 
gave him an icy reception, and harshly 
said :_ " That journey might be the cause 
of divisions, quarrels, and irreparable 
evils. You are consequently desired to 
excuse yourself to the King of France in 
the best way you can, and the elector 
promises he will Avrite to him on the sub- 
ject." 

Melancthon withdrew in sorrow. He 
conferred with Luther at Wittemberg, and 
the latter approved of his journey. Luther 
entreated the elector to authorize the mis- 
sion, and give Melancthon three months' 
leave : " Who can tell what God means to 
do? His thoughts are always higher and 
better than ours." He also addressed an 
admirable letter to Francis I., on behalf 
of the persecuted Christians. John Fred- 
erick was a true and high-minded prince, 
full of zeal for the Reformation ; but he 
was susceptible and obstinate, suspicious 
of the motives of Francis I., and would 
not yield. Many people prophesied that 
Melancthon would be assassinated, even 
before he had crossed the Rhine, as others 
had been, by the Archbishop of Mayence. 
The elector won Luther to his side by his 
arguments : "Melancthon will infallibly 
incur the greatest danger at Paris — danger 
both to body and soul. I would rather 
see God take him to himself than permit 
him to go to France. That is my firm re- 
solve." Henceforth the great reformer 
wished to have the French evangelicals 
come to Germany in search of liberty. 

John Frederick now wrote a severe letter 
to Melancthon, saying: "The undertak- 
ing is of great extent, and the success very 
doubtful. . . . Do you desire to disturb the 
public peace of the German nation ; and 
ichile we 7iave a right to expect that you will 
second us, do you presume on the contrary 
to vex us and thwart our plans V Melanc- 
thon' s simple and tender heart was crushed 
by this harsh letter, and he said : " Be- 
cause of these words, I will not go." 
Luther wrote consoling him. He appeared 
to foresee the time when the evangelical 
Church would have no other support but 
God, and rejoiced at the prospect. 

John Frederick delayed despatching his 
letter to Francis L, but finally wrote ex- 
cusing his refusal by the difficulties of the 
present time : "If in any future contin- 
gency you should write to us for him, and 
should assure us that he will be restored 
safe and sound, we will permit him to pro- 
ceed to you." On the same day, Melanc- 
thon wrote to Du Bella y, Sturm, and to 
the king. To the latter he said: "Sire, 
do not allow yourself to be stopped by the 
harsh judgments and rude writings of cer- 
tain men. Do not suffer their imprudence 
to nullify a project so useful to the Church. 
After receiving your letter, I made every 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



981 



effort to hasten to your Majesty ; for there 
is nothing I desire more than to aid the 
Church according to my poverty. I had 
conceived the best hopes, but great ob- 
stacles keep me back. . . . Yore de la 
Fosse will inform you of them." 

The work of union to which Francis I. 
invited Melancthon, had struck deep root 
in the doctor's mind. Francis I. showed 
no less energy, and was careful not to be 
offended at the elector's refusal. The al- 
liance of the protestants became more 
necessary to him every day ; he desired 
their aid to conquer the duchy of Milan 
for his second son. He determined to 
prosecute his plans, but to address the 
elector in person, or rather all the protest- 
ant princes united, without mentioning 
the name of Melancthon. The Romish 
party strove to thwart this pernicious pro- 
ject ; but Francis I. continued to value 
the spears of the lansquenets more highly 
than the pope's friendship. 

The protestants were about to assemble 
at Smalcalde ; Wurtemberg and Pomera- 
nia had joined the alliance. The elector, 
Melancthon, and Du Bellay arrived there 
in December. On the 16th December, this 
illustrious diplomatist handed his pacifica- 
tory letters to the elector, who cautiously 
replied : " Our alliance has been formed 
solely to maintain the pure Word of God, 
and propagate the holy doctrine of faith." 
Thereupon Du Bellay said : " We ask you 
to send us doctors to deliberate on the 
union of the Churches." On the 19th of 
December, Du Bellay was received by the 
assembly of princes and deputies, and 
strove earnestly to win that body to his 
views. He described the pious and peace- 
able evangelists put to death by Francis, 
as seditious persons who desired to stir up 
the people, called earnestly for a reconcil- 
iation of Christendom, and renewed his 
demand for a congress of French and Ger- 
man doctors to confer on the matters in 
dispute. The protestants were shocked 
at the idea of entering into alliance with 
the man who had shed the blood of their 
brethren. In reply, they nobly urged the 
King of France "to seek God's glory, to 
cleanse the Church from error, and to stop 
iniquitous cruelties." 

The great point was to know what 
would be the nature of this reformation. 
On the 20th December, a conference was 
formed of Du Bellay, Bruck, the electoral 
chancellor, Melancthon, John Sturm, the 
delegates of Hesse, and Spalatin, the 
elector's chaplain. Du Bellay stated the 
nature of the proposed French reforms : 
" First, with regard to the primacy of the 
Roman pontiff, the King of France thinks 
as you do, that he possesses it by human, 
and not by divine right. ... As for the sa- 
crament of the Eucharist, your opinion on 
the matter pleases the king, and he is 
ready to profess it if you will give him 
sound arguments. ... As for the mass, 
the king is of opinion that many prayers 
and silly impious legends have been 



foisted into that portion of divine, wor- 
ship, and that those absurd and ridicul or. s 
passages must be expurgated, and the 
primitive order restored." — In turn, the 
moderate protestants conceded the daily 
celebration of the Eucharist. 

The ambassador slyly said of purgatory : 
" Our divines obstinately defend it ; for 
upon that doctrine depends the payment 
of masses, indulgences, and pious .gifts. 
Put down purgatory, and you take away 
from them all opportunity of acquiring 
wealth and honor." Upon the points of 
purgatory, good works, and communion, 
Du Bellay professed sympathy with the 
reformers. As to monasteries, he pro- 
posed they should be places of study, and 
that vows should be no longer obligatory. 
" It is not convenient to pluck off a horse's 
tail at one pull," he said. As for the 
marriage of priests, the king would tole- 
rate those who have wives ; but other 
priests who desire to be married should 
first quit holy orders. 

Such was the Reformation which Fran- 
cis I. declared himself willing to give to 
France, more complete than the hybrid 
system of Henry VIII. The protestants 
found these propositions acceptable, with 
some modifications. Melancthon was au- 
thorized to draw up an answer recom- 
mending clemency, and the deputies prom- 
ised to consult their chief in reference to 
sending theologians to Paris. Du Bellay 
privately solicited the protestants to make 
an alliance with Francis I. ; but they dis- 
trusted a union against the Emperor, the 
head of the Germanic Confederation. 
This distrust of the French king was rea- 
sonable ; for at this time Francis was offer- 
ing the pope to reduce Germany and Eng- 
land to the papacy in return for the duchy 
of Milan. 

The Reformation had also commenced 
in Italy. 

As the corruption of the clergy and of 
religion had sunk deeper in Italy than in 
the rest of Christendom, so the magni- 
tude of the evil made the necessity of a 
remedy more keenly felt. The evangeli- 
cal doctrine, in general not much appre- 
ciated by the people, found an easy access 
to the hearts of many cultivated men. 

At Pavia, on the Ticino, a bookseller 
named Calvi received from the celebrated 
printer of Basle, Frobenius, as early as 
1519, Erasmus' Testament and the early 
writings of Luther. These he eagerly 
circulated in the University of Pavia, and 
through all the cities of Italy. Melanc- 
thon' s Theological Commonplace* was 
widely circulated under the name of Prin- 
ciples of Livinity, by Terram'gra, along 
with the works of Coricius Oogelius 
(Zwingle) and Aretius Felinus (Bucei\) 
Bishops and cardinals pompously extolled 
them ; but these works were, condemned 
to the flames when their authorship was 
known. German students praised the 
purity of the reformers' lives, and the 



982 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



simplicity of their manners. Conscien- 
tious men joyfully welcomed a doctrine 
which put God's Word in the place of 
papal bulls and a mechanical ritual. 
Italy was charmed with Luther's charac- 
ter and work. Converted catholics began 
by degrees to explain the Gospel pri- 
vately, even in the Papal States ; and be- 
fore long, to the great alarm of Clement 
VII., several priests taught its principles 
in the churches. 

In Venice, the queen-city of the Adri- 
atic, the doctrine of the Gospel first raised 
its standard. Its jealous government re- 
jected the inquisition, practiced freedom 
of inquiry, and subjected the pope's edicts 
to strict examination. These evangelicals 
appeared more protestant than Melanc- 
thon. They were dismayed at hearing 
he was inclined to recognize the primacy 
of the Bishop of Rome, and wrote urging 
him not to forsake the standard of Jesus 
Christ. 

The works of the reformers had reached 
Turin. In Piedmont the Reformation 
had already appeared at Aosta, and most 
of its doctrines had been current for ages 
among the Waldensian valleys. Celio 
Secundo Curione, the descendant of a 
noble family that lived near Turin, had 
received from his father's dying hands 
a Bible, and the world of the Spirit 
opened before his soul. He received from 
the Augustine monks, and read with 
eagerness, Luther's Babylonian Cap- 
tivity, Melancthon's Principles of The- 
ology, and Zwingle's True and False 
Religion. In company with three enthu- 
siastic young Italians, he set out for Wit- 
temberg, to commune with the reformers ; 
but the party were denounced to Boni- 
face, Cardinal-bishop of Ivrea, and thrown 
into prison. Influential friends soon se- 
cured their release, and the cardinal 
determined to do all in his power to 
attach this noble-minded student to the 
Roman Church. Although now shut up 
in a monastery, Curione' s soul burnt 
with zeal for the Word of God, and he 
protested against the idolatrous reverence 
paid by the monks to relics of bones and 
skull. One day in 1530 he put in the 
mysterious coffer in place of its relics, 
the Bible with this inscription upon it : 
" This is the ark of the covenant, wherein a 
man can inquire of the true oracles of God, 
and in which are contained the true relics 
of the saints.''' 1 The monks did not dis- 
cover this substitution till they opened 
the shrine on a festival day ; they accused 
their young companion of sacrilege, and 
he fled to Milan for refuge. As famine 
and pestilence were wasting this district, 
he gave himself with his whole heart to 
works of Christian charity. As soon as 
the scourge abated, he gained the hand of 
Margarita Bianca, who became the faithful 
and brave companion of his life. 

Desiring to receive his patrimony, Cu- 
rione returned to Piedmont. Here he 
heard a Dominican monk preach that 



Luther permitted the Germans "to in- 
dulge in all kinds of excess. He teaches 
moreover that Christ is not God, and that 
he was not born of a virgin." Curione 
proved the falseness of the monk's calum- 
nies, by at once reading extracts from Lu- 
ther's Commentary on the Galatians. The 
congregation was disgusted, and the 
Dominican was beaten ; but soon after 
the valiant evangelist was seized, and 
thrown into prison at Turin. His covet- 
ous brother and sister made common 
cause with the priests to destroy him. 
The bishop started for Rome to obtain 
from the pope his condemnation to death. 

Curione was now confined in a strong 
Italian mansion, under the charge of the 
coadjutor David. His feet were roughly 
riveted together by heavy chains, which 
were fastened to the wall. He recognized 
the house as one with which he had been 
familiar in his boyhood, and called to 
remembrance the arrangement of its gal- 
leries, staircase, doors and windows. The 
swelling of his fettered feet soon gave him 
great pain, and he induced his keeper to 
set one of his feet free by turns. Curione 
now planned an escape. He stuffed his 
empty boot with rags, and attached to it 
a wooden leg, broken from a stool, which 
he arranged to imitate his freed liinb ; his 
long Spanish robe aided this stratagem. 
Presently the jailers appeared, loosed the 
chained foot, put the fetters on the sham 
leg, and went away. Celio was free, and 
found that his jailers had even neglected 
to fasten the room-door. Late at night 
he cautiously groped his way down stairs, 
escaped into the court-yard through a 
.window, scaled the wall, and found a safe 
hiding-place in a secluded village in the 
duchy of Milan. 

He was persuaded to teach in the uni- 
versity of Pavia ; but the active opposi- 
tion of the inquisition forced him to seek 
in Ferrara that enlightened protection 
which the Duchess Renee extended to all 
who loved the Gospel. This christian 
daughter of Louis XII. was closely at- 
tached to her cousin Margaret, although 
her junior by eighteen years. Less beau- 
tiful, she resembled her in possessing a 
great soul, a generous heart, a sound 
judgment, and a firm will. She welcomed 
to her court the learned men' of Italy, 
and the evangelical refugees from France. 
"She desires to do good to everybody;" 
it was said; "in one year she assisted 
ten thousand of her fellow countrymen." 

While Venice, Turin, Milan, Ferrara, 
Modena, and other cities of upper Italy 
were listening to the voice of the Gospel, 
the centre and south of the Peninsula had 
also their witnesses to the truth. 

Bernardino Occhino, born at Sienna in 
1487, was the most famous preacher of 
the age. He was a great orator, but not 
a great divine. In early life he was a 
Franciscan monk; but he found that an 
ascetic life could not satisfy his need of ho- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



9S3 



1'ness. In 1534, he turned from supersti- 
tious practices to the Scriptures. He found 
therein the peace which he sought ; yet 
for some time longer the Roman-Catholic 
Church was in his eyes the true Church. 
He continued his itinerant ministry, and 
his preaching became more spiritual. He 
always went on foot, though weak in 
body. The wealthiest citizens entertained 
him ; but he would eat only of one plain 
dish, and slept upon the floor. Crowds of 
people thronged to hear him, and they re- 
garded this extraordinary man as a saint. 
His ease and grace of explanation charmed 
all hearers, and his evangelical language 
touched their hearts. All voices hailed 
him as the first preacher of Italy. 

At this time Florence, the land of the 
Medici, illustrious from its attachment to 
letters and liberty, was not to be a barren 
soil. In the year 1500, was born to the 
wealthy Stephen Yermigli a son whom he 
named Peter Martyr, in honor of Peter of 
Milan put to death by the Arians. His 
mother inspired him with a thirst for 
learning and for piety ; he possessed so- 
lidity of judgment and depth of mind. 
His father disinherited him because he 
would not engage in the service of the 
State ; and in 1518 the young man entered 
the monastery of St. Augustine. He 
studied at the university of Padua, and in 
1526 was called to the ministry. Peter 
Martyr preached at Rome, Bologna, Pisa, 
Venice, Mantua, Bergamo, and other cities. 
He studied the Scriptures in Greek and 
Hebrew, and the Spirit of God opened his 
understanding. In 1530, he was made 
Prior of St. Peter's ad aram, at Naples. 

In 1534, there lived in Sienna a classic 
scholar named Antonio della Paglia, 
known as Aonio Paleario, to whose bril- 
liant lectures students went in numbers. 
He was the son of an old patrician house 
of Veroli. The war of 1527 drove him 
from Rome ; he visited Florence, Ferrara, 
Padua, and Bologna, settling in Sienna in 
1532. He was a poet, and wrote in Latin 
on the immortality of the soul. Religious 
quest ; ons now agitated him : he read not 
only St. Augustine, but the Reformers and 
the Holy Scriptures. ' ' All who turn their 
souls towards Jesus crucified," said he, 
" and bind themselves to him with thor- 
ough confidence, are delivered from evil 
and receive forgiveness of their sins." He 
married, and had two sons and two daugh- 
ters ; his family were, after God, the con- 
solation of a life agitated by the injustice 
of his enemies. His trials made him sigh 
for the peace of a country life, and lie 
wrote of its attractions with a simplicity 
like the ancient times. 

Paleario' s best friend was Antonio Bel- 
lantes, president of the Council of Nine. 
After Bellantes' death, the monks were 
accused of stealing the ready money left 
by him to his mother, and in revenge 
the catholics swore upon the altar to 
destroy Paleario. They strove to entrap 
him into heretical admissions, and three 
03 



times asked him : " What is the means of 
salvation given by God to man?" Each 
time he answered : " Christ" — instead of 
the Church. From that time he was a lost 
man. He was accused of heresy to the 
senate, while absent at Rome, and his wife 
passed whole days in tears. At last order 
and liberty were restored in the govern- 
ment of the republic and Paleario re- 
turned to his country house near Cplle. 
His adversaries at once laid a charge of 
heresy before the senate of Sienna and the 
court of Rome. Twelve delegates turbu- 
lently proceeded to the residence of Arch- 
bishop Francesco Bandini, an illustrious 
ecclesiastic, and conjured him in the name 
of religion to support the charge against 
Paleario. The Archbishop consented the 
courts should decide the charge. These 
enemies at once set to work to prejudice 
the community, and had Paleario sum- 
moned before the senate on a charge of 
heresy. That innocent and just man was 
not blind to the danger and difficulty of 
his position. "Alas!" said he, "where 
can the righteous man turn ? whom can 
he implore ?" 

Paleario went to the palace of the Sig- 
niory, accompanied by some faithful 
friends, strong in innocence and faith. 
His judges and adversaries were in attend- 
ance. He eloquently defended himself, 
and said to his bitterest accuser : " Cotta, 
you imagine you are a Christian, because 
you bear the image of Christ upon your 
purple robe ; while by your calumnies you 
are crushing an innocent man, who is also 
an image, a living image, of Jesus Christ." 
In attacking him, his adversaries really 
attacked the Gospel, the Reformation, and 
those excellent men whom God was 
making use of to transform Christian soci- 
ety. Paleario boldly defended the reform- 
ers in the presence of all Italy. "What 
noble theologians there are in Germany. . . 
Exact, sincere, earnest, they have pro- 
fessed the truths which we find set forth 
by the early fathers. . . . Can there be 
anything more striking, more glorious, or 
more deserving our eternal gratitude ? . . . 
If I must suffer a penalty for the testi- 
mony I have borne to the Son of God, be- 
lieve me that no happier fate could befall 
me ; in truth I do not think that a Chris- 
tian in our times ought to die in his bed." 
If this noble victim spoJce at Sienna, he 
was to act at Rome in 1570. The impres- 
sion produced by his address was so pro- 
found, that the senate declared Paleario 
innocent. He withdrew to Lucca, and 
held the chair of eloquence. 

Beside these lights — a Curione or a Pa- 
leario, scattered here and there over Italy — 
there were societies of Christian men in 
several cities who courageously professed 
evangelical truth. Bologna in particular 
— a city in -the neighborhood of Ferrara, 
and whose university was, along with that 
of Paris, the first of the great schools of 
Europe — counted a large number of lay- 
men and ecclesiastics who were earnest 



984 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



for the Reformation. In 1533, they said to 
the ambassador of Saxony: "If neces- 
sary, we will sacrifice our fortunes and 
our lives in our Redeemer's cause ; and as 
long as we live, we will commend it daily 
to God by fervent prayer." Such was the 
decision of the Christians of Italy, even in 
the cities subject to the pope. At this 
time the Court of Rome turned John Mol- 
lio, a Franciscan, out of the university of 
Bologna, for declaring the Christian truth 
as found in the New Testament. 

The Gospel had made noble conquests 
in the north and centre of the peninsula : 
it did the same at Naples, and even at 
Rome. 

It was not the Italians alone who spread 
the Gospel in Italy. Among the contem- 
poraries and acquaintances of Paleario, 
Peter Martyr, and Occhino, were two twin 
brothers, descended from one of the oldest 
families of Leon in Spain, Juan and Al- 
fonso di Valdez ; they were born in 15(0. 
Alfonso was the secretary of Charles V., 
and heard Luther at the Diet at Worms ; 
yet Erasmus was the bridge by which he 
passed from Rome to the Gospel. The 
news of the famous sack of Rome by the 
troops of Charles V., in 1527, gave him 
boldness to publish a "Dialogue on the 
Things which happened at Rome," which 
sharply attacked the papacy. In 1528, 
Juan issued a Dialogue, half serious and 
half in jest, between Mercury and Charon, 
which exposed the oppressions and impiety 
of the vicar of heaven. The priests 
raised a violent storm against these bro- 
thers, but the emperor's name protected 
them. At Augsburg in 1530, Alfonso 
played the part of mediator between 
Charles V. and the protestants, and imme- 
diately translated the celebrated evangeli- 
cal confession into French. From this 
period, Alfonso shared his time between 
Germany and Italy ; henceforward his 
brother occupies the foremost place. Juan 
settled permanently at Naples in 1534. 
"He did not frequent the court very much 
after Christ was revealed to him," says 
Curione ; but he loved the Gospel above 
everything, and sought to make it known 
by his conversations and writings. He 
became all things to all men to. bring souls 
to Christ. "An honored and brilliant 
knight of the emperor, he was a still more 
honored and brilliant knight of Jesus 
Christ," 

Peter Martyr Vermigli arrived in Naples 
in 1530, as abbot of St. Peter's ad aram, 
and there made great progress in the 
knowledge of the Gospel. He studied the 
writings of the apostles, and those of 
Bucer, Zwingle, Luther, and Melancthon. 
Daily he conversed about the Scriptures 
with Flaminio and Valdez ; above all 
things, he sought to impart by preaching 
the light which he had received. Ver- 
migli preached on the First Epistle to the 
Corinthians, before a large audience in- 
cluding even bishops. He showed the 



foundation of Christian doctrine to be : 
Other foundation can no man lay than that 
is laid, which is Christ Jems. This evan- 
gelical sermon aroused a storm in Naples, 
and for a short time the pulpit was closed 
against him. 

This persecution was salutary to the 
Christian circle at Chiaja. It grew wider ; 
nobles and scholars attended the meetings, 
among others Benedetta Gusano de Verceil 
and Giovanni Francesco Caserta. The 
latter soon led to the Gospel Galeazzo, son 
of the Marquis Caraccioli ; a little later, 
this young nobleman abandoned his rich 
patrimony to remain faithful to the Gospel 
in Geneva. High-born dames were in this 
select circle : Vittoria Colonna, widow of 
the Marquis of Pescara, Isabella di Bre- 
segna, and Guilia di Gonzaga, the widowed 
duchess of Trajetta, the most beautiful 
woman in Italy, whom Barbarossa the 
corsair tried to carry off in IT 34. These 
noble minds loved to converse upon the 
mysterious questions of Christian faith. 

In 1536 the celebrated Occhino testified 
to the living faith in Naples, and scattered 
among the people the religious ideas which 
Valdez and Peter Martyr propagated 
among the noble and learned ; and against 
his sermons the Cardinal of Gaeta pro- 
tested in vain. The emperor heard him 
preach in Naples, and said : "That monk 
would make the very stones weep." 
Giulia Gonzaga did not miss one of his 
sermons ; she was deeply agitated, and 
revealed to Valdez the distress, the hope?, 
and the struggles of her soul. "The law 
has wounded you," he said ; "the Gospel 
will heal you ; for if the Law gives death, 
the Gospel gives life. . . . There are three 
paths which lead to the knowledge of God : 
the natural light, which teaches us the 
omnipotence of God ; the Old Testament, 
which shows us the Creator as hating 
iniquity ; and lastly, Christ, the sure, 
clear, and royal way. Christ is love ; and 
accordingly, when we know God through 
him, we know him as a God of love. 
Christ has made satisfaction for sin. An 
infinite God alone could pay an infinite 
debt. But it is not sufficient to believe it : 
we must experience it also. Two images 
should be continually before your eyes : 
that of Christian perfection, and that of 
your own imperfection." — The daughter 
of the Gonzagas sat in spirit at her 
Saviour's feet, and gave herself to him 
with all her soul. Not long after Valdez 
dedicated to her a translation of the 
Psalms from the Hebrew. Subsequently 
he published Commentaries on the Epistles 
of Paul to the Romans and to the Corin- 
thians. These Christians had to endure 
contumely and scorn for their faith ; for 
Charles V. had published an edict forbid- 
ding all intercourse with those, infected 
with or only suspected of Lutheranism. 

In this charming circle at Chiaja was 
the distinguished Pietro Carnesecchi, a 
patrician of Florence, who had been sec- 
retary to Clement VII., and had several 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



985 



times refused a. cardinal's hat. "With no- 
bility of features, he combined modesty 
and gravity of bearing. Charles V. while 
in Naples invited Carnesecchi to a private 
interview, and endeavored to learn from 
him what schemes the pope had formed 
with Francis I., at Marseilles. Carnesec- 
chi would not violate the confidence which 
Clement had reposed in him. Carnesecchi 
much preferred the conferences he had 
with Valdez, Peter Martyr, and Occhino. 
Ere long he sat humbly at the foot of the 
cross, of whom it had been said formerly: 
"The pontificate was at that time filled 
by Pietro Carnesecchi rather than by 
Clement." He believed in those truths 
which he afterwards confessed before the 
college of cardinals, and on account of 
which he was put to death by the pope. 

Two groups of pious men took part at 
this time in the revival of Italy : the in- 
dependent Christians, like Carnesecchi and 
Paleario, all of whom ended their lives in 
exile, or at the stake ; and men of hier- 
archical tendency, as Contarini and Ca- 
raffa, (afterwards the persecuting Paul 
IV.,) who had belonged to the Oratory of 
Divine Love, and subsequently rose to the 
highest posts in the Church. Between 
them were many truly Christian people, 
who were with the evangelicals in faith, 
but yet clung to Rome. Of this number 
was Flaminio, one of Valdez' s best friends. 
"With the gifts of a poet, he also experi- 
enced adversities and anguish. His literary 
and philosophical studies could not satisfy 
him. "The study of the heavenly truth 
is the goal I set before me," he said. " I 
desire to adore the eternal God with 
fervor, and devote my life to the salvation 
of souls. ' ' He visited in succession Rome, 
Venice, and Verona. In the latter city, he 
followed so zealously the rigid ascetic 
practices of Bishop Giovanni Matteo Gi- 
berto, that he nearly lost his life. He 
afterwards entered the household of the 
violent Giovanni Pietro Caraffa, Bishop of 
Chieti, afterwards pope, under the name 
of Paul IV, and the restorer of the in- 
quisition. In Naples, Flaminio learnt the 
way of peace by intercourse with its pious 
men ; from here he dedicated his book on 
the Psalms to the famous cardinal Far- 
nese. While Flaminio desired to live in 
the Roman Church, Carnesecchi was still 
more resolved to walk in the paths of the 
Gospel ; and they had many serious but 
friendly discussions. He returned to 
Rome,, and Reginald Pole, cousin to 
Henry VIII., endeavored to win him to 
the papacy ; but -he belonged to neither 
party. 

The religious revival at "Wittemberg, 
Zurich, and Cambridge, reached to the 
gates of the Vatican at Rome. In the 
Trastevere — in the very spot where it was 
said St. Peter had dwelt— the Oratory of 
Divine Love was formed, of nearly sixty 



ecclesiastics and laymen ; of some the 
living piety endured to the end. Among' 
them were Giberto and Caraffa, Gaetano 
di Thiene, afterwards canonized, Reginald 
Pole, and Pietro Bembo, a friend of 
letters. Many a monk shut up in his con- 
vent, particularly the Benedictines, felt 
the influence of the revival. Giovanni- 
Battista Folengo was a most striking ex- 
ample of this semi-evangelical, semi-mo- 
nastic life. He studied the Scriptures by 
day and night, and published evangelical 
commentaries. His works were con- 
demned by one infallible pontiff and ap- 
proved of by another. 

Gasper Contarini, a senator of Venice 
in 1521, had met Luther at the Diet of 
Worms, and his orderly mind had been 
displeased at the noble impulses of the 
reformer. Contarini, in his first writings, 
established the immortality of the soul by 
philosophical arguments. He was a highly 
cultured scholar, and a member of the 
Oratory of Divine Love. In 1535, he was 
surprised and agitated by his appoint- 
ment as cardinal by Paul III. He finally 
accepted the offer, determined to obey the 
voice of God in his conscience more than 
the varying caprices of the Vatican. The 
pontiff desired to bring the protestants 
back to the Church, and therefore gath- 
ered about him pious men ; he gave the 
purple in succession to Sadolet, Caraffa, 
Giberto, Bishop of Verona, Fregoso, Arch- 
bishop of Salerno, and Reginald Pole. 
Yet these elections became a principle of 
the restoration of Romanism, and of a 
serious and ere long cruel resistance to 
the Reformation. Contarini, the Melanc- 
thon of the papacy, set to work at once to 
reform and to unite the Church. Like 
the reformers, he laid great stress in re- 
ligious matters on the positive side, but 
remained faithful to Roman-catholicism 
by extenuating the negative side. He 
hoped for success, and we shall see here- 
after the result. 

From the Alps to Sicily, burning lights 
of the Reformation had everywhere ap- 
peared, and men rejoiced in their bright- 
ness. Thus two great forces met face to 
face — Rome and the Gospel. Not only 
evangelicals, such as Curione and Car- 
nesecchi, but pious catholics were full of 
hope of a reform. Calvin was about to 
enter Italy: if he should settle in the 
birth-place of Savonarola, his faith,' tiis 
talents, and his activity might gain a glo- 
rious victory for the truth. But the 
times of Rome were not accomplished. 
Paul III., finding his efforts at unity ended 
in nothing, suddenly turned upon the Re- 
formation, and endeavored to crush it. 
Those men who would have been the re- 
generators of Italy, had either to flee for 
their lives, or were insulted, condemned, 
beheaded, and burned. 



©83 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK VIII. 
ENGLAND BREAKS WITH ROME. 

1534—1536. 

A Conspiracy against the Reformation — Henry VIII. Separates England from the Papacy — 
Beginning of Danger for the Queen and for Tyndale— The King-Pontiff against the 
Roman-Catholics aud the Papacy— Light from Both'Sides— Death of Bishop Fisher and Sir 
Thomas More — Visitation of the Monasteries: their Scandals and Suppression — Union of 
the Church of England with the Protestants of Germany — Accusation of Anne Boleyn — 
Anne Forgives her Enemies and is Put to Death — Reforming movement after Anne's 
Death ; Catholic and Scholastic Reaction — A movement of Scholastic Catholicism inaugu- 
rated by the King. Evangelical Reaction— Insurrection of the North of England °to 
Restore the Papacy and Destroy the Reformation — Death of the Great Reformer of Eng- 
land. 



The Parliament of 1534 had greatly ad- 
vanceci the cause of the Reformation. The 
epoch was a critical one for the nation. 
It might as easily fall back to the pope as 
advance towards the Gospel. Hesitating 
between the middle ages and modern 
times, it chose to follow life rather than 
death. 

Two days after the famous consistory 
in which Henry's condemnation had been 
pronounced, an English courier entered 
Rome, bearing the long expected act by 
which the King of England declared him- 
self prepared to enter into an arrangement 
with the pope. It was just what Clement 
desired ; but the consistory obliged the 
pope to ratify the sentence, and ordered 
the emperor to carry it out. It has been 
said that a delay of two days was the 
cause of the Reformation of England. 
That is a mistake. The Reformation came 
from the Holy Scriptures, from God, from 
His mighty grace, and not from princes, 
their passions, or delays. Sir Edward 
Carne and William Revett, Henry's en- 
voys, speedily arrived in Rome, and were 
thunderstruck to hear that the pope had 
pronounced sentence against Henry VIII. 
Carne dispatched a messenger to the king 
to ask for orders; aud ten days later he 
appealed from the bishop of Rome ill-in- 
formed to the bishop of Rome better in- 
formed. 

"When the King of England received his 
ambassadors' message, he could hardly re- 
strain his anger. National pride arrayed 
the people on the king's side. Henry no 
longer hesitated ; his offended honor de- 
manded reparation ; a complete rupture 
alone could satisfy it. He wrote a treatise 
entitled : "On the power of Christian 
kings over their Churches, against the ty- 
ranny and horrible impiety of the pope." 
Parliament, the privy council, the people, 
and even the clergy, declared against 
Rome. By a vote of thirty-three to four, 
the lower house of Convocation, on the 31st 
of March, decided that the Roman pontiff 
had in England, according to Scripture, no 
higher jurisdiction than any other foreign 
bishop. The friends of the Gospel were 
tilled with joy. 

A dangerous political and clerical con- 



spiracy had been for some time silently 
organizing in the convents, but was discov- 
ered in March, 1534, before its consumma- 
tion. The arrogant and profligate monks 
foresaw that they would be the first victims 
of the revolution, and they resolved to 
fight for their altars and their homes. It 
was a young woman, an ecstatic — nay, a 
fanatic — who grasped the trumpet and 
sounded the charge. Elizabeth Barton 
lived in the village of Aldington in Kent ; 
her face was sallow, her eyes haggard, and 
she was subject to epileptic convulsions, 
in which she lost the use of her limbs and 
understanding, uttered strange and inco- 
herent phrases, and fell at last stiff and 
lifeless to the ground. The rector of the 
j parish, a cunning and grasping priest, re- 
solved to take advantage of her attacks to 
defend the Catholic church from the" as- 
saults of the king, ministers, and parlia- 
ment. Urged on by fanatic appeals, the 
girl pretended to have communications 
with saints and angels ; she feigned to be 
cured by a miraculous interposition of the 
Virgin ; her oracles and miracles were 
multiplied. An account of her declara- 
tions were laid before Archbishop Warham, 
Sir Thomas More, and the king ; the latter 
distrustfully ordered her words to be noted 
down. 

Elizabeth began to denounce the new 
marriage the king desired to contract, 
saying : "If Henry marries Anne Boleyn, 
in seven months' time there will be no 
king in England." The circle of her in- 
fluence at once grew wider, and she was 
at length brought before the king. Her 
demeanor was greatly excited, and she ex- 
claimed : " Satan is tormenting me for the 
sins of my people. O times ! O man- 
ners ! Abominable heresies, impious inno- 
vations ! King of England beware that 
you touch not the power of the holy father. 
Root out the new doctrines ; burn all over 
your kingdom the New Testament in the 
vulgar tongue. Henry forsake Anne 
Boleyn, and take back your wife Cathe- 
rine. If you neglect these things, you 
shall not be king longer than a month. . « 
You shall die the death of a villain." 

This noisy scene produced no effect on 
the king, and the fanatical young woman 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 



937 



now strove to rouse the people. Partisans 
gathered to her from all classes ; Bishop 
Fisher was gained over, and the Roman- 
catholics triumphed. Sir Thomas More, an 
eminent and large-hearted catholic, had but 
little confidence in, her inspiration, and 
advised her not to speak of the affairs of 
princes. Elizabeth Barton did not profit 
by this lesson. It was resolved to excite 
a seditions movement, and many monks 
gladly joined in the conspiracy. Catherine 
and the representatives of the party of the 
White Rose, were in this political alliance. 
The conspirators believed themselves sure 
of victory ; but Cranmer and Cromwell 
discovered the approaching storm. The 
prelate closely questioned Elizabeth, and 
she was sent to the Tower with five other 
nuns of her party. The unhappy creature 
soon confessed everything. " I never had 
a vision in all my life," she declared. 
" Whatever I said was of my own imagi- 
nation ; I invented it to please the people 
about me, and to attract the homage of the 
world." Her priestly accomplices were 
condemned to make a public disavowal of 
their impostures at St. Paul's, and were 
then confined in the Tower. 

The names of the illustrious Fisher and 
More were also in the indictment ; but at 
the solicitations of Cranmer and Crom- 
well, the name of the latter credulous but 
loyal subject was stricken from the bill. 
The honest, but proud and superstitious, 
bishop of Rochester would not acknowl- 
edge any fault. The name of the king's 
old tutor was left, therefore, in the act of 
attainder. The bill was adopted, and on 
the 23d of March sentence of death was 
passed upon all the criminals. On the 20th 
of April, the false prophetess and her 
accomplices were executed at Tyburn. 
In her last words she deplored her de- 
ception. 

The maid of Kent having been exe- 
cuted, her partisans rallied around queen 
Catherine. This proud daughter of Fer- 
dinand and Isabella always claimed the 
honors of a queen, and opposed all at- 
tempts to separate her from her friends. 

Henry had no son, and dreaded a civil 
war after his death between the partisans 
of his two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth. 
Therefore the marriage with queen Anne 
was declared by Parliament to be alone 
valid, and her children solely entitled to 
the succession. All classes of the people, 
even the monks, bound themselves by the 
statutory oath, and swore also to substi- 
tute the primacy of the king for that of 
the pope. Many bishops were not sorry 
to be liberated from the perpetual en- 
croachments of the Roman court : both 
universities and the Church disavowed 
the authority of the pontiff. 

A rumor that the emperor was prepar- 
ing for the invasion of England, led 
Henry and Francis I. to negotiate for a 
defensive alliance. Henry determined to 
finish with the pope as the pope had fin- 



ished with him, and to declare himself 
master in his own island. The evangeli- 
cal party desired to go farther, and drive 
the catholic doctrines out of England. 
These two hostile sections united their 
forces against the common enemy. Cran- 
mer, the ecclesiastical leader of the evan- 
gelicals, gave way too easily to the royal 
pressure ; but he was a moderate theolo- 
gian, a conscientious Christian, "and a 
persevering reformer. Cromwell, the lay 
leader of protestant feeling, was inferior 
in moral qualities, but had a surer and 
wider glance than the primate. These 
leaders were strongly supported by minis- 
ters and lay members. The bold Latimer 
ardently preached evangelical truth. Anne 
Boleyn was charmed by his apostolic zeal, 
and made him her chaplain. 

On the 9th of June, 1534, about three 
months after he had been condemned at 
Rome, Henry signed the proclamation : 
"For the abolishing of the usurped 
power of the pope," requiring "the sweet 
and sincere Word of the Lord" alone to 
be preached, and the name of the bishop 
of Rome to be no more remembered ; and 
declaring himself supreme head of the 
Church of England. The clergy, univer- 
sities, and monasteries speedily made 
their submission. The first pastoral of 
the prince who claimed now to govern the 
Church, seemed to make it a mere depart- 
ment of the State. Henry allowed the 
bishops to remain ; but he employed the 
functionaries of police and justice to 
sharply overlook their episcopates. The 
power in the Church having been taken 
from the pope, should have been com- 
mitted to the totality of its members— to 
the Christian people. In the apostolic 
age, the Christian Church had in every 
town a council of irreproachable men, 
distinct from ministers of the Word ; and 
it was not until many centuries later that 
a universal chief was created. The su- 
preme authority in the Church was now 
given to the State, and probably there were 
not then enough enlightened Christians 
to form these assemblies. 

Two persons were at this time especially 
dreaded by the Roman party : the Queen 
and Tyndale. The hour of trial was ap- 
proaching for both of them. 

The translation of the Holy Scriptures 
was the life-work of the reformer Tyn- 
dale. Thomas Poyntz, a warm-hearted 
Christian merchant of Antwerp, received 
the refugee into his house ; and the latter 
heard of the martyrdom of Fryth while 
translating the Old Testament. Tyndale, 
strengthened by faith, redoubled his zeal 
in his Master's service, lie consecrated 
to the poor the money given to him ; two 
days of the week, Mondays and Saturday*, 
were devoted to relieving the nee 
of the afflicted, in "every hole and cor- 
ner." This is what Tyndale culled his 
"pastime." On Sundays he conducted 
evangelical service, and the rest i 



9S8 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



week he gave entirely to his translation. 
He was master of Hebrew, Greek, Latin, 
Spanish, French, and English. This 
learned' scholar was vexed to see issued a 
"corrected" edition of his translation by 
George Joye, a superficial man, who fol- 
lowed the Vulgate and his own imagina- 
tion. 

Tyndale was much gratified at hearing 
of the order of Queen Anne Boleyn to 
C rem well, to indemnify the merchants 
who had suffered loss from having intro- 
duced the New Testament into England. 
He rejoiced to know that she wished to be 
the mother of her people who trod in the 
paths of Holy Scripture, and he gratefully 
presented her with a handsome copy of 
his New Testament. The king was much 
annoyed at this order of the queen, and 
at her apparent opposition to his opinions. 
The Roman party were still more irrita- 
ted ; but as they dared not attack the 
queen, they looked about for another vic- 
tim. 

Gardiner, now bishop of Winchester, 
and his allies resolved to have Tyndale 
seized in the states of Charles V. and put 
to death. Near the end of 1534, they 
despatched to Antwerp a very clever monk 
of Stratford Abbey, and a zealous young 
papist. The latter soon gained Tyndale' s 
heart by his amiability, and plotted how 
to capture him at a favorable moment. 
The emperor's ministers, believing that 
if they put Tyndale to death they would 
save the papacy in England, gave the ser- 
v'ces of the imperial prosecutor and other 
officers. The English merchant was now 
absent at Bar-le-Duc, and it was agreed to 
arrest the reformer without the knowledge 
of the city authorities. This new Judas 
arranged to dine with his victim, and 
posted his agents outside of the narrow 
passage-way that led to the house, saying : 
" I shall come out with Tyndale ; and the 
man I point out with my finger, is the one 
you will seize." Finding his Christian 
victim at home, this perfidious man bor- 
rowed thirty pounds sterling from him ; 
then, as the doctor had an invitation to 
dine, he led him out as a lamb to the 
slaughter, placing his forefinger as a signal 
over'Tyndale's head. The simple-minded 
martyr did not at first understand what 
his captors intended doing. He was led 
to the house of the imperial prosecutor, 
and detained till his papers and books 
were seized. Then he was imprisoned in 
the strong castle of Vilvorde. This oc- 
curred in August, 1535. His betrayer fled 
to Louvain, and. often boasted of his 
treacherous act. 

The English merchants of Antwerp im- 
mediately called upon the governor of the 
English factory to take measures in favor 
of their countrymen ; but he refused. 
Tyndale, deprived of all hope, sought con- 
solation in God. "Oh! what a happy 
thing it is to suffer for righteousness' 
sake," he said. "My enemies destine me 
for the stake, but I am as innocent as a 



new-born child of the crimes of which they 
accuse me. My God will not forsake me." 

While the Roman papacy was triumph- 
ing in the Low Countries, Henry VIII. 
was giving his orders like a sovereign 
bishop, and the majority of the- priests 
yielded to him. Every preacher was bound 
to preach once at least against the usurpa- 
tions of the papacy, and the secular 
clergy generally obeyed. The signs of 
opposition were but slight, and the priests 
generally schooled their penitents to 
employ mental reservations. Yet these 
burdens upon the conscience made many 
ecclesiastics and laymen feel uneasy. Two 
men, a layman and a bishop, celebrated 
throughout Christendom, Fisher and Sir 
Thomas More, prepared to oppose the 
king's will even unto death. 

With many other ecclesiastics and influ- 
ential men, the ex-chancellor and the 
bishop were summoned to Lambeth palace, 
to take the oath prescribed in the Act of 
Succession, recognizing the king as the 
head of the Anglican Church. More and 
Fisher alone refused to swear ; the former 
said : " I cannot subscribe that form with- 
out exposing my soul to everlasting damna- 
tion. I am ready to give my adhesion to 
the Act of Succession, which is a political 
act, but without the preamble." They 
were sent to the tower, in December, 
1534. More's daughter, Margaret, visited 
him, and exclaimed : " Take the oath ; 
death is hanging over your head." Sir 
Thomas replied : "Nothing will happen 
to me but what pleases God." — The Car- 
thusian monks of London resisted the oath 
for a time ; but the fear of the tower led 
them to take it "so far as it was lawful." 

While England was separating from 
Rome, Clement VII. was dying of vexa- 
tion. His successor, Paul III., said to 
Henry's envoy : " There is nothing in the 
world that I have more at heart than to 
satisfy your master." It was too late to 
appease the offended king. As a lay pope, 
he now became cruel and blood-thirsty. 
The first act passed by parliament in 1534. 
ratified the king's new title as head of 
the Church of England, and' gave him 
"full authority to put down all heresies 
and enormities." Thus Henry VIII. 
united the two swords in his hand. Yet 
the consciences of Christians revolted at 
this act of the catholic party in England. 
Some time after Cranmer was asked : 
" Who is the supreme head of the Church 
of England?"—" Christ," was the reply, 
"as He is of the universal Church." — 
"But did you not recognize the king as 
supreme head of the Church?" — "We 
recognized him as head of all the people of 
England,' 1 '' answered Cranmer ; " of church- 
men as well as of laymen." — " What ! not 
of the Church ?"— " No ! Supreme head of 
the Church never had any other meaning 
than what I tell you." 

In England it was reserved for Catholics 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



980 



as well as for evangelicals to give to the 
world, amid great misery, remarkable ex- 
amples of Christian virtues. Leaders of 
the pontifical army were to be smitten in 
the struggle in which so many evangeli- 
cals had already fallen. While Sir Thomas 
More lay in prison, he strove to banish 
afflicting thoughts concerning the future 
by writing a history of Christ's passion. 
Suffering preceded his martyrdom. For 
a while his clothing and food were misera- 
ble, and he had to write his thoughts on 
little scraps of paper with a coal ; but this 
scandalous neglect was remedied about 
Christmas time. 

The parties in England were all in com- 
motion. Friends of the papacy, the ad- 
vocates of the supremacy of the king, 
and the evangelicals under Cranmer, each 
sought to advance its principles. This 
contest was a terrible drama, destined to 
wind up not in a single catastrophe but in 
marry. The prudent Cranmer lived in 
constant anxiety, and moved forward 
slowly : he modified an evangelical move- 
ment by a clerical concession. Not- 
withstanding his compromises, he never 
abandoned the great principles of the 
Reformation. Had he not bent at times 
beneath the Tudor' s sceptre, he would 
have been crushed, and protestantism 
with him. 

Cranmer now undertook the most im- 
portant step of all : he sought to give the 
Bible to the laity . He made a proposition 
to Convocation that the Holy Scriptures 
should be translated into English by cer- 
tain honorable and learned men, and be 
circulated among the people. Stokesley, 
Gardiner, and other bishops opposed this 
measure, but Cranmer triumphed. The 
king gave his assent, upon condition that 
the bishops should henceforth recognize 
the pope as merely bishop of Rome. Cran- 
mer was overjoyed. "If we possess the 
Holy Scriptures," he said, "we have at 
hand a remedy for every disease." Tak- 
ing for the ground-work an existing trans- 
lation, (doubtless Tyndale's,) he divided 
the New Testament into ten portions, and 
distributed these among the most learned 
of the bishops for their examination ; but 
many of the portions returned were pitia- 
ble, and the archbishop saw he must find 
colleagues better disposed. As popery 
and rebellion were openly preached in the 
dioceses of Winchester and London, the 
metropolitan, in despite the opposition of 
their bishops and with the sanction of the 
king, made an official visitation in those 
districts. 

Francis I. feared the effects of these 
severities, and endeavored to reconcile the 
king with the pope. Although Paul III. 
withdrew the decree of Clement VII., 
Henry VIII. went on his way crushing 
those subjects who refused to recognize 
his supremacy. He first attacked the 
Carthusians, the most respectable of the 
monastic orders in England, for not re- 
jecting the Roman authority. The monks 



refused to yield, and the prior said to his 
brethren : " I am ready to give up my life to 
save you ; but if one death does not satisfy 
the king, then let us all die." — "Yes we 
will all die, " answered the brethren. Next 
morning they made a general confession 
and begged forgiveness of one another. 
Two days after, they celebrated the mass 
of the Holy Ghost with much enthusiasm. 
The king had evidently not so much to 
fear in this quarter as from revolts in 
Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, and Ireland, in- 
duced by the excitement. The govern- 
ment sent the Carthusians an absolute 
order to acknowledge the royal supre- 
macy. At this time, there was in reality 
no liberty on one side or the other. 

On the 29th of April, 1535, three priors, 
Haughton of London, Robert Laurence 
of Belleval, and Augustine Webster of 
Ax holm, were tried and found guilty of 
high treason for refusing to take the oath. 
The court hoped to intimidate Fisher and 
More, by the execution of the three priors, 
4th May, 1535. " They went as cheerfully 
to death, ' ' said More, as they passed his 
window, "as if they were bridegrooms 
going to be married." As the rope was 
placed about Haughton' s neck, he ex- 
claimed : "Holy Jesus, have mercy on 
me." The others said: " God has mani- 
fested great grace to us by calling us to die 
in defence of the catholic faith. No, the 
king is not head of the Church of Eng- 
land." Other Carthusians and, as a 
recompense, some anabax3tists were after- 
wards put to death. 

Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher 
were now visited by Cromwell, and urged 
to acknowledge the king's supremacy. 
Both refused, and the execution of their 
sentence could not be long delayed. Henry 
hesitated to put to death his ex-chancellor 
and his old tutor. About the 20th May, 
Paul III. appointed as cardinals John Du 
Bellay, Contarini, Caracciolo, and Fisher, 
bishop of Rochester. The latter said : 
"If the cardinal's hat were at my feet, I 
would not stoop to pick it up." Henry 
was enraged at this apparent challenge, 
and the death of these two men was has- 
tened. On the 14th June, 153"), More was 
again urged to accept the royal supremacy 
as established by law. He answered : 
"That law is a two-edged sword. If I 
accept it, it kills my soul ; if I reject it, it 
kills my body." 

On the 22d June, the aged bishop was 
awakened, and told it was the king's good 
pleasure he should be executed thai morn- 
ing. "I most humbly thank his Majesty," 
he replied, "that he is pleased to relieve 
me from all the affairs of this world 
Grant me only an hour or two more, for I 
slept very badly last night." His slumber 
lasted till near eight o'clock, and then lie 
dressed himself in his best clothes, say- 
ing: "This is my wedding day. and I 
ought to dress as if for a holiday." At 
nine, he was led from his cell by the lieu- 



990 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



tenant. On his way lie opened his New 
Testament for consolation, praying : "O 
Lord ! I open it for the last time. Grant 
that I may find some words of comfort to 
the end that I may glorify thee in my last 
hoar." The first words he saw were 
these : Hcec est autem vita celerna, ut cog- 
noscant te solum Beum et quern misisti Je- 
sum Christum. — " And this is life eternal, 
that they might know thee the only true 
God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast 
sent." Fisher closed the book, and said : 
"That will do. Here is learning enough 
to last me to my life's end." 

At the foot of the scaffold in Smithfield, 
the porters who had carried the feeble old 
man in an arm chair, said : ' ' We will help 
you to ascend." — "No, sirs," he answered. 
" Come, feet ! do your duty ; you have not 
far to go." The sun shone upon his face 
on the scaffold ! They looked unto Him and 
were lightened, he cried, and their faces 
were not ashamed. He forgave the execu- 
tioner, laid aside his robes, and spake : 
"Christians, I give my life for my faith 
in the holy catholic Church of Christ. I 
do not fear death. Assist me, however, 
with your prayers, so that when the axe 
falls I may remain firm. God save the 
king and the kingdom !" He prayed his 
last prayer : " Eternal God, my hope is in 
thy deliverance." His eyes were ban- 
daged, and his head cut off at one blow 
of the axe. It was exposed by Henry's 
orders on London bridge ; but the 
soldiers, buried his body. Thus died a 
pious Roman-catholic bishop. 

It was now the turn of Sir Thomas 
More. On the 1st July, 1535, he was 
led on foot through the streets of London 
to the tribunal of that court at "Westmin- 
ster where he had often presided. Nothing 
could save the noble-minded man, feeble 
in body but strong in spirit ; the jury 
gave a verdict of guilty. " Now that all 
is over," said the prisoner, " I will speak. 
Yes, the oath of supremacy is illegal. 
The Great Charter laid down that the 
Church of England is free, so that its 
rights and liberties might be equally pre- 
served " — "The Church must be free," 
said the lawyers : "it is ii"t therefore the 
slave of the pope." — "Yes, free," retor- 
ted More ; " it is not therefore the slave of 
the king." He was condemned to be 
hanged and quartered ; but the king or- 
dered that he should be merely beheaded. 

At the door of the court-room, his son 
fell at his feet, weeping and exclaiming : 
"Your blessing, father ! your blessing !" 
More raised him up, kissed him tenderly, 
and blessed him. As he landed on the 
wharf of the Tower, his daughter broke 
through his guard, and fell upon his neck, 
exclaiming amid heart-rending sobs : 
"Father, father!" He answered in a 
trembling voice : " Daughter, I am inno- 
cent ; but remember that however hard 
the blow with which I am struck, it comes 
from God. Submit thy will to the good 
pleasure of the Lord." The loving daugh- 



ter was torn by force from her father, and 
again she broke through the crowd to 
throw herself into his arms. More would 
not weep at death, but the tears poured 
down his cheeks for love ; and "very few 
in the troop could refrain from weep- 
ing." The women of Margaret's house- 
hold bore her away, and the prisoner re- 
entered the tower. 

Sir Thomas spent six more days and 
nights in prison, increasing his macera- 
tions and scourgings, wearing a winding- 
sheet, yet giving much time to Christian 
meditations. On the 5th of July, he wrote 
to Margaret a tender farewell, sent her as 
an inheritance his hair, shirt and scourge, 
and begged as an only favor of the king 
that she might be present at his burial! 
The next day he dressed himself for exe- 
cution in a fine silk robe, and as he walked 
to the scaffold he carried a crucifix in his 
hand. A poor woman handed him a cup 
of wine, to whom he gently said : "Thank 
you, thank you ; Christ drank vinegar 
only." At the scaffold, he said to King- 
ston : "Give me your hand to help me 
up. As for my coming down, you may let 
me shift for myself." He spoke to the 
people : "I die in the faith of the catholic 
Church, and a faithful servant of God and 
the king " Kneeling down, he repeated 
the fifty-first Psalm : Have mercy upon 
me God, according to thy loving kindness. 
To the executioner he spoke : " Why do 
you talk of forgiveness ; you are doing me 
the greatest kindness I ever received from 
man." As his head was upon the block, 
and the axe was uplifted, he put aside his 
long and curly beard, saying : "This at 
least lias not committed treason." Thus 
peacefully fell that noble head, to hang on 
London bridge. Our sympathies are for 
these Christian victin 
the royal executioner, 

The death of these two celebrated men 
caused an immense sensation. In England 
every one trembled. The enlightened men 
of the continent displayed more liberty and 
energy in their execrations of horror. 
Even Francis I. and Charles V. joined 
in condemnation. At Rome, in particu- 
lar, the anger was terrible. Paul III. was 
deeply angered, and prepared a bull "of 
anathema, of malediction, and of condem- 
nation ' ' against Henry and his States ; 
but delayed its publication. Cromwell 
strove to justify the king to the Vatican, 
by falsely accusing these good men of se- 
dition and conspiracy. 

The death of the late tutor and friend 
of the prince, was to be followed by a 
measure less cruel but far more general. 
The pope, who treated kings so rudely, 
should not be surprised if kings treated 
the monks severely. Henry had been a 
close witness of their lazy and often irreg- 
ular lives. One day, pretending to be lost 
in the forest of Windsor, he dined with a 
dyspeptic abbot, whose over pampered 
appetite rejected even dainty dishes. The 




BKHEADAL OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



991 



incognito king dined so heartily on a sir- 
loin of beef that the admiring abbot said : 
li I would give a hundred pounds to eat 
with as much appetite as you." Shortly 
after the abbot was placed in the Tower, 
and kept upon a diet. of bread and water. 
One day the king permitted him to eat an 
entire joint, and thereupon set him at lib- 
erty after the payment of the hundred 
pounds. 

The monks lived, generally, in idleness, 
gluttony, and licentiousness. "The only 
law they recognize," said Luther, "is that 
of the seven deadly sins." Their acts 
were scandalous ; but they must be noted. 
All classes despised them. The monks 
tried to maintain their power by uphold- 
ing the papacy, and exciting the people 
against the king. Cromwell urged Henry 
to abolish these hostile monasteries, and 
to make their wealth contribute to the 
prosperity of the nation. The debauch- 
eries of certain monks of Waltham Abbey, 
who were wont to spend the night with the 
nuns of Chesham Convent, were exposed 
to the king. Henry resolved to suppress 
these houses of impurity, and use their 
property to fortify the coast, and improve 
the fleet, army, and harbors. In Septem- 
ber, 1585, Cromwell was named vice- 
gerent and vicar-general, conferring on 
him all the ecclesiastical authority vested 
in the king. He was authorized to visit 
all churches and monasteries, and punish 
the guilty. Thus he was given precedence 
over the primate. By this arbitrary way 
the laity re-entered the Church. 

The vicar-general appointed able com- 
missioners : Dr. Leighton, Dr. Loudon, 
Sir Richard Cromwell, ancestor of the 
celebrated Cromwell, and others. The 
universities were not overlooked, and the 
study of scholasticism gave place to phi- 
losophy, the sciences, languages, and 
divinity. Canterbury was the first church 
visited, in October, 1535. Then arch- 
bishop Cranmer publicly exposed the 
corruptions of the papacy in his sermon, 
saying: "The pope's holiness is but a 
holiness in name. Yain glory, worldly 
pomp, unrestrained lust, and vices innu- 
merable, prevail in Rome. I have seen it 
with my own eyes. These many years I 
have daily prayed unto God that I might 
see the power of Rome destroyed." 

The Canterbury monasteries were 
visited, and eight of the brothers were 
convicted of abominable vices, similar to 
the pagan corruptions related by St. Paul. 
In the Carthusian monastery were found 
monks who had seduced nuns in an ad- 
joining cloister — the sin and the absolu- 
tion often following close upon each other. 
Langdon Abbey, near Dover in Kent, was 
surrounded and forcibly entered ; a woman 
w T as found with its profligate abbot, and 
both were imprisoned. It was found that 
the abbot of Fountains had ruined his 
abbey by publicly keeping six women ; 
and that at Mayden- Bradley another prior 
had five women, six sons, and a daughter. 



In St. Anthony's convent at Bristol were 
shown for money, a tunic of our Lord, a 
petticoat of the Virgin, a part of the Last 
Supper, and a fragment of the stone on 
which Jesus was born at Bethlehem. At 
Hales in Glocestershire was pretended to 
be preserved some of Christ's blood in a 
bottle — " a crystal very thick on one side 
and very transparent on the other.". The 
sinner who was absolved, it was said, saw 
the blood instantaneously ; but the cun- 
ning monks never showed the transpar- 
ent side till the penitent put a large dona- 
tion on the altar. At Boxley in Kent was 
a famous crucifix, the image of which, 
moved by concealed wires, by its motions 
accepted or rejected the offerings made 
to it. "Upon my word," said the 
king after examining it, "I do not know 
whether I ought not to weep rather than 
laugh, on seeing how the poor people of 
England have been fooled for so many 
centuries." In several convents, the visi- 
tors found implements for coining base 
money. But debauchery was the most 
frequent crime. One monk was found 
who, as a confessor, had carried adultery 
into over two hundred families ; the names 
of the wives of several commissioners 
were found on this list. Riots, sieges and 
battles occurred at several places. For- 
tunately, sometimes the monks were 
found to be pious, charitable, industrious, 
and self-supporting. The women's con- 
vents were strictly examined, and search- 
ing questions were asked as to the lives of 
their inmates. In some houses nearly all 
the nuns trampled under foot the most 
sacred duties of their sex, and were with- 
out mercy for the unhappy fruits of their 
disorders. Monasteries were found to be 
hot-beds of vices : their inmates ought to 
have lived with God, but in the midst of 
society. Many young monks and nuns 
were found to be restrained of their free- 
dom, and were glad to be allowed to 
return to secular life. 

The distressed and disgusted commis- 
sioners reported to the council: "We 
have discovered not seven, but more than 
seven hundred thousand deadly sins. . . 
The monasteries are so full of iniquity 
that they ought to fall dowu under such a 
weight. If there be here and there any 
innocent cloister, they are so few in num- 
ber that they cannot save the others." 
The partisans of the religious orders pro- 
posed a reform ; but many believed all 
amendment was impossible. In Febru- 
ary, 1536, the Black Book, containing the 
individual confessions of monks and nuns, 
was laid before Parliament ; at the read- 
ing of these horrible enormities great in- 
dignation was felt. Cromwell restricted 
himself for the moment to the seculariza- 
tion of three hundred and seventy-six 
j cloisters, in each of which there were 
fewer than twelve persons. Immediately 
a great commotion ensued throughout 
England. Some rejoiced, while others 
I wept. "What has hitherto been i 



992 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a religious life, was an irreligious life," 
said Latimer. 

On fhe 4th February, 1536, this measure 
passed parliament, secularizing about ten 
thousand monks and nuns. It gave the 
crown a yearly rental of £32, 000, besides 
silver, jewels, etc., worth £100,000. Un- 
happily, the shameless cupidity of the 
monks was imitated by many noblemen, 
who petitioned for shares in the spoils. 
Other evils ensued. Some of the finest 
libraries in England were destroyed. The 
king lost these treasures at play, and used 
convents as stables for his horses. The 
act of parliament was immediately car- 
ried out. Some monks confessed : " We 
have covered the Gospel of Christ with 
shame." Others set themselves up in 
open revolt, but were forced to submit at 
last. The elderly received a pension ; but 
the young monks were told : " You must 
earn a living by the work of your hands." 
There was great suffering at this period. 
Many, who were young then, grew old in 
beggary ; others fell into despair, and put 
themselves to death. 

England found in this energetic act one 
of the sources of her greatness. The in- 
comes of a few convents were employed in 
the foundations of new schools, and par- 
ticularly of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
The revenues of the crown were more than 
doubled. This wealth fortified England 
and Ireland, repaired the harbors, and 
created an imposing fleet. The abolition 
of papacy gave England national unity 
and independence. Political economy, 
rural economy, all that concerns the col- 
lection and distribution of wealth, then 
took a start that nothing has been able to 
check. Agriculture was improved ; mer- 
cantile enterprises were extended. The 
population of the cloisters was trans- 
formed into an active and intelligent 
middle class. A public grew up. A new 
life animated antique institutions that 
had remained nearly useless. The blow 
aimed at the system of the Middle Ages 
re-echoed throughout Europe. In 1539, 
an act of parliament completed the sup- 
pression of the monasteries. 

Henry VIII. having thrown down the 
pillar of the papacy— the monks— felt the 
necessity of strengthening the work he 
had begun by alliances with the conti- 
nental protestants. He hoped more from 
Germany than from Switzerland. Ad- 
vances had been made from each side. In 
March, 1535, Melancthon dedicated to this 
prince the new edition of his Common- 
Places, with the hope that England would 
become the salvation of the whole Church 
of Christ. In return, Henry directed 
Cranmer to send Melancthon two hun- 
dred crowns, with a royal letter signed : 
" Your friend Henry." The cruel ex- 
ecution of Fisher and More scandalized 
the protestants and catholics of the conti- 
nent. Henry's envoy, Barnes, in vain 
urged Melancthon to visit England. 



"The mere thought of the journey," he 
replied, "overwhelms me with distress " 
The elector, John Frederick, handsomely 
entertained Barnes, and sought to pro- 
mote an English alliance with the princes 
of Germany. Luther was prepossessed in 
favor of his ancient adversary by the sup- 
pression of the monasteries, and said to 
Melancthon: "Would to God that we 
possessed several kings of England to put 
to death those bishops, cardinals, legates, 
and popes who are nothing but robbers, 
traitors, and devils." 

"We only ask one thing," said the Re- 
formers to Barnes; "that the doctrine 
which is in conformity with Scripture be 
restored to the whole world.'''' But Henry 
still observed the catholic doctrine, and 
this condition made the alliance difficult. 
Yet the king feared the deliberations of 
the general council proposed by the Lu- 
therans and Francis I. To win the Lu- 
therans to his side, Fox, Bishop of Here- 
ford, and Archdeacon Hare were added 
to the German embassy. Upon the basis 
of the Confession of Augsburg, the treaty 
of alliance was signed on the 25th De- 
cember, 1535. Melancthon was urged to 
go to England, but he would not. 

At home, Henry talked of putting his 
daughter Mary to death, because she 
would not "renounce the title of prin- 
cess ;" but he gave way to the entreaties 
of Cranmer. When Mary became queen, 
she put to death the man who had saved 
her life. The terrified Catherine wrote 
to her daughter : " Obey the king in all 
things. . . . Above all, do not desire a hus- 
band, nor even think of it, I beg you in 
the name of Christ's passion. 

Your loving mother, 

Catherine the Queen." 

But the mother was not less decided 
than the daugther in maintaining her 
rights. "I am the queen, the king's true 
wife," she insisted. To prevent a separa- 
tion from her friends, she took to her bed, 
saying she was ill. Her ascetic practices 
and her heavy sorrow brought on con- 
sumption, and she asked for the company 
of her daughter ; but the cruel king re- 
fused even this consolation. This harsh- 
ness to the aunt of Charles Y. so provoked 
that monarch, that he determined to at- 
tack Henry ; and he secured the neutrality 
of Francis I. by the offer of the duchy of 
Milan. At the time her wrongs were to 
be redressed by arms, Catherine became 
seriously ill, and died on the 7th January. 
Just before her death, she wrote this 
noble letter, which moved Henry to shed 
tears : 

"My most dear Lord, King, and Hus- 
band : The hour of my death now ap- 
proaching, I cannot choose but, out of 
the love I bear you, advise you of your 
soul's health. You have cast me into 
many calamities and yourself into many 
troubles ; but I forgive you all, and pray 
God to do likewise. I commend unto you 
Mary our daughter, beseeching you to be 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



993 



a good father to her. Lastly, I make this 
vow, that mine eyes desire you above all 
things." 

Catherine's death removed Anne's anx- 
ieties. "Now," she said, "now I am 
indeed a queen." The people mourned 
for this unhappy woman, who was a high- 
spirited wife, and a queen of indomita- 
ble will. Charles V. sheathed his sword 
and kept Milan ; both the emperor and 
Francis began to court Henry. This 
event also facilitated the alliance of the 
king with the protestants of Germany. 
The theological discussion began at Wit- 
temberg : Bishop Fox and Archdeacon 
Heath, Melancthon and Luther, were the 
parties. The doctrine of the mass was 
the principal point debated, and they 
could not come to an understanding. On 
the 12th March, the English ambassadors 
asked the elector to modify several points ; 
but Luther replied: "If we had been 
willing to concede anything, we might 
just as well have come to terms with the 
pope." On the 24th April, the protestant 
states required Henry to receive the faith 
confessed at Augsburg, if he would be ac- 
knowledged as protector of the evangelical 
alliance. England and Germany were 
about to join hands, to the dismay of the 
catholics. 

Great wounds had been inflicted on the 
papacy, and for all these monasteries sacri- 
ficed fanatical adherents resolved one 
person must be immolated ! One only, but 
taken from the most illustrious station. 
The king had struck his tutor and his 
friend on the one side, and to maintain 
a balance, he was to strike his wife on the 
other. A tragedy was about to begin 
which would terminate in a frightful catas- 
trophe. 

Anne Boleyn had been brought up in 
one of the best schools in Europe — in 
the household of the pious Margaret of 
Angouleme. From that princess she had 
learned to love the Reformation and the 
Reformers. Since her coronation, she had 
almost daily communication with the arch- 
bishop of Canterbury to advance the 
interests of the evangelical cause, and she 
assisted in the study of letters poor stu- 
dents of purity and talents. She aided her 
young ladies to prepare garments for the 
indigent, and in less than a year bestowed 
fifteen thousand pounds in charity. Anne 
was delighted with the spirit with which 
the bold Latimer preached the truths of 
the Gospel, and she had a high esteem for 
the noble Tyndale ; " the latter gratefully 
presented her with a beautiful edition of 
his New Testament, printed on vellum. 
In 1535 she selected as one of her almoners, 
the pious and modest Matthew Parker of 
Norwich, whose knowledge and activity 
gained her entire esteem ; she showed him 
many kindnesses. Queen Mary stripped 
this earnest minister of all his offices in 
1554, and he was forced to hide for safety ; 
but despite his entreaties, the daughter of 



Anne Boleyn afterwards appointed this ex- 
cellent man archbishop of Canterbury, 
which seat he dignified for sixteen years. 
Such were the men whom Anne Boleyn 
gathered round her. 

She was a virtuous wife, and an earnest 
protestant full of good works ; but she had 
not renounced the world and its pomps. 
Her sprightliness and gayety, her amiable 
freedom, were in strong contrast with the 
graver and stiffer formalities of the English 
ladies ; these charms of innocence her 
calumniators have misconstrued into grave 
offences. In the eyes of the papal parti- 
sans, she had committed an unpardonable 
crime ; slie had separated England from the 
papacy. Ere long the crown of St. Edward 
pressed heavily on her forehead. The 
members of her own family became her 
enemies. Her uncle, the duke of Norfolk, 
hated her for her heretical influence, and 
Lady Rocheford, the wife of her brother 
and of a despicable character, plotted 
against her for envy. Among her ladies 
of honor was Jane Seymour, who united 
all the attractions of youth and beauty. 
To her the passionate Henry soon turned 
his eyes ; for he had grown weary of the 
genial gayety and the protestantism of his 
wife. Anne had two capital crimes : she 
was a friend of the Reformation in the 
midst of a society that was catholic at 
heart, and a Frenchwoman at the head of 
an English court. Moreover, she had 
married above her station. The queen, 
who was near her confinement, endeavored 
to win back the king's love ; but her 
jealousy of Jane Seymour added to Henry's 
anger. One day in January, 1536, she 
found the king paying his court to the 
young maid of honor in too marked a 
manner ; the cruel shock made her pre- 
maturely give birth to a dead son. The 
king's perfidy cost the life of the heir he 
had desired so long. That selfish prince 
cruelly upbraided her misfortune, and she 
answered: "You have no one to blame 
but yourself." 

Anne now foresaw the misfortunes 
awaiting her, and she passed through 
three months of agony. All courtiers 
knew of the change in royal favor, and the 
ultramontanists regained their courage. 
They saw the influence of the queen in the 
appointment of Latimer and other evan- 
gelicals as bishops, and they knew the 
pope was ready to forgive everything if 
Henry would put away "Anne Boleyn. Yet 
the first blow came from the queen's own 
sister-in-law. To satisfy her jealousy, the 
depraved Lady Rocheford determined to 
ruin Anne Boleyn and her own husband 
together. The unhappy queen foreboded 
an early death, and she commended her 
daughter Elizabeth to the simple-minded 
Parker with all a mother's love. 

Four malicious charges were to cost 
Anne Boleyn her life. One day she sent 
for one of the court-musicians, named 
Smeton, "to play on the virginals." This 
was the first charge. It was said that 



994 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Norris, a gentleman of the king's chamber 
who was betrothed to Margaret, one of 
Anne's maids of honor, went to the queen's 
apartments more for the sake of his 
sovereign than for his betrothed. The 
queen, therefore, urged on his marriage, 
and he affirmed to her almoner: "The 
queen is a virtuous woman ; I am ready to 
affirm it upon oath." This was the second 
count. Sir Francis Weston was reproved 
by the queen for visiting a young lady and 
neglecting his wife. He audaciously re- 
plied : "Madam, there is one person in 
your house whom I love better than both — 
yourself." Anne scornfully ordered him 
to leave her presence. This was the third 
count. Lord Rocheford, her brother, one 
day entered her room while she kept her 
bed, and in the presence of her maids bent 
towards her to speak confidentially. The 
infamous Lady Rocheford made of this an 
accusation to condemn her husband and 
sister-in-law of an infamous crime. 

Henry was happy to have a pretext to 
get rid of his wife more speedily than by 
divorce. Of his six wives, he put away 
two by divorce, two by the scaffold : only 
two escaped his criminal humor. On the 
25th April, he appointed a commission of 
inquiry of twenty-six noblemen, with the 
duke of Norfolk at its head, and on the 
27th he issued writs to assemble Parlia- 
ment. That same clay William Brereton, 
a gentleman of the king's household, was 
imprisoned in the tower ; three days after, 
Mark Smeton, the court-musician, who 
was willing for vanity-sake to ruin the 
princess because she would not notice him, 
was confined. On the 1st May, a brilliant 
tournament was held at Greenwich, at 
which it is reported the queen dropped her 
handkerchief into the lists, and Norris 
wiped his face with it. Henry withdrew 
in great anger, and the festivities were 
interrupted. The next day the king 
ordered the arrest of Rocheford, Norris, 
Weston, and the queen, while Cranmer was 
commanded to await orders at Lambeth. 

When Anne was brought before the 
council to answer these accusations, she 
fell upon her knees and cried out: "0 
Lord, if I am guilty, may I never be for- 
given. " To her protestations of innocence, 
her uncle answered: "Tut! tut!" She 
was removed to the Tower ; and as she 
entered remembered her triumphal recep- 
tion three years before. Again she knelt, 
exclaiming : "O Lord, keep me, as I am 
guiltless of that whereof lam accused." 
Tears and hysterical laughter convulsed 
her by turns. She continually protested 
her innocence, and entreated to have the 
sacrament. " O my mother, my mother, 
thou wilt die for sorrow," she cried. The 
queen counted less upon justice than the 
meanest of her subjects. 

The same day Cranmer was thunder- 
struck at hearing of the royal acts. 
"What! the queen imprisoned! the 
queen an adulteress !" That she was 
innocent, he had no doubt. He feared to 



openly take her part lest the Reformation 
might fall with her, and he humbly wrote 
the king : " Sire, I am in such a perplexity 
that I am clean amazed : for I never had a 
better opinion in woman than I had of her, 
which maketh me think she cannot be 
culpable. And yet, sire, would you have 
gone so far, if you had not been sure of her 
crime?" . . . His letter was cowardly, 
and cannot be justified. 

The 3d of May was a sad one in the 
Tower. Lady Boleyn and Mistress Cosyns, 
two of the queen's enemies, were kept 
always near her, and never spoke to her 
without rudeness. "To be a queen," 
she said, "and to be treated so cruelly- 
treated as queen never was before. No, I 
shall not die — no, I will not die." The 
unfortunate lady had hysterical parox- 
ysms, followed by a delirious attack, in 
which she exclaimed, with eyes starting, 
as if they were looking into the future : 
"If I am put to death, there will be great 
judgments upon England for seven years. 
And I ... I shall be in heaven . . . for 
I have done many good deeds during my 
life." 

Everything was preparing for the unjust 
judgment which was to have so cruel a 
termination. Henry's agents redoubled 
their exertions to obtain, either from the 
ladies of the court or from the men ac- 
cused, some deposition against Anne ; but 
it was in vain. The gentlemen of the 
court stoutly denied the charge ; but Mark 
Smeton, either through torture or from 
wounded vanity, was made to confess all 
they wanted. Vainly the queen's inno- 
cence shone forth on every side— the con- 
spiracy formed against her grew stronger 
every day. The queen understood that 
she must die ; and wishing to be prepared, 
she turned towards a better life, and 
sought to strengthen herself in God. 

At this time the duke of Norfolk, ac- 
companied by other noblemen, in the 
king's name summoned her to confess the 
charges, that the king might consent to 
pardon her. With the dignity of a queen 
still upon the throne, and with the calm- 
ness of a Christian at the gates of eternity, 
Anne dismissed these malicious courtiers, 
and sent to her royal husband in reply a 
letter full of the tenderest complaints and 
the sharpest protests, in which her inno- 
cence shines forth beyond denial. "Your 
poor wife," she wrote, "will never be 
brought to acknowledge a fault where not 
so much as a thought thereof ever pro- . 
ceeded. . . . Try me, good king, but let 
me have a lawful trial, and let no sworn 
enemies sit as my accusers and as my 
judges ; yea, let me receive an open trial, 
for my truth shall receive no open shames. 
. . . Mine offence being so lawfully proved, 
your Grace may be at liberty, both before 
God and man, not only to execute worthy 
punishment on me, as an unfaithful wife, 
but to follow your affection already settled 
on that party, for whose sake I am now as 



HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



C05 



I am : whose name I could, some good 
while since, have pointed unto, your Grace 
being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. 
. . . My last and only request shall be 
that myself may only bear the burden of 
your Grace's displeasure, and that it may 
not touch the innocent souls of those poor 
gentlemen who, as I understand, are like- 
wise in strait imprisonment for my sake. 
If ever I have found favor in your sight — 
if ever the name of Anne Boleyn have 
been pleasing in your ears — then let me 
obtain this request ; and so I will leave to 
trouble your Grace any further ; and with 
mine earnest prayer to the Trinity to have 
your Grace in His good keeping, and to 
direct you in all your actions. 

"Anne Boleyn." 
Injured in her honor, Anne Boleyn 
spoke without fear, as one on the threshold 
of eternity. Her noble letter aroused a 
tempest in the king's heart, and he deter- 
mined to inflict a great humiliation on this 
daring woman. He strove to strip her of 
the name of his wife, by establishing a 
pre-contract between Anne and Percy, 
afterwards duke of Northumberland ; but 
Percy solemnly denied the allegation. 

To secure an appearance of legality to 
this trial, true bills of indictment were 
obtained from the grand juries of Middle- 
sex and Kent. On May 12th, Norris, 
"Weston, Brereton, and the musician were 
brought before the commission at West- 
minster The three gentlemen repelled 
the charge with unshakable firmness ; the 
wretched musician alone confessed a 
crime that would give him a place in his- 
tory. He was condemned to be hanged, 
and the others to be beheaded. 

On 15th May, the queen and her brother 
were tried by their peers in the great hall 
of the Tower ; the judges had been care- 
fully selected by the duke of Norfolk. 
The queen was charged with adultery, 
incest, and conspiracy against the king's 
person ; but it was impossible to look at 
her, or hear her plead her own cause, and 
not declare her innocent. Without con- 
fronting the queen with the only witness 
against her, the court pronounced sen- 
tence : that the queen should be taken 
back to the Tower, and there on the green 
should be burnt or beheaded, according to 
Ms majesty" 1 s good pleasure. Anne justified 
the honor of herself and the gentlemen 
accused. Raising her eyes to heaven, she 
cried out: "0 Father, O Creator! Thou 
who art the way, the truth and the life, 
knowest that I have not deserved this 
death." She laid aside her royal insignia, 
commended herself to their prayers, and 
returned to prison. Loid Rocheford, pro- 
testing his innocence and his sister's, was 
then condemned to be beheaded and quar- 
tered. The Lord Mayor witnessed these 
proceedings, and said to a friend : "I can 
only observe one thing in this trial — the 
fixed resolution to get rid of the queen at 
any price." And that is the verdict of 
posterity. 



On the 17th of May, the gentlemen who 
were to be executed were brought together, 
embraced, commended each other to God, 
and ascended the scaffold. Lord Roche- 
ford said : ' ' My friends, I am going to die, 
as such is his majesty's pleasure. I do not 
complain of my death, for I have commit- 
ted many sins during my life ; but I have 
never injured the king. May God grant 
him a long and happy life." Norris, Wes- 
ton and Brereton were beheaded after him. 
The king cruelly determined to annul 
his marriage with Anne, notwithstanding 
Northumberland's denial of a pre-contract 
of marriage with Anne Boleyn. Cranmer 
told the queen he was commissioned to this 
duty, and each believed that by this expe- 
dient the king would spare her life. On 
the 17th of May, the primate officially de- 
clared the marriage null and void. On 
this same day, Da Casale informed Paul 
III. of the good news of Anne Boleyn' s 
imprisonment. The pope joyfully replied : 
"Now his majesty may accomplish an 
admirable work for the good of Christen- 
dom. Let us be friends." 

Towards evening (17th May) the queen 
learned that her sentence would be as- 
suredly carried out. She desired to take 
the Lord's Supper, but first she wished to 
humble herself before Catherine's daugh- 
ter. Compelling Lady Kingston to sit in 
the chair of state, and falling on her knees 
to her, she cried bitterly : "I charge you 
— as you would answer before God — to go 
in my name to the princess Mary, to tall 
down before her as I do now before you, 
and ask her for forgiveness for the wrongs 
I have done her. Until that is done, my 
conscience will have no rest." Before 
taking the sacrament, she once more de- 
clared her innocence. In the morning 
she calmly said to the keeper:. "I hear 
that I am not to die this morning, and I 
am very sorry for it ; for I thought by 
this time to be dead and past my pain." — 
"Madame," he replied, "you will feel no 
pain, the blow will be so sharp and 
swift." — "Yes," said Anne, smiling, "I 
have heard say that the headsman is very 
clever, and I have but a little neck." — 
Henry sent to her a gentleman to see if 
the fear of death would not induce her to 
satisfy him. Anne sent by him her last 
words to the king : " Commend me to his 
majesty, and tell him that he has ever been 
constant in his career of advancing me. 
From a private gentlewoman he made me a 
marchioness, from a marchioness a queen ; 
and now that he has no higher degree of 
honor left, he gives my innocence the 
crown of martyrdom." 

All strangers were excluded from the 
Tower, and about eleven in the forenoon 
of the 19th of May Cromwell and other 
officials gathered about the scaffold on 
the green, where stood the executioner 
from Calais with his axe and attendants. 
A little past noon, Anne appeared dressed 
in a robe of black damask, and attended 
by four maids of honor. She was then 



996 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



thirty years old, and "never had she 
looked so beautiful before." Addressing 
those who had been her subjects, she said : 
"Good Christian people, I am not come 
here to justify myself; I leave my jus- 
tification entirely to Christ, in whom I 
put my trust. I will accuse no man, nor 
speak anything of that whereof I am ac- 
cused, as I know full well that aught that 
I could say in my defence doth not apper- 
tain unto you, and that I could draw no 
hope of life from the same. I come here 
only to die, according as I have been con- 
demned. I commend my judges to the 
Lord's mercy. I pray God (and I beg you 
to do the same) to save the king and send 
him long to reign over you, for a gentler 
or more merciful prince there never was. 
To me he was ever a good, gentle, and 
sovereign lord. And thus I take my leave 
of the world and of you, and I heartily 
desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, 
have mercy upon me ! To God I commit 
my soul !' ' 

This Christian discourse made a deep 
impression on all around her. Anne re- 
fused to have her eyes bandaged, and 
removed her white collar and hood. Then, 
having fallen on her knees and made a 
silent prayer, she laid her head on the 
block, saying : "O Christ, into thy hands 
I commit my soul." The headsman hesi- 
tated a few seconds, and she cried: "0 
Jesus, receive my soul." At that instant 
the axe flashed and her head fell. A cry 
escaped from the lips of the spectators, 
"as if they had received the blow upon 
their own necks." Immediately a signal- 
gun was fired, to give Henry instant news 
of the crime which gave him Jane Sey- 
mour. The ladies placed the body and 
head of their mistress in an old elm box 
which had held arrows, and the burial 
was made in the Tower chapel. 

Henry had dressed himself in white, and 
ordered a grand hunting festival for the 
day. When he heard the anxiously ex- 
pected signal, he exclaimed: "Ha, ha! 
the deed is done ! uncouple the hounds 
and away !" At last this voluptuous, 
cruel king was free, and the very next day 
he married Jane Seymour. He liked to 
combine crime and festivities, marriage 
and death, in the same picture. The 
death of Anne Boleyn agitated Europe, 
and alienated the protestant princes and 
divines of Germany. On his death-bed, 
Henry acknowledged her innocence. 

After queen Anne's death, the two par- 
ties were agitated in opposite directions. 
The friends of the Reformation accelerated 
their efforts, to show that their cause was 
not disgraced : the friends of Rome and 
its doctrines thought they had but to re- 
double their activity to gain a complete 
victory. 

On the 20th of May, when the news of 
the queen's prosecution arrived at Rome, 
both pope and cardinals were transported 
with joy. Paul III. said to Da Casale : 
"I always thought, when I saw Henry 



endowed with so many virtues, that heaven 
would not forsake him. If he is willing 
to unite with me, tell him that his majesty 
may, without hesitation, expect every- 
thing from me." And the infallible pon- 
tiff did not fear to acknowledge that he 
had made a mistake in the appointment 
of Bishop Fisher as cardinal. 

Rome has two modes of bringing back 
princes under her yoke — flattery and 
abuse. The pope had adopted the first : 
Reginald Pole, formerly a protege of Hen- 
ry's, undertook the second. In 1535 he 
wrote from the north of Italy a defence 
of the unity of the Church, addressed to 
Henry VIII., and overflowing with vio- 
lence. This treatise reached London the 
first week in June, 1536 : never did 
haughty monarch receive so rude a lesson. 
In it he said: "O prince, you, in imita- 
tion of the pride of Lucifer, set yourself 
above the vicar of Jesus Christ. What ! 
you have rent the Church, as it was never 
before rent in that island, you have plun- 
dered and cruelly tormented it, and you 
claim, in virtue of such merits, to be 
called its supreme head. There are two 
Churches : if you are at the head of one, 
it is not the Church of Christ ; if you are, 
it is like Satan, who is the prince of 
the world, which he oppresses under his 
tyranny. . . . You reign, but after the 
fashion of the Turks. A simple nod of 
your head has more power than ancient 
laws and rights. Sword in hand you de- 
cide religious controversies. Is not that 
thoroughly Turkish and barbarian? O 
England ! if you have not forgotten your 
ancient liberty, what indignation ought to 
possess you, when you see your king 
plunder, condemn, murder, squander all 
your wealth, and leave you nothing but 
tears. . . . You have forsaken the foun- 
tain of wisdom. Return to the Church, O 
prince ! and all that you have lost you 
shall regain with more splendor and 
glory." The king peremptorily ordered 
Pole to return to England, but the latter 
wisely refused. Henry believed that nei- 
ther pope nor foreign monarch had a 
right to exercise the smallest jurisdiction 
in England. He was therefore decided — 
and this saved Great Britain — to maintain 
the rupture with Rome. 

Lady Kingston discharged Anne Boleyn's 
Christian commission, and the princess 
Mary, little moved by the sight, believed 
that she would now become heiress-pre- 
sumptive to the crown. Cromwell inter- 
ceded for her with the king, and Henry 
consented to receive his daughter into 
favor upon her acknowledging four condi- 
tions : the supremacy of the king, the im- 
posture of the pope, the incest of her own 
mother, and her own illegitimacy. Af^er 
much opposition she signed the unnatural 
demand, and from that time received year- 
ly £3,000. 

Parliament met the 8th of June, and 
were informed the king had yielded to the 
humble solicitations of the nobility, and 
formed a new marriage. Bo^h houses 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



997 



ratified the accomplished facts, thanked 
the king profusely for his most excellent 
goodness, declared both daughters illegiti- 
mate, and gave him the privilege of naming 
his successor in his will. On the 4th of 
July, Parliament put the penalties of prae- 
munire on everybody who recognized the 
authority of the Roman pontiff, and re- 
quired every student, ecclesiastic, and civil 
functionary to renounce the authority of 
the pope. This bill was the cause of great 
joy in England ; the protestant spirit was 
stirred, and there was a great outburst of 
sarcasm against the abuses of papacy. 

A convocation of the clergy met by sum- 
mons at St. Paul's. Rome and the Refor- 
mation had each nine bishops: if Gardiner 
had not been in France, the former would 
have had a majority. By appointment, 
Latimer preached boldly to the assembly 
upon the parable of the unjust steward. 
He plainly exposed the abuses, intolerance, 
and errors of the clergy, and said : "If 
you will not die eternally, live not world- 
ly. Preach truly the Word of G-d. Feed 
ye tenderly the flock of Christ. Love the 
light. Walk in the light, and so be the 
children of light while you are in the 
world, that you may shine in the world to 
come bright as the sun, with the Father, 
the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen." 

The clergy dared not protest, and ere 
long they received another mortification. 
They were shocked to hear that Crom- 
well was to represent Henry VIII. in the 
assembly ; but to their great astonishment 
his secretary, Dr. Petre, sat by the pri- 
mate — a deputy of a delegate ! On the 21st 
of Jmie, Cromwell appeared and sat above 
all the prelates. Roman-catholicism made 
a vigorous onslaught, and the lower 
house condemned sixty-seven evil doc- 
trines. These were read to the upper 
house on the 23d June, and the prolocu- 
tor said: "They affirm that no doctrine 
must be believed unless it be proved by 
Holy Scripture ; that Christ, having shed 
his blood, has fully redeemed us, so that 
now we have only to say, O God, I entreat 
Thy Mdjesty to blot out my iniquity. 
They say that the sacrifice of the mass is 
nothing but a piece of bread ; that auricu- 
lar confession was invented by the priests 
to learn the secrets of the heart, and to 
put money in their purse ; that purgatory 
is a cheat ; that what is usually called the 
Church is merely the old synagogue, and 
that the true Church is the assembly of the 
just ; that prayer is just as effectual in tl\e 
open air as in a temple ; that priests may 
marry. And these .heresies are not only 
preached, but are printed in books stamped 
cum privilegio, with privilege, and the ig- 
norant imagine that those words indicate 
the king's approbation." 

Cranmer and Cromwell determined that 
the balance should incline to the evangeli- 
cal side. "Discuss this question with 
charity," said Cromwell, " withoUu brawl- 
ing or scolding, and decide all things by 
the Word of God." But the traditional 
party answered with human doctrines and 



human authorities. Alesius, a Scotch 
evangelical who was called the "King's 
Scholar," spoke at the invitation of 
Cromwell, showing there were only two 
sacraments — Baptism and the Lord's 
Supper. Many prelates were greatly en- 
raged at this presumption ; they believed 
with the future council of Trent : ' ' That 
we must receive with similar respect and 
equal piety the Holy Scriptures and Tradi- 
tion." At noon the meeting broke up ; 
for the debate had been sharp, and the 
sacerdotal party had been beaten. Next 
day they protested against the presence of 
the Scotchman, and he had to withdraw. 
"Are there seven sacraments or only two ?" 
was the question of debate ; but it was im- 
possible to come to an understanding. 
Had the assembly been suppressed and an 
evangelical one formed, the Church would 
have been completely reformed. Such a 
step was not taken. 

Anne's disgrace and the king's marriage 
to Jane Seymour, had given Cranmer a 
free field to advance the Reformation. 
This was not what Henry wanted ; for 
though he rejected the authority of the 
pope, he remained faithful to his doctrines. 
As head of the Church, he resolved to ful- 
minate a bull. This dogmatic paper, en- 
titled Articles about religion set out by the 
Convocation, and published by the King's 
authority, was laid before the upper house 
of Convocation by Cromwell. It gave 
great joy to the partisans of Rome, and 
made the evangelicals to fear. It required 
the Scriptures and the three creeds to be 
believed "according to the interpretation 
which the holy approved doctors in the 
Church do defend," sustained penance, 
confession, and priestly absolution ; re- 
cognized "the body and very blood of the 
Saviour" to be in the mass ; approved of 
image adoration ; sanctioned prayers " to 
our Blessed Lady, to St. John the Baptist, 
to each of the apostles, or to any other 
saint ;" upheld the customary rites of wor- 
ship, and justified prayers "for the souls 
of the dead." If England became prot- 
estant, it was in spite of the king. 

A long debate ensued. The decided 
evangelicals could see nothing in these 
articles but an abandonment of Scripture. 
Yet, at the terrible voice of the king, 
Cranmer signed the articles with many 
others, and they passed through Convoca- 
tion. Cranmer would have died a more 
glorious martyr under Henry VIII. than 
by waiting for Mary. Convocation peti- 
tioned the king to order a new translation 
of the Bible ; they abolished many feast 
days, and denounced a general council 
as pernicious. Parliament and Convo- 
cation were not again called for three 
years. Cromwell was now made Lord 
Privy-Seal, and vice-gerent in ecclesiasti- 
cal matters, in reward for his services. 
He circulated among all the priests some 
instructions which were passably evan- 
gelical, and undertook to reform the clergy 
from drinking, brawling, and card playing. 



998 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Cranmer and Cromwell wished to circu- 
late the Holy Scriptures. Tyndale's ver- 
sion being compromised, Cromwell had 
patronized Coverdale, when the latter ap- 
plied to him for the necessary books in 
1530. On the 4th October, 1535, Cover- 
dale's translation appeared on the con- 
tinent, entitled : Biblia, the Bible, that 
is to say the Holy Scriptures of the Old and 
JSew Testament. It reached England early 
in 1536, but Cromwell dared not favor it ; 
for in its dedication it implored the divine 
blessing on the king and on ' ' his dearest, 
just wife, and most virtuous princess, 
Queen Anne." A new title page was af- 
terwards printed ; but it was impossible 
to obtain the royal sanction. 

Still, if Coverdale' s Bible was not ad- 
mitted into England, the Reformation, 
taught by pious ministers, was spreading 
more and more. Faith gave pious Chris- 
tians a courage which the great ones of 
the earth did not possess. John Gale, 
pastor of Twaite in Suffolk, turned the 
images in his church to the wall. The 
minister of Hothfield declared that : 
' ' Our lady is not the queen of heaven, 
and has no more power than another 
woman." Even Bishop Barlow said in 
his cathedral : "If two or three cobblers 
or weavers, elect of God, meet together in 
the name of the Lord, they form a true 
Church of God." Gale and others were 
accused of heresy and treason before the 
criminal court, and an evangelical book 
which compared Henry to Herod was 
burned. The crown officers were to see 
that the doctrines of the pope were taught 
everywhere ; but, without the pope and his 
authority, this system has no real founda- 
tion. Non-Roman-catholicism has but a 
treacherous support. There is but one 
real foundation : Thy word is truth, says 
Jesus Christ. 

A mighty effort was about to be made in 
the North of England to expel both Cran- 
mer' s protestantism and the king's Catho- 
licism, and restore the papacy to its 
privileges. Many members of the House 
of Lords were indignant at seeing heretics 
invested with the episcopal dignity, and a 
layman, Cromwell, presuming to direct the 
Convocation of the clergy. Some of them 
formed a league, and the ambassador of 
Charles V. assured Lord Darcy that they 
should be supported. 

There was great agitation, especially 
among the inhabitants of the towns and 
villages of the North. Those of the 
counties of York and Lincoln were sub- 
missive to the priests as to the very repre- 
sentatives of God. They were exasperated 
at seeing monks roaming through the 
country half starved and in rags, and at 
seeing profane lay-folks housed in the 
ancient convents. Everywhere the people 
listened to the agitators, and soon the su- 
perior clergy appeared in the line of battle. 
In October, 1536, whole parishes rose in 
Lincolnshire, headed by their priests. 
They compelled the gentry to join with 



them ; the archbishop of York with many 
abbots and priests encouraged this peasant 
revolt, and soon twenty thousand men 
were in arms. Great disorders were com- 
mitted. The king, who had no standing 
army, angrily ordered the traitors to dis- 
perse ; but his threats only increased the 
commotion. The duke of Suffolk entered 
Lincolnshire on October 13th, and the 
rebels having no efficient leader or pro- 
visions, dispersed. 

The men of the North were more ultra- 
montane than those of Lincoln. On 
October 8th, there was a riot at Beverly, 
in Yorkshire ; a Westminster lawyer, 
Robert Aske, was proclaimed their leader. 
He restored the monks to their monasteries 
in York ; Lord Darcy joined the insurrec- 
tion, and soon an army of 40,000 men 
formed "the Pilgrimage of Grace." Each 
parish paraded under a captain, priests 
carrying the Church cross in front by way 
of flag. Great bonfires were lighted on 
all the hills to call the people to arms. All 
the nobility of the North, except Percy, 
Earl of Northumberland, joined the in- 
surrection. 

Henry displayed great activity and in- 
telligence in this emergency. He appointed 
the duke of Norfolk, chief of the ultra- 
montane party at court, commander of his 
little party, and this clever policy succeeded 
well. The friends of the Gospel were 
deeply agitated at this attempt to place 
England under the papal sceptre. Many 
of the insurgents were animated by the 
vilest sentiments, and committed outrage- 
ous acts. On the 21st of October, the 
Lancaster herald met the leaders at Pom- 
fret Castle, and by the king's orders di- 
rected them to disperse. "We want the 
redress of our grievances," answered Aske, 
"and we will die fighting to maintain 
them." Thirty thousand well armed 
rebels arrived at the banks of the Don ; 
but the rising of the water prevented them 
from crossing Lord Norfolk and other 
catholic leaders urged them to disperse, 
and on the 29th of October they returned 
to their homes. The king executed many 
of them, and the kingdom resumed its 
tranquility. 

Tyndale, the principal reformer of Eng- 
land, concentrated all his activity in the 
Holy Scriptures, unlike Luther, Zwingle, 
Calvin, and Knox. He had studied it, 
translated it, and sent it over the sea : it 
must now do its own work. He was in 
prison at Vilvorde, near Brussels ; yet he 
was as truly free as Paul had been at 
Rome. He remembered his vow made 
years ago : "If God preserves my life, I 
will cause a boy that driveth a plow to 
know more of the Scriptures than the 
pope." To keep his promise, he occupied 
his prison hours in preparing an edition of 
the Bible in the dialect of the peasantry 
of Gloucestershire. Two other editions of 
the New Testament appeared during the 
first year of his captivity. When seized, 
he had ready for printing the Old Testa- 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



999 



ment, translated from the Hebrew text. 
His friend Rogers, a chaplain to the 
English, merchants at Antwerp, who had 
aided Tyndale in his translations, had 
saved the manuscript of the Old Testa- 
ment, and had the great English folio Bible 
printed somewhere ' on the continent. 
Rogers was the first martyr in the reign of 
Queen Mary. The Holy Scriptures have 
been written in English with the blood of 
martyrs— the blood of Fryth, Tyndale and 
Rogers : it is a crown of glory for that 
translation. Tyndale rejoiced in the vic- 
tory of the Word. ' ' I am bound like a 
malefactor," he said ; "but the Word of 
God is not bound." The bitterness of his 
last days was changed into great peace and 
divine sweetness. The jailer and his fam- 
ily were converted to the Gospel by Tyn- 
dale' s life and doctrines. 

His friends did not forget him. Thomas 
Poyntz, at whose house in Antwerp he 
had staid a year, resolved to do everything 
to save him. He wrote to his elder brother 
John, in Essex, who enjoyed the favor of 
Henry VIII., supplicating the help of the 
king, and saying : " The king should know 
that the death of this man will be one of 
the highest pleasures to the enemies of the 
Gospel." John at once interested Crom- 
well in the Reformer's cause, and letters 
were sent to the president of the council 
of Brabant ; but the archbishop and the 
council were opposed to Tyndale. Poyntz 
immediately returned to England, and en- 
treated Cromwell to insist that Tyndale 
should be at once released. The answer 
was delayed a month, and he was told the 
request would be granted by the council of 
Brabant. The traitor Phillips endeavored 
to prevent the liberation of the prisoner 
by arresting the liberator. Poyntz was 
examined six days as a heretic ; and fled 
to England early in February, 1586. 
Tyndale knew that he must die. He was 
urged to recant, but he answered : "The 
authority of Jesus Christ is independent 
of the authority of the Church. . . . Holy 
Scripture is the first of the apostles, and 
the ruler in the Kingdom of Christ." 
The king cared little about an evangelical 
being burnt in Brabant, and in this case 
Cromwell could do nothing without the 
support of Henry. 

The trial of the Reformer of England 
began in August, 1556, and he said : "I 
will answer my accusers myself." The 
doctrine for which he was tried was this : 
"The man who throws off the worldly ex- 
istence which he has lived far from God, 
and receives by a living faith the complete 
remission of his sins, which the death of 
Christ has purchased for him, is introduced 
by a glorious adoption into the very family 
of God." This was certainly a crime for 
which a reformer could joyfully suffer. 

It was not his own cause that he under- 
took to defend, but the cause of the Bible. 
He declared solemnly before he died, that 
while all human religions make salvation 
proceed from the works of man, the divine 
religion makes it proceed from a work of 
64 



God. "Yes," he exclaimed, "we believe 
and are at peace in our consciences, be- 
cause that God, who cannot lie, hath 
promised to forgive us for Christ's sake." 
The priests declared Tyndale guilty of 
erroneous, captious, rash, ill-sounding, 
dangerous, scandalous, and heretical pro- 
positions. He was solemnly degraded, and 
stripped of sacerdotal robes ; the Bible 
was taken from the translator of the Bible, 
and the crown of the priesthood shaven 
from his head. He remained in prison 
two months, full of faith, peace, and joy. 
Those who saw him said: "If that man 
is not a good Christian, I do not know 
of one upon earth." 

Friday, the 6th of October, 1536, he was 
led out to execution. He said to the large 
crowd assembled: "I call God to record 
that I have never altered, against the voice 
of my conscience, one syllable of his Yv' ord, 
nor would do this day if all the pleasures, 
honors, and riches of this earth might be 
given me." While the executioner was 
fastening him to the post, he. exclaimed in 
a loud and suppliant voice : "Lord, open 
the King of England's eyes." These were 
his last words. Instantly afterwards he 
was strangled, and flames consumed the 
martyr's body. A great death had crowned 
the great life of the "Apostle of England. " 

His fellow countrymen profited by the 
work of his life. Richard Grafton, the 
printer, presented the martyr's Bible to 
archbishop Cranmer, and asked him to 
procure its free circulation. Fidelity, 
clearness, strength, simplicity, unction — 
all were combined in this admirable trans- 
lation. Cranmer asked Cromwell to obtain 
permission for it to be sold "until such 
times as we shall put forth a better trans- 
lation — which, I think, will not be till a 
day after doomsday. " Henry ran over the 
book ; Tyndale' s name was not in it, and 
the dedication to his majesty was very 
well written. The inconsistent and whim- 
sical king authorized the sale and the 
reading of the Bible throughout the king- 
dom, which would overthrow the doctrines 
of Romanism which he imposed. We may 
well say that the blood of a martyr opened 
the gates of England to the Holy Scrip- 
tures. 

For centuries the English people had 
been waiting for such a permission, even 
from before the time of Wycliff ; and ac- 
cordingly the Bible circulated rapidly. 
This great event, more important than 
divorces, treaties, and wars, was the con- 
quest of England by the Reformation. 
AVhoever possessed the means bought the 
book and read it, or had it read to him by 
others ; poor people clubbed together and 
purchased a Bible to be read aloud to 
them. The Christianity of the Apostles 
reappeared in the Church. Tyndale had 
desired to see the world on lire by his 
Master's Word, and that fire was kindled. 
The general dissemination of the Holy 
Scriptures forms an -important epoch in 
the Reformation of England. 



1000 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION* 



BOOK IX. 

REFORMATION OF GENEVA BY FAREL'S MINISTRY, AND ARRIVAL OF CAL- 
VIN IN THAT CITY AFTER HIS SOJOURN IN ITALY. 



1535-1536. 

Progress, Struggles, and Martyrs of the Reformation in Geneva — Poisoning of the Reform- 
ers. Conversion of the Head of the Franciscans — Preparations for a Public Disputation 
in Geneva— The great Public Debate on the Foundations of the Evangelical Faith — 
Triumph of the Word of God, both Written and Spoken— Images and the Mass Abol- 
ished — Priests, Monks, Nuns, and. the Vicar-General Depart — An Energetic Citizen calls 
Switzerland to help Geneva and the Reformation — War, and the Battle of GinL'ins — 
Diplomacy, or the Castle of Coppet— Movements for the Attack and Defence of Geneva. 
Faith and Heroism — Extreme Peril — Destruction of the Castles ; Joy in Geneva ; Libera- 
tion of Bonivard — The People of Geneva Desire to Live According to the Gospel — Cal- 
vin at Ferrara — Flight of Calvin — Calvin's Arrival at Geneva. 



The Reformation of Geneva, prepared 
by the restoration of civil liberty and be- 
gun by the reading of the Word of God 
and the teaching of various evangelists, 
was about to be definitely carried out by the 
devout ministry of Froment, Viret, and 
particularly of Farel. Afterwards Calvin, 
in accord with the Councils, who never re- 
nounced their right of intervention, will 
strengthen the foundations and organize 
and crown the edifice. 

At the beginning of 1535, everything in- 
dicated that liberty and reform were about 
to be destroyed in Geneva. The partisans 
of the pope and Savoy threatened the 
city's subjugation ; the Swiss cantons sup- 
ported the claims to this end, provided re- 
ligion remained free. Within Geneva, the 
citizens resolved to uphold its Reforma- 
tion. Three parties called for it alike. 
The old huguenots wanted it to be imme- 
diate, violent even if necessary ; the magis- 
trates wished it to be legal, slow, and 
diplomatic ; and the evangelicals desired 
it to be spiritual, and peaceably accom- 
plished by the Word of God. Without 
hesitation, without fear, that little city of 
12,000 souls trusted in God and marched 
onwards. In February, the Genevese 
resolutely voted to the first offices of state 
some- of the most decided friends of in- 
dependence and reform. Almost every 
day pious refugees entered this city of 
refuge, and strengthened the faith of its 
Christians. 

The council were divided in sentiment, 
but the moderate party sought to pacify 
evangelicals by slight concessions. They 
found a gray friar of St. Francis, who 
offered to preach the Word of God ; but 
the canons, vicar and Chapter mistrusted 
his application for a place to preach in. 
The syndics assigned him the church of 
St. Germain, on the eve of the first Sun- 
day in Lent, (12th February.) This de- 
cision enraged the catholics of the parish, 
and urged on by their wives, a number of 
members begged the syndics to allow 
them their iisual service. They were little 
pleased with the answer returned : " You 



will hear the preacher. If he preaches 
well, he shall stay ; but if he preaches 
any novelty, anything contrary to Holy 
Scripture, he will be expelled." An in- 
surrection was at once organized, in 
which some women of rather questionable 
morality were the leaders. The reformed 
made a way through the church for the 
monk, who, little by little, reached the 
foot of the pulpit. " Then that apostate 
from St. Francis began to preach in the 
heretical fashion." But the bigots of 
both sexes made such an uproar that the 
cordelier was compelled to be silent. For 
this defiance of their orders, the council 
punished the rioters by imprisonment and 
banishment. 

This victory— as was natural — precipi- 
tated the movement of the Reformation 
in Geneva. On Easter day, the Lord's 
Supper was partaken of by many at the 
Rive convent. The fanatical adversaries 
of the Reformation revenged themselves 
by the sacrifice of the first Christian mar- 
tyr for Geneva. 

Gaudet, formerly a knight of Rhodes, 
had settled in Geneva with his family, to 
live in the faith of the Gospel, and even 
himself preached its doctrines. His uncle, 
the Commander of Rhodes, was indignant 
at this apostasy, and by letter entrapped 
his nephew to visit Gex. That district 
was then ravaged by Genevese mamelukes, 
Savoyard knights, and other brigands 
from the castle of Peney. ' ' A huguenot 
condemned, without proof, of having 
helped to drive the bishop out of Geneva, 
was torn limb from limb by horses in, the 
courtyard at Peney." Gaudet was seized 
on the road to Gex, carried off to the 
castle of Peney, and there kept for five 
days in great torment. "If you will 
recant," they said, "your life shall be 
spared." — "He remained constant, sup- 
porting the cause of the Gospel," say the 
chronicles, and they resolved "to put him 
to the crudest deatli ever heard of in this 
country." The peasantry of the neigh- 
borhood were gathered in the courtyard, 
and he was there " burnt alive over a slow 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1001 



fire, for having settled at Geneva, for 
having attended sermons, and heard and 
preached the Gospel." When the soles of 
his feet were consumed, the fire was 
parsed in succession over different parts 
of his body ; then he was fastened to a 
post, and pricked all over with spears and 
halberds. He suffered greatly for two 
days, but died breathing words of faith 
and patience. The Genevans were much 
exasperated at these cruelties, and made a 
sortie by night against the castle of 
Peney ; but the attack was poorly planned, 
and came to naught. 

The Genevans neglected nothing for 
their defence. Convent bells were cast 
into cannon ; a permanenl force was 
raised, and traitors were sent out of the 
city. 

The fanatical residents were more zeal- 
ous than ever, and some were willing to 
use any means to vanquish the enemies 
of Rome. Canon Gruet, Gardet the 
priest, and Barbier plotted to be rid of 
Farel, Viret, and Froment ; as the re- 
formers were all living in the same house, 
it was thought well to poison them. An- 
tonia Yax, then living at Geneva with her 
husband and children, had in early life 
served as a domestic in several families 
where she had seen poison employed ; she 
was of melancholy temperament, enthu- 
siastic imagination, weak rather than de- 
praved. Barbier and some monks per- 
suaded her such an act would merit the 
glory of heaven ; and Canon D'Orsiere 
told her: "Act, act boldly; you need 
not be anxious." The unhappy woman 
yielded, and the position of domestic was 
obtained for her in Claude Bernard's 
house, where the three ministers were 
lodged. Watching her opportunity, she 
procured some poison surreptitiously from 
an apothecary store, and on the 8th of 
March she mixed the sublimate in some 
thick spinach soup. Farel thought it too 
thick for his taste, and asked for some 
household soup. Froment was about lift- 
ing a spoonful to his mouth, when he was 
called away to welcome his wife and 
children to Geneva. Viret, yet suffering 
from his wound, ate tranquilly the poi- 
sonous mixture. The conscience of the 
wretched woman was awakened ; she 
burst into tears, and piteously begged 
Viret to drink some water till he con- 
sented. The reformer became very ill. 
Antonia, in alarm, fled by boat with her 
children to Coppet, three leagues away ; 
but Claude Bernard, mistrusting her, pur- 
sued and brought her back. Again she 
took to flight, and hid in the cellar of 
Canon D'Orsiere's house ; but she was ap- 
prehended, and confessed everything. 

Viret was in peril of death ; he was 
carefully tended and recovered slowly, 
but he felt the effects of the poison all his 
life. "Sword-cuts in the back, poison in 
front," said the citizens. "Such are the 
rewards of those who preach the Gospel." 



The priests, and even the canon who'had 
ruined the woman, were imprisoned, 
greatly to the scandal of the clergy, and 
were tried accoi ding to the common law 
— a great innovation in the Sixteenth cen- 
tury. Antonia was condemned to have 
her head cut off, her body hung on the 
gibbet of Champel, and her head fixed on 
a nail. Her mind wandered at the scaf- 
fold, and her last words were: "Take 
them away ! In heaven's name take 
away those round-caps who are before me ; 
it is they who are the cause of my death. 
Take them away." 

The atrocity of this attempt increased 
the love of the people for the Reform, and 
increased the popular detestation towards 
the priests. All Geneva was in commo- 
tion : a transformation of that little state 
became imminent. In no country, per- 
haps, were the enfranchisements of the 
nation and of the Church so simultaneous 
as in Geneva. Yet, even now, while the 
Roman-catholics had their parishes, their 
churches, and numerous priests, the Re- 
formed had but one place of worship and 
three ministers. This disproportion could 
not last long. 

Jacques Bernard, the head of the Fran- 
ciscans in Geneva, now followed his two 
brothers into the new road "that leadeth 
unto life." The light of the Gospel shone 
into his heart. Determined to confess his 
faith publicly, he preached the truths of 
the Gospel every afternoon during Lent in 
the convent church. The catholics were 
amazed, and* forsook these services. How 
was this struggle to end ? The Bible was 
the grand muniment of their spiritual 
franchises, and to this sovereign rule the 
reformers appealed. A conference wa^s 
decided upon : but the council were re- 
luctant that foreigners— two Frenchmen 
and a Vaudois — should be at the head of 
the disputation. Farel respected this 
feeling, and called upon Jacques Bernard 
to prepare for argument some propositions 
of faith. Jacques assented, and official 
preparation was made for this spiritual 
combat which would, to all appearances, 
decide the future of the Reformation. 

Jacques Bernard and the Reformers had 
a meeting in order to draw up their 
propositions. Their theses were as fol- 
lows : — 

I. Man must seek justification for Ms sins 
in Jesus Christ alone. 

II. Religious worship must be paid to God 

ALONE. 

III. The constitution of the Church must 
be regulated by the Word of God alone. 

IV. The atonement for sins must be as- 
cribed to Christ's sacrifice, offered up once, 
and which procures full and entire renns- 
sion. 

V. We must acknowledge, one only Me- 
diator between God and man- Jesus Christ. 

Having thus exalted God and Ilis Word, 
to the exclusion of all human add i lions, 



1002 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Farel added five negative theses to point 
out errors : — 

VI. It is wrong to put our trust in good 
works, and look for our justification in 
them. 

VII. To worship saints and images is to 
be guilty of idolatry. 

VIII. Hence our traditions and ecclesias- 
tical {or rather Roman) constitutions are 
not only useless but 'pernicious. 

IX. The sacrifice of the m,ass, and prayers 
to the dead or for them, are a sin against the 
Word of God, and men are wrong to look to 
them for salvation. 

X. The intercession of saints was intro- 
duced into the Church by the authority of 
men, and not of God. 

On the 23d of April, Jacques Bernard 
was authorized by the council to defend 
these propositions. The theses were im- 
mediately distributed in all the churches 
and monasteries of the city. In its very 
infancy, the Reformation proclaimed and 
practiced the widest publicity. The 
bishop was horrified at this news, and 
immediately "forbade the faithful to be 
present at the assembly under pain of 
excommunication." A universal silence 
resulted on the part of the priests. Roman- 
catholicism invited the council to partici- 
pate in the festive ceremonies of Corpus 
Christi day ; but the judicious answer 
was given: "We have appointed a dis- 
cussion that will decide whether the pro- 
cession is holy or not. Wait a little, 
then." 

A deputation of the council invited the 
monks to the debate, who answered : 
" We have no learned men among us ; it 
is impossible for us to take part in the 
discussion." The nuns of St. Claire dis- 
played more resolution, and clamorously 
cried : " We will live and die in our holy 
calling." Farel invited the aged Lefevre 
of Etaples, and Pierre de Corne of Lyons, 
the most intrepid adversary of the heretics, 
to participate in this discussion ; the latter 
promised to attend, but did not come. 
The reformers were in despair of obtain- 
ing any combatants. At this time, a vain 
and impudent doctor of the Sorbonne, 
named Caroli, arrived in Geneva and de- 
clared himself ready to dispute. He was 
fluent of tongue, but without uprightness, 
firm principles, or solid character. He ex- 
pected to win great honors in Geneva, 
and only hesitated as to whether he should 
take the side of Rome or of the Reforma- 
tion. Farel knew his character, and told 
him : " You are driven from France for 
the faith, you say ; certainly you have not 
deserved it, for you have done nothing 
that was unworthy of the pope, or worthy 
of Jesus Christ." This braggart priest 
pretended to support refugees, but lived 
upon their hospitality ; his life was im- 
pure, and Farel sternly rebuked him for 
his dissoluteness. 

Caroli hinted to Jacques Bernard that 
he should be appointed arbiter in the dis- 
putation, and invited to pronounce au- 



thoritatively the final judgment. Farel 
was clearer-sighted, and replied: "The 
Lord is the only judge, who will decide 
authoritatively by the Scriptures. That 
presumptuous man would only seek his 
own gloiification in the dispute." The 
council nominated eight ex-syndics as com- 
missioners to regulate the discussion, se- 
lecting them from each party ; four secre- 
taries were named to draw up the minutes. 
By sound of trumpet, it was published 
everywhere that the disputation would be 
entirely free. Careful preparations were 
also made against attacks or disturbances. 

Sunday, the 30th of May, 1535, and the 
feast of Pentecost, the day on which the 
discussion was to begin, came at last. A 
year before, the Reformation had publicly 
entered into Geneva, and now the Spirit 
of Pentecost was to renew the Church. 
The great hall of the convent of Rive was 
filled with an immense concourse. Jacques 
Bernard, Farel, Viret, and Froment ap- 
peared ; but the only champions of Rome 
were Chapuis, the learned prior of the 
Dominican convent, and Caroli. 

Bernard spoke first, proving that in 
the Roman Church men do not look to 
Christ for justification from their sins, 
and condemning the abuses of the monks 
and priests. Chapuis defended the mo- 
nastic orders, and severely rebuked the 
reformer. The argument was continued 
until next day, but Chapuis received 
orders from his Provincial to leave the 
city immediately. A copy of the theses 
was sent by the magistrates to Furbity, 
who was yet in prison, with the hope that 
he would enter the debate ; but he cursed 
the paper, tore it to pieces, and trampled it 
under foot. Caroli did not at first frankly 
speak up for either side. At length he took 
the part of the reformers, and said : " All 
the efforts of man are in vain. Without 
the grace of Christ, he can neither begin 
what is good, nor pursue it, nor perse- 
vere." As the reformers were again with- 
out antagonists, Caroli, who had been the 
theological tutor of Furbity, was sent to 
urge his former pupil to come and defend 
his doctrines. Furbity was superstitious, 
and would not dispute unless Farel's 
beard was cut off. " If I must dispute 
with that idiot," he exclaimed; "let 
the dwelling of his master, the devil, be 
first cleared away, and all his skin 
shaved." 

The debate began again without him, 
and Caroli was now Roman-catholic, af- 
firming that Mary was the only mediator, 
as the successor of her Son. Next day 
the discussion turned upon the mass, 
and the vain-glorious doctor stumbled 
through his half-learned arguments most 
ingloriously. The day after he tried to 
defend transubstantiation, the invocation 
of saints, with all the pompous rites and 
ceremonies of Rome ; but the boyish Viret 
refuted Caroli' s assertions so clearly and 
completely, that the offended doctor could 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1G03 



only answer : ' ' Bali ! bah ! bah !' ' On the 
13th of June, the bishop forbade further 
attendance on these debates ; but in this 
discussion, by the power of the Word of 
God, "the catholics were defeated by the 
reformers." 

Rome had set up, beside the Bible and 
even above it, the word and the traditions 
of men. The Reformation demanded that 
the Holy Scriptures should be read by all, 
and preached from the pulpits. 

One fact of great importance was being 
accomplished at this time. Pierre Robert 
flf Noyon, called Olivetan, had finished the 
work the Church had entrusted to him. 
On the 4th June, 1535, appeared the first 
French Bible of the Reformation. "I 
have done the best I could," said the 
translator ; "I have labored and searched 
as deeply as I possibly could into the 
living mine of pure truth ; but I do not 
pretend to have entirely exhausted it." 
The Vaudois had collected for this pub- 
lication five hundred golden crowns, equal 
to 2.400Z. sterling. It was well printed 
by Pierre de Wingle, (called also Pirot 
Picard, ) who had fled from Lyons to Ge- 
neva, and had his presses now set up near 
Neuchatel. The volume had scarcely left 
the press, when Wingle and his frends 
sent it wherever the French language was 
spoken. 

If the fruits of the Bible published at 
Neuchatel were more numerous, those of 
the discussion at Geneva were more prompt. 
Priests, laymen, and women, stripped of 
their prejudices, declared that the truth 
of God had now opened their eyes. The 
magistrates, however, delayed reforming 
the Roman worship, and the friends of the 
Gospel took the initiative. Claude Bernard 
and other notables on June 28th, repre- 
sented to the council that the mass, im- 
ages, and other inventions and idolatries 
being contrary to Holy Scripture, as the 
disputation had showed, should be sup- 
pressed. The syndics and council feared 
to take a step that would excite the catho- 
lics to arms, and the duke of Savoy to sur- 
round Geneva with his artillery. To 
cross definitely the line which separated 
the old times from the new, was too much 
for them. The councils therefore pro- 
crastinated, on the plea of waiting for 
the minutes of the discussion. Farel's 
friends determined to wait a little while. 
Never had courage and firmness been more 
necessary. Great miseries and privations 
were beginning. Since the disputation, 
not a sack of wheat; or a load of wood, no 
food, or supplies of any kind, had been 
suffered to enter Geneva. Seeing that no 
progress was made, the evangelicals de- 
termined to assert the free publication of 
the Word of God. 

The 22d of July was the feast of Mary 
Magdalen. Many catholics and evangeli- 
cals had gathered in the church of that 
name. Farel had just gone into the pulpit 
in the convent of Rive, when he was 



summoned by message to proclaim in the 
former house of worship the words of 
Jesus to that Magdalen : J 7iy faith hath 
saved thee. "My friends," he said, "we 
must to-day preach the good news under 
the vaulted roof of the Madeleine, and 
abolish idolatry there." He proceeded 
thither, attended by his hearers. He en- 
tered : the priest with his acolytes ran 
away from the service of mass, and Farel 
preached the news of free salvatiou with 
power. Farel was forbidden by the coun- 
cil to speak again in that church : but 
"every day afterwards it was the usual 
custom to preach in it." 

Farel was summoned before the irrita- 
ted council on the 30th July. He urged 
them to suppress superstitious observan- 
ces, and to summon the Council of Two 
Hundred ; this demand they refused. This 
opposition only served to inflame Farel's 
courage. In August, he preached in 
Saint Gervais and in St. Dominic, dedica- 
ted to the father of the inquisition. This 
evangelist never spared himself, whatever 
were the vexations he gathered from his 
labors. On Sunday morning, the 8th of 
August, a crowd of reformers entered the 
cathedral of St. Pierre ; soon the great 
bell Clemence was tolling the last hour 
of the Middle Ages, the De Defunetis of 
images, those "gods of the priests," as the 
huguenots called them. God and His 
Word were henceforth to reign alone. 
Farel arrived, and preached earnestly in 
behalf of that religion which is spirit and 
life. "Those idols," he said, pointing to 
the images around him, "the mass and 
the whole body of popery, are condemned 
by the Holy Ghost. The magistrates or- 
dained by God, ought to pull down every- 
thing that is raised in opposition to God's 
glory." Farel was blamed by the council 
for this service, and ordered to discon- 
tinue his sermons at St. Pierre. He re- 
newed his demand for the convocation of 
the Council of Two Hundred, which was 
again refused. 

The Reformation protested against a 
ritualistic and meritorious worship : 
against the multiplicity of feasts, conse- 
crations, ecclesiastical usages and cus- 
toms ; against any adoration whatever 
rendered to creatures, images, and relics-; 
against the invocation of mediators who 
usurp the function of the Son of God ; 
lastly, and chiefly, against a pretended 
expiatory sacrifice, effected by the priest.-.. 
which was substituted for the only sacri- 
fice offered by Jesus Christ. 

All these human vanities were about to 
disappear. At vespers in the afternoon 
of the same Sunday, (8th August,) the 
canons chanted the Psalm In e.vitu Israel, 
"When Israel went out of Egypt," and 
with the utmost simplicity repeated in 
Latin what Farel had said in the morning 
in French : "Their idols are silver and 
gold, the work of men's hands. They 
have mouths but they speak not ; eyes 



1004 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



have they but they see not. They that 
make them are like unto them, so is every 
one that tmsteth in them " The canons 
could not have chosen a fitter text. No- 
body was willing to begin the work, and 
yet it was accomplished. "For this 
work," says Froment, " God stirred up a 
score of little boys." A number had 
strayed into St. Pierre, gambolled about, 
and began to amuse themselves by toss- 
ing one to another the small grotesque 
figures which decorated the chapel. Per- 
rin, Goulay, and their friends, noticing 
the children had begun the reform, pene- 
trated into the choir where the priests 
were singing, "threw the idols to the 
ground and broke them." The children 
cast the fragments about, crying out with 
glee : "Here are the gods of the priests ; 
will you have a piece?" These were the 
times of overthrowal. The powers that 
had invaded the Church were so tenacious, 
that the labor necessary to pull them 
down was a work of revolution and war. 

Great was the sorrow felt by the devo- 
tees during that execution ; they seemed 
looking at the fall of the papacy itself. 
The horror of the priests knew no bounds, 
and they complained to the syndics of 
this sacrilege. But the reformed were 
not inclined to give way. They found 
among the relics and paraded through 
the streets, a stag's bone and a piece of 
pumice stone, which the priests had 
claimed to be the arm of St. Anthony and 
the head of St. Peter. Every one began 
to despise a clergy who, for so many ages, 
had thus played upon the good faith of 
the people. 

The next day, Monday, the drum beat 
in the city, and the citizens ^ marched 
under their captains — Maison-Neuve, 
Pierre Vandel, and Ami Perrin— to the 
church of St. Gervais. Other treacheries 
and frauds of the priests were there ex- 
posed, and the judgment accomplished. 
In St. Dominic were usually placed the 
bodies of children who had died without 
baptism ; by hidden contrivances they 
were made to breathe, to turn color or 
perspire. The pretended miracles were 
now ended. In the refectory was a carv- 
ing representing a big fat woman serving 
a number of monks, with the inscription : 
Behold how good and how pleasant it is for 
brethren to dwell together in unity. Near 
by was a sarcastic sculpture, showing at 
the top a devil with seven heads ; from 
the devil issued the pope with his triple 
crown ; from the pope issued the cardi- 
nals ; from the cardinals the bishops, 
monks, and priests . . . and below them 
was a burning furnace representing hell. 

The campaign was over ; the citizens 
rejoiced at the suppression of so many 
shameful frauds. From that day, mass 
was sung no longer in any of the churches. 
Great was the sorrow and anger of the 
priests. "We destroyed the images," 
said the captains, "because they were set 
up contrary to God's Word." The Coun- 



cil of Two Hundred assembled next day, 
and the meeting was to decide the destiny 
of Geneva. Farel earnestly besought 
that the reform should go on: "Why 
should not all embrace the Gospel? Will 
you always halt between two opinions? 
If the pope really utters oracles, listen to 
him ; but if the voice we hear in Scripture 
is God's voice, do what it ordains." The 
deliberation was calm and serious. It 
was ordered that the pulling down of 
images should be stopped, and that the 
celebration of mass should cease. The 
abolition of mass was the abolition of 
popery. The frightened priests who yet 
remained, obeyed the formal order, and 
beheld with sorrow their valuables 
(amounting to ten thousand crowns) 
taken possession of by the authorities. 

From the 11th August, no Roman ser- 
vice was celebrated in the city. There 
were to be no more Latin chants, no more 
theatrical postures, sacerdotal garments, 
pictures and incense ; but in their place, 
Jesus Christ. The fall of the mass is 
celebrated every century by the Genevan 
Church as the jubilee of its reformation. 
But a fourth year was to pass away before 
the definitive establishment of the Reform. 

The Reformation protested against the 
hierarchy and against monkery. The 
priests were about to quit Geneva and 
carry away with them those abuses. So 
many monks had already fled that, on the 
12th August, only twelve could be sum- 
moned to appear before the Grand Coun- 
cil to defend their faith. They could not 
say a word in favor of the mass and of 
images. Monkery fell in Geneva amid 
universal astonishment and indignation. 

But after the monks came the priests. 
That same day a deputation of syndics 
and councillors waited upon the vicar- 
episcopal, the canons, and the secular 
clergy, to read to them a summary of the 
great disputation. They haughtily replied : 
' ' We do not want to hear your debate, 
and we do not care what Farel said. We 
wish to live as we have hitherto done, and 
beg you will leave us in peace." The 
council ordered them " to worship God 
according to the Gospel," and forbade 
them to perform ' ' any act of popish idol- 
atry." A great and salutary revolution 
was thus carried out. The Romish priests 
determined to leave Geneva ; the exodus 
continued day and night. Many entered 
the states of Savoy, and stirred up the 
anger of the catholics against Geneva. 
To defend the city, the council forfeited 
the church jewels. When Paul III. was 
told of these actions by the ambassador 
from Savoy, he replied: "Tell the duke 
that he has behaved like a good servant 
of the Church. He has done all in his 
power to prevent this great disaster. Let 
him persevere in the same course." The 
duke continued his warlike preparations, 
and it was time for Geneva to be on its 
guard. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1005 



Farel tried to enlighten the nuns of St. 
Claire, and preached to them on Sunday 
in their convent, upon the text : ' ' Mary 
went with haste into a city of Juda." 
But the women acted so disorderly that 
the reformers withdrew. Blaisine Yarem- 
bert alone, who had been badly treated 
because she refused to adore the holy 
sacrament, freed herself from their control, 
and took upon herself the duties of active 
life. In company with her sister, Clau- 
dine Levet, she returned to strive to en- 
lighten the poor ignorant people ; but they 
treated her scornfully. The magistrates 
how permitted these nuns to prepare to 
take refuge in Savoy. On the morrow, a 
procession of the veiled and silent women 
passed through the streets of Geneva to 
the . Arve bridge. It took them fifteen 
hours to reach St. Julian, a short league ; 
on the road they mistook sheep to be 
ravening wolves, and thought cows were 
hungry bears. In Annecy, the duke gave 
them the monastery of the Holy Cross. 
Sister Jeanne de Jussie says the divine 
punishment came upon the priests "be- 
cause they squandered dissolutely the ec- 
clesiastical property, keeping women in 
adultery and lubricity." 

The grand vicar, who kept five prosti- 
tutes, thought it necessary to leave Ge- 
neva. He fled to the abbey of Bonmont, 
near Nyon. On the 18th of September, a 
profligate priest was paraded through the 
streets on a donkey, with his mistress 
walking behind him. The magistrates 
urged these priests to give up their 
<l dances, gluttony, and dissolute living ;" 
but they preferred to quit Geneva. Dupan 
and other active ones remained, strength- 
ening the weak, baptizing infants, and 
saying mass secretly. A general hospital 
was founded by the authorities at St. 
Claire, and an excellent school was estab- 
lished, at the head of which was placed 
Saunier. After the extirpation Of igno- 
rance, came the suppression of mendicity. 
The Reformation was not merely a matter 
of theological dogma ; it developed the 
conscience, the understanding, the heart, 
and regulated the will. It gave to that 
city a new people, school, church, litera- 
ture, science, and charity. 

On the 29th of November, thirty priests, 
headed by Dupan, appeared before the 
council, and gave up all pastoral functions 
sooner than defend their faith. On the 
6th December, the council said to them : 
"If your doctrine is good, defend it ; if 
bad, renounce it." Some passed over to 
the side of the Reform, some left the city, 
and the others became private citizens. 
The episcopal palace was now converted 
into a prison. Seeing that the priests 
were departing, Farel assembled the peo- 
ple in the cathedral in order that they 
should all pray for peace to God who 
giveth it. These prayers ascended to 
heaven. Geneva was to have peace, but 
after, new trials. 



The joy which then filled Geneva was 
not to be of long duration. A regular 
campaign was about to be opened by the 
partisans of Savoy ; and the enemy were 
decided not to lay down their aims until 
they had taken and transformed it into a 
popish and Savoyard city. Geneva was 
at the gates of France, Italy, and Ger- 
many : if the Reformation was settled 
there, it might compromise the existence 
of the papacy itself. The violent and 
merciless duke of Savoy had as his bro- 
ther-in-law the emperor ; his nephew, the 
King of France ; his father-in-law, the 
King of Portugal ; and his allies the 
Swiss, while his own subjects hemmed in 
Geneva for two hundred leagues around. 
Everything was prepared by Charles III. 
to strike a decisive blow, and all commu- 
nication was forbidden with Geneva. 

Alarm was beginning to creep over the 
Genevese people ; the councils deliberated 
vainly as to what could be done to save 
the city. Charles III. demanded of the 
Swiss cantons that the duke and bishop 
should be restored to all their pre-eminence 
in Geneva ; but the deputies irom Geneva 
firmly upheld the rights of their country. 
Claude Savoye, determined to obtain 
help, earnestly canvassed the inhabitants 
and officials of Berne ; but they advised 
Geneva to raise troops for her own de- 
fence. The Genevans were thunder- 
struck at this refusal of aid, and Farel 
urged them to put all their trust in God. 
The duke summoned them to expel heresy 
and restore the Romish worship ; but the 
proud Genevese replied : ' ' Noble lords, 
we will sacrifice our fortunes, our interests, 
our children, our blood, and our lives, in 
defence of the Word of God. And sooner 
than betray that holy trust, we will set 
fire to the four corners of our city, as our 
Helvetian ancestors once did." 

The captain-general, Philippe, refused 
to command the city forces longer, owing 
to a hatred he felt toward the syndic 
Michael Sept. The impetuous and coura- 
geous Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve was 
appointed captain-general. The new com- 
mander mustered his forces, and they 
were only four hundred in all. On his 
banner he had some fiery tears embla- 
zoned, and said to his troops : " Let every 
one be prepared to die. It is not common 
tears that we must shed, but tears of 
blood." Every day there were sermons 
and prayers to the Lord. Charles of 
Savoy was recruiting old Italian and 
Spanish soldiers, and the danger was 
great. 

Claude SavOye shook off the dust of 
his feet against Berne, and departed 
towards Neuchutel, where Farel had 
formerly preached the Gospel. He called 
for aid upon Jacob Wildermuth, who had 
served with distinction in the campaigns 
of Italy, from 1512 to 1515. This brave 
soldier conceived at once the design of 
liberating Geneva. He was ably seconded 
by Ehrard Bourgeois, and Jacques Bail- 



1C06 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



lod, a deformed but valiant captain. The 
evangelicals responded enthusiastically to 
the call. One woman gave her husband, 
her four sons and herself. Soon a thou- 
sand picked men were ready to march to 
the succor of Geneva, at their own ex- 
pense. The governor of the county, "a 
papist and a Savoyard," forbade this ex- 
pedition ; but the troops set out, never- 
theless, to fight for the Word of God. 
On their road near Neuchatel, they were 
again directed to return to their homes. 
The worthy men were agitated and divided, 
and Wildermuth told the half-hearted 
ones to return home. All knelt down on 
the spot, in order to ask of their Sovereign 
Lord the road they ought to take. Three 
or four hundred returned home. A little 
force of four hundred and fifteen faithful 
and courageous men departed, praying 
God to be their helper. 

Wildermuth had undertaken to lead his 
companions secretly and promptly to 
Geneva. He intended to turn the Jura,, 
and for that purpose to cross the Valde 
Traverse, enter Franche Comte, make for 
Sainte CI mde, and thence by the pass of 
the Faucille he would descend directly 
upon Geneva. The mountainous and 
steep roads beyond the valley were found 
to be entirely closed by the Savoyards, 
and the troops resolved to march by the 
upper valleys of Joux. 

It was the coldest period of the year, 
and these heroic adventurers were two 
days on those cold heights, knee deep in 
snow. The inhabitants tied in terror at 
their approach, and the men found noth- 
ing to appease their hunger except "a 
few cabbage stalks and some turnips — 
and very little of these." At length, 
overcome with fatigue, they arrived at 
Sainte Cergeus, overlooking Nyon, 2,800 
feet above the lake. To their disappoint- 
ment, they found no provisions at this 
place. Three young men were here 
brought in by the sentinels, and declared 
themselves to be guides sent to the troops 
by the people of Geneva, although Claude 
Savoyedid not know them. At this time, 
a messenger from the Seigneur d'Allinges 
brought Savoye word that Louis de Dies- 
bach and Rodolph Nagueli, the envoys of 
Berne, were at the castle of Coppet to act 
as mediators. A safe conduct was ten- 
dered him, and Savoye galloped off to 
Coppet. 

Early on Sunday morning the Swiss, led 
by ' their three young guides, descended 
and marched to within a league of Nyon, 
at Gingins. These guides led them into a 
narrow ravine, and set off for the castle 
of Gingins, on the pretext of sending 
them refreshments. 

At Gingins was gathered a force of 
1,500 soldiers, led by the Sieur de Lugrin, 
eagerly waiting to fall upon the Swiss. 
Led by these treacherous guides, Lugrin 
immediately marched out his force to 
crush these adventurers. The Swiss vol- 



unteers heard the approach of the enemy, 
and issued from the ravine to meet them. 
The chiefs, each accompanied by an 
officer, met between the two forces. 
"What is your intention?" asked Lu- 
grin. "To go to Geneva," answered 
Wildermuth. — "We will not grant you 
the passage." — "Very well, then, we will 
take it." Wildermuth was at once 
knocked down by a blow from the arque- 
buse of the inferior officer, but his com- 
panion killed the Savoyard. Wildermuth 
immediately rejoined his followers, and 
gave them orders to charge. Excited by 
rage and hunger, these few hundred vali- 
ant Switzers rushed impetuously upon 
the Savoyards. After one volley, it was 
a struggle man to man with swords and 
muskets. The skilful marksmen picked 
out their victims : forty nobles, many of 
them Knights of the Spoon, and a hun- 
dred priests fell dead or wounded on the 
field. Even the Swiss women fought 
nobly. The noise was frightful. 

Soon the Savoyards seemed totally routed, 
with a loss of over 500 men, while the 
Swiss lost only seven men and one woman. 
The battle field is still called the molard, 
or the mound of the dead. The Savoyards 
rallied, and the struggle was about to be 
renewed ; but an unexpected development 
occurred. 



Diplomacy and war are the two means 
employed to decide international disputes. 
Diplomacy has its faults like war, and it 
generally goes astray in periods of transi- 
tion, when society is passing from one 
phase to another. Thus it was in the Six- 
teenth century, when it devoted all its 
care to maintain what had been before the 
Reformation. 

The Council of Berne had kept them- 
selves carefully informed of the proceed- 
ings of Claude Savoye, and had sent 
their two ambassadors to Coppet with 
instructions to order the volunteers to 
return home. On Saturday, 29th October, 
the ambassadors arrived, and found to 
their surprise that the Swiss were expected 
on the following morning. They were in 
conference with Monseigneur de Lullin, 
the Savoyard governor of the Pays de 
Vaud, when Claude Savoy arrived. The 
Sire de Lullin at once ordered the hereti- 
cal and rebellious Genevan to be seized, 
and he confined d'Allinges for granting 
him a passport. The Bernese wished the 
governor to do all in his power to hinder 
the arrival of the Swiss forces : but he 
desired them to descend into the plains 
that his troops might destroy them. 
D' Lullin yielded at last, but he procrasti- 
nated under the pretext of hearing mass 
and of breakfasting, till suddenly a noise 
like discharges of musketry broke the 
quiet of the Sabbath morning. The whole 
party at once set off towards the scene of 
conflict ; the governor mounted the Gene- 
van's fine horse and took his arquebuse, 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



1007 



while lie had Savoye put on a donkey to 
accompany him. 

To the surprise of all, at a short dis- 
tance from Gingins they found the Savoy- 
ard, soldiers fleeing in terror and confu- 
sion, so panic-stricken that it was impos- 
sible to check their flight. Neither Lullin 
nor Diesbach had any hope of another 
attack succeeding. The Swiss having 
gained two victories and returned thanks 
to God, were preparing to renew the con- 
flict a third time, when the sight of the 
lords of Berne made them halt. 

On the 11th of October, the day after 
the fight, word of the combat between 
the Swiss and the Savoyards had been 
taken to Geneva, probably by Savoye, 
who had escaped in the confusion. It 
was said that the Swiss were in great 
danger of being cut to pieces, and the 
Genevans, to the number of 2,000, with 
eight pieces of artillery, at once departed 
to their relief, headed by Maison-Neuve. 
"If once we are united with the Swiss, 
which can be easily done," they said, 
"our country is saved." Their approach 
aided much to disperse the fleeing Savoy- 
ards. 

On Sunday evening and Monday morn- 
ing, diplomacy had done its work. The 
envoys of Berne commanded the Swiss to 
return, and endeavored to persuade them 
"that it would be better for them to retire 
with a good victory than to run into 
greater danger." The exhausted and 
half famished men allowed themselves to 
be persuaded to march to the village of 
Founex, "where they were supplied, with 
meat and drink." The Bernese lords con- 
gratulated themselves on their success ; 
but on their return these envoys were 
taken prisoners by a Savoyard squadron, 
were maltreated, and in danger of their 
lives until released. The next morning, 
Monday, 11th October, while the Bernese 
deputies and the governor were at break- 
fast, word, was brought of the approach 
of the Genevese army. The castle was 
undefended ; and to gain delay, a message 
was sent asking for three deputies from 
Geneva, to assist their conference in sign- 
ing the preliminaries of a peace advanta- 
geous to the city. The arrival of Jean 
cl'Arlod, Thibaud Tocker, and Jean Lam- 
bert showed that the worthy Genevans 
had fallen into the trap. These deputies 
at once asked to see the preliminaries of 
peace, whereupon they were seized, 
"tied and fastened like robbers." — "Take 
them to the castle of Chillon, ' ' said Lul- 
lin, "where they will be able to talk with 
M. de Saint Victor (Bonivard) who has 
already spent six years there for the busi- 
ness of Geneva." 

De la Maison-Neuve and his officers 
waited impatiently for the return of their 
delegates. The trumpeter, Ami Voullier, 
was sent to inquire what was going on. 
He perfidiously reported on his return 
that, the gentlemen at the castle were 
occupied in drawing up the articles of 



peace, that the place was well defended, 
and that it would be the best thing for 
every man to return home. These proud 
huguenots erred through a noble sim- 
plicity of heart which did not suspect dis- 
simulation, and returned to Geneva. The 
Swiss, in turn, gave way like the Gene- 
vans to the skilful attacks of diplomacy, 
and started for Neuchatel. 

If arms had wrought the triumph of 
right and liberty at Gingins, policy had 
procured the triumph of fraud and despo- 
tism at Coppet. Yet the battle of Gin- 
gins was not useless, for it saved Geneva. 
The bravery of the Swiss and their vic- 
tory prevented the population of Vaud 
some months later from attacking an 
army sent by the councils of Berne. 
Louis of Diesbach enraged the Genevans 
by proposing a treaty which stipulated 
that the traitors of Peney should be re- 
stored to their privileges. As hostages 
for their imprisoned envoys, they seized 
three notable Savoyards, and destroyed the 
adjacent convent of Saint Jean. 

A reverse is not always an evil ; it mny 
sometimes lead to a decisive victory. 
Charles III., profiting by his defeat, re- 
solved in subsequent attacks to employ 
veteran soldiers ; meanwhile, he ordered 
the chiefs of the great valley of the Leman 
to exact of their vassals the military ser- 
vice which they owed. By the 1st No- 
vember, armed bands occupied the villages 
and small towns around the city, and be- 
gan to plunder, burn, and kill all who fell 
into their hands. Famine and the cold 
caused much distress in Geneva, " There 
is no resource and refuge left but God 
alone," said Farel ; and the people re- 
sponded, "in Him alone we place our 
trust." Frequent skirmishes occurred, 
and the Genevans had to repulse a night 
attack. One day a messenger arrived 
from France, with this note : — 

" You icill certainly receice some mule 
loads of good and salable merchandise, 
and they will be there one of these days. 

"PlERKE CllOQUET." 

At this time, Francis I. was seeking a 
pretext for declaring war against his 
uncle, the duke of Savoy, that he might 
obtain Milan after taking Turin. To de- 
liver Geneva, he permitted the Sieur de 
Verey, a French nobleman, to raise a troop 
of volunteers ; many printers enlisted in 
this band, desiring to extend the sale of 
their books by helping the Reformation. 
The powerful republic of Berne now sent 
their general, Francis Nagueli, to nego- 
tiate in favor of Geneva with Charles III., 
at Aosta. Nagueli asked him "to leave 
the citizens of Geneva at liberty to obey 
the Word of God, as the supreme au- 
thority of faith." The duke requested an 
armistice of five months, to consult the 
emperor and the pope. The Genevese 
council replied to Rodolph Nagueli, in 
answer to this oiler of truce : "How can 
the duke observe a truce of live months 



1008 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



when he cannot keep one of twenty days? 
He makes the proposal in order to starve 
us out. Give us your assistance, honored 
lords." At the same time, Baudichon de 
la Maison-Neuve employed all his en- 
ergies at Berne to enlist the sympathy of 
the people in favor of Geneva. He was 
filled with joy to see his efforts succeed- 
ing, but dared not risk the danger of 
seizure to return. 

The severity of the winter obliged many 
of the nobles blockading Geneva to go 
into winter quarters. The intrepid Man- 
gerot de la S array alone remained. He 
surprised and attacked the French de- 
tachment under de Yerey on its approach, 
and so dispersed his forces that only the 
leader and seven horsemen out of 1,200 
reached Geneva, on the 14th of December. 
The next morning, the* citizens held a 
solemn service of prayer to invoke the 
help of God. The Frenchman, de Yerey, 
proposed Francis I. should be acknowl- 
edged as "Protector of your liberties;'''' 
in reply, the council offered the king 
their humble services, "but without any 
subjection." 

On the 3d of January, 1536, several 
valiant huguenots defended the tower of 
the church of our Lady of Grace, close to 
the city, from an attack of the Savoyards, 
until they were compelled to retire by the 
setting on fire of the building. On the 
12th of January, the gates of the city 
were bricked up ; and that night a des- 
perate night attack was defeated. On the 
24th, a body of 600 Savoyards were at- 
tacked near Frontenax, by 140 soldiers 
and a great number of boys from Geneva. 
Not less than 200 Savoyards fell in this 
War of Cologny, and the victors returned 
in triumph to the city. 

The duke of Savoy was preparing to 
aim more decisive blows at Geneva. 
Charles Y. was planning to destroy Pro- 
testantism by reducing Geneva ; reformed 
Switzerland would follow, and last of all 
Lutheran Germany. Thus the subjection 
of the city of the huguenots formed part 
of a general plan. Charles III. placed at 
the head of his veteran soldiers Gian Giac- 
omo Medici, a rash, enterprising, treacher- 
ous and cruel young Italian, who had been 
driven from his freebooting castle of 
Musso, on the lake of Como, by the Swiss 
under Nagueli ; his brother subsequently 
became Pope Pius IY. He began his 
march with his veterans, along the valley 
of the Leman, confident of victory. 

At the moment when the peril had be- 
come greatest, the Bear of Berne awoke 
and prepared to descend from his moun- 
tains. ''This matter," said the Bernese 
council, "touches first of all the glory of 
God, and then it touches us. ' ' Twenty thou- 
sand men offered to march, and Francis 
Nagueli was appointed commander. This 
Christian captain selected six thousand 
men, armed them with arquebuses, and ex- 
acted strict discipline. On the 16th Jan- 



! uary, the declaration of war with fire and 
sword was sent to Savoy. The reformer, 
; Berthold Haller, had only a few days to live ; 
yet he crawled into the cathedral before 
i the departure of the troops, to encourage 
J them to be firm and courageous. He gave 
I them his blessing: "May God fill your 
j hearts with faith, and may He be your 
, Comforter." These were the watchwords 
of this holy war. On Saturday, January 
j 22d, six thousand men with one hundred 
j cavalry and sixteen pieces of cannon left 
Berne, wearing as a uniform the cru- 
saders' mark of a white cross on a red 
field. At Payerne, they were joined by 
the contingents of Bienne, Nidau, La 
Neuville, Neuchatel, Yalengin, Chateau 
d'Oex, Gessenay, and Payerne. 

Geneva was suffering from cold, sick- 
ness, and famine. The dejection of its 
citizens was relieved by the arrival of a 
messenger from Berne, who said: "De- 
tain me here a prisoner and put me to 
death, if my lords do not march out with 
their armies to help you. In three days, 
you will see the castles of the country' in 
flames. That will be the signal of Berne's 
coming." The Genevans took courage, 
and the fortress of Yersoix, containing 
large supplies of corn, cattle and wine, was 
captured after a slight resistance. These 
provisions were sold to the inhabitants at 
low rates. 

At this time, Catherine of Aragon was 
deceased, and Charles Y. kept the duchy of 
Milan which he had promised to Francis 
I. The latter swore to be avenged, and 
to seize Milan by conquering Savoy. To 
avert this danger, Charles III. offered to 
cede to Charles Y, in exchange for 
various Italian provinces, "all the coun- 
try he possessed from Nice to the Swiss 
League, including Geneva." Francis 
would not permit the states of Charles Y. 
to border France, and he determined to 
invade Savoy. At the moment the duke 
was preparing to crush Geneva, he was to 
be driven from both slopes of the Alps, 
and the little city was to be saved. 

Medici, informed of the march of the 
Bernese army, now increased to ten thou- 
sand men, had determined to attack it 
before it reached Geneva. He crossed the 
lake with his army in boats, and had 
almost reached Morges, when he found 
the Bernese bivouacing on the hills 
beyond. Nagueli was on the heights, 
while the Savoyard troops had their backs 
to the lake, into which they might be 
driven. The Italian captain deserted the 
field of battle without striking a blow, 
while a part of his force pillaged the 
Savoy town of Morges. The break-up 
was complete : a panic-terror had fallen 
upon the soldiers. 

On the morning of the 30th January, 
Nagueli started for Rolle ; no obstacle re- 
tarded his march ; nobles and soldiers 
"had been reduced to dust by terror." 
To break down the power of these- des- 
potic lords, the castles of Rolle and Rosay 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1009 



were reduced to ashes ; and the Genevans 
seeing the flames, shouted with joy : 
" They are coming." The Lord of Dironne, 
whose wife was a pious and charitable 
lady, ransomed his castle ; in 1548, as an 
evangelical Christian, he retired to Gen- 
eva. The old Abbot De Gingins, was in 
hiding in this castle of his son's, and 
never recovered from his fright. February 
2d, Nagueli entered Geneva with one 
corps, while another reduced the country 
between the Rhone and the Jura, and the 
other marched to Gex to burn the castle. 
The liberating army was received with 
great joy by the Genevans ; and as they 
entered the city, the soldiers sang aloud 
their hymns to the glory of God. 

In testimony of their gratitude, the 
Council ordered these words to be entered 
on their minutes : " The power of God has 
confounded the presumption and rash au- 
dacity of our enemies.' 1 '' Froment, too, an 
eye-witness of these things, wrote in his 
Gesies Merveilleux the following simple and 
touching words: " In the year 1536, and 
in the month of February, Geneva was de- 
liver 'ed from her enemies by the providence 
of God': 1 

There was now an interview between 
the liberators and the liberated. The 
members of Berne and Geneva, united by 
a common faith, loved one another not 
only as allies but as brothers. On Thurs- 
day (February 3d) Nagueli appeared 
before the Council of Two Hundred, ten- 
dered the sympathies and sword of 
Berne, and said : " Now we will do what- 
ever you command us, for we are here to 
fulfil the oaths that unite Geneva and 
Berne." The premier syndic replied : 
' 'Now, gentlemen, march onwards ; pur- 
sue the enemy until the end : we are 
ready to give you all necessary assist- 
ance." 

The inhabitants of the castles had dis- 
appeared : fear of the Bernese had depopu- 
lated the adjoining districts. "Not one 
man in all the country dared represent 
himself as a priest or a monk. ' ' At length 
a great spectacle of desolation, which was 
to be the last, began. A judgment of God 
swept over the country, and the hundred 
and forty feudal castles that had so long 
served as terrible scourges to Geneva fell 
a prey to the flames. Of the castle of 
Peney, nothing was left but dismantled 
towers and blackened walls. The motto 
was : ' ' Spare the tyrants, but destroy their 
dens." Henceforth the husbandman 
could drive his plow in peace through his 
own field, and no longer fear to see the 
fruits of his labors swept away. At the 
same time, peace reigned in Geneva. The 
citizens henceforth resolved to live in 
amity, and " according to the Holy Gospel 
of God." Claude Savoye, Ami Porral, 
and Ami Levet were elected syndics ; the 
good Roman-catholics Balard and Rich- 
ardet preserved their seats in the council. 

On the evening before, Nagueli, at the 



head of Bernese and Genevan troops, 
marched out to make himself master of 
Chablais, intending to follow up his vic- 
tory as far as Chambery and farther. 
His Swiss soldiers clamored to return to 
Berne, and the arrival of M. de Villebon, 
grand prevost of Paris, bearing an order 
from the king requiring the conquest of 
Savoy and Piedmont should be left to a 
French army rapidly approaching, de- 
cided Nagueli to discontinue the advance. 
The duke of Savoy, always irresolute, 
took no steps to check this advance of 
the French ; Bresse, Savoy, Piedmont 
and Milan were seized. All kinds of dis- 
asters fell upon this ruler who had spent 
thirty years of his life in hunting down 
Geneva. Of all his states, the valleys of 
Aosta and Nice alone remained ; his son 
and his haughty wife sickened and died ; 
a slow fever consumed this impoverished 
ruler, and he died after a punishment of 
twenty-three years. His son, Emanuel 
Philibert, recovered these states ; but 
Geneva had forty-four years of peace to 
establish the Reformation and the new 
republic. 

The lords of Berne inconsiderately asked 
that the rights and prerogatives of the 
duke and the bishop should be transferred 
to them ; but they were forced to with- 
draw their demand before the immovable 
resolution of the Genevans. Nagueli 
only delayed his departure to free the ter- 
ritory of Vaud, and unite to Switzerland 
the beautiful country that extends from 
the lake of Geneva to that of Neuchutel. 
These troops re-entered Berne in peace, 
proud of the good work accomplished in 
a four weeks' campaign. 

The Genevans now longed to free Boni- 
vard from the dungeon of Chillon, where 
he had been languishing for six years. 
He was imprisoned in those rocks exca- ■ 
vated below the level of the lake ; a loop- 
hole permitted a feeble ray of light to 
enter his dungeon. He could pace slowly 
around the column to which he was 
fastened: " I had such leisure for walk- 
ing, ' ' he said, ' ' that I wore away a path 
in the rock, as if it had been clone with a 
hammer." The castle was attacked by 
batteries of artillery for two days, and on 
the night of the 27th March, the garrison 
sailed away unobserved. The Genevan 
envoys seized at Coppet were at once re- 
leased. The hall of execution was ex- 
amined : beneath its rude arches were 
wheels, axes, pulleys, cords, and all the 
horrible instruments with which men are 
crippled or - killed. Search was made 
through the inner vaults, and Bonivard 
fell into the arms of his rescuers. His 
friends scarcely recognized him in these 
features furrowed by suffering, with the 
long unkempt beard, and hair falling 
down over his shoulders. "Bonivard," 
they said to him, "Bonivard, you are 



fn 



And Geneva?" were his first 



words. "Geneva is free, too," they re- 
plied. At last Bonivard recovered hiui- 



1010 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



self, and bade farewell to his sepulchre. 
For ages, travellers have visited this dun- 
geon. The illustrious prisoner was de- 
livered ; the last fortress of tyranny was 
captured ; the victory of the Reformation 
was complete. 

An entire people is not converted to 
God in a body. Yet there was something 
grand in seeing the assembled Genevan 
people declare, without constraint, that 
they would take the Gospel as the rule 
of their faith and the source of their life. 

The communities which extended from 
the foot of the Jura to the Alps of the 
Voirons and the Mole, had recognized the 
councils of Geneva as their legitimate 
lords, reserving their own customs and 
franchises. To leave the seeds of po- 
pery in Geneva and in her rural depen- 
dencies was, the reformers thought, ex- 
posing the state to great danger, The 
work of evangelization was begun at 
once, and proclamation was made from 
village to village, by sound of trumpet : 
" Let there be no more disobedience ! no 
more gambling ! no more blasphemy !" 
Still the council did not exercise any con- 
straint with regard to religion. When 
the worthy peasants of Viuz were dis- 
tressed because of an excommunication 
by the bishop for recognizing heretical 
magistrates, the syndics (undismayed and 
very positive as to their episcopal author- 
ity) completely absolved the parishes 
from the excommunication — which greatly 
comforted these good catholics. The 
Reformation did not lead to this absorp- 
tion of the Church by the State ; for 
protestantism awoke the Church through- 
out Christendom. Geneva, under Calvin, 
became the place where it was constituted 
in the most independent and scriptural 
form. 

There was great difficulty in maintain- 
ing order in the country districts. On the 
3d April, 1536, the Romanist ecclesiastics 
were summoned to meet the council, and 
were given, at their request, "a month to 
study the Gospel." At the end of this 
period, they all declared that they could 
not prove by the Gospel either the mass, 
auricular confession, or other papal ordi- 
nances. The Roman-catholic Furbity 
was released from prison the 6th April, 
and retracted his insulting charges against 
the Reformers. While in prison he had 
asked for books, and the council sent him 
a Bible. " A Bible," he exclaimed, "they 
must' be laughing at me. How can I 
prove my doctrines with the help of a 
Bible ? I should not succeed in a twelve- 
month." Unhappily, magistrates and re- 
formers sometimes forgot that the weapons 
of the evangelical warefare are not carnal. 
It was an error, and the error led to the 
commission of many faults. 

Farel, Calvin, and their friends were in 
a special degree men of faith, and of a 
living faith. If a man has faith he is a 



the dominion of sin. Farel did not want 
a purely negative reform, which should 
consist in merely rejecting the pope ; he 
wanted it to be positive, and to that end 
it was necessary that the people should 
believe in Jesus Christ. He desired that 
a public confession of faith in the Gospel 
should be made at Geneva ; and in re- 
sponse to his request, it was resolved to 
call together the council-general for a con- 
fession of faith on Sunday, the 21st May. 
At Augsburg it was the priests and doc- 
tors who had confessed the doctrine ; at 
Geneva, it was to be the whole nation. 
The position of the Roman-catholics was 
most serious. They were required to con- 
form to the Gospel, which their consciences 
forbade them to do. Were they to refuse, 
they would disturb the unanimity and 
harmony so necessary to the people at 
that juncture. Lullin, Balard, and other 
sincere catholics had frequent conferences 
together. 

At length, the 21st of May arrived — 
that day at once so longed for and so feared. 
The bell Clemence sounded out its in- 
scription : "I summon the people. Jesus, 
Saviour of Men, Son of Mary, salvation of 
the world ! be merciful and propitious to 
us !" Besides the mass of the people, the 
ambassadors of Berne and ISTagueli were 
present in the church. The intrepid 
Claude Savoye was president. He re- 
counted the trials and deliverances of 
Geneva, and asked the people if they would 
live according to the Gospel. There was 
deep silence for a space, then an unknown 
voice proclaimed: "We all, with one ac- 
cord, desire, with Gad's help, to live under 
that holy evangelical law, and according 
to God's Word as it is preached to us. 
We desire to renounce all masses, images, 
idols, and other papal ceremonies and 
abuses, and to live in union with one 
another, in obedience to justice." When 
the voice ceased, all the people held up 
their hands and repeating a unanimous 

oath, exclaimed : ' ' We swear it 

We will do so with God's help. ... We 
will!" The assembly broke up, and the 
citizens separated with joyful congratula- 
tions. 

Evangelical Geneva welcomed back many 
of the prodigal sous who had forsaken her in 
sadder times. Boni vard was made a mem- 
ber of the Two Hundred, and was given a 
pension of two hundred and fifty crowns ; 
the ex-prior of St. Victor soon took to 
himself a wife. Those terrible huguenots 
were kindly people at heart. They gave 
their catholic brethren time to compare the 
old life with the new, the doctrine of the 
Bible with that of the pope In time, the 
truths of the Scriptures acted on the hearts 
of these upright men, and they went to 
hear sermons like the rest. As a perpetual 
memorial of Geneva's great deliverance, 
Farel composed a Latin inscription, which 
was carved in letters of gold on stone and 
steel, and set up in the city. 

" The tyranny of the Roman Antichrist 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1011 



having been overthrown, and its supersti- 
tions abolished in the year 1535 : the most 
holy religion of Christ having been re- 
stored, in its truth and purity, and the 
Church set in good order, by a signal favor 
of God ; the enemy having been repelled 
and put to flight, and the city by a striking 
miracle restored to liberty ; the senate and 
people of Geneva have erected and set up 
this monument, in this place, as a perpet- 
ual memorial, to attest to future ages their 
gratitude to God." 

Easter Sunday, 1536, Farel publicly cele- 
brated the Lord' s Supper in Geneva. The 
reformer was now almost without assist- 
ance, and. he looked anxiously about him 
for a helper. Where could the man of 
God be found to complete the work ? Not 
only Geneva but Western Europe required 
a God-fearing pastor ; a doctor who could 
explain with learning the teachings of 
Holy Scripture ; an evangelist who, with 
eloquence full of life, should convert souls 
to Christ ; a champion who should fight 
valiantly against the doctors of Rome and 
lead them captive to the truth ; £iid a man 
of administrative capacity who could es- 
tablish order in the churches of God. 
The man whom God had elected was soon 
to appear. 

The city of Ferrara, in Italy, was em- 
bellished by a university, bishop's palace, 
and a cathedral ; in it the love of letters 
flourished, and the Gospel found a firm 
support. Renee, of France, duchess of 
Este, distinguished by the grace of her 
mind and her learning as well as by the 
love of holiness, had attracted successively 
to her court the most eminent citizens of 
Italy — Curione, Occhino, Flaminio, and 
Peter Martyr. Two Frenchmen, called 
Charles D'Espeville and Louis de Haul- 
mont, arrived shortly before this time : 
these were none other than John Calvin 
and Louis Du Tillet, compelled to appear 
in disguise in the states of a vassal of the 
pope. The duchess presented her two 
countrymen to the duke, as men of letters 
who had come to visit the brilliant Italy. 

It was the duchess herself, however, 
whom the young theologian had come to 
see. Her noble character and her love for 
the Gospel touched him deeply, and he 
earnestly explained to her the doctrines of 
Holy Scriptures. "Calvin," says Mura- 
tori, "so infected Renee with his errors, 
that it was never possible to extract from 
her heart the poison she had drunk." 
The relations of Calvin with the duchess 
lasted all his life, and they were always 
marked with frankness and respect. To 
her were addressed the last three French 
epistles of the reformer. Many others 
about her person were brought over to the 
evangelical truth by Calvin. Among them 
was Anne de Partheney, first lady of honor 
to the duchess, and wife of Antoine de 
Pons, count of Marennes, first gentleman 
to- the duke. 

Until now, Calvin had only spoken in 



the duchess' apartments. Renee invited 
him to preach in a chapel adorned by the 
pencil of Titian, and the doors of that 
service were thrown open to all who de- 
sired to take part in it. The nobles of the 
court, learned Italians, friends of the 
Gospel, Clement Marot, and Leon Jamet, 
who had fled from Paris after the affair of 
the placards, attended these meetings. 
What a future for Italy if Rome had not 
extinguished the light then set forth in 
her borders by the reformers. The count 
of Marennes, being the humble servant of 
his wife, often attended Calvin's preach- 
ing, although fearing that his master 
would be displeased. John of Soubise, a 
knight of great military experience, was 
the best conquest of the Gospel at Fer- 
rara after Renee. In after years, he en- 
deavored to convert Catherine de Medicis, 
and his efforts resulted in leading the 
duchess of Bourbon, Montpensier and two 
of her daughters to accept its truths. The 
Neapolitan duke of Bevilacqua discovered 
at Ferrara, in Calvin's teachings, the 
truths for which his forefathers had been 
compelled to leave France. The great 
Italian painter, Titian, then about the age 
of fifty-eight years, whose pictures of mar- 
tyrs are terrible and pathetic, was natu- 
rally struck with the pure and living re- 
ligion which Calvin preached. It would 
apppear that he painted Calvin's portrait 
for Bevilacqua ; but there is no evidence 
that the evangelical truths sank very 
deep into his heart. 

Calvin noticed in the court of the 
duchess a cringing person, with insin- 
uating manners, by name Master Fran- 
cois, chaplain to Renee — one of those 
double-hearted people who wish to satisfy 
God and their own cupidity ; his life was 
far from saintly. This chaplain raised no 
objections to Calvin's meetings, but pre- 
vailed on the duchess to be present at 
mass also, which he continued to say not- 
withstanding his evangelical appearances. 
Such a man could not please the upright 
and inflexible reformer, and he seriously 
admonished him. Finding his discourses 
on the mass useless, Calvin one day pre- 
sented him with "a treatise of his," (the 
Institutes of the Christian Religion ;) and 
this in the very castle of Lucretia Borgia's 
son. There was much in it calculated to 
disturb the chaplain and to convince the 
priest. Master Francois was greatly agi- 
tated, and protested that he would never 
again assist at mass ; but he soon relapsed 
into his habitual condition. Such were 
the struggles which the valiant champion 
of the Gospel had to maintain in the pal- 
ace of the duke of Este. Francois became 
angry at one of the ladies of the duchess 
for refusing to attend mass, and com- 
plained of her conduct to the duchess, 
falsely adding that the churches of Ger- 
many admitted the mass. Calvin com- 
plained loudly of the great injury thus 
done to the churches of God. 

At this time, the great Reformer was 



1012 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



alarmed at the appointment of his friend 
Nicholas Du Chemin of Orleans as offi- 
cial or ecclesiastical Judge, which brought 
him into close relations with the Roman 
clergy and worship. He called to him 
with all his strength, and with a cry of 
anguish, to uphold the pure Gospel ; his 
letter to him was afterwards published 
under the title : How we must avoid the papa 
ceremonies and superstitions, and observe 
the Christian religion with purity. 

It was not long before the Reformer 
was still more distressed by the news of 
the appointment of Roussel, through the 
influence of Margaret Queen of Navarre, 
as bishop of Oleron. Calvin was amazed, 
and determined to give utterance to the 
solemn voice of faithfulness. He sternly 
addressed the new bishop, warning him 
to beware of the enticements of Rome, 
and saying : "Now that you have become 
the favorite of fortune, remember that He 
who appoints bishops (that is God) wills 
that while the people sleep, they should 
be in a wa,tch tower on a hill, casting 
their eyes on all around them, and that 
their voice should be like the sound of a 
trumpet .' ' 

Thus at Ferrara this young man of 
twenty-seven began to appear, to speak, 
and to lead with the authority of a 
Reformer. In him God gave His church 
a teacher gifted with that indomitable 
firmness which, notwithstanding all ob- 
stacles and all seductions, is able to break 
with error and to uphold the truth. If 
he required fidelity and renunciation in 
Roussel, he first possessed them himself. 
The -friend of princes, the councillor of 
kings, he lived humbly, having scarcely 
the means of supplying the ordinary wants 
of life. 

Duke Hercules of Este, the grandson of 
the Borgias, was informed by Paul III. and 
the Inquisition of these events in his 
% court, and the removal of all the French 
at Ferrara was required of him by treaty. 
Renee was thunderstruck at his order 
obliging all the lords and ladies of the 
court, and even the satirical Marot, to 
quit his states, and heard with grief that 
her pious and learned teacher would per- 
haps expiate on an Italian scaifold the 
crime of having proclaimed the Gospel. 
Calvin, forewarned of his danger, was 
preparing for his departure when the 
agents of the inquisitors seized the "pes- 
tiferous disturber," and sent him awayv 
in the charge of some familiars of the 
Holy Office to be tried at Bologna. The 
tribunal of the Inquisition, which was 
never tender, would certainly not be so 
towards a heretic of this kind. When 
half-way on the road, a body of armed 
men stopped the escort. Calvin was set 
at liberty, and strained every nerve to get 
out of Italy ; for he was in the midst of 
a hostile country. Everybody ascribed 
this bold liberation of the Reformer to 
Renee, the daughter of Louis XII. ; but 



her husband shielded her from the censure 
of the papal court. 

We have no sufficient data about Calvin, 
or his future course. Tradition relates 
that instead of going northward to-,, aids 
Switzerland, he skirted the Apennines, 
turned to the west, reached the Val di 
Grana, between Saluzzo and Coni, where 
he preached. It seems more likely that 
Calvin took the shortest road to Switzer- 
land, and made for the St. Bernard pass. 
He arrived at the city of Aosta, which 
had received an evangelical impulse from 
Switzerland ; yet the Gospel had many ear- 
nest opponents, especially in its bishop, 
the famous Pietro Gazzini. Many wanted 
to see the valley of Aosta join the Helve- 
tic League, and rally under the standard 
of the Gospel. The assembly met on the 
21st February, 153G ; it resolved to main- 
tain the Roman-catholic faith, and con- 
tinue royal to his ducal highness. The 
passage of Calvin through Aosta, was 
probably a little later. At the foot of 
the St. Bernard, near the city, stands a 
house which is yet called " Calvin's farm," 
at which he is said to have rested for a 
short time. To the right is a bridge, near 
Roysan, below the village of Closelina, 
which is called "Calvin's bridge." In 
the direction of the valley of La Valpeline, 
is the "pass of the window," afterwards 
termed "Calvin's window ;" and by it the 
Reformer entered Switzerland again. In 
1541 the Aostans erected a stone cross in 
the city, in memory of the passage of 
Calvin : in three centuries, there have been 
three successive monuments. 

Calvin passed through Switzerland, 
halted at Basle, and thence proceeded to 
Strasburg. He determined to settle at 
one of these two cities, after he had 
returned to Noyon to arrange some busi- 
ness matters. He did not fear to enter 
France, as he had not left his country 
under the weight of a judicial sentence. 
The friends of the Gospel welcomed him 
gladly to Paris. He hastened to Noyon, 
and found his brother Charles had died 
' ' openly confessing Jesus Christ on his 
dying bed, and desired no other absolution 
than that obtained from God by faith." 
Accordingly, the exasperated priests had 
him buried by night between the four 
pillars of the gallows. Calvin's stay at 
Noyon was very short. Owing to the 
war between Charles V. and Francis I., 
on his return with his brother Anthony 
and his sister Mary he had to pass through 
Bresse, then ascend the Rhone, traverse 
Geneva, and so reach Basle by way of 
Lausanne and Berne. ' ' In all this, ' ' said 
Beza, "God was his guide." Thus was 
accomplished the designs of God, who 
desired to place this great reformer and 
theologian in the centre of Europe, be- 
tween Italy, Germany, and France. 

One evening in the month of July, 1536, 
a carriage from France arrived at Geneva. 
A man, still young, alighted from it. He 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



1013 



was short, thin, and pale ; his beard was 
black and pointed, his organization weak, 
and his frame somewhat worn by study ; 
but in his high forehead, lively and severe 
eyes, regular and expressive features, 
there were indications of a profound 
spirit, an elevated soul, and an indomita- 
ble character. Intending to pass through 
Geneva unobserved, he inquired for an 
inn, where he could pass the night with 
his two relatives. Louis Du Tillet, ex- 
canon of Angouleme, recognized the 
traveller as John Calvin, and conversed 
with hirn upon the struggles, trials, and 
evangelical labors of the reformers in 
Geneva. 

Du Tillet at once informed William 
Farel of the arrival of Calvin. This earn- 
est Reformer had recognized in the author 
of the Christian Institutes the most eminent 
genius, the most scriptural theologian, 
and the most eloquent writer of the age. 
He hastened to the inn, conversed with 
Calvin, and heard an inward voice saying : 
" This is the man of God you are seeking." j 

"Stay with me," said Farel, "and| 
help me. There is work to be done in | 
this city." Calvin replied with aston- j 
ishment : "Excuse me; I cannot stop: 
here more than one night." — "Why do j 
you seek elsewhere for what is now 
offered you?" asked Farel ; " why refuse to 
edify the Church of Geneva by your faith, 
zeal and knowledge?" The appeal was 
fruitless : to undertake so great a task 
seemed to Calvin impossible. " Look first 
at the place in which you are now," said 
Farel. "Popery has been driven out, 
and traditions abolished, and now the 
doctrine of the Scripture must be taught 
here." — "I cannot teach" exclaimed Cal- 
vin : "on the contrary I have need to 
learn. There are special labors for which 
I wish to reserve myself. This city cannot 
afford me the leisure that I require." — 
" Study ! leisure ! knowledge !" said Farel. 
" What ! must we never practise ? I 
am sinking under my task ; pray help 
me." — "The frail state of my health 
needs rest," urged Calvin. "Rest!" ex- 
claimed Farel ; "death alone permits the 
soldiers of Christ to rest from their labors. " 
The violence, the tumults, the indomita- 
ble temper of the Genevese, intimidated 
and alarmed Calvin. "I entreat you," 
said the intrepid evangelist, ' ' to take your 
share. These matters are harder than 
death." — "I am naturally timid and pusil- 
lanimous, ' ' answered the reformer. "How 
can I withstand such roaring waves?" — { 
"Ought the servants of Jesus Christ to ( 
be so delicate," demanded Farel, "as to I 
be frightened at warfare?" This blow 1 
touched the young Christian to the heart, 
and he was violently agitated. "I beg 
of you in God's name," he exclaimed, " to 
have pity on me ! Leave me to serve Him 
in another way than what you desire." — 
"Jonah, also," said Farel, "wanted to 
flee from the presence of the Lord, but 
the Lord cast him into the sea." 



The emotion of each speaker had in- 
creased, and Farel' s heart was hot within 
him. At that supreme moment, feeling 
as if inspired by the Spirit of God, he 
raised his hand towards heaven and ex- 
claimed : "You are thinking only of your 
tranquility, you care for nothing but your 
studies. Be it so. In the name of Al- 
mighty God, I declare that if you do not 
answer to His summons, He will not 
bless your plans." Fixing his eyes of 
fire on the young man, and placing his 
hands on the head of his victim, he ex- 
claimed in his voice of thunder : "May 
God curse your repose ! may God curse 
your studies, if in such a great necessity 
as ours you withdraw and refuse to give 
us help and support." 

The young doctor shook in every limb ; 
he felt that Farel had spoken the words 
of God. It appeared to him, he said, 
"that the hand of God was stretched 
down from heaven, that it lay hold of 
him, and fixed him irrevocably to the 
place he was so impatient to leave." 

At last he raised his head, and peace 
returned to his soul. His conscience, now 
convinced, made him surmount every 
obstacle in order that he might obey. 
That heart, so faithful and sincere, gave 
itself, and gave itself forever. 

The call of Calvin in Geneva is perhaps, 
after that of St. Paul, the most remarka- 
ble to be found in the history of the 
Church. From that hour the propagation 
and defence of truth became the sole pas- 
sion of his life, and to them he consecra- 
ted all the powers of his heart. He after- 
wards had "great anxiety^ sorrow, tears, 
and distress ;" but he belonged to him- 
self no longer — wholly to God. He never 
forgot the fearful adjuration which Farel 
had employed. Calvin did not stop at 
Geneva permanently, till he had returned 
from accompanying one of his relations 
to Basle, meeting importunities to remain 
everywhere on his road. After his re- 
turn, he was ill for nine clays. On his 
recovery, the gates of St. Pierre were 
opened for the powerful preaching of the 
reformer. 

Calvin, coming after Luther and Farel, 
was called to complete the work of both. 
He was to systematize Luther's words of 
faith, and show the imposing unity of 
the evangelical doctrine ; he was to reunite 
the scattered members of Christ and con- 
stitute the assembly. "In the kingdom 
of Christ," he said, "all that we must 
care for is the new man." He was to 
call for the conversion of heart, and holi- 
ness of life ; he was to interdict luxury, 
drunkenness, blasphemy, impurity, mas- 
querades, and gambling, which the Roman 
Church had tolerated. His only false 
step was a concession to man, to the 
magistrate, too great a share in the cor- 
rection of morals and doctrine . in the 
sixteenth century, the intervention of the 
State in the discipline of the Church, dis- 
turbed the only truly salutary action of 



1014 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION*. 



the Word of God. Calvin often protested 
against the pretensions of the council of 
Geneva to set itself in the place of the 
bishop, and on this point his whole life 
was one long struggle. 

But Calvin contributed still more forci- 
bly by his direct teachings to scatter the 
seeds of a true and wise liberty among 
the new generations. He did not confine 
himself to theories : he pronounced frankly 
against the despotism of kings and the 
despotism of the people. Many of those 
who owe their emancipation in great part 
to Calvin, have lost all recollection of it, 
and some of them insult the noble cham- 
pion who made them free. To proclaim 
the salvation of God, to establish the 
right of God — these are the things to 
which he devoted his life, and that work 
he pursued with unalterable firmness. 
From the bosom of that little city goes 
forth the word of life to France, Switzer- 
land, the Netherlands, Germany, England, 
Scotland, and other countries. A century 
later, pious missionaries make it the 
glory and strength of the New World. 
Later still, it shall fill the whole earth 
with the knowledge of the Lord, and 
shall gather together dispersed brethren 



round the cross of Christ in a holy and 
living unity. 

On the 5th September, 1536, is recorded 
in the Genevan registers : ' ' Master William 
Farel explains that the lecture which that 
Frenchman had begun at St. Pierre's was 
necessary ; wherefore he prayed that they 
would consider about retaining him and pro- 
viding for his support. Upon which it was 
resolved to provide for his maintenance.'''' 

On the 15th of February, 1537, they 
gave six crowns of the sun, and after- 
wards a cloth coat, to " that Frenchman " 
recently arrived, and whose name it 
would seem they did not know. Such are 
the modest notices of the young man in 
the public records of the city which re- 
ceived him. In a few years that name 
was sounded all over the world ; and in 
our time a celebrated historian — impartial 
in the question, as he does not belong to 
the churches of the Reformation — has 
said: ''In order that French protest- 
antism [we might say ' protestantism ' 
in general] should have a character and 
doctrine, it needed a city to serve as a 
centre, and a chief to become its organizer. 
That city was Geneva, and that chief was 
Calvin." 



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